Saturday, December 28, 2024

The Merger – 31

 


With the exception of two doors along the exterior wall—one for the bank's customers, the other for employees—the room they were in was lined with safety deposit boxes. Given that the vault was relatively small, that could have presented a problem for Mike and the others if it weren't for the fact that whoever had designed it had created a standing wall of boxes down the center, which divided the room in two. Since the wall faced the doors, it gave the men a place to hide where they wouldn't be seen by anyone entering. As Stanton had pointed out when Josh had asked, security cameras covered the room to make certain no one was inside who didn't belong there—cameras that had now been turned off by Osborne when he'd disarmed the bank's security system.

Mike and the others heard footsteps in the hallway, then, through their earbuds, voices from the tellers' work area.

"You just saved your wife and daughter from dying," a deep voice said. "Let's hope that continues. Hold out your arms."

Mike was certain whoever was speaking, or an accomplice, was checking Osborne for a wire. He knew he was correct when another voice said, "He's clean." There was a long moment of silence then the same man said, "So is the room."

Mike glanced at Stanton, who smiled smugly.

"Where first, boss?" a third voice asked.

"The safety deposit boxes," the original speaker replied. "I need to get into A-201. Burt, you keep our friend here company. And Osborne, the door had better be unlocked."

"It is," Osborne replied, he voice taut with tension.

There was the sound of footsteps as four people—Mike thought—approached the room. Then the employee's door opened, letting in light from the hallway.

"Where's the God damned light switch?" one of the men muttered. Seconds later, the lights came on. Mike would have been semi-blinded if he hadn't closed his eyes before that happened. As it was, it took a moment for them to adjust.

"A-190, 191…" One of the men was obviously walking down the aisle, checking the numbers. "There. Nowell, drill the lock."

Stanton held up his hand to keep Mike and the others from moving precipitously. They heard the sound of metal grinding metal.

"Done, boss," a man said two minutes later. "Here you go."

There was a long silence then the man the others called boss said, "If Walker wasn't a dumb fuck who thought he could shake me down, he'd be alive and the cops would have had this information." He let out a snort of laughter. "Then my ass would be sitting in a jail cell."

"It's going to be, real soon," Stanton said, stepping into view. "Put your hands behind your heads."

"Like hell!" the man spat out, shouting, "Osborne, you're dead. So is your family."

Mike, Josh, and Thad had followed right behind Stanton. Thad immediately dashed from the room. Mike knew he was going take care of the man who was with Osborne—and hoped he'd be in time.

That left Mike, Josh, and Stanton to deal with the man Mike recognized as Charles Comstock, as well as Nowell, and two others—all of whom were reaching for or had pulled weapons. One of the men screamed in pain when the Taser bolts from Josh's weapon hit him. Seconds later, he was on the floor of the vault.

"You gotta be the bastards who grabbed the girl!" Nowell aimed his gun at Josh. Mike fired his Taser and Nowell joined his companion on the floor.

That left Comstock and the fourth man. Stanton was wrestling with Comstock in an attempt to relieve him of his gun before he could shoot—not an easy feat in the small space. Mike pulled his second Taser but was afraid to use it for fear of hitting Stanton.

Meanwhile, Josh was backing slowly away from the last man as he lifted his Taser. The man grinned maliciously at Josh and, as his finger tightened on the trigger, asked "Do you think that will beat a bullet?"

Rather than reply, Josh dropped and rolled, firing as he did. The bullet from the man's gun ricocheted off one of the metal boxes at the same time that his body jerked from the electrical charge when the Taser projectiles struck him.

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