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“How about you?” He pointed to the woman at the next stall. She shook her head. The man on the end raised his hands and said, “I didn’t either.”

“Was I talking to you?” Eugene shouted. “Now find a bag and put all the money you have in it. Empty all the drawers. Where’s the bank manager?”

The man sitting at a desk with John stood. John very calmly pulled his gun from his belt and pointed it at the manager.

“Hi,” John said, smiling casually and cocking his gun.

Eugene walked to the counter and held his submachine gun up to the customer—an overweight woman with an enormous purse. “She’s dead if I don’t see more money coming, Mr. Manager.”

“We put the money in a time-lock safe,” the manager said.

“She’s dead if I don’t see more money coming,” Eugene repeated. “Did I mention this gun fires five hundred fifty rounds per minute? But don’t worry, because it only has forty in the magazine.”

“We don’t have any more,” the manager pleaded.

John spoke. “Well, I reckon you’d better find some more. How about everybody in here empties their wallets?”

Eugene shouted again. “That’s right. Everything out of your pockets. Jewelry, too.”

The woman next to me on the floor touched a gold chain with a heart pendant on her neck, trying to hide it behind her hand, but I stood up and pulled my gun. “Hand it over.”

I took the necklace and pocketed it. Then I reached in her purse and found sixty dollars. Eugene had the bag of money and was walking back and forth with it.

“Is everybody drained dry?” he asked, and John and I said yes. Kat was still acting like a customer. She’d given her handbag to Eugene.

Eugene tossed the bag of money over to John, who proceeded to empty it on the bank manager’s desk. The manager looked stunned.

“Mr. Manager,” John said, “help me search through this mess and find the dye packs.” The manager slumped back into his chair. There was a lot of loose money, and John scooped all of that up to put it away in the bag. He took the wallets, emptied them, and dropped them on the floor. Meanwhile the manager dejectedly flipped through the bundles of new bills. He put one aside, and John looked at it. “Come on. I know there’s more.”

The manager eventually pulled five stacks of bills from the stash, and John double-checked every one.

He turned to Eugene and said, “I think we’re done here.”

Eugene looked back at the people and took off his backpack. “A couple more things. Inside this backpack is a bomb. It’s extremely sensitive. Once I set it, I don’t recommend that you try to move it. Nod if you agree.” Everybody nodded.

Kat stood up and joined us.

John, Kat, and I walked past Eugene out the door. He followed us, turning around once the glass double doors shut. He looped the backpack straps over the door handles.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” John said, and, fighting the urge to run, we walked away, giving no indication that we were in a hurry.

Kat never even had to draw her gun.

Molly, still sporting her Afro, met us in the parking lot in a tan-and-brown Monte Carlo.

Once we were inside, everyone patted Eugene on the back. Even I had to admit he knew what he was doing.

There was a paper sack on the front seat, and Molly reached in as she drove. “Gentlemen, it’s time to be civilized.” Out of the bag came four razors, four towels, and a can of shaving cream. “Let’s go to Reno.”

I only nicked myself twice.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_14b39002-c14f-54ac-adc1-2c383f73625e)

I stood in front of the window of a department store, facing the TVs on the other side of the glass. All in the Family