Sneak Peek-Read Chapter One Now!
Part One
Chapter One
Raleigh, North Carolina
May 7, 2021
5:09 p.m.
Tension grows as they drive. When they enter the downtown area, both feel their hearts pounding, seeming to be beat as one. Will their prayers be answered or will their young lives as they know them be over soon? Neither they nor others, who they are about to encounter, could imagine the events that would soon unfold.
They follow on the rear of a departing silver Audi, most likely driven by one of Downtown Raleigh’s more privileged class and pull into the space closest to the corner. Before exiting the car, both manually roll up their windows, which had been down during their unairconditioned ride in the oppressive heat. As each pulls his long body out of the small car, neither glance at the other, attempting to conceal what neither could hide: feelings of dread threatening their resolve. Instead, they look up at the ominous, gathering thunderheads.
Suddenly, as if to signal impending doom, a bolt of lightning ignites the sky followed quickly by two resounding cracks, one of thunder, the other indicating the lightning had struck a target. The burst of light and ensuing concussion sends shock waves through their bodies, frazzling their already ragged nerves.
As both try to shake the destabilizing effect of the explosion, they eye skeptically the rusted gray 2000 Nissan Sentra, built the year before they were born. They pray the car will be adequate for their getaway, hopefully a short time from now. Why didn’t they have another person ready to drive by and swoop them up, aiding a swift retreat? No, it would be just the two of them, as it has always been since their near simultaneous births. Well, and her.
Beginning their walk of three fateful blocks, they feel the intense heat which has broken all records for May. The ominous dark sky portends more violence, but also perhaps a potential break in the dangerous heat. Shivering, in great contradiction to the outdoor furnace, their cadence is that of a slow march, their usually graceful, yet powerful strides affected by the mission ahead. They expect the return to be an all-out sprint. At least they know they can run very fast, if they get the opportunity.
The sun slips between cracks in the downtown buildings as if chased by the menacing clouds. Each wonders what will happen before the sun sets. Will this sunset be their last? What will the sunrise bring for them? Will there be a “them” or even a “me?”
One block down, two to go.
The increasing number of white-collar workers hustling from their respective hi-rise buildings, beginning their rush toward the weekend, are oblivious to the plans in the pair of heads moving slowly up and down in unison. These heads are now drenched in sweat underneath black wool stocking caps pulled down low and black COVID-19 masks covering most of the rest of their faces. Only small parts of their dark African skin are visible along with their brown eyes, exuding warmth and kindness in contrast to their current mission. Head coverings are not common among those who pass them by, but they do not draw the commuters’ attention during the Friday flight from their offices.
What would she think of their quest? Despite the noble cause, both know the obvious answer. But she is not the proper person to judge these actions. Or is she? While it is her need, it would never be her choice and, therefore, she can never know. If she lost her only two children, it would lead to unrelenting grief. It might even cause her to lose grip on her life-sustaining faith.
The cold, hard steel of the semi-automatic pistols tucked into the gap between their faded, baggy jeans and the small of their backs and covered by lightweight, loose-fitting sweatshirts, feel both unfamiliar and foreboding. Their clothing also hides their lithe 6’2”, 180-pound frames. Will the hasty training on their Glock 19 pistols with 33 round magazines be sufficient?
Two blocks down, one to go.
Both look up at the imposing, granite thirty-story RTBT building. Although relatively young by banking standards, Research Triangle Bank and Trust has grown rapidly and the building with its name is now a prominent fixture in the resurgent Downtown Raleigh skyline. The bank is ahead on their left. The bank entrance is intimidating with its grandiose design including ten-foot glass doors. Access to the rest of the large building is around the corner through a separate entrance with less formal doors offering a side access to the bank lobby, building elevators, a drug store and a brokerage firm.
They have been to the bank only once before to check out the layout. That trip was ostensibly to visit with Veronica, a teller at the bank they know from Wake Technical Community College where they are training to be EMTs. They feel a sense of remorse that she unknowingly provided information about bank operations during what seemed to be just casual conversation. They truly hope she will not be implicated by the events to unfold. At least she is not working today. Since the bank requires everyone to wear a mask, their masks will not be out of place, but will help to conceal their identities. Stocking hats are frequently seen as a fashion statement even in warm temperatures.
During their prior visit they could only learn about the publicly accessible parts of the bank. They had not wanted to stay very long for fear someone would later recognize them. Risking a visit to the city building department to look at the floor plans, Isaiah had traced a basic sketch of the layout of the entire first floor which helped significantly in making their plans (see drawing on page 14).
Rather than use the less conspicuous second entrance off the building lobby, they decided to go in the main entrance as it gives them a direct view of the entire lobby including the tellers and the customer service area. The bank covers about half of the building’s first floor. They approach the main entrance.
* * *
As the brothers near the bank, inside, the assistant branch manager, Charlie Haworth is in his back-room office. In his early thirties, of slightly less than average height and thin build, his most noticeable feature is his brown hair doing its own thing, resulting in a loose curly patch on top of his head that might attract some bird species, but is kept clean and shiny. Many would even find it attractive. His face, with no hint of a five o’clock shadow, lacks the hard features of most men his apparent age.
He rings the control room, on the other end of the back area. “Daksh, this is Charlie. Just wanted to let you know that the vicious bolt of lightning we heard a few minutes ago hit a power source. Word is we could end up with a brown out or even a black out due to the heavy use of power with this heatwave. I’ll be in to see you as usual in a few minutes while we wait for the last few customers to leave.”
“Sure hope we don’t lose power. That could screw up our computer equipment in here. See you soon,” responds Daksh, the bank’s IT specialist. Daksh, also in his early thirties, a recent immigrant from India, is rather short and relatively fit. His thin dark hair covers most of his ears and is accompanied by something akin to a goatee which has dark but sparsely populated hair. He is the only one in the control room. The person who normally watches the security cameras is already off for a long weekend
* * *
5:26 p.m.
The brothers need to be inside the bank before 5:30, the extended Friday closing time, at which time the security guard locks the doors to the lobby. As they reach the double wide doors leading to the vestibule for the often-used ATMs, they finally look at each other as Elijah grabs the left door and Isaiah the right, each the mirror of the other.
With no one in the six-foot-deep space to impede their movements, they duplicate their joint entry to the cavernous, ornate lobby. The doors they pass through are on the right side of the public bank space. They enter the bank lobby.
Straight ahead on the far side of the lobby is the bank entrance from inside the building. The formal lobby is dressed in rich wood wainscoting, imprinted with inlaid panels on the walls, decorative crown molding where the walls and ceiling meet and a large circular cove inset with recessed lighting in the center of the ceiling.
To their left is a carpeted area that includes the waiting and customer service areas and bank tellers. The waiting area has three plush couches and three chairs. The teller windows, lined up along the far wall, have a long four-foot-high counter, also made with rich wood with inlaid panels.
Behind customer service are French doors leading to the “office space.” From their research, they know, even though they have not seen it, that the office area includes a control room, vault, three offices and a break area.
The brothers can see the guard beginning to lock the doors to the other entrance. He is a bit early, so they are glad they did not cut it any closer. Both catch their breath as they look toward the lone teller on duty. There are seven people in her line. With another glance toward each other, each sees the other’s eyes constricted with concern. Why did they pick a Friday? While they knew there would be reduced staffing due to a COVID outbreak at the bank, they would prefer fewer customers.
Elijah moves his eyes slightly in the direction of the customer service area. A woman is sitting by herself at one of the three desks in the area. Isaiah nods slightly to his brother and their plans change, each understanding as if they could hear each other’s thoughts. The woman in her middle thirties replaces the teller as their initial target.
Even when sitting, she appears quite tall and a bit intimidating. Her natural red hair is bushy and long giving her a rugged appearance despite a welcoming and pleasant face. One might describe her as healthy looking. She is dressed in a plain white blouse which makes her hair stand out even more. Her light blue dress just covers, by intent, her prominent knees.
Isaiah walks slowly toward the woman whose eyes are fixed on the keyboard. Intent on completing her task before her time to leave, she has no reason to know that she will not be leaving in a few minutes. As Isaiah approaches, with his steps muffled by the carpet, Elijah begins moving into position to the right side of the entrance while he waits for the guard to come his way.
On the other side of the bank lobby, the security guard has completed locking the doors to the building lobby entrance and is closing blinds covering the glass wall which allows people to see into the bank from the hallway. After closing the blinds, the guard moves toward the main doors, in Elijah’s direction.
Veronica mentioned that the security guard was a recent hire, inexperienced and had not been provided much training. Being a security guard was the only work he could find in the Raleigh area where his daughter lived and where she had encouraged him to come to seek work. He is wearing a typical security guard uniform over his solid, thick frame coming from years of physical work. The many wrinkles in his face show wear beyond his 55 years. Yet, even with his broad, hard-set face, a benevolence comes through. Despite being under his security guard hat, his half inch long hair stands straight up as if soldiers at attention.
When the powerfully built guard is near the main entry doors, Elijah is close to his quarry. Both brothers stop moving but slight smiles cross their faces as they see the guard begin to lock the main entry doors and close the blinds nestled between the double panes of glass of the lobby door. These actions shut off sight into the main portion of the lobby but still allow access to the twenty-four-hour ATMs in the small room outside the main lobby. The bank’s practice was for the guard to let out each bank customer after completing their business while not allowing any other customers to enter.
The dying light filters in through the large plate glass windows surrounding the front and right sides of the building. Since the bottom of the windows begin six feet above the sidewalk, the events that are about to happen will not be seen from outside.
5:31 p.m.
Isaiah moves to the front of the desk and sits down as casually as he can, angling his chest away from the patrons and teller about twenty feet away, as if he is giving them the cold shoulder. As he sits, he covertly slips his gun from the small of his back, hiding the weapon under his sweatshirt until his final movement reveals the gun in front of his chest.
When showing her the gun he says very quietly, “Don’t even think about an alarm. Do exactly as I say. First, give me your cell phone. Second, get on your office phone and put it on speaker so that I can hear. Tell the person who is in the control room you have a gun pointing at you. He needs to immediately leave the control room and come out to your desk. Tell ‘em he has 15 seconds to do it or else. He’s not to attempt to contact anyone, or you both will regret it. Turn the volume on the speaker down. You understand?”
Involuntarily, her frightened eyes flash to a photo of four on her desk in which she appears with a uniformed police officer (presumably her husband) and two young girls. The solidly built woman calmly hands Isaiah her cell phone and replies, “Please don’t shoot, I’ll do what you say.” As he turns her cell phone off using one hand, he looks uncomfortable with the gun in his other hand, his inexperience with weapons obvious. Will his inexperience lead to disaster?
As her call is answered, with Isaiah listening intently, she says in a measured and very cautious tone, “Daksh, this is Mary O’Brien in customer service.” Speaking softly enough so that she is not overheard, “Please listen to me closely. Do not press any alarms or warn anyone. You are on speaker. There is a person at my desk who is holding a semi-automatic pistol on me. Please do exactly what he wants. You must leave the control room immediately and come to my desk. Turn off your cell phone, do not send out any messages or call anyone. Bring it with you. You have 15 seconds. Please, he has a gun pointed at me. Do you understand? Come quickly!”
* * *
In the control room, Daksh quickly glances at the image on the closed-circuit camera on the wall behind the customer service area. The monitor shows Mary and a young Black male sitting in front of her. The man holds a gun stealthily near his chest. He had failed to see the weapon earlier. There were many displays, and he had been working on a solution to a programming issue. He promptly responds in his Indian lilt with a shaky voice, “I’m sorry, Mary. Please assure him that I will follow his demands. I’ll be right out.”
* * *
In about 10 seconds, Daksh emerges from the back and comes to Mary’s desk.
As soon as Daksh arrives, Isaiah nods his head to Elijah. Seconds later, time slows down for the brothers. Elijah draws close to the guard who has remained by the doors. Using his right hand to raise the back of his sweatshirt, his left hand finds the handle of the Glock and swiftly pulls the gun around the side of his body away from the guard. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the gun is pointed at the guard’s chest.
Before the guard can raise his eyes from the cell phone in his hands, Elijah quietly commands, “Don’t move. Slowly hand me your cell phone. Now, raise your hands and turn around.” As the guard complies, Elijah removes the guard’s weapon and tucks it in his jeans where his Glock had been.
Simultaneously, Isaiah stands and positions himself to the left of Mary so that he can see her, Daksh, the teller and everyone in line. The teller is about twenty feet away. He shouts to everyone in the lobby. “No one move. I have a gun pointed at this lady,” words he could never have imagined that he would say.
Instantly, the young teller in a state of wide-eyed panic. She glances toward the edge of the counter in front of her, where her alarm button is located. This is the most dangerous part of their plan. They had hoped to be right next to the teller at this juncture. Will she quickly press the alarm? Or will she hesitate out of fear?
Before giving the teller time to think through her choice, Isaiah shouts at her, “Don’t even think about pushing that button.” She pulls her hand back as if it is touching a hot burner. Relief washes over them. They had agreed to only use their weapons to defend themselves; yet they knew they had to convince people otherwise. Thus far, it looks like they have been convincing.
Looking at the guard, Elijah waves his gun in an upward arc toward the line of customers indicating to him to walk toward the others who were frozen in place, exhibiting a mixture of surprise and fear. At the same time, Isaiah directs the ashen faced teller to come from behind the counter to join them. Mary and Daksh to do the same.
After the four bank employees join the other seven, Elijah instructs the entire group of six men and five women: “Each of you please place your cell phones and all purses and bags on the floor in front of you then back up five feet.” All comply. A man in his sixties dressed in an expensive suit assists an older man at the end of the line who appears to be blind.
After turning off all the phones, stuffing them in the multiple oversized pockets in his jeans and collecting handbags and putting them near him, Elijah next commands, “Everybody spread out two feet from each other and turn and face the opposite wall.” Again, all do as they are told including the blind man, again assisted by the same man. Elijah goes to each to search for any weapons by patting them down with his free right hand.
When it was his turn to be searched, the guard proclaims in trite fashion, “You know you will never get away with this.” Elijah does not respond.
Elijah first searches the men: the guard, the techie, the blind man, the man in his early sixties and two other well-dressed young men. Then he approaches a woman whose entire head except her face is covered by a Hijab, in the tradition of some Muslims. Elijah apologizes in advance, “I’m sorry that I gotta do this. That also goes for you other ladies,” directing his words to Mary, the teller, a young Hispanic woman, and a middle-aged woman with caramel colored skin.
Finding nothing in his search, Elijah demands, “Please move slowly to the waiting area. Take a seat on the couches,” as he points to the area with his Glock. And, directing his words to the man in his sixties, “Please help this man find his way.” Elijah picks up the bags to bring them with him and places them on the table in the middle of the seating area.
“Except for you,” Isaiah says to Daksh. “You and I are going back to the control room. Please lead the way.” They leave the others for the control room with Daksh in front.
On the way to the couches, the guard again speaks up in his unique West Virginia drawl: “I think y’all have bitten off more than you can chew. Got a lotta people here to keep track of. I would be more than a bit worried if I were you.”
When Elijah again does not respond, the assistant to the blind man addresses the guard with his New Jersey accent, “I don’t think you are helping out here. Why don’t you just be quiet…Steve…Steve Smith? That is your name, right?” he adds looking at the guard’s name tag.
“And who are you?” the guard asks, responding quickly.
“My name is Daniel Swartz if you must know. I’m sure you are embarrassed letting him get the drop on you.” Daniel is a somewhat rotund man. He looks to be about sixty years old and casts an air of self-confidence, although apparently a bit out of his element in this setting. It appears he leads a relatively sedentary life with many comforts. He is dressed in a well-tailored but ill-fitting lightweight medium blue suit, light blue shirt and colorful bow tie. Even though it may be a bit early in the season, he has broken out the attire due to the extremely hot weather. His hair is parted in a perfectly straight line down the left edge of his rather large head with a hint of a combover. His generous face includes large features.
Before Steve can respond, the middle-aged lady interjects: “Gentlemen, please just be quiet. None of this is helpful.”
Daksh and Mary glance at each other. Neither of the brothers yet know about the assistant manager in the back.
Eventually the ten are all seated on the three couches and a chair provided for waiting patrons.
* * *
5:42 p.m.
Upon entering the back-office area, Isaiah and Daksh are in a short hallway beyond which Isaiah can see four doors leading to individual offices, which he correctly assumes are for management. As they emerge from the hallway, Isaiah sees the vault to his right. Isaiah and Daksh make their way to the control room on the left. Isaiah can see that the door to the control room is ajar.
“You’re going to shut off all the closed-circuit cameras,” Isaiah says to Daksh. “Then erase all the video from 5:00 pm today until now. You understand?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
After all the monitors are off and the videos erased, “All done sir. Just as you requested.”
“Come back to the lobby with me,” Isaiah commands. As they turn toward the control room door, Charlie, the assistant bank manager, appears just inside the doorway.
As Isaiah’s and Charlie’s eyes meet, Charlie turns to his right, opens a metal cover on the control room wall and flips a previously concealed switch engaging a newly installed device preventing anyone from opening the bank’s exit doors.
Isaiah sees the unexpected man turn to the man’s right and instantly moves toward him firing his gun over Charlie’s head yelling, “Stop.” The bullet passes between the top of the ten-foot-high doorway and the man’s head. Charlie becomes a statute.
* * *
In the lobby, Elijah and his ten captives hear the gun shot reverberate into the large space, heightening their anxiety. Elijah jumps out of his chair, screams “Isa” plaintively, looking around feverishly in the futile hope that he might discover what is happening with his brother. He subconsciously puts his gun down on the seat of his chair to use both hands to feel his chest and abdomen. He does not believe that he himself might have been shot, but he expects to feel pain if Isaiah had been hit with a bullet.
The eyes of Elijah’s captives also dart all around the room searching in vain for evidence of what is happening, finally turning with wild inquisitive stares toward each other. While Elijah’s gun is on his chair, the guard leaps off his couch and races toward Elijah jumping over the coffee table between them. But before he can cross the fifteen feet, Elijah sees the guard rushing toward him and quickly picks up the Glock. He points it at the guard who stops less than two feet from the barrel of the gun pointing at him. The guard slowly backups, not taking his eyes off the firearm nor turning his back on Elijah. Elijah keeps his eyes on the guard as he dejectedly retreats to the couch.
* * *
In the back, as Charlie halts in place, Isaiah turns around to check on Daksh. The moment that Isaiah turns his head and torso, Charlie reaches out to his right to the electrical panel below the switch he had just flipped, opens the door and, pulls the master lever to turn off all the power to the building. Immediately, everything is pitch black. But as the backup emergency lighting along the lower portion of the walls comes on providing enough light, Isaiah is pointing his gun right at Charlie’s head from a dozen feet away.
Isaiah fears that this unanticipated person has done something to ruin their plans. Isaiah rushes at him, knocking Charlie from the electrical box with his shoulder and throws the lever back into the “on” position.
Isaiah doesn’t realize that his mask, helping to cover his identity, comes off in the confrontation. As the power re-engages, the lights come on with an ever-increasing intensity, lighting up his uncovered face for a few seconds until the lights disappear as if their intensity caused them to burn out. Again, the bank is plunged into total darkness. Within moments the lights throughout the city begin to die, as if dutifully following those in the bank building.
List of main characters in order of their appearance
Elijah Robinson, Twenty-year-old twin brother of Isaiah
Isaiah Robinson, Twenty-year-old twin brother of Elijah
Veronica, friend of Elijah and Isaiah who works at the bank
Charlie Haworth, Thirty-two-year-old assistant bank manager
Daksh Balakrishnan, Thirty-one-year-old bank IT person from India
Mary O’Brien, Thirty-six-year-old bank customer service representative
Steve Smith, Fifty-five-year-old former coal miner from West Virginia
Daniel Swartz, Sixty-year-old Jewish attorney nicknamed “Money”
Dave Brown, Seventy-year-old retired social worker
Ruth McGraw, Twenty-two-year-old bank teller from eastern North Carolina
Tiana Wright, Fifty-year-old orthopedic surgeon
Robert Banks, Thirty-five-year-old investment broker nicknamed Flash
Dana Duckworth, Twenty-eight-year-old tech company founder and CEO
Gabriela Hernandez, Nineteen-year-old immigrant from El Salvador
Ashti Mohammadi, Twenty-year-old Kurdish Syrian immigrant
Shanice Wright, Twenty-one-year-old daughter of Tiana Wright
Nassandra Burden, Fifty-four-year-old mother of Isaiah and Elijah
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