The Big Thaw (33 page)

“So, what can the
General Beauregard
do for you?”

If it had been a month or two before the bank job was going to go down, we’d have had a little more leeway. As it was, I was the designated liar.

“We’re going to have a disaster drill, and we need something that will involve federal, state, and local law enforcement. You’re all we could think of.” I shall likely rot in hell.

We talked a bit. Agnes brought the coffee. She was as close to a showgirl as you could get. Short black skirt. Net stockings. Heels. Classy white blouse. Not your typical government employee. The mints were chocolate-covered.

“How do you get a job like this?” I was flattering him. I was also very curious.

He’d been a deputy sheriff in Nevada. No kidding.

“Yep,” he said, “this is where we go when we die…”

After that, I began to think we could trust him.

At any rate, we did find out the information we needed. They never transferred more than a quarter of a million at a time.

“That’s what dictates the scheduling. And that’s the beauty of it,” he said. “There’s no way somebody can get onto our schedule, because there isn’t one. Different employee takes it each time, different vehicle, different route. No way to even know how much we’ve got onboard. Works.”

“Cool.” I thought it was.

“We were going to use an armored car service,” he said, “but there isn’t one available, except the one that services the banks. They can’t fit us on anything like the schedule we’d need, and they aren’t about to buy a new truck just for us. We really don’t want to keep much more than five hundred thousand on the boat, anyway. And even that is divided up by a cash cage on each of three gaming decks, and a counting area under the waterline. A hit on one of them, and all of them are notified and close down. Piece of cake.” He had a glimmer in his eye. He knew. Or, rather, he suspected. Either way, I had the feeling that things were going to tighten up on the boat for the next while.

“And,” he said, “we transfer coins once a week. Lots and lots of quarters.” He grinned broadly. “They accumulate around our slot machines the same way they do on your dresser at home.”

As we left, I purloined another chocolate-covered mint.

They sure seemed to have it covered on the boat. Security at the bank, though … a different question altogether. As with most banks, they relied on structures, not people. Structures, and lots of alarm functions that were going to alert law enforcement.

The guessing game was going on when we got back to Hester’s office.

“Why Sunday?” Art was saying. “Why not Friday or Saturday?”

“More money.” Point to Lamar.

“If Gabriel is still around after all this excitement,” added Hester.

“He’s here,” said Volont. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Well, now, just a minute,” said Lamar. “Let’s clear this up right now. Do you actually know he’s here, or are you just guessing?”

Volont, I’m sure, wasn’t accustomed to being talked to in quite that manner. He handled himself well, I thought.

“He’s here, Sheriff. What we do is use several things. Elimination is one of them. We have informants in three or four places he is most likely to be if he isn’t here. He’s not at those places. We use deduction based on knowledge gained over a long period of time. He’s invested heavily in this operation, with the heaviest investment being the two Colson brothers that he killed. He doesn’t like to do that. He’s got plans. Accomplices. He needs the cash. He’s not the type to let a subordinate run the main operation. He’s here. All the indications are, he’s here.” He looked at Lamar.

“So,” said my boss, “you boil it down, and skim off the fat, you’re still guessing. I’m not saying it’s not a good guess. But it is a guess.”

“That’s right. But it’s a truly good guess, and it’s right.” Volont flicked out one of those tight little grins of his. “Let’s see what to do with the bank.”

“Good guess” my ass. Volont was lying through is teeth, and if I hadn’t had that conversation with George, I’d have bought it hook, line, and sinker. He was good. As it was, I was now certain that he knew exactly where Gabriel was. And he really was close.

In the end, we decided to go really light on the other four banks. Whichever ones they might be. The main forces, so to speak, were to be concentrated on Frieberg. The “daylight, bank open” plan was to set up around the bank, at enough distance to ensure they would be well clear of the place before we hit them. Roadblock vehicles, surveillance teams, chase cars. All concealed. Manned mostly by FBI and DCI SWAT team members.

Our “nighttime, bank closed” plan was very similar, but brought the ring in a bit closer. Both plans included a helicopter on standby at Maitland Airport. We felt we had to use Maitland, because the only other airport with gas and any sort of facility was just across the Mississippi from Frieberg, in Jollietteville, Wisconsin. A Huey sitting there, so close to the Frieberg bank, would possibly be spotted by the bad guys. Tip time. We did send a delegation across the river, to meet with their people, and let them know they might have a bank robbery on Sunday, too. Just being neighborly.

For our cohorts in Conception County, this was a definite “need to know” situation. They were just across the Mississippi bridge, a trip of 1.6 miles without a turnoff. The actual width of the Mississippi there was about a mile, but the approaches on both ends of the bridge extend the trip. The Iowa and Wisconsin spans met on a small island in the middle. I really mean small. No structures, just a lump of dry ground about halfway across. Once on the bridge, a bank robber either had to cross, stop, or come back. No exits. Besides, if we actually got into a pursuit, crossing the bridge was as good a route as any for flight. The 1.6 miles would go by in a minute, literally, in a high-speed pursuit. Without forewarning, it was very possible that Wisconsin wouldn’t be able to get the bridge blocked in time.

Covered on that one.

Lamar was still skeptical of the entire plan. “Don’t forget, we want him for murder. Two counts, at least. Maybe more if we reopen an old case. What’s wrong with, we see him, we grab him?” He addressed Volont directly. “Is it good if we let him commit a bank job, too?”

“No, it isn’t. Not at all. But,” said Volont, “it is important that we be sure we have him. If we go to take down a suspect in a car, based on a glimpse of somebody, we might get the wrong man. We might tip off the right man. We can be sure,” he said, emphatically, “that he’ll be with the bank team. I have good information on that. Very good.”

“Wait a minute,” said Lamar. “You keep pullin’ this information out of your hat every time you need it, and we’re supposed to buy it.” He looked around the room. “Doesn’t it seem that way to you all?”

Before any of us could answer, Volont spoke rapidly. “My rules keep me from telling you certain things until you demonstrate a ‘need to know’ When you ask the question, I can sometimes give an answer under those rules.”

Lamar sighed, and stood up. “I gotta get back to the office.” And he walked out. Just like that.

Well. There was a pretty thick silence after he left. I broke it with “Looks like you better be right on this one.” I could say that. I’d been shot the last time Volont had made a mistake. In the vest, admittedly. What the hell, it’s the thought that counts.

“Confidence,” he said, blandly, “is high.” I thought of what Hester had said about a psychic. I caught her eye and grinned at her, but she was too worried to catch it.

We made tentative assignments, and the call went out to begin gathering reinforcements. I headed back to Maitland. Tomorrow was Sunday. Sunday was Bank Day. Time was getting short.

Volont stuck his head in the door. “TAC team commander will meet with you out here in a few minutes. He just landed.” He was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.

George had hardly had time to “pop to.” “We gotta plan, I guess.”

“Yeah.” I rummaged through the box, looking for another doughnut with little sprinkles on it. “I think this is as close as Volont ever gets to orgasm.”

George started to laugh, caught it, but still had a dribble of coffee on his chin. “Don’t say those things!”

“Oh, yeah, before I forget … Remember Nola Stritch?”

He sure did.

“Well, Cletus Borglan’s hired man and his family? The Grossmans?” He nodded. “Turns out that she’s Nola’s sister. Half sister, anyway. Neat, no?”

“Well,” he said, “I’m glad Volont finally told you.”

“He didn’t tell me, George. We found out on our own.”

“Oh, then you must be the one who told Volont,” he said, lamely.

“Well, I thought so … You know, George, I’ve been thinking about all this. You guys are really throwing a lot of resources at this. I mean, really. Surveillance for God knows how long. TAC team. It’s a lot like last time. Only more, you know?”

George smiled. “Just consider it part of the Peace Dividend.”

I thought that was a strange thing for George to say.

“I’ve been led to believe that this was sort of a vengeance thing between Gabriel and Volont,” I said, slowly. I looked at my empty coffee cup. “I’ve been buying into a cover story, haven’t I?”

Silence.

“Not blaming you, George. You bought it at first, too. But something’s different, and I think it’s that you know a lot more than you’re being allowed to say. Now.”

He smiled, ruefully. “I couldn’t tell you even if I did. Could I?”

I spoke very quietly. “The whole damned Bureau has just been relentless with this Gabriel dude. Obviously for several years, going back to before I ever knew about him. And still. Still at war with him.” I pushed my cup away, and my chair back. “It’s no vendetta, where he screwed Volont, and Volont is just screwing back. Is it?”

Before he could answer, I grinned and said, “Don’t tell me, you’d only have to kill yourself.” I was sort of kidding. He surprised me, though. He gave me an answer.

“No. It’s much more than that. Volont really doesn’t give a damn about Gabriel, at all. He just knows him fairly well.” He shrugged. “If it helps, I only found that out a few months ago, myself.”

We were interrupted by Sally, who knocked on the door frame and announced we had a guest.

The FBI TAC team leader was top-notch. Higher, in fact. Excellent individual, very precise, and completely without pretense.

“This could get to be a real zoo,” he said. “We really don’t have a lot of good data, do we?” Smart, too.

He knew damned well that I hadn’t called him in. I couldn’t. Neither could George. That being the case, he didn’t have to worry about hurting our feelings.

“Not a lot.” I handed him a cup of coffee, and our file on the banks, the schedules for deposits, and the plans of each building. “I do think the Frieberg bank is the main hit, though.”

He looked at the possible-banks sheet. “I agree.” He looked up, sharply. “You guys just found out about the cash on hand yesterday?”

We told him how that had happened. He grinned. “Always the last to know.”

We went over again the list of other possible banks. We hit upon a compromise. FBI TAC would take on the Frieberg bank, while the Iowa State Patrol TAC team would put two men on each of six little banks, in plain clothes. A tactical reserve of eight FBI TAC officers would be at the Maitland Airport with a helicopter, ready to respond to whichever area seemed to need them.

I just love resources.

As a gesture to goodwill between departments, our county officers would be assigned as roving patrol near each of the banks. Iowa State Patrol units would be assigned to each area as well, with the majority being around Frieberg.

Each local police department in a town with a “targeted bank” would be notified, and would have an officer on duty, but not obviously around the bank.

I held my hands up off the table, palms toward the TAC man. “That might be a problem…”

“Oh?”

“Uh, well, you see, of the six ‘possibles,’ only two are in towns with police departments.”

The TAC man seemed somewhat taken aback. “Just how big are these towns, anyway?”

I pointed to them on the map, and told him the population of each town as I did so. “Three hundred, two fifty four fifty two hundred, eighteen hundred, and twenty-six hundred.” The last two were Maitland, the county seat; and Frieberg. “Maitland and Frieberg have local departments.”

“Gonna be difficult for the surveillance teams not to stand out,” he said.

“Let me tell you,” said George. “Rush hour consists of three or four cars…”

The TAC commander gave me a quizzical look. “In such small places … how much money do you think they’ll get?”

“Twenty-nine ninety-five,” I said. “Hey, don’t ask. Reliable informant says, ‘five banks.’ Volont says, ‘five banks.’ All in the same area. We figure that’d be here.”

“Same area … same time?”

“Yep. That’s what they said.”

“Well, then, that’s what we prep for.” He grinned. “Good exercise. We can get inconspicuous here, we can hide just about anyplace.”

“If you can hide in these little towns,” said George, “you can hide on a gym floor.” He looked kind of sheepish all of a sudden. “Nothing personal, Carl.”

“You never can tell about these little places,” said the TAC commander. “They’ll surprise you.”

As our plans developed, it became painfully apparent that “Sunday” was a period twenty-four hours long. We had no idea when on Sunday they were going to hit. If they hit at all, of course. Consequently, it was decided that we’d be up and running for the full twenty-four hours. Lovely. I thought I’d probably go home for supper, get a nap in, and be back out around ten or so. It looked to be a long time before we got much sleep.

It was almost time for dinner when the intrepid Nancy called.

“Not on the phone. How about dinner? Just you, me, and Shamrock. It’s pretty good stuff.”

Where do you meet for dinner in a small town with two restaurants that were bound to be filled with either cops or press? Not the office. I couldn’t afford to have them see any of the prep people who were beginning to arrive. Too cold for a picnic. Which left one place. “Can you pick me up a fish sandwich? Bring it to my house … You know where I live, don’t you?”