Authors: Anne-Marie Hart
'You just sit tight there Maddy', Edwards calls over to her. 'We're going to get you out of there.'
'I could shoot you right now', Harper says, his trigger finger getting itchy.
River pulls out his gun so quickly that Harper can't remember if he had it pointed at him all along or not.
'You'll have to be quick', River says.
Edwards pulls the car away and speeds on up ahead. Red Jackson hangs on his shoulder a while before speeding past too. River waves at the bemused officers as they hurtle past.
'You can't be very important Maddy', River says to her. 'They don't seem to mind risking you one bit.'
'You fucking prick', Maddy says. She's had enough, and can't take it anymore. She tries to kick River, but can't move her legs out well enough from underneath herself. All she succeeds in doing in fact is bruising her shoulder on the dashboard, and making herself even more upset.
'Do you want a cigarette?' River says, laughing a little at her unsuccessful attempts to free herself. 'It might help to calm you down. You'll have to roll it yourself though, or at least take the wheel while I roll it. On second thoughts, it might be best if we wait.'
'No I don't want a fucking cigarette', Maddy screams at him. 'I want you to stop the car and let me go.'
'Oh come on Princess, what's wrong? Are you not having fun?' River says.
'Please', Maddy says, as tears begin to stream from her eyes again.
'I can't do that, I'm afraid. Not yet at least.'
Ramirez has made his way inside the police cordon, and is now concisely reporting to Frank Giamatti everything he knows about what has already happened, including how many men are inside, how many hostages are with them, who they have already killed, how much money they are hoping to take out and most importantly, which brave soul was responsible for the 999 call in the first place, and who could do with being justly rewarded.
Inside the bank, Peters and Carlos are panicking, but neither one of them as much as Fergal Murphy. Today he has gone over and above his duties as senior manager, monogrammed stationery owner and key holder, and would very much like it if his day, and quite possibly his entire career was already over. Suddenly, the phone rings. Peters's first instinct is to shoot it, but instead, he lets common sense take over, and he answers it.
'Stop fucking around and come out of there', Frank tells him.
'We've got hostages', Peters says.
'I know what you've got', Frank says. 'You've got a dead cop and a bank manager. You let the rest go. I've got sixteen cops out here and a comfy seat in the back of the car for both of you. Don't fuck it up.'
'Get me a comfy seat in a car without cops and we'll leave nicely', Peters says. 'You've got five minutes. After that, you know what will happen.'
'I'm giving you one opportunity to get out of there alive, don't waste it. Could be ten years if you're a good boy. Otherwise we'll be scraping your brains up off the concrete floor.'
'If there isn't a car outside in five minutes, he's dead. After that, I'm going to come for you.'
He slams the phone down. 'Fucking cops', he says.
As River approaches the 'road block', he can't believe how stupid the police officers have been. He knows police officers in general aren't always the brightest, but these four could make monkeys look like scientists. Not only have they parked their cars in such a way that River can easily drive around them by going over the mud at the edge of the road, they've also got out of their cars, presumably in case he's stupid enough to ram into them, which means that when he does just go round them, it will take much longer for them to get back in, turn the cars around and give chase. Of course, they're not able to do that anyway, because as soon as River sees the officers are a safe distance away, he fires a shot into the petrol tank of one of the cars, causing an explosion that sends them
even
further away from where they had originally started, as they run for cover, desperate not to get impaled by a hot metal fireball.
As the first car twists spectacularly into the air, sending huge chunks of warped metal all over the road, and finally comes down the wrong way up, on top of the other car, rendering that one as useless as the first, River calmly drives past, waving at the embarrassed officers as he does so. Harper is the only one who reacts, trying unsuccessfully to shoot his car down, until Edwards pushes his hands down to stop him, even though his bullets have all long since run out.
'Where's that fucking chopper?' Frank says, to no-one in particular. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else, it was incompetence. Him and Maddy would agree on that.
'It's going to be ten more minutes at least', officer Garland tells him.
'Ten minutes? Are you fucking kidding me?
'It wasn't classed as a priority.'
'A bank robbery isn't classed as a priority?' Frank barks at him.
'That's what they said to me sir, I did insist, but they wouldn't listen. I can call them again if you like?'
'Fuck it. Have you got hold of Edwards again yet?'
'No sir, I haven't', Garland says. 'He's not radioed in.'
'Jesus christ. He better not have fucked this up.'
'Knowing Mark Edwards, that is highly unlikely I'm afraid sir', Garland says, and Frank growls in agreement.
Edwards most certainly has fucked this up, and he knows it. The mess of still burning metal in front of him used to be his car, and the car he was meant to be 'keeping an eye on', has just driven away into the distance without further impedance. He knows he'll get his ass chewed out for this and it'll probably be a long time before he gets to catch a real bank robber again.
River pumps the air theatrically and slaps the now wonky dashboard as he pulls away, unable to contain his excitement at yet another successful raid. He's got a bag full of cash, alright not quite six million dollars, but a much better haul than he's used to, and one that he doesn't have to share with anyone. More importantly, there are no police chasing him, not until they get a chopper into the air, and until they do that, he's as free as anyone else is. Well, almost anyone else. He'll have to do something with Maddy, although he hasn't decided yet quite what that should be.
'Fuck yeah', he says. 'Woooooooh! Did you enjoy that Maddy? Get your adrenaline pumping?'
It's dawning on Maddy that her chances of being saved have gone from slim to none. She can tell from the speed of the car and River's reaction, that no-one is chasing them anymore. River sees that she's trying to get up, and he reaches out a hand to help her, which she promptly bites. Once on her feet, she does as much as she can to try and attack River, which involves throwing herself at him and trying to headbutt and bite whatever part of his body is the most accessible. She doesn't give a fuck that he's got a gun, or she forgets about it at least, because even when he holds it into her belly, she doesn't register and certainly doesn't stop.
The Oldsmobile swings about in the road, up onto the mud, and back onto the asphalt into the path of an oncoming truck, until River finally manages to regain control, and pulls it to a stop just at the side of the highway. He wrestles Maddy onto the passenger seat and then holds the gun at her face. Finally Maddy stops. River has blood running from a bite on his neck.
'What the fuck is wrong with you?' River shouts at her, dabbing at the wound.
Maddy is crying and breathing heavily.
'What the fuck is wrong with me?!' she shouts back, amazed at his arrogance. 'You are the one pointing the gun at me.'
'You've just attacked me', River says. 'That fucking hurt.'
Maddy reaches behind her to the door handle. A second later the door swings open, and she falls backwards, halfway out of the car and halfway still in it.
'Help', she shouts, but no-one is around to hear her. This is a pretty much deserted route of road, apart from the odd semi that goes hurtling past without warning.
River grabs her dress, just about where her belly button is, and pulls her back inside the car. He holds the gun flat against her forehead.
'Don't fuck around Madeleine', he says. 'I don't have much use for you now, have you thought of that?'
'Then let me go', she pleads with him.
'Nah', I don't think I'll do that.' River says. 'Come on, you're coming with me, until you learn to behave.
He pulls Maddy across to where he's sat, and with her practically on his lap, and the nozzle of the gun once again in her spine, he slides his way out of the car.
Maddy has no desire to ride in the trunk of the car, but she also has no desire to die. She's pissed off River, and although she hasn't seen him kill anyone yet, she doesn't want to be the first. When told to climb in and keep her mouth shut, she does exactly that, even though the back of the car is absolutely filthy. River gets back into the driver's seat. He rolls himself a cigarette and lights it by striking the match on the asphalt by his feet. He twists the radio dial but there's no response. The fire has stopped and only a thin trail of smoke now remains from the molten plastic, but it's beyond repair. A police chopper'll be up in the air soon, and they'll be all over the car they're in, which means he'll have to change it. He'll also, eventually, have to do something about Maddy. He could dump her, but he kind of likes having the company, even though she seems to have some kind of attitude problem. Pretty soon she'll be having fun he figures. It's only a matter of time. And with that, when he's smoked enough of his cigarette, and is finally ready to go on, he pulls the beaten up car back onto the road, and begins to think very carefully about what to do next.
Carlos and Peters are getting edgy. Fergal pulls at his moustache more feverishly than ever. It looks like he's going to pull it right off his top lip. Carlos checks his watch.
'One minute', he says.
As much as he hates to do it, there is no other alternative. The bank robbers have already killed one man, and Frank can't risk them shooting another, even if he's their only remaining bargaining tool. He's got the car prepared, but there is no way he's going to allow them to drive out of there. Frank just doesn't do police work that way.
With ten seconds remaining of the five minutes they've given Frank, Carlos puts the gun to Fergal's head, and walks him to the window, where several police officers can see what he's doing. They all have their guns trained on him, and are waiting for Frank to give the order, but there's no clean shot. Carlos can see the waiting car, parked with the engine running, just outside the bank. It looks like the ticket out of there it's supposed to be. Carlos can picture himself relaxing on a Mexican beach with a piña colada in his hand and a very pretty waitress attending to his every need.
Frank telephones through to the bank again, where Peters answers.
'The hostage stays', Frank says.
'Be careful officer', Peters counters. 'You're bargaining with a man's life.'
'Your car is here, but I can't let you take the civilian with you.'
'You giving me your word you won't shoot? Fuck you', Peters says, and slams down the phone.
'Time to go', Peters says to Carlos.
Outside, Frank has positioned armed officers all around the entrance to the bank. From each angle, he has a shot to take them down. There is no way they are going to survive. He just hopes Fergal will, and for that matter, so does Fergal.
Carlos and Peters take two sacks of money in the hands that don't hold their guns, despite the weight of the bin bags making their escape even more difficult, while Fergal is charged with taking the other two. Greediness had made them late leaving the bank in the first place, and greediness might again be the reason for halting their exit now. A sensible man would have kept both hands free to get in and out of the car, but not Carlos, and definitely not Peters. When they saw the money in the vault, it was like their Christmases had all come at once. They had to take it all.
They descend the stairs, both men trying to use Fergal as a human shield, in the same way River had done with Maddy less than half an hour earlier. He is a barrel-chested man, but nowhere near the size of Peters, who has to crouch a little, cautiously trying to hide himself behind the Irish-American.
Fergal has to put down a sack of money to open the door, but by that point, he has already seen what awaits him, and it scares the hell out of him. There is a car just in front of him, and beyond that, a row of police officers with serious looking guns all pointing at him. Beyond that row of police officers, a wall of people have stopped to watch, including an obese African-American woman, who records everything on her mobile phone.
For the second time that day, Fergal pisses himself a little.
Carlos and Peters are understandably panicky. The car is only a short hop away from the entrance to the bank, but if they make one wrong move, they are almost certainly dead. Peters half wonders whether it's worth going out in a blaze of glory anyway, taking Fergal and as many police officers as he can with him, but with even the slimmest chance of escape, he wants to risk getting into the car and away. They are carrying a huge amount of money, and there's a hell of a lot they can do with it as soon as they are free.