* * * * * * *
With her duties fulfilled, Dana was ready to play. She and Josh toured, visited, ate and generally had a wonderful vacation. They had several more dinners with Donald and McG but at more informal and lower priced restaurants, caught up on some movies and even went down the road to Sarasota to see the Ringling Museum and to Tampa to visit the Aquarium. They watched sunsets over the Gulf and sunrises over Tampa Bay.
On Friday evening, at the urging of the Vinoy concierge, they talked Donald and Marianne into joining them at the municipal shuffleboard courts. At first, the heros of law enforcement snearled up their noses at the idea but eventually relented and ended up having a jolly good time. At one time, St. Petersburg was the shuffleboard center of the USA and, although the craze had long since subsided, the extensive facilities are maintained and supported by volunteers and provide free Friday entertainment for families. Josh recognized in their initial dismissal of the idea as the same attitude that kept New Yorkers from going to Ellis Island or the Statue of Liberty or the top of the Empire State Building. These wonderful experiences were tainted with being ‘too touristy’. Same with the wonderful St. Pete shuffleboard activity; too well known and ‘too old timer’.
Occasionally, the conversation touched on the ‘Junior Caper’ and Donald and McG’s frustration at having virtually nothing to work on. The employees of the dog track were all clean and the surveillance tapes yielded nothing after a mind numbing week of review. A review of parolees in the area showed nothing promising either. They had to admit that perhaps they would have to await another heist.
* * * * * * *
Just after the Brinks truck had delivered the cash to honor the payday checks at the Barnaby Bank, a smartly dressed man entered the bank with a small roller suitcase the size that would fit into the overhead luggage bin of an airliner. Although he had been thoroughly briefed on the layout by Bernard’s sketches and clandestine photos, he took a moment to glance around for final orientation. He saw the open area with two tables for writing deposit slips and endorsing checks. He saw the row of open teller positions with a velvet rope delineation for their queue. On the other side of the open central area were the desks of the junior bank officers, the Vice Presidents. (Everyone at a bank is a Vice President except the guard and the Branch Manager). At the rear was a glassed-in office for the Branch Manager. There was a pleasant buzz of commerce; people coming and going, people in line, people chatting in low tones with the tellers. The young man went to the first available bank officer in the ‘bullpen’ and asked to see the senior officer. He explained that he had a letter of introduction and needed to make arrangements to open an account and make some deposits. The bank officer offered his services in the matter but the man said he needed to speak to the most senior officer on this initial meeting to establish an ongoing corporate account. Sensing that there might be a flow of new cash deposits for the bank, the junior officer picked up his desk phone, pushed the appropriate buttons and asked the branch manager if he could be available to visit with someone regarding establishing a new corporate account. He ended the phone connection saying, ‘Right away, sir’ and by rising to guide the businessman to the manager’s private office.
Once introductions were made between the branch manager, Harold Price, and the businessman who presented himself as Jonathan Forbes, the door was closed and they settled into their seats.
‘I know you have many pressing matters to keep your bank humming, Mr. Price, so I’ll get straight to the purpose of my visit.’
‘That is most considerate of you, Mr. Forbes. How can the bank be of service to you?’
‘I have a matter that requires your full attention and strict confidentiality.’
‘But, of course. I’m at your service.’
‘Let me direct your attention to the bag I have brought in. Please look at it carefully. It is not packed with cash for deposit. It is packed with something, shall we say, much more volatile.’
Harold Price’s eyes widened and he gasped, ‘You mean it’s a…a’…?
‘Precisely, Mr. Price, and I doubt if you would want it detonated with all these people around; bank employees, innocent customers…why, even this lovely building. It would be a shame.’
Price had paled and perspiration was beginning to show at his hairline and upper lip. ‘How can we prevent that? What do you want? Anything, just tell me. I have a young family’… His voice trailed off.
Forbes held up his hand to cut off the whimpering. ‘You see the lights at the top of the bag? Note that there are three; one green, one yellow and one red. You see that the green light is lit. The package is activated remotely by an accomplice. As I raise my hand, one of those customers you see through your office window – my accomplice – will begin the arming procedure and you will see the yellow light go on. There. Note that the yellow arming light is now lit. If the red light goes on, you will have seven seconds to clear the building. But, that’s not adequate time, is it? Everyone’s safety is in your hands now, Mr. Price.’
‘No, no, you needn’t go further. What do you require?’
‘My accomplice has left a rolled up duffle under the writing counter in the middle of the room. You will retrieve it, go behind the counter and have the tellers fill it with their large denomination bills. You must instruct them to NOT, under any circumstances, activate the silent alarm system. We have had it tapped and if a signal is sent, we will know it immediately and the red light will go on. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, yes, I understand. We have been instructed to surrender cash rather than allow injury so I will gladly fill your bag to satisfy you and get you on your way. Anything else?’
‘When the bag is stuffed full, and I mean full, you will drag it to the rail and lift it over to me with a smile. And, no dye packs, please. We have taken the precaution of stashing another ‘package’, shall we say, that will be activated if a dye pack goes off in our faces. There will be no funny business, Price. Do we understand each other?’
‘I understand completely. The duffle is where? Oh, I see it under the writing desk. May I go now before even more people crowd into the bank?’
‘You may, sir. Now, let’s stand, smile and shake hands and you will walk me out looking very pleased with the new business I have provided the bank. You will retrieve the duffle, go behind the counter and begin your work while I wait near the door. I will be watching you and, if I see a problem, I will be out the door and the red light will be lit and you know what that means.’
Although his voice quavered a bit, Harold Price was determined to follow the instructions as if his life depended upon flawless execution. He stood, assumed a demeanor of jocularity, walked his visitor to the center of the milling crowd of bank patrons, shook hands, retrieved the bag and walked behind the counter. Mr. Forbes went to the end of the counter closest the door and waited all the while never losing sight of Price as he worked his way up the line of tellers. Each teller reacted with surprise and alarm to Price’s whispered instructions but immediately bent to the task of stuffing the bag when Price whispered more warnings. It took about five minutes to stuff the bag to overflowing to the point that Price had some difficulty zipping it shut. He dragged it to the railing and hefted it over to Forbes who shook his hand, smiled, waved and sauntered out the door.
As soon as Forbes mixed with and was lost in the flow of bank patrons coming and going between the parking lot and front door, Price, by now hyperventilating and sweating profusely, gave the signal for the alarm to be activated and the building vacated.
The first police arrived within four minutes and had to fight their way through the chaos of people running from the building, getting their cars started and crowding through the parking lot exit. Price stopped the police at the door and explained that there was a bomb in a suitcase in his office that might require bomb squad disposal. The police radioed in their request for the bomb squad and turned to
helping evacuate the patrons and employees.
Once the building was empty, the police rushed to interview people before they all dispersed. Which way did the man with the duffle bag go? What vehicle did he get into? Which way did it go? They didn’t bother with description of the robber as he was on surveillance cameras and was seen clearly and well described in detail by the junior bank officer, the tellers and the branch manager. He was older, perhaps 50 or 60, with graying temples on his shaggy hair. He was heavy set with a bit of a belly but dressed in a well-tailored suit. He had a small, well-trimmed moustache. He had thrown the duffle into the bed of an older silver grey Chevy or GMC pickup truck with a license that started with ‘OMY’ then numbers no one clearly recalled. Perhaps 69 something or 86, maybe. Anyhow, it was last seen driving sedately west on Fifth Ave, a well-traveled east-west boulevard, in the midst of Friday lunchtime traffic.
The older neighborhoods of St. Petersburg were arranged so houses face parallel streets and an alleys run between the streets. Most of the older houses have garages that are accessed from the alley. Quite a portfolio of them were ‘rent houses’ owned by Lillian Myers. One was within blocks of the Barnaby bank branch with the recently lightened cash position. The ‘older silver gray GMC pickup’ did not progress too far west on 5th Avenue before it turned off and circled back to enter the garage at the rear of one of Lillian’s houses, battened down like many seasonal cottages and has a weathered ‘For Rent’ sign in the unkempt front yard, one of four on the block. Sheldon and General Fruehauf entered the house by the door that connected directly to the house. The drapes are drawn and Letticia awaited them at the kitchen table under the overhead fixture.
‘Well, boys, how did it go? I’ve been hearing sirens coming from all directions but none seemed to be on your tail. Do you think you got here undetected?’
‘We did or we would’ve kept driving. I think we got in clean,’ said the General.
Sheldon dropped the overstuffed duffle on the kitchen table with a thud and started peeling off his disguise. ‘The hardest part was making my voice sound older. They went for it hook, line and sinker.’ He continued to shed ‘skin’, wig, belly padding and even the form fitting gloves that emulated older hands and obviated prints. ‘This suit is classy even if it is too large for me. Will it go back into the costumery?’
‘Sure will. Did you get the recording of your conversation with the bank manager?’
‘Yep, but I don’t know why you want it.’
‘Let’s just say it’s an insurance policy in case we’re ever accused of planting a bomb. If you faithfully followed the script we rehearsed, no bomb was ever mentioned. Oh, let’s set it off before the bomb squad blows it to bits.’
The General pulled a small radio transmitter from his pocket and pushed the button that would light the red light and detonate the device. ‘There. I hope they get that on camera. Should make for a great clip for the evening news.’
‘I just hope the bomb disposal guys don’t have a heart attack when they see the red light go on. And I hope they have a sense of humor. Now, let’s see what you all have brought to the table. Literally.’ With that, the duffle was unzipped and the counting procedure begun as the cash came spilling out. To their delight, the eventual tally was $589,743.
At the bank building, the bomb squad had deployed its array of high tech equipment. A tracked robot was sent in for video review of the suspect suitcase. It provided a clean, clear view of the suitcase recorded and viewed in the command bus. Not being willing to detonate the suitcase inside the building, it was decided to send in the bomb disposal technician in the bulky armored suit and have him extract the case to the bomb truck where it could be safely ignited and destroyed. Sending in a bomb tech is a last resort fraught with anxiety for fear the device will detonate while he is handling it. The little robot had a video camera on it but it only showed on the display in the command bus. A local TV station was allowed to videotape the video display that the senior officers were viewing in the bus.
As the bomb tech approached the suitcase, the red light on the top went on. He turned and moved as fast as his bulky suit would allow leaving the robot camera to witness the explosion. The tech had just reached the relative safety of a structural pillar near the front door when the case detonated. The top of the case burst open with automotive airbag propellant that showered the manager’s office with confetti. American flags popped out and a recording of ‘Stars and Stripes Forever’ played on a tape machine.
The witnesses were flabbergasted. There were a few moment of silence before they burst forth in a mix of laughter and cursing. It was all a grand hoax…except that somewhere north of a half million had disappeared.
As with every bank robbery since 1934, the FBI was automatically called in as lead investigators. As soon as the call came in, the duty Agent, Maxwell Sheppard, assigned to the case, dashed to the unmarked Agency car accompanied by his supervisor, Henry Hudson, and set out from their Tampa FBI Center to St. Petersburg with grill lights flashing and the siren clearing the way. It took about 17 minutes.
When they arrived at the Barnaby Bank, everyone was still there; TV crews, bomb squad, spectators, SPPD. As they screeched to a stop and dismounted, they were confused by the mixture of laughter and anger.
Maxwell Sheppard, being a stiff necked, by-the-book doctrinaire and freshly minted agent found no humor appropriate for a bank robbery and was stern as he approached the SPPD command bus. As he entered the command vehicle, he demanded, ‘What’s going on here? Is there something funny I need to know about? This is a serious crime scene, people.’
The alternately chuckling and swearing police Captain-in-Charge, Grady Williams, looked at Sheppard like he was an alien. ‘And you are?’
Sheppard brought out his badge and held it at face level and turned to show it to all who were in the vehicle. ‘I am Special Agent Maxwell Sheppard of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and I am now in charge of this situation. I want a thorough briefing and an explanation for this inappropriate levity. Where is your professionalism, people?’
The command center fell silent. Captain Williams cleared his throat and said quietly, ‘We’re just humble local police people here, Special Agent, getting things ready for your arrival. It’s all yours now if you want it.’
‘Sarcasm on top of out-of-place levity, is it? Let’s get right to a situation review. Take it from the top. What happened and what actions have been initiated to apprehend the perpetrator or perpetrators? Time is wasting, gentlemen. Can we get on with it?’
Into the tense environment stepped Sheppard’s supervisor. ‘Hi, I want to join you. I’m with the FBI also. My name is Henry Hudson and I’d appreciate an update, too.’
With that, Captain Williams, an imposing black man, rose and held out his hand. ‘Glad to meet you, Special Agent Hudson. Here’s what we know’….
* * * * * * *
After a nice day in the sun at the Gulf beaches on the other side of the peninsula, Josh and Dana were sunburned and dozing on the bed with the late news on when they saw the video of the exploding ‘Stars and Stripes’ bomb at the Barnaby Bank. The news people set up the clip to create an anticipation of a big explosion and when the flags and confetti came out, it was hilarious. They later learned that the video clip went viral across the country like the Rodney King beating.
Dana commented, ‘Someone has a sense of humor. We’ll have to touch bases with Donald and McG tomorrow to get the skinny on that. What a hoot.’
‘You’re right except it was a bank robbery and, although no one was hurt, I’m sure there are lots of soiled drawers starting with the bomb removal guy and the bank manager. I wonder if this is by the same guys that pulled off that fake auto accident. They seem to prefer the theatrical.’
‘Hold that thought. The theatricality may be the common thread. Let’s think on that.’
‘I shall, my love bunny…first thin
g in the morning. The sun took it out of me today and I’m slipping off to dreamland. See you later’…
‘Good night, baby.’
* * * * * * *
‘So, gallant-man-of-action here in Gotham City, what say you of the devastating shock-and-awe bomb?’
‘I don’t know if we’ll ever live this one down, Josh. Friends called from San Diego saying that it was on their local news. It’s hard not to be amused except if you’re the one trying to solve this dastardly deed.’
‘So, what do you have so far?’
‘I know this will sound familiar but we have no fingerprints, no reliable description of the getaway car, er, getaway pickup truck and, of course, no firm suspects. The State Patrol and the state police of Georgia and Alabama have been alerted and are on the lookout for the vehicle. We do have surveillance tape of the perp and closeup personal descriptions by a number of people. The guy made no effort to avoid observation. I can’t help but think of the ‘Junior Caper’ with the man getting right in the face of the victim with no attempt to avoid observation. We have artist renderings of both perpetrators posted. But, I have the creeping feeling that we’re being played.’