"Uh, Alpha Two thinks it might be det cord," crackled over my radio. "Inside the drive-up window."

The fire siren on top of the city hall began to sound. That could be activated in one of two ways; either by pager from the Sheriffs Department, or manually by somebody either at the fire station or the city hall.

Sally was on the radio in an instant. "Automated fire department pager and siren activation," she announced. "The firemen's personal pagers were activated first. The alarm's at the Frieberg Community Savings Bank."

So. While we had been standing there, volunteer firemen all over Frieberg were being automatically paged to go to the bank. But there were no indications of a fire.

Almost in slow motion, we could see three or four rotating blue dash lights, as individual volunteer firemen began driving to the fire station. I reached for my mike. "Three to Alpha Chase… when the firemen get there, tell them we have a robbery in progress, and have them stand by! Do not let them respond to the bank until further notice."

I can think fast on occasion.

"Right, right," said Volont, over the radio. "Good move. Right."

"Three," crackled Sally's voice, "the Sheriffs Department advises that the alarm was not, repeat not, activated in the auto mode. It's a manual activation." Information right off the screen at the Sheriffs Department. It could tell how the alarm was activated. The dispatcher up there had probably just noticed the mode, in all the activity. Strange. A real fire would have activated the auto alarm. Somebody at the bank had set it off manually.

As proud as I was of my warning to the firemen, sometimes even your best isn't enough. I watched in silence as three firemen went directly to the bank instead of the fire station. I could tell because of the little, flashing blue volunteer fireman lights on the dashes of their cars as they pulled into the lot. They obviously intended to make sure people were out and planned to don their equipment when the apparatus got to the scene. Standard procedure in rural areas, where some of the volunteers might drive right by the threatened location on their way to the fire station. I saw them head toward the bank. They started in, and I saw the last one put his hands in the air.

"Uh, Alpha Two believes we now have three firemen as hostages."

"Alpha Three confirms."

"Ditto Alpha Mobile."

Damn. Or, as Hester said, "Shit."

"Come on, come on," murmured Hester. "They can still get away. There is still time to get away. You don't need hostages, damn it."

"Maybe not," I said. "But they sure have 'em." I radioed Sally. "See if we can get a good guess as to how many people were in the bank when they went in."

Alpha 2 responded with "We believe five, plus the odd-hour teller, plus three firemen."

Nine people.

"Well," I said, disgusted, "that ought to be plenty."

As I spoke, a second vehicle approached the bank from out of the fog, pulled into the lot, made a turn, and backed toward the bulletproof teller's cage. A white panel truck with a potato chip logo on the side, it stopped about fifty feet away, and Hester and I watched in fascination while there was a puff of white and a loud crack and the drive-up window flew out of its mountings and slammed into the paving. I could see the shock wave hit her hair, making it fly back. Fascinating.

"It was," said Hester, even as we ducked down behind the car. "It was det cord he was putting up…"

"Alpha Two here… did you see that? They've blown the window."

Even as he spoke, the truck backed up toward the brand-new opening, and bumped into the wall.

"Well, I guess those windows are designed to resist pressure from the outside, not the inside," Hester mused. "Pretty slick."

"How long you think it takes to load a couple of million dollars?" I asked, cautiously raising my head to look over the hood of the car. "Ten minutes?"

"I'd estimate fifteen to twenty," said Hester, glancing at her watch. "And if they bother with the change, maybe as much as an hour."

A radio crackled again. "Three, it's Twenty-nine," said Sally, on the secure frequency. 29 was the local car, Frieberg PD. "He's going nuts, people keep running up to him and asking him what the hell he's doing just sitting there when there's an emergency at the bank."

Taxpayers are sensitive about that sort of thing. It was my call, being the highest-ranking local officer within range.

"This is sort of going to shit," I said, to Hester. "Comm, tell him to go to the bridge ramp and stand by there… nobody can even see him over there. Not in this fog." I turned to Hester. "Uh, does anybody you know have a Plan B?"

Just then, somebody tapped me on the shoulder, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned, and there was one of the TAC team officers.

"No disrespect," he said, "but would you two mind moving? You're fouling our line of fire."

That was about as nice a way as he could have done it. In person, and not over the radio where everybody would have heard.

"You bet."

"Hell, Houseman," said Hester. "We're just in the way, here. Let's get back up to the CP."

We arrived back at the Command Post in time for a major event. Just after we quickly briefed George and Volont on what we'd seen, the phone rang, and Sally picked it up. After a couple of seconds, I became aware that there was no conversation. I looked over at her, and her face was as white as I've ever seen one.

"Yes. Sure, yes… just a second…" she managed to get out. "Mr. Volont," she said, "it's for you."

"Take a message," he barked, still looking out the window, vainly trying to see the bank.

I could see her listen intently, and then look about her frantically. She covered the receiver. "Hester! Do you have a speaker phone button here? Where is it? Hurry!" With that, she got the attention of everybody in the room. Hester didn't bother to tell her, just reached over and flicked a small button of the side of the phone base.

"It's on," said Sally.

"Mr. Volont?" asked a heavy, sarcastic voice. "You there for me today?"

"Who is that?" asked Art.

"This is Gabriel," said the voice. "Where's Special Agent in Charge Volont?"

"This is Volont."

The speaker phone wasn't quite the quality it could have been, but I suspected it hadn't cost the state that much, either.

Gabriel chuckled. "I'm so very glad it's you. We have some business to conduct."

"Not until you surrender the hostages," said Volont.

"No, no. You never understood planning, my boy. No, the way it is is this… my people will drive away from the bank when they signal they've finished their business. They will drive away unmolested. Period."

"Not that easy," said Volont. "As long as they have hostages in there, they don't leave."

"Call the bank," said Gabriel. "Ask to speak to the teller. We had a man pull the fire alarm, to set it off. We wanted some firemen present when we set off the charges to open the drive-thru window. Just in case of fire." He chuckled. "We care about the citizens."

"Won't work," said Volont. "We've got the bank sewed up tight. Nobody leaves."

"Want to do an exchange?" asked Gabriel, lightly. "A lot for a few? Maybe some of your people? I'll give you a great exchange rate. Two of your agents on the street for the one in the bank."

"I think not," said Volont.

"You 'think not,' do you? My, my. I'll have to get back to you in a minute." The line went dead.

Volont reached over and took the microphone from Sally's desk. "All units, be extremely cautious. There may be other suspects in the area, and we have information that leads us to believe they know we have an agent in the bank."