Free Bank Job by James Heneghan Page B

Tom. “That’s an average of almost a thousand dollars on each holdup.”
    I shook my head. “You’re wrong, Tom. If you count the holdup where the teller screamed and we got a big fat zero, the average is only about—what?”
    â€œOkay, you’re right, Nails. That would make it seven hundred for each holdup.” Tom nodded. “I forgot we did four.”
    â€œAll the more reason to try my new MO,” argued Billy. “Our average would skyrocket if we robbed two or three tellers at the same time.”
    â€œCount me out,” said Tom.
    â€œMe too,” I said. “Too risky. Holdups number one and three were good, over twenty-five hundred total.” I had the numbers memorized. “I say let’s continue as we are. No changes. No new MO. Just Tom’s idea, the change in the handoff.”
    â€œAgreed,” said Tom.
    Billy shrugged. “Okay.”

FIFTEEN
    APRIL 17
    We chose our next bank by studying the phone book and a street map.
    It would be a small Bank of Hong Kong in Vancouver’s Eastside . Billy planned the holdup for Thursday the twentieth. He thought that ten minutes before three o’clock would be a good time. We skipped out of school an hour early on Monday and took the SkyTrain to check everything out. We checked the bank, front and back. We checked the layout inside. We decided where the handoffs would be made— Tom around the corner this time, away from the bank sightlines and me right outside the bank entrance, as usual.
    It was a nice little bank.
    The SkyTrain station was only two blocks away.
    â€œIt’s going to be a real pleasure knocking this one over,” said Billy.
    He was getting more and more professional.
    And charismatic.
    Billy and I headed into the bank about ten minutes before closing time and lingered at a desk pretending to be busy. The Bank seemed larger than it was because it was all glass and light. Even on a dull, rainy day like this one, the interior was bright and spacious.
    Billy wore his usual disguise.
    It was a cold day, but I was sweating.
    There were only two customers with tellers and an old guy looking through brochures near the manager’s office. The manager’s office door was closed, which was the way we liked it. We didn’t want a manager peeping out to see what was going on.
    Billy walked up to the teller—she looked like a high school kid, not much older than me, small, lots of makeup, blond curls. I left the bank and stood outside.
    I waited for a while and then I knew something had gone wrong. Billy should have been out at least a minute ago. I pushed open the door and looked inside. Billy was wrestling with the man who had been reading brochures. He didn’t look so old now. He clamped onto Billy’s arm like a vulture.
    Just as some of the other bank workers started running over to help the man, Billy shook himself free, and erupted through the door. We ran together down the street. I handed him my shopping bag. Billy stuffed his disguise and the loot in the bag and shoved it back at me. Sweating and breathing heavily, he crossed the street and disappeared down a narrow lane.
    Wondering if anyone had seen me, I continued to the end of the block, whispering to myself, “Stay calm. Stay calm.” I turned the corner, and made my handoff to Tom. Without a word, Tom crammed my bag into his backpack, casually crossed the street, and followed Billy to the station. I walked back to the corner and looked toward the bank. Everything, except my heart, was quiet. Then I heard a police siren, and I was out of there.
    I collapsed onto the beanbag. “That was close, Billy.”
    Tom threw himself onto his bed. “Too friggin’ close, if you ask me. Who was the guy who jumped you—a security guard?”
    Billy sighed and lowered himself slowly onto his bed and assumed his usual position. “No. Don’t think so. He was just a madman who happened to