He just walked out of here with a bag full of cash-a quarter million.
Are you serious?
He was talking about low inventory at South Branch, made a transfer directive for me to sign, then said something about a security drill.
Jos brow creased. Butnone of that makes any sense.
I know. Annie pulled herself to her full height, looked around the empty lobby and took charge. Weve got to do something-fast. Jo, dont open the front doors until I tell you.
Annie hurried to her desk, picked up her phone and called Dans cell phone. As it continued to ring, she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for what hed just done. He clearly wasnt himself, and she hoped she could get him to come back to the branch before things escalated any further.
When his voice mail picked up, Annie called Dans home and got the same result.
Her mind racing, she pulled up Dans full contact information, hoping shed have some luck with his wifes cell phone.
Maybe Lori knows whats happening. Maybe she can help.
It rang through to voice mail. Out of options and out of time, Annie called one more number.
SkyNational, South Branch. How may I direct your call?
Sally, its Annie Trippe at Roseoak.
Hey, kiddo.
Is Mort there? I need to speak to him, now.
Hes got someone in his office.
Can you just get him on the line, Sally-please!
I will, dear, just as soon as hes free.
No! I need to talk to him now!
Whoa, whats going-
Im sorry, Sally. Just, please, get Mort. Its an emergency.
Annie heard a few muffled voices, then the line clicked.
Annie, whats going on? Mort Frederick asked.
Do you have an inventory issue, and did you ask Dan to personally make an interbranch transfer to you first thing this morning?
What the hell? No! Of course not.
Mort, swear to me.
I swear! What is this?
Are you aware of any secret security exercises, anything involving cash transfers?
Hell, no! Annie, whats going on? Wheres Danny- Is he there?
No!
Whats this all about?
Mort- Annies voice broke -Dan just walked out of the branch with a bag filled with two hundred and fifty thousand!
He what? Mort cursed under his breath.
What do I do?
Annie, call the police!
9
Roseoak Park, New York
FBI special agent Nick Varner held out his ID to the NYPD officer whose patrol car blocked the entrance to the banks parking lot.
Marked NYPD units from the 111th Precinct dotted the lot and the area surrounding the SkyNational Trust branch. A heavy-duty response, Varner thought, but then this was Roseoak, middle-class neighbor to upper middle-class Douglaston, with its winding hilly streets and waterfront mansions on Little Neck Bay. The entire region was an appealing, sleepy corner of Queens where not much happened, and residents here wanted it that way.
Yeah, take it over there, pal, the officer said.
Varner parked his Bureau car, collected his notebook, his recorder and organized his thoughts. He knew the drill. He was thirty-nine and had put in twelve years with the FBI that had included a tour at headquarters in Washington, DC, assignments in Los Angeles, Phoenix and, for the past seven years, the New York Field Office in Manhattan, where hed been a member of several task forces. Now he was pulling double duty, assigned to Violent Crimes and the Joint Terrorism Task Force.
He sized up the building. Typical suburban detached box. All the blinds had been drawn. A sign had been posted at the front doors. Printed by hand in block letters, it said the branch was closed. It directed customers to the nearest branch and ATMs in the area.
Varner went to the rear entrance and showed his ID to the uniformed officer there. She nodded and handed him some tissue-paper shoe covers. Varner tugged them on and entered.
The lobby was active.
Investigators with the NYPDs Crime Scene Unit were just setting up to go into the vault and start processing it. Two others were talking to a guy in a suit who Varner took to be a bank security chief.
Nicholas Alfonso Varner. Well, Ill be damned.
Varner found himself shaking hands with a familiar big-chested man in his fifties, a badge hanging from his chain: NYPD detective Marv Tilden. Theyd worked together during the final years of the Joint Bank Robbery Task Force before the NYPD pulled out. Theyd spent enough long hours as partners for Tilden to know Varners middle name was Alfonso, and that a few generations back, Varners family had come to America from Italy. Officials at Ellis Island had changed their name from Varnisanino to Varner.
Morning, Marvin, Varner said. You must be close to hanging it up.
One more lousy winter, then we move to Nevada. Hey, youre alone? You feds never come alone-and you got here pretty fast.
Traffic was kind to me, and the others are on their way. What do we know?
Not a lot. Weve barely started.
What can you tell me?
Tilden described how Dan Fulton, the branch manager, came to work alone talking up an emergency branch transfer. Then he violates security procedures, fills a bag with cash and disappears. No GPS, dye packs, transmitters or bait bills.
The tally?
Theyre still calculating, but it looks like two hundred and fifty thousand, which would just about clean them out of cash inventory.
Whatve we done so far?
Like I said, were just getting started. Weve alerted the Real Time Crime Center, put out a BOLO for Fultons car, a 2015 blue Taurus SEL. Were calling on traffic to put people at toll plazas, but thats a resource matter-we cant cover them all. Were checking to see if the car has anything we can maybe get a signal on, like a GPS. And weve got people heading to his house. Whit Tallbreck, SkyNationals security guy, is just getting his legal departments blessing to volunteer the cameras, and hes got people pulling Fultons file. We already ran him and nothing lights up.
Whatd you think, Marv? Duress, drugs, debt-he just flip out?
Any of the above. Look- Tilden nodded to a desk in a far corner -my partner, Betsy Mendelson, is talking to one of the two tellers who were here when it happened. Im about to interview the other one. Why dont you join me, be like old times?
Annie Trippe sat alone in the lunchroom at the back of the bank.
She was holding a mug of hot tea to keep from shaking. When she wasnt dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she traced the words Worlds Best Mom on her mug between glances at the staff bulletin board next to the fridge. It was feathered with notes, selfies from vacations and a group shot from the tug-of-war for charity.
Dan Fulton was smiling with his arm around her.
Looking at it, Annies lower lip started to tremble.
Hello again, Tilden said as he entered the room. He held out an arm toward another man Annie hadnt met yet. This is Nick Varner with the FBI. Wed like to talk to you about what happened.
Chairs scraped as the two men sat opposite Annie at the table. They flipped through their notebooks to clear pages, logged the time and copied Annies information from her drivers license before starting their recorders.
Can you start by giving us a time line and step-by-step account of your actions?
Annie steeled herself then related details of the morning; how she and Jo Ballinger arrived, followed branch opening procedures and what had transpired when Fulton got in. Varner and Tilden took notes, nodded, asked occasional questions.
Everything was by the book and routine until Dan arrived.
And you say he seemed a little off center? Tilden asked.
Anxious, distracted, troubled even.
They made a note.
And he insisted you violate policy with the transfer directive that hed created on his computer and demanded you sign it after reading it carefully? Varner asked.
Annie nodded.
Did you read it? Varner asked.
No. It was a policy violation and I refused to sign it.
Wheres this directive? Varner asked.
Still on his desk in his office, I think.
Did your people look at it, Marv? Varner asked.
Tildens chair scraped as he stood and left the room. A short time later he returned wearing latex gloves, a file folder in one hand and the transfer directive in the other. He looked grim as he laid the printed form on the table for them. Annie went still as she read the note Dan had scrawled on the signature line: Family held hostage at home! Strapped bombs on us!
She suddenly felt sick, but before she could say anything, Tilden reached for his phone.
We need ESU on the Fulton house ASAP!
10
Roseoak Park, New York
Its almost over. Stay calm.
Dans scalp was prickling as he drove back toward his house.
The bag with cash sat on the passenger floor. Hed done exactly what theyd forced him to do. Hed walked into his own branch and robbed it.
Now this nightmare can end. Theyve got to release Lori and Billy. You just need to get home.
Hed expected further instructions when hed gotten back in the car, but Dan had heard nothing from Vic since hed left the bank.
Hello? Dan said aloud. Ive got your money.
Nothing but silence, making him worry their communication system had malfunctioned. He gently pressed the arm of his glasses to his ear.
Are you there? Look, I did what you wanted. Ive got your money. Youve got to release my wife and son, now!
Silence.
As the shaded boulevards of Roseoak rolled past, Dans mind raced with images of what had happened and scenarios of what may be playing out. He pictured Annie at the bank, how hed shocked her, how hed hated seeing her grappling with unthinkable events.
I know shell come through.
Annie was smart, and she was strong. He trusted and believed shed know what to do.
Shell find my message. She has to.
In the bank hed been careful not to lower his head, pulling the directive close to his chest so it was out of the cameras view as he wrote. He imagined Annie and Jo finding it, making calls, showing it to police, and people jumping into action to help.
Maybe thats why no one is answering, he thought hopefully.
Maybe police had raced to his house and rescued Billy and Lori. Maybe theyd arrested Vic and the others. Would it happen that fast? He had no way of knowing. Theyd taken his cell phone, and it would be too dangerous to call, anyway.
Still, Dan couldnt convince himself that he was off the hook. He grew anxious about what hed done at the bank.