“Withdrawal”

Chapter 2

           

            “Okay, everybody freeze!” commanded Tony.  “You,” he said, motioning to the customers and tellers.  “Get over there.  On the floor and don’t say anything.”  His eyes moved nervously around the room.  “Billy, go lock the front door, then check on Ricky, the guard, and that fellow on the floor.  Who is he and what’s he got a gun for?  He some kind of cop?”           

            Billy moved over to Ricky, checking him over and feeling for a pulse.  “He’s dead, Tony,” Billy said, clearly upset.  He could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead as he walked over to the guard.  The room was becoming very hot.  “He’s dead, too.  Tony, we’re gonna be in lots of trouble—”    

            “Shut up!  Just do as I say and we’ll get out of here.”

            Moving toward Starsky, Billy jumped when the detective suddenly moaned.  “This one’s alive but bleedin’ pretty bad.”

            “Get his gun and give it to me.  Then check his pockets for ID.”

            Billy picked up the gun, turned it over to Tony, and then knelt next to Starsky.  Feeling his pockets, Billy found the badge and ID.  “Look, Tony, you were right.  He is a cop.”

            “That’s great!  What was he doing in here?”

            “Looks like he was just doing some banking.  Here’s a slip he signed for a withdrawal.”

            “Some withdrawal,” snickered Tony.  Seeing the customers and tellers huddled together in the back corner, he turned to the manager.  “And what’s you name, Mr. Manager?”

            “John Johnston,” the manager answered nervously.  “You aren’t going to get away with this, you know.”

            “Well, Mr. Johnston, I plan on getting out of here just fine, if you and everyone else cooperates.”

At the sound of sirens approaching, Tony moved to the front window to look out, keeping himself hidden behind the green draperies.

            “Damn, who set off an alarm?!”  Turning back to face inside the bank, he pointed his gun at the manager.  “You?  No, you were with me.”  Walking toward the people huddled in the back, he swung his gun back and forth threateningly in front of them.  “Who set the alarm off?”  No one answered, but the group drew closer together, finding security in each other.

            “Maybe it was the guard,” volunteered Billy.

            “Nah...wait a minute...if he’s a cop,” Tony said, pointing the gun at Starsky, bleeding on the floor, “they usually come in pairs.”  Silent for a moment, he added, “He just might be the insurance we need to get out of here.”

            Tony walked to the manager and shoved him in the direction of the hostages, then walked over to Starsky.

 

˜ ™

 

            Everything looked gray and fuzzy, and any movement brought pain.  Starsky blinked rapidly, hoping to bring his vision into focus.  Lying on his right side, he faintly made out a dark-haired man about fifty years old, waving his gun at a group of people huddled together.  He then watched as the man shoved the manager toward the group, and heard him order the manager to stay put.  Moving his head slowly and blinking rapidly to clear his vision further, Starsky realized the man was walking toward him.  He gasped at the sudden pain from a kick in the side.  “Hey, Cop, what ya doin’ here?”

            Starsky didn’t answer, earning himself another kick.  “Cop, I asked you a question.”  A moan slipped out, and Starsky tried to turn and sit up.  The room spun around as he regrettably tried to use his left arm for support.  He quickly shifted his weight to his right arm, trying to push himself up against the base of the counter.  Using it for back support meant the room didn’t spin quite as much.

            Starsky looked up at the man standing in front of him and couldn’t help wonder where Hutch was.  “I was makin’ a withdrawal; I assume you’re here for the same.” 

            “Very funny, Cop.  This here ID says your name is Detective Sergeant David Starsky.  Let me introduce myself.  I’m Tony Barillo.  Looks like we’re going to spend a little time together.  Might as well get to know each other.”

            “Look...Tony...just let everybody go.  There’s no reason to keep ‘em.”  Starsky found it was becoming increasingly difficult to talk.  The room was beginning to spin, and his voice sounded faint and distant.  Trying to concentrate on what he was saying was making his head ache.  He was afraid he was going to pass out again.

 

˜ ™

 

            After calling in the robbery, Hutch quickly returned to his lookout near the bushes, gun drawn and ready.  There had been no movement in the bank that he could see.

            He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder as Captain Dobey knelt next to him behind the cover of the hedge at the end of the street.  “What’s happening, Hutch?”

            “Not much.  The last movement I saw in the bank, was someone dressed in black locking the front door.”

            “Are you sure the shots came from inside the bank?”

            “Yeah, besides, no one has entered or exited since the shots were fired.”

            “Where’s your partner, checking out the other side of the bank?”

            “No, he’s inside the bank.”  Hutch gave him time for the words to sink in.  “He was in there when the shots were fired.” 

            “You mean he’s one of the hostages?”

            Hutch turned toward Dobey and nodded.  “There were several shots fired.  I don’t know if he’s okay....”

Dobey looked at the blond man next to him and heard the anguish in his voice.  He knew what Hutch was thinking.  His partner was inside...possibly shot, possibly... 

            “He’s fine,” said Dobey.  “You know he can take care of himself.”

            “Yeah, I also know the trouble he can get himself into.”

            Dobey rested his hand on Hutch’s back and motioned for one of the police officers to come closer.  “Find me some binoculars,” Dobey ordered and then, turning to Hutch, said reassuringly, “Maybe we’ll be able to see a little better.”

            Grabbing the binoculars the officer offered, Dobey focused them, carefully searching the front window.  “Can’t see much...everybody must be in the back.”

            “Any sign of Starsk?” asked Hutch, needing to know but afraid to ask.

            “Not yet, but that doesn’t mean anything.  Any idea how many hostages?”

            “Nope, only know of one for certain.”

Dobey didn’t respond as he continued scanning the front of the bank for any signs.

            “Thompson,” Dobey called to the uniformed police officer nearest him.  “Call the main bank downtown and get me the president of the bank on the phone.  They should have access to records showing who’s working at this branch.  We’ve got to determine how many people are in there and how many suspects.”

            Dobey handed the binoculars to Hutch, stiffly got up off his right knee, and returned to the patrol car.  Hutch, focusing the binoculars, stared at the front windows for any sign.  “I sure wish I had x-ray vision like Superman,” he mumbled to no one in particular.  “C’mon, Starsk,” he pleaded, “show yourself.”

            Hutch slid out from behind the bushes and stood up against the bakery wall.  He hurried back to Dobey near the police car.  “Okay, thanks,” said Dobey into the mic and hung up.  “Main office says there should be three tellers, a manager, and a guard inside.  It’s anybody’s guess how many bank customers, besides Starsky, were present at the time.”

            “I remember Starsky holding the door open for an elderly gentleman,” said Hutch.

            Dobey ordered the SWAT team to the area and, taking the binoculars from Hutch, went back to crouch behind the hedge.  “Hutch,” he called, motioning toward him.  “What’s Starsky wearing?”

            “Um...the usual—blue jeans, blue t-shirt, and navy windbreaker.  Why?” he asked.

            “Is he wearing his blue Adidas?”

            “Of course.”  Hutch’s stomach started twisting into knots.

            “Take a look through the bottom center pane,” said Dobey, handing Hutch the binoculars.

            Hutch took them and had difficulty finding the exact location Dobey was referring to.  “I don’t see anything.”  Then, after a pause, “Wait, I see his sneaker.  Looks like he’s sitting...or lying on the floor.  He’s shot!”

Dobey placed a hand on Hutch’s shoulder to calm him and to keep his officer from running across to the bank door.  “Now don’t jump to conclusions.  He could have been ordered to sit there.  We don’t know for sure that he’s been shot.”

            “He’s in trouble, Captain, I can feel it.”  Slamming his right hand on the brick building, Hutch’s frustration escaped.  “I’ve got to find a way inside!”

            Dobey didn’t doubt what Hutch was feeling.  He’d never seen two partners more in sync with one another.  Right now, though, he didn’t need Hutch to go storming off and doing something rash.  Trying to keep the situation calm, Dobey said, “Look we have to wait for the SWAT team to get in position, and I’m going to get a line connected to the bank.  Maybe the robbers will pick it up and tell us their demands.  Until then, we have to wait.  You don’t want to escalate the situation and put Starsky in more harm.”  He hated to say it, but Dobey knew it was the best way to keep Hutch in control.  He would never do anything to harm his partner.  Dobey turned and, despite his size, swiftly returned to the police cruiser, calling in a request for a phone hook-up into the bank.