To his right, Ray saw the vault door was shut.
‘Are you OK, sir?’ Ray asked.
Wileman didn’t move. Ray moved forward and lightly touched his shoulder.
‘Sir?’
Wileman jerked around, and looked at him. Ray was shocked.
The small man was pale, his eyes wide, and he seemed almost paralysed with fear.
‘Sir? Talk to me. What’s going on?’ he said.
Wileman went to speak, but no words would come.
The only thing he did was flick his eyes to the left and look at the vault.
And Ray realised what had just happened.
The response was as fast as lightning.
Despite Mr Wileman’s sudden and unexplained panic and frantic protestations begging him to stop, Ray rushed back into the bank floor and pushed the silent alarm button on the teller station. The NYPD were there in less than a minute from Times Square, six cops in bulletproof vests bursting in through the East entrance, shotguns in their hands. Ray told them three cops had just held up the bank, and that they were somewhere in the area, headed towards Bryant Park. He couldn’t give any detailed descriptions, seeing as each had been disguised, but he confirmed the trio were two men and one woman. One of the cops who’d arrived made a call over the radio instantly and it was passed on straight away to the FBI Bank Robbery Task Force Office at 26 Federal Plaza.
Gerrard was nearest to the phone and he took the call. The moment he heard what had happened, he raced for his car with the rest of his team, ordering all bridges and tunnels off Manhattan to be closed. His orders were carried out within minutes, and traffic in and out of the island ground to a halt. The word was put out over every NYPD and Federal frequency in Manhattan that they were searching for three cops, each of whom had approximately three hundred and fifty thousand dollars hidden about their person.
Inside his Mercedes, Gerrard raced straight for the scene of the crime, Katic in the car beside him, Siletti and Parker following close behind, whilst O’Hara and Lock headed for the roadblocks at the Midtown Tunnel. They figured geographically that would be the trio’s best bet of escape.
But twenty minutes after Ray made the call, an NYC MTA M train pulled into the 36 Avenue station in Astoria, across the East River. The doors slid open, and all along the platform passengers stepped out, the doors shutting behind them after a few seconds and the train moving out of the station and on into the tunnel. Everyone who had disembarked proceeded to walk to the stairs and the two exits and the place slowly emptied.
However, three people stayed where they were, leaning against the wall as everyone else passed. They had been in separate carriages, and were standing around thirty feet from each other.
Three cops.
Once the last person had gone, they stood still for a moment longer, then the officer on the far right turned and started walking down the platform. Once he passed the officer in the middle, she started walking beside him and they approached the third man. They each high-fived as they finally joined up in a three, and together, the trio headed for the stairs that would lead up to the maze of streets in Queens. One of them, the biggest one, looked behind them and smiled.
No one was following them.
No one knew who they were.
They did it.
*
Later that day, Archer opened his eyes and woke up from a deep sleep. He blinked, yawning, and sat up. He’d been watching the television across the room, but had passed out on the hotel bed, fully dressed. He yawned again then rose and wandered to the window, pulling open the curtain and looking out at the view.
The sun was setting in the distance, the buildings ahead black and silhouetted against the orange-tinted sky. He’d been out for a while. Moving back into the room, he checked the clock on the bed-side drawer.
7:04 pm. He’d been asleep all afternoon.
He reached for his cell phone which was resting on a chair to see if Gerry had tried to get in touch. He had no missed calls, but saw he had a text message from Farrell. He clicked it open.
MSG, Friday. 8 o’clock. Meet 33rd and 8th. Don’t be late.
Archer read the message again, and nodded. That was twenty four hours before the job. Farrell would probably want to walk through it, get a feel for the place and the atmosphere, making sure