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Banker's Hours
by Peg Keeley
Part 2
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Mike and Justin pushed Danny and Duke quickly beyond the front lobby of
the bank into the darkened hallway as the Five-0 officers blinked to try
to adjust their eyes to the dim light. Before they could adapt, Mike grabbed
Duke, Sam seized Danny, and they were shoved roughly against the brick
wall where they were quickly searched.
"Clean," Mike reported.
"Good." Justin nodded, tapping the .32 against his leg.
Danny turned to face him. "Okay we're here. Now what?"
Justin gestured graciously towards the back vault room. "Come and be introduced
to our little group."
They started in the direction he indicated.
"That one," Justin said, pointing at Danny.
Sam and Mike grabbed him, one on either side and he started to struggle.
Duke, not missing the opportunity, leapt towards Justin who dodged his
tackle, kneeing Duke just as Sam secured Danny by twisting the officer's
arm behind his back.
Justin paused, glaring at Duke. "Well, perhaps I chose badly."
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Outside, the FBI van lumbered into the lot. "Get the phone lines connected!"
Scates shouted, trying to hurry the activity.
There was a gunshot from inside.
Both Steve and Mark turned towards the bank in anger.
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Duke gasped in pain, his knees buckled, hand reaching around behind him
where he'd been shot in the back. He collapsed onto his side on the floor.
Justin smiled placidly. "This is a much better choice since you insisted
in being unruly." He placed a foot against Duke's shoulder and shoved
him off his side onto his back. Like a teacher lecturing students Justin
continued. "You are only now beginning to realize two things. First, you
are powerless to move. Second, your wound is not as painful as you first
thought."
Duke stared at him, knowing both of these to be true.
"You have a .32 bullet lodged in your spinal cord at the fifth thoracic
vertebra. You are effectively paralyzed from the neck down," said Justin
matter-o-factly. He glanced back and Danny. "No more funny business, all
right? Get hold of your buddy here and bring him back there." He gestured
towards the doorway to the vault where the bodies of Greg and Smith were
lined up.
Danny bent down close to Duke. "Duke?"
"Danny," he murmured, "I really can't move."
Danny noted the fear in Duke's eyes. Knowing Duke was not easily intimidated,
he sought for words to say, but could find none. "Hang in there, okay?
I've got to move you." He took hold of Duke under the arms.
He nodded. As he was moved, pain like a knife shot through his back and
he bit off a cry of agony. He ordered his legs and arms to move, but nothing
happened. A fear greater than the pain enveloped Duke as he wondered if
Justin was correct.
"Okay, cop, get away from him," Justin ordered Danny.
Danny rose, and turned to glare at Kirkwood. "What's next, Kirkwood? You've
proven you can shoot an unarmed man in the back. Quite an accomplishment.
Are we here to help negotiate or just be in a turkey shoot?"
Justin's cold blue eyes stared back with the same intensity as Danny glared
at him. "You want to know the truth? That was meant for you. Your friend
there just happened to mess it up. What happens to him should have happened
to you. Remember that the rest of your life -- which is likely to be very
short."
"Cut the crap," Danny snapped.
Kirkwood burst into a smile that then melted into a sneer. "Give me your
handcuffs. You do carry handcuffs I suppose?"
Without taking his gaze off Kirkwood, Danny reached behind his back and
pulled them out.
"Cuff your right wrist."
He did so.
Sam checked it and tightened the cuff two notches. "Back up." Sam pushed
Danny back to the steel bars that separated the safety deposit boxes and
money vault from the rest of the room. Sam fastened the other cuff around
a bar.
Justin dismissed Danny and turned his attention to Nancy Weathers. "Is
there a phone in here?"
She nodded. "There." It was hung on the wall above where Duke lay. "You
won't hear it ring, but the light blinks when there's a call."
"Perfect." Justin pulled out a total of four guns and examined each one.
One was a .38 snub-nose; one the .32 he'd shot Duke with; a large .357
magnum; and a Smith & Wesson .45. He finally selected the .45 and
handed it to Sam. "Watch the phone. When it rings, call me."
Sam' expression was one of mild confusion.
"Don't worry," Kirkwood assured him, "they'll call." He glanced at his
watch. "Pretty soon, too." He turned around to Nancy. "Where is the log
book to the deposit boxes?"
She scowled and hesitated.
"Don't you understand yet?" he hissed intently and pointed towards the
body of Greg. "That man is dead because you didn't answer me last time."
Nancy fired a glare at Danny. "You're the cop, do something."
"Give him what he wants," he answered flatly.
"Hell of a cop you are." She stormed to the counter that stood in the
center of the small 10 by 10 barred room of safety deposit boxes. She
unlocked a drawer and pulled out a larger ledger book that she flopped
loudly onto the counter. "Choke on it," she growled.
Justin eagerly flipped it open and looked through the ledger entries.
"This is just names. Where's the contents?"
"That's all there is." She gloated. "That's the customer's business. We
don't keep a record of that."
He pursed his lips in anger. "You think this is a silly game?!" he stamped
back through the barred doorway and spotted Vince who brought his hands
up in horror. "How 'bout that, fellah? Your boss lady here doesn't think
much of your life. Pity, huh?"
"I gave you what you wanted," Nancy stated angrily. "I can't help what
was in it."
He looked back at her and gave a chuckle.
Vince breathed slowly, and ran a hand through his thinning hair.
Mike stepped closer to him. "Hey, Doc, let's just cut and run. We got
a bunch of cash here. It'll take a long time to go through those boxes.
Cops will be here any second."
Justin patted his arm. "Cops don't matter, Mike. They won't come in with
hostages here. The Feds know better. You go check out that storm drain
like we talked about. Let me worry about the cops and time."
Mike left the small vault area and Justin grabbed Nancy by the arm. "You're
with me, Honey. Let's start opening those drawers."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Steve and Lawson pumped the three rescued hostages for everything they
could recall. One of them, Al, had drawn a hasty sketch of the bank interior
and pointed out where Justin and his men had taken the rest of the hostages.
"He's some kind of maniac," Al commented. "They killed the security guard
in cold blood; poor Smith never knew what hit him. And Greg Dudley --
Weathers hesitated to identify herself was all and they killed him."
Lawson crossed his arms, unhappy about the events. He remembered the mode-of-operation
he'd reviewed on Kirkwood and what the bank teller was saying meant things
were very ominous. On two robberies including the one he went to San
Quentin for, he killed everyone in the place, even his two partners before
they trapped him.
McGarrett turned the bank personnel loose and the FBI and Five-0 teams
drew together in the back of the large, square van. "Well, gentlemen?"
"I've called for floor plans of the bank," Kono offered.
Scates handed out Styrofoam cups of bitter coffee that had been donated
by the Burger King up the street. Gary glanced back into the paper sack
hoping for some fries, but was disappointed.
Lawson took a sip of the hot coffee then set it aside. "I wish I had better
news. Kirkwood has had two previous bank robberies that went like this
one."
"I thought you said he likes to get in and out fast," Gary commented.
"He may be after something more than money," Lawson answered. "Safety
deposit boxes."
"Unless he knew what he was after, they would take a lot of time," McGarrett
said, shaking his head in disagreement. "It's suicide."
"Not for Kirkwood. Chances are he already has his way out planned. One
job in Pasadena, California, he held up a branch office bank -- kind of
like this one. Limited security. There, like here, he killed the security
guard and killed a patron there to intimidate the bank president. Systematically
shot the hell out of everyone."
"He shot everyone?" McGarrett repeated.
"Not right away. He will use the people he has in there like cards in
a poker game. He'll play them one by one. He's got -- what? -- five people
in there, right?"
Scates nodded.
"He's already killed two, so he won't probably kill anyone for awhile.
But that won't stop him from using his victims to put pressure on the
vice president, Weathers."
"How so?" Kono asked, leaning out the back door to pour the coffee onto
the ground.
"His first tactic is to use his shootings to apply pressure to them in
there -- and to us. His second tactic is guilt. He really pours on how
the upper management is responsible for injury or death of employees.
The loan officer says that the senior officer in there is a thirty-two
year old woman who's as hard as steel. For everyone's sake, I sure hope
he's right."
"That shot before--" Steve murmured.
He nodded. "With two dead bodies in there, he probably winged somebody
in attempt to bring the others -- most likely your cops -- in line and
assert who's in control."
Steve was silent. There was little doubt who was in control right now
and he wasn't in the least pleased. "So how have they taken him, Lawson?
I doubt he just surrenders and walks out."
Lawson sighed and took a deep breath. "First bank robbery he was just
nineteen and he did just that --walked out and gave up. That never happened
again. Got clean away twice, a fatality in one of those. They caught him
in the Pasadena job after he'd already escaped the bank. Freak accident:
he fell into a manhole. There he killed three bank employees, one patron,
and the police officer he'd tricked into coming inside."
"God," Steve murmured, feeling tension mounting as he considered five
lives inside that bank, not the least of which were Duke and Danny. Duke's
just become a grandfather. Danny is a single parent. Why them? This was
supposed to be a simple awareness call. They were told to stay outside.
"What are our options?"
"Wait on the blueprints. Maybe we can figure out his exit route. The bank
is too small to hide in and we're not damned likely to let him walk out."
Steve had a moment of satisfaction. I remember why I like Lawson. I
couldn't have said that better myself.
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Kirkwood gave a small whoop of joy upon discovering a small cache of diamond
jewelry in a deposit box. Most had turned up things of little value: pictures,
baby shoes, heirlooms, and birth certificates. He was growing agitated
as his frustration increased. It was not difficult to ascertain that he
was looking for something specific -- and, so far not finding it.
"Hey!" Sam called to him from where he stood in the outer area guarding
the hostages. "The phone's ringing!"
Kirkwood came out of the vault and looked at the little blinking light
on top of the phone. He accepted the .45 from Sam. "You guys ready?" he
asked his men and they nodded. "Let's get to it, then."
Duke lay on the floor at Kirkwood's feet, begging his arms and legs to
do something -- anything. In spite of his rage, he was also terrified
of his complete helplessness. During his first few moments of paralysis,
he'd thought he was suffocating, until he realized that he could feel
the air brushing through his nostrils. He'd never realized that a person
could feel breathing and how frightening it was not to sense the lungs
at work. I have to do something. What can I do? Sadly, he knew
the answer -- nothing.
Kirkwood looked down at him and gave a smile.
"You'll never get out of here," Duke remarked.
He chuckled. "Still talking, huh? I can change that for you if you'd like."
He bent over and found Duke's wallet and pulled out his ID. "Duke Lukela,"
he read. "Five-0, huh? Sorry, I thought you were FBI. No matter, I'm sure
you've got friends out there worrying about you anyway." He glanced towards
Danny, then commented to Duke, "You know, it wasn't supposed to be you
-- this is his fault."
"Go to hell," Duke managed to utter.
Kirkwood laughed. "Original." He turned his attention back to the blinking
light and picked up the receiver. "Good morning, Bank of Hawaii," he said
pleasantly.
"Um----" came the stunned officer's response on the other end.
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An uniformed patrolman burst into the FBI van. "Lawson! Lawson! He's asking
for you!"
Mark spun towards the man. "What? Who?"
"Kirkwood. He's on the negotiator's phone."
Lawson blew into a rage. "Who authorized calling him?!" he demanded, jumping
out of the van at a dead run, Steve at his heels.
The officer led the way towards the squad car where the negotiator sat,
explaining as he ran. "Protocol. He initiated steps --"
"This is an FBI matter! You idiots have just killed somebody!"
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"Who is this?" Justin demanded into the phone.
"This is Detective Tim Patterson, Honolulu Police," the man replied.
"Who? I don't want you. You think this is a stinking game?" Kirkwood shouted
into the receiver. "Where's Lawson!"
"Who?" it was Patterson's turn to ask.
"Mark Lawson, your FBI man!" Justin demanded.
Patterson tried to recoup. "Release your hostages and come out."
Kirkwood laughed. "Sure." He laughed again. "Just like that. I'm going
to need a wee bit of reassurance, don't you think?"
"What are your demands?" Patterson asked, just as Lawson and Steve arrived.
"Christ," Lawson muttered.
"Where's Lawson?" Kirkwood demanded again.
"He's right here listening," Patterson replied, just as Lawson yanked
the phone from his hand.
"Well, tell him to listen to this." Kirkwood pointed the .45 at Duke.
Duke gasped in shock.
Kirkwood fired, the impact causing Duke's body to jump off the floor as
the bullet hit his upper right chest. The shot echoed through the small
vault. Duke now lay unconscious as the blood began to seep out onto his
shirt. Calmly, Justin spoke into the phone. Lawson, you there now?"
Mark slowly leaned over, resting his head against the door jam of the
car in sorrow, phone to his ear. "I'm here," he said hollowly.
"Good. Have you told the good folks out there how I do business?" He did
not wait for a response. "I've just started the clock running. I've got
a cop named Duke Lukela in here with two slugs in him. I just opened his
chest. He'll be dead in about two hours give or take a little. So, if
you want to see him alive, get me an armored car, gassed up, and plane
tickets for four to Argentina." He hung up.
Lawson threw the receiver at Patterson and waved an angry finger. "No
more, got that!" He shouted. "It all goes through me! Me or McGarrett!"
He slumped back against the car. "Dammit, Steve."
McGarrett looked wistfully towards the bank and glanced at his watch:
10:15.
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Kirkwood turned away from the phone without
so much as a glance at the bleeding man at his feet. Spotting Nancy in
the doorway, he gave a shrug. "Back to work, honey, we have a plane to
catch."
She set her jaw in determination, not glancing once at anyone in the room.
If I show sensitivity to any of them, that person will be this animal's
next target. Keep your cool, Nancy, keep like it's always been -- just
business. But she knew that with two employees dead, and Duke slowing
dying right in front of them, this was anything but business. She jammed
the master key roughly into the lock on the front of the next deposit
box.
Kirkwood observed her smoldering fury. "You've spent your whole career
getting to this position, haven't you?"
She glared. "Is this what you want?" She tossed the bearer bonds onto
the counter.
He picked them up and dropped them into his collection in a cloth duffel.
"You think your boss is gonna have your job?"
She did not answer, but opened the next box. In a moment of inspiration,
she wondered if she could somehow break the master key off in a lock.
That would end his little game and maybe they'd just escape however
they've planned it. One of his guys already wants to get out of here.
"I'll bet you've always thought of your job before your employees,
haven't you?" he continued to probe. "They weren't real people, were they?
The dead guy -- did he have a family? Wife? Kids?"
She tried to shut out his questions, but they bore into her mind. She
remembered Greg bragging on his daughter's violin recital just last week.
She was a cute little girl with blonde curls.
"You know," he whispered, "I have a family, too? Can you imagine that?"
She turned to face the man whose features on any other occasion would
have been stunning, but now seemed ugly. She looked back to the deposit
boxes and opened another.
He gave a chuckle. "You know that cop has a family, too. I saw the photo
in his wallet. Wife and four kids. Baby pictures in there, too. Think
he's a grandpappy? Guess he's having a bad day, huh?"
Unable to control her rage, she snapped, "I've got to do what you say,
do I have to listen to your chatter, too?"
In a surge of action, he gripped her face in one hand, squeezing her cheeks
towards each other. "You do what I tell you -- no matter what." He planted
a forced kiss on her lips.
On pulse of the moment, she spit into his face.
Kirkwood nearly turned purple with rage. "You dirty bitch!" He yanked
her by the hair, half dragging her out to the others. No one breathed.
"SAM!" he screamed. "Put that silencer on the .22!"
Nancy's heart thundered in fear. Oh God, how stupid! How
could I have let him get me to do that! He's gonna kill someone! This
one really is my fault! "Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she pleaded,
still battling him. "Let me go!"
"For damn sure you're gonna be sorry, lady!" Justin answered. He released
her to Mike who grabbed her, pinning her arms back. She continued to struggle.
Kirkwood came close to her ear and whispered, "This one's all for you.
You want to pick who it is?"
She stared at him.
A smile crossed his features for a moment. Justin turned towards the group,
raised the pistol and again singled out Vince.
"God, no!" he begged.
There was a muffled shot followed by Vince's cry of pain. He staggered,
gripping his left knee. Kirkwood fired again, hitting the other knee and
Vince collapsed to the floor where he lay doubled over moaning in pain.
Kirkwood narrowed his eyes towards Nancy. "You did that. Don't forget
it."
"You bastard," she muttered.
He smiled again. "You think so?" He chuckled. "Naw, he--" He swung around
and leveled the .22 in Danny's face. "--thinks I'm a bastard." He grinned.
"She--" He reaimed on Kiko. "--thinks I'm cute."
Kiko, relatively unnoticed in this whole affair until now, gasped in fear
and terror.
"Admit it, sweetheart," he said soothingly. "When I came to your window
you thought I was the hottest thing in pants, didn't you?"
She looked at the floor, cheeks crimson.
"You--" He pointed the weapon back at Nancy and spoke in a soft tone.
"--think I'm a bastard, but a cute bastard. And that one--" He aimed at
Vince, writhing on the floor. He fired and Vince went limp, dead, a bullet
hole between his eyes. Kirkwood shrugged. "--I guess he doesn't think
anything anymore."
Nancy stood still, stunned. Her eyes met Danny's. Why the hell don't
you do something, cop?
He could easily read her thought. What in blazes does she think
I'm supposed to do? He tugged for the thousandth time at the cuffs
that chained him to the bar.
Kirkwood grabbed Nancy's arm. "Back to work with me, Love, and no more
heroics. I haven't got too many hostages to waste."
Mike and Sam exchanged glances, then a shrug, and between them, picked
up Vince's body and hauled it outside, dropping him like the garbage on
top of the other two bodies.
----------------------------------------------
Gary had been watching the crowd for
some time, partially because he knew clues might lie with someone out
there, partially because he needed to be doing something. Most of the
bystanders seemed to be doing that -- standing by. Some were family members
of the hostages; easily identifiable by their tears, and stunned expresses.
Others were from different media sources, also easy to recognize by their
eager faces. What are they hoping for? The goriest news story of the
year? Are they disappointed when the police keep some idiot from killing
people? His interest kept focusing back on one man who seemed to stand
apart from others, chain puffing cigarettes nervously. What's he nervous
about? Family member? How about something he's keeping in the bank? He
sure isn't dressed like a man with lots to lose. Gary moved closer
to him.
Ten minutes later, Gary was escorting the same man up the steps into
the FBI van. "You gotta hear this guy," Gary announced without ceremony.
McGarrett turned a bit wearily towards the man, noting the frightened
look. This guy doesn't trust authority, why? "What am I supposed
to hear?"
"Tell him," Gary said flatly.
"I--I'm concerned about my investment in the bank," he murmured.
"Investment?" Steve also deduced the man's attire not to be consistent
with wealth.
He sighed nervously. "You FBI?" he asked of Steve.
"No, I am," replied Mark. "You want me?"
His fear seemed to increase. "Um, look I want you guys to get those
crooks, but I don't want no trouble."
"Trouble with whom?" Steve asked.
"Um--I've got something special in a box in there," he explained.
"Drugs?" Steve guessed.
"No!" He gasped. "Nothing like that. Gold."
"Gold?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, um, a bar of gold."
"You have a bar of gold?" Steve repeated.
"Yeah, I'm, um, holding it for a friend."
Lawson and Steve exchanged looks. "Tell us about it," Lawson ordered.
"Me an' a friend were part of a dive group off the coast of Sanibal
Island, Florida. We found this wreck and, um, well, we just sort of kept
a bar of gold. Just one," he hastened to add.
"And it is in this bank?" Lawson clarified.
"Yeah," the man muttered.
"Let me guess, your friend is in prison," Steve added.
"Well." The man ran a hand around his collar. "Salvage divers ain't
always the neatest bunch, if you take my meaning. He got locked up for
six years for killing a guy in a bar fight. He didn't mean to."
Steve shook his head. "Now we know why Kirkwood is here."
"Doesn’t matter much now," Lawson commented and crossed his arms authoritatively,
looking at the sweating man. "It is against the law to hoard gold in the
United States except as jewelry. Did you know that?"
"I didn’t mean nothing by it. It wasn't hurting nobody." The man's
voice rose by a full octave. "And I'm trying to help your guys in there."
"Gary, book him," Steve muttered.
"What charge?" Gary asked.
Steve blinked. "Ask the IRS later." He sighed and gazed at the floor
plan again. "We know why."
"Yeah, and halting a 28 pound bar of gold will slow Kirkwood down
a little, too," Lawson pointed out.
---------------------------------------
Kiko began to weep quietly, shivering, arms wrapped tightly around her
body. She moved a little closer to Danny. "I am so scared," she confessed.
Danny wished he could say something to console her. "It's all right to
be scared," he offered. "I can't think of a better time." He again tugged
gently at the handcuff that secured him to the bar.
"Vince was a nice man," she whimpered. "A nice man. He didn't deserve
that. Why are they doing this? Why us?"
Danny decided not to waste time giving an answer that did not exist. Sam
and Mike were standing in the doorway peering out at the circus of media
and police in the parking lot. "Kiko, you and Nancy are the only two who
can help us. They don't think you can do anything to them so they didn't
worry about tying you up."
"I can't do anything," she replied.
"You must."
"What?"
"I don't know," he admitted, "but be looking for an opportunity to get
away. Just make it to the front door and there will be people right outside
who see you make it to safety."
"But you and Nancy?"
"They need Nancy alive. And me--don't worry about me. If you see a chance,
you take it, hear me?"
She nodded, her tears subsided some. It wasn't a plan, but she still felt
a little less helpless knowing she would be waiting for the chance.
Mike and Sam were turning back towards the room.
"Would you check on Duke?" Danny asked of Kiko.
She nodded. Sam and Mike said nothing as she crossed the room in front
of them and crouched down next to Duke. It was plain to see he was bleeding
badly. Blood had soaked his shirt and continued to ooze from the wound
in his right upper chest. She gingerly pulled the fabric away from the
spot. She pulled the scarf off her blouse and pressed it against the wound.
He opened his eyes slowly. "Hi, there," he whispered weakly.
She managed a quick grin. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been better," he whispered back. "But it doesn't hurt." In reality
that was the most frightening part. Nothing hurt. Nothing felt at all.
He could sense he had to cough, but couldn't control the muscles to make
it happen. As he looked at the young, terrified face of Kiko, he wanted
to try to make it easier for her. "I'll be all right."
She wiped away a tear. "Kirkwood says you'll die if they don't do something
to get out of here."
End Part 2
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