Dave Zeltserman - Outsourced

“Must’ve been rough,” Resnick said.

“Yeah, it was, but I guess it’s part of the job, huh? Anyway, while you were off having your fun, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone. And guess what? There’s a surveillance camera covering the cabinet that alarm system is locked away in. I’ve gone through the tapes. No one opened the cabinet from midnight last night until after the bank robbery.”

“The security system could’ve been turned off days ago.”

“Maybe, but watch this.”

Maguire ejected the tape that was in the machine and plugged in one that he had separated from the others. Checking his notebook, he fast-forwarded to a tape position that he had written down, and then hit the play button. The tape showed the bank manager, Craig Brown, running to the cabinet, duct tape still attached to his wrists. He looked out of breath as he stood fumbling with his keys, a thin sheen of sweat covering his neck and forehead. After he opened the cabinet, he froze for a long ten count as he stared into it, a look of puzzlement breaking out on his face.

“Did you see that?” Maguire asked. “At no point does he touch anything in that cabinet. He didn’t turn on the security system because it was already on. Which means it was on during the robbery.”

“Why didn’t it work then?”

“Maybe nobody pushed any of the alarm buttons.”

“Brown claims he did,” Resnick said.

“I called Tom. Supposedly three other tellers swore they did also. Maybe they’re all lying.”

“Four people on the inside involved?” A dull throbbing had started in the front of Resnick’s skull. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the pain. “That’s too many people. It wouldn’t work. One of them would screw up their story. The alarm system was probably hacked into. Ah shit, this is going to get complicated.”

“We’ll see. I called Tom and asked if he could have all the alarm buttons dusted for prints.”

Resnick didn’t see the point in that, especially since tellers were probably always touching the buttons, if for no other reason than to make sure they knew where they were. He didn’t bother to mention that to Maguire; he was just glad to see his partner taking more of an initiative.

The throbbing in his head had become more of a dull pounding. He always carried a bottle of aspirin with him, and he popped a couple of tablets into his mouth and chewed them slowly. He wished it had been as simple as the alarm system being turned off. The thought of having to worry about how the system had been hacked into made the pain in his head worse.

“Have you watched the robbery yet?” Resnick asked.

“Yeah, let me show it to you.”

Maguire plugged in a second tape that he had separated from the stack and positioned the tape to where the robbers were about to appear. The surveillance camera was angled to capture most of the bank lobby, but not the lobby door. Resnick watched as men poured into the bank lobby, two of them carrying assault rifles, another brandishing a handgun. He reached over and paused the tape.

“I count five men,” Resnick said.

“That’s all I counted also.”

“Do you think any others could’ve slipped by without the camera picking them up?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Of the five men, four of them were dressed in red overalls and ski masks. A fifth man was wearing a yellow running suit. He also had on a ski mask, but it didn’t match the others.

“They must’ve planned the robbery for four guys and added a fifth at the last minute,” Resnick said.

“Look at the firepower those guys had,” Maguire said. “Two assault rifles and that big guy with the long hair is waving a forty-five. If you ask me, that’s overkill for a bank robbery. You’re going to make a lot of noise firing off those weapons.”

“You’re going to make a lot of noise firing off any gun. They probably wanted to scare the hell out of whoever was in there and get control fast.”

Maguire thought about it. “Maybe,” he conceded. “By the way, that big guy waving the gun is the one who ends up shooting those two women. He’s probably also going to turn out to be the one who shot the Grateful Dead guy in the parking lot.”

Maguire hit the play button and watched as the tape showed three of the robbers rounding up the bank employees and customers, forcing them on to their stomachs, then taping their wrists and ankles. The two other robbers had duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Maguire pointed them out as they started sprinting towards the hallway leading to the safety deposit boxes.

“Unfortunately, there’s no camera where the safety deposit boxes are kept,” Maguire said. “According to Brown, they would be violating the privacy of their box owners if they videotaped what was being put in them.”

Resnick nodded, realizing the bank manager was right.

“Nothing much happens until the shootings,” Maguire continued. “Let me fast-forward until we get there.”

As the tape sped along, Resnick thought he saw something. He stopped the tape, rewound it and played it back. At one point, the guy in the running suit kneeled by Margaret Williams to check the duct tape wrapped around her wrists. Resnick paused the tape at that point and played it at slow speed. The guy in the running suit had his back to the camera, and while that mostly obscured what happened, you could see for a second him slipping both hands under the young woman’s skirt.

“That little fat fuck,” Maguire swore. “He’s molesting her.”

After that Resnick played the tape at regular speed. At one point the guy who had been waving the forty-five around wandered over to Margaret Williams.

“This is where it happens,” Maguire said.

The man started saying something to Williams. His attitude looked casual, relaxed. After several minutes of that she turned her head, straining to look back at him. Her face was livid, veins streaking her neck as she yelled something to him. At first the robber started glancing from side to side, looking like he just wanted to run away. Then, almost as if a switch had been flipped, his body stiffened and he grabbed her with both hands and flipped her on to her back. Within a blink of an eye, he had his gun arm extended, then a flame exploded from the gun barrel. Margaret Williams’ body bounced on impact. When it settled down her head rested to one side.

Hard lines tightened along Resnick’s jaw as he watched the shooting. He stopped the tape and rewound it. Maguire groaned. “I don’t think I can watch that again,” he said.

“I want to show you something,” Resnick said. “The guy in the running suit – take a look at the way he’s acting while she’s yelling at the shooter. His shoulders are bouncing up and down. He’s laughing, he’s enjoying what’s happening. Now look at the third guy. He’s clearly agitated. As the shooter extends his gun, this guy starts to lift his rifle as if he’s going to shoot him instead. There’s definitely chaos going on at that point.”

Resnick replayed the tape, pointing out his observations to Maguire.

“Okay,” Maguire said. “So we’ve got a couple of psychos involved. How’s that going to help us?”

Resnick stopped the tape. The hard lines along his jaws stretched tighter while he stared at the monitor. “In some ways this seems like a professional job – the way they shut down the alarm system, the precision in drilling open the safety deposit boxes – but I can’t believe those three guys are anything but amateurs.”

“They could just be wack jobs,” Maguire offered. “Are you ready to see the other shooting?”

Resnick nodded grimly. The tape was started again. Mary O’Donnell had been lying next to Williams. After Williams was shot, O’Donnell started screaming. She turned her head back, trying to face the shooter. For a long moment the man stood frozen, then he started yelling back at her. He pushed her on to her back with his foot and without hesitation shot her in the stomach. While she lay writhing on the floor, he seemed to be talking to her. Resnick noticed that the guy in the running suit had stopped laughing. The third guy’s body language indicated that he had given up trying to control the situation.