Two More For The Road

Lieutenant Ackerman was already exhausted when he walked into the Ready Room at the California Highway Patrol office in Eureka. It was just after 8 a.m. More than fifty police officers, some of them not even assigned to the Eureka office, were already waiting. It was standing room only and the room buzzed with talk. Ackerman held up a hand for silence and faced them from the front of the room.

“I want to thank you all for coming in this morning,” he said. “You all know the basics here. We’ve got two perps out there who are out of control and heavily armed, along with two dead officers." Ackerman saw his superior, Captain Nester, standing against a wall with his arms folded. He pointed to him. “I’ve been assigned as the primary on this case for the patrol, but Captain Nester will coordinate with the F.B.I. and the Governor’s Office.”

“That’s right,” said Nester. “Lieutenant, I understand you want to start staking out banks?”

“That’s right, sir. In fact, we’re staking out a few already this morning.”

“What makes you think they're planning another robbery?”

“This guy Ben Cummings is a suspect in six previous bank jobs,” said Ackerman. “We almost had them yesterday, but he and his partner Ray Morris shot their way out of a roadblock just outside of town." Ackerman paused for a moment, his expression angrier by the second. "And they managed that using weapons they stole from a National Guard armory, for chrissakes! When we raided Cummings' ranch earlier that day, we found evidence he had a spot set up in a loft where he was using disguises in these robberies.”

“So?”

“Well, he took all those things with him when he and Morris fled the ranch, sir. Including the weapons they stole. If he wasn’t planning on hitting another bank, he would have left all that stuff behind.”

“Okay,” said Nester. “Makes sense. How many banks can we cover with the manpower we have?”

“About half of the banks here in Eureka, and most of the major ones in the outlying areas. Some of those are being covered by local units and the F.B.I. right now.”

“I may be able to get some National Guardsmen assigned to help us on roadblock duty,” said Nester, “and they seem eager enough to do it. But the governor won't authorize it unless those two pop up again somewhere first. He’s leaving it to us for the moment, along with the F.B.I.”

“Well,” said Ackerman, “you’d better keep the governor’s number handy, sir. We’re going to need those National Guardsmen. It’s a sure bet those assholes will turn up soon. When they do, I plan on being there for the reception.” Ackerman opened up a folder and started handing out printed sheets to all the officers in the room. “These are the assignments for the stakeout of the remaining banks,” he said. “I want everyone in place when those banks open this morning. Meanwhile, wherever you go – keep an eye out for that Ford truck. It was the last vehicle they were seen driving."

*****

“You nervous?” Ben asked.

“What do you think?” said Ray. "We've been sitting in these woods all night."

“Take it easy. Your job is to watch the front door and do crowd control in the lobby. Same as the last time. I grab the manager and make her open the vault where they keep the day money.”

“Manager’s a woman?”

“Yeah. Found out when I cased the place,” said Ben.

“You’re not going to shoot her, are you?”

“Wasn't planning on it.”

“What if she won't give you the money?”

Ben laughed. “Don’t worry. She won’t refuse. She can’t. It’s against the insurance rules for the bank. The insurance company won’t pay off if the employees resist during a robbery.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s because the money itself is Federally insured, but the insurance company is responsible if anyone gets hurt. And they don’t want to have to pay off a wrongful death suit or a bunch of hospital bills,” said Ben. “Robbery 101.” He checked his watch. “Okay. It’s almost eight a.m. The bank opens at nine.” He looked at Morris hard. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” said Ray.

“Let’s start this car and go make a withdrawal then.”

*****

CHP officers Michael Watson and Drew Pierce sipped their coffee and kept a steady watch on the front doors of First National in Eureka. They were parked in an unmarked car across the street and about a half-block down from the bank. This gave them a good view of everyone coming into and out of the bank. The bank had been open for fifteen minutes now, and so far, everything seemed normal.

“Ah, they probably won’t try hitting a downtown branch anyway,” said Watson. “Maybe some smaller bank near the edge of town. You think?”

“Maybe,” said Pierce. He pulled back the slide on the 12-gauge pump shotgun and checked to insure there was a shell in the chamber. “Where’s our backup?”

“Ten blocks east,” said Watson. “Martin and that rookie, what’s his name...”

“Turner. Dave Turner.”

“Yeah. They’re over staking Chase Bank, main branch.”

“Nobody closer?”

“Not right now,” said Watson. “Look, just in case these guys show up, I’m not giving them a chance to do to us what they did to Harris and Gordon at that shootout yesterday. I’ll blow their damn heads off without so much as a how-do-you-do. And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same. No one’s going to say anything if we put them in the gutter without a warning shot. You understand?”

“I’m with you, partner,” said Pierce.

As they watched, a white BMW sedan pulled up to the curb on the other side of the street in front of the bank. Two men wearing long coats got out of the car. One of the men stopped long enough to drop some quarters into the parking meter. They both headed into the bank.

“Run that Beamer plate,” said Pierce.

“Dispatch,” said Watson into the radio, “one Lincoln six.”

“One Lincoln six go.”

“I need a ten twenty-eight on a white BMW sedan. California license BROKER 1, vanity plate.”

“Roger, one Lincoln six. Stand by.”

A few seconds passed while the dispatcher ran the license number. “One Lincoln six,” came the response. “Vehicle registered to Wayne Martin, Eureka address. No wants or warrants.”

“Roger,” said Watson. “One Lincoln six out.” He tapped his fingers against the microphone nervously, and then placed it back on its hook. “Just some locals. Rich folks, no doubt.”

*****

“Everyone freeze!” Ben shouted. He leaped over the counter and approached the bank manager. “Tell everyone to stay off the alarms,” he said, leveling the heavy Browning Automatic Rifle at her head. “If I see a single cop pull up outside, I start shooting people.”

The young woman stood up from her desk and put her arms into the air. “Do what he says,” she said in a loud voice. “Do not trigger the alarms.”

Ray Morris took a spot near the front door, where he could keep watch on the few early-bird customers now cowering on the floor of the lobby. Another customer walked in and Morris grabbed him, throwing him to the floor with the others. “Stay there,” he ordered. “Keep your head down.”

Ben marched the bank manager over to the vault cage. There was a door with steel bars. “Open it,” he said.

The woman’s hands shook as she pulled out her key and inserted it into the lock. She missed the lock and tried again, unsuccessfully. “What’s your name, ma’am?” said Ben. He took the key from her hand and opened the cage door smoothly.

“My name?”

“Yeah.”

“Penny Appleton.”

“Okay, Penny. Go on in. I want all the day money,” he said. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman led him to a grey upright safe the size of a refrigerator. She pointed to it. “In there. It’s all in there.”

“Open it, please.”

She spun the dial on the safe one way, then another, and then rotated the handle, swinging it open. 

Ben grabbed her by the collar and shoved her to her knees in front of the safe. He laid the barrel of the rifle on her shoulder. “Now if you put any dye packs or bait money into this bag I’ll blow your brains out, you understand?”

“What bag?”

Ben pulled out a black garbage bag and dropped it on the floor. “This bag. I know what bait money and dye packs look like, so don’t try it. Now get the goddamn money into the bag, every cent.”

“Yes, sir.” She reached up and removed a few bundles of bills from the top shelf, setting them aside on the floor. “That’s all the bait money,” she said. “And the dye packs.”

“Smart girl. Now put the rest of it into the bag.”

The terrified woman pulled row after row of bundled cash from the remaining shelves and stuffed them into the garbage bag. She held the bag up for Ben without looking at his face. “That’s all of it, sir. Except for what the tellers have in their drawers.”

Ben pulled her to her feet. “We’ll forget about the tellers. Get back out there and sit down on the floor,” he said.

She walked out of the vault cage and sat down near her desk. Ben leaped back over the counter with the bag of money and smiled at Morris. “See? Told you it was easy. Let’s go.”

*****

Outside the bank, another call came in to the stakeout car. “One Lincoln six,” said the dispatcher.

“One Lincoln six go,” Watson answered.

“Additional on your white BMW with the BROKER 1 vanity plates. A man claiming to be the owner just called it in ten twenty-nine Victor. Details are still coming in, but he claims two men stole it at gunpoint late last night and then tied him up. Officers are in route to the victim’s home, code three.”

“Dispatch, one Lincoln six,” said Watson. “You have the address on that Beamer registration?”

“Two sixteen Elk River Road.”

“Shit!” Watson said, smacking his partner on the shoulder. “That address is right near the shootout yesterday. They’re in the bank!” He shouted into the radio, “Dispatch! One Lincoln six. Our bank robbery suspects are inside the First National right now, main branch. Requesting backup. One Lincoln six out goddamnit!” He dropped the microphone. “Let’s go!”

Both men jumped from the car with their shotguns at the ready, running across the street and toward the bank.

*****

Ben Cummings and Ray Morris emerged from the bank with their weapons hidden under their coats and calmly headed for the BMW. They spotted the two cops instantly.

“Take this,” said Ben, handing Ray the heavy bag of money. “Get to the car. I’ll cover. Hurry up.”

As Ray ran for the BMW, Ben brought up the BAR from under his coat and squeezed off a loud burst. The heavy caliber bullets splattered the pavement around the officers, missing them, but forcing them to duck behind a parked car two slots back from the BMW.

One of the cops fired a shotgun blast at Ray, hitting him when he reached for the car door handle. The force spun him around like a ballet dancer doing a pirouette. He fell to the pavement and grabbed his leg. “I’m hit!”

Ben dodged a couple of shotgun blasts and ducked low, running for the car and firing his BAR at the same time. The bullets punched through the metal and glass of the parked car where the cops were hiding. The officers returned fire with their shotguns, blowing out a storefront window behind him. He slammed another magazine into the gun and fired a second time, hitting one of the officers, who staggered back and collapsed into the street. “How do you like me NOW?” he shouted. Shoppers and passersby ran for cover, screaming and shouting. Somewhere up the street, two cars crashed into each other and car alarms blared up and down the block.

Ducking behind the front of the BMW, Ben took a quick glance at his partner. “Get your ass off the ground! Get in the damn car!” he yelled.

Ray Morris stayed low and opened the passenger door, throwing the money bag into the rear seat after some effort. His leg was covered in blood and his face was ashen. He crawled inside and shut the door.

The other cop continued firing shotgun blasts at the BMW, but the car parked between them was making him miss.

Ben ran around to the driver’s side of the BMW and fired off a long burst at the remaining cop. The cop ducked even lower behind the car he was using as a shield, and Ben saw him cramming more shells into his shotgun.

“Come on, Ray!” Morris shouted from the car. “Get in here! Let’s go!”

Ben emptied the remainder of the magazine at the cop and then opened the door and tossed the BAR into the back seat on top of the money bag. There’s a couple of hundred grand in there easy, he thought. He took a grenade from his pocket and pulled the pin. He lobbed it high into the air with an expert toss and watched it hit the roof of the car where the cop was hiding. It rolled off the roof and onto the trunk, exploding with an ear-splitting crack. He reached into his waistband and took out a pistol.

The cop stumbled out from behind the parked car. Blood was streaming down his face and he was holding both hands over his ears. The shotgun was on the ground.

“Ben! Come ON!”

Ben took careful aim with his pistol and fired several shots at the cop. The bullets pushed him back, and he collapsed into the street. Ben jumped into the BMW and started it, pulling away from the curb with the tires squealing. As he glanced in the rear view mirror, he saw neither of the cops were moving. “I think I got that last one with the frag,” he said as they sped toward the freeway ramp. “No worries, man. The next job will go better, I promise,” he said with a grin.

Ray looked over incredulously and realized two things about his partner. First, he would have them keep robbing banks until they were either caught or killed, and he was nuttier than an outhouse at a peanut festival.

The End