MATT DUGGAN - Detective Series

Part I

Rushing through the bank’s business door, a heavily armed gang of five dispersed in several directions throughout the medium sized branch.

"This is a robbery! Everyone on the floor ... NOW!"

“Stay QUIET! Don’t touch any buttons or anything else. Don’t play the hero or do anything stupid. Keep your mouths shut and remain face down. Close your eyes and turn your head away. Do as you're told, and nobody will get hurt.”

Clutching an assault rifle, the leader and his primary accomplice stationed themselves in the middle of the bank’s main lobby. All were dressed in jeans, long sleeve shirts, and gloves; their heads were covered with a three hole ski mask.

Addressing the remaining three gangsters by the word, “number” the leader began shouting out commands: “Number one,” he barked, pointing to the bank customers and the main entry door, the signal to guard the lobby, several lobby customers, and the door. “Number two,” he yelled out, pointing to bank officers and customers in their lobby offices, then moving his arm and finger in the direction of the tellers, another command to herd bank officer employees and their office customers behind the counter. “Number three,” he shouted, pointing toward the location of the bank vault directly over and behind the center teller. Number three, the smallest member of the robbery team, sprinted quietly toward and hopped over a non-teller section of the counter, moving into a back room and toward the vault. Re-appearing seconds later, the diminutive perp rendered a thumbs up, confirming the vault was open and loaded with cash.

The leader placed a hand on the shoulder of his colleague standing next to him. “Go,” he ordered. Number four darted toward the counter, carrying five folded seabags under one arm, a semi-auto pistol in the other hand. Hopping effortlessly onto and over the counter, the perp scampered toward perp number three.

During the next several minutes, bandits three and four entered and exited the vault five times, each time carrying a stuffed seabag and tossing it over the counter and onto the floor of the lobby.

"Listen up," the leader shouted. "All those on the floor ... on your feet ... NOW!" Herding the customers and employees around the counter and in the direction of the vault, the bank’s main entry entry door suddenly opened, a young adult woman entering. Dressed in a tank top, shorts, sandals, and pair of dark sunglasses, she waddled inside, focused and fidgeting with her cell phone. Before she realized what what was happening, perp number one grabbed her by the arm and roughly shoved her toward the center of the lobby.

“Hey, what the ……?”

“Keep your mouth shut and don’t turn around,” the gunman threatened, the business end of a short-barreled shotgun making contact with the back of her head. Caught completely off guard, she rendered a frightened, but compliant nod.

“Okay, customers and employees ... inside the vault!” the leader hollered. Herding the customers and employees into the industrial sized safe, the masked kingpin wheeled the heavy vault door around on its hinges, the door shutting with a loud thud. Turning the thick spoke handle several turns, he pivoted in the direction of his gang. "Let's GO!"

Scrambling out of the vault area and around the counter, each member of the robbery crew grabbed a seabag, then darted out the front door. A dark colored van with tinted windows screeched around an adjacent corner, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the bank. The gang’s leader yanked open the rear door of the van, each perp throwing in their seabag before jumping in the cargo area and pulling the door shut. The van driver sped away, making pre-arranged left and right turns for several blocks before turning into an abandoned alleyway where a large moving truck was parked and waiting, its rear door open and loading ramps extended. The van driver slowed just enough to safely roll the vehicle up and into the back of the waiting truck. After shoving the ramps back into the undercarriage, the truck driver and his accomplice closed and latched both doors before running back to the cab, both truck and van escaping into the bustling city.

Cutting the engine and turning on the inside lights of the van, the bank bandits sat on the floor of the van around the stuffed seabags. The desperados removed their masks, revealing thug number 3 to be the only female member of the gang. She shook her disheveled blond hair, allowing it to fall to her shoulders before exchanging glances with the leader, both rendering huge smiles.

“We pulled it off, baby,” he told her. “You did great ... I’m proud of you.”

The diminutive perp leaped into his arms, hugging him. They exchanged a quick kiss before he strolled happily over her face. “How does a trip to Hawaii sound?”

***

Opening Matt’s Office door just enough to poke her head inside, Delia quickly pulled back. “Sorry, she whispered, “I didn’t know you were on the phone.”

Sitting at his desk, he smiled and gazed upward at his assistant, then raised his hand, repeatedly pulling his fingers toward him. Delia tip-toed inside, pulling the door shut and quietly moving a chair away from the front of his desk before sitting.

“I appreciate the call, Jim,” Matt continued, “but I wouldn’t worry about it. On the other hand, if you continue to see the same vehicle, then call me again, and we’ll go from there." A pause. “Thanks. I’m fortunate to have such an alert neighbor." Another pause. “Okay, I’ll do that. And thanks again.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, returning it gently to its cradle.

"What was that all about?" Delia asked, a curious expression appearing.

Exchanging glances, Matt snorted a grin. “That was the neighborhood watch commando,” he reluctantly divulged. "He wanted to let me know about an unfamiliar vehicle that’s made repeated forays into the neighborhood over the last hour. I told him to call back if it continues.”

“The neighborhood watch commando?” Delia repeated.

Matt pressed his lips together and nodded.

Delia furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “Oh, yes,” she finally recalled. "I remember you mentioning him some time ago. Isn’t that Mr. …?”

“That’s him,“ Matt cut in. He leaned forward. “What was it you were so eager to tell me earlier ... before you caught me on the phone with the neighborhood watchdog?" he asked, changing the subject.

“Three people walked-in just before I interrupted you," she answered. “They’re waiting in the lobby.”

“Who are they?’’ Matt asked, looking up at his assistant.

“A John Richardson with American Bankers Association, Bernard Metzler with the Western Branch of the Federal Reserve, and Paul Morgan, Regional Vice President of New Corporate Bank.”

Matt cocked his head to the side, resting his chin between his thumb and forefinger. Pondering on Delia’s announcement and identity of the waiting visitors, he turned back in her direction.

“Did I hear you say, 'New Corporate Bank?'"

“You did,” she replied. “A third branch was robbed two days ago. All three robberies appear to be by the same gang."

Matt nodded. “I saw it on the news. Figured the Feds were already on it. It's been a federal crime to rob any national bank or state member bank of the Federal Reserve since 1934." He turned his head to the side again, meditating for a moment before returning a puzzling glance. “I wonder what they want with me?” he murmured quietly.

Delia rendered her trademark beautiful smile. “What does anyone ever want with you?” she knowingly emphasized.

Matt snorted a confirming chuckle. "Alright, let’s go and talk with those people.”


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