Brad\'s Bobeche Blog

One Response to “Chapters One and Two”

1. Brad says:

   April 10, 2006 at 7:15 pm

   Chapter One

   It started as an ordinary morning. I guess most mornings do, that’s what makes them ordinary. I don’t want to mislead you and make you think it turned into an extraordinary morning, but it did turn into one that is seared into my memory.

   The night before we had been blessed with one of those gorgeous Kansas sunsets; yellow and red mingling and spreading across the horizon. It didn’t last long, but it made an impression. Conversely the sunrise was boring. The gray mist of the morning clouds blocked any beauty the sun god Apollo attempted to share with my Kansas neighbors and me.

   Routine is good. I fulfilled mine that morning of June the First. My first words on the first day of every month are “Rabbit, Rabbit.” I don’t know why, well I guess I really do. When I was dating my wife she told me that saying “Rabbit, Rabbit” as your first words of the month brought you good luck. This is my only superstition and I don’t think it works. It sure didn’t work for me that day. The rest of my routine is pretty normal. I either run on the treadmill or the bike path for 30 or 40 minutes to start my day. On this day I ran outside. I read the paper, surf the internet and check out the homepage for the Kansas City Royals while I wait for my wife to get up and going. On Fridays, and this was a Friday, my wife and I have breakfast at one of three places: McDonalds, The International House of Pancakes or First Watch. Most of the time it’s the latter, as it was this day. Although First Watch is a franchise, it has a local flare we like. There is no way you could consider our life glamorous.

   By the way, my wife’s name is Tina.

   After our Friday breakfast Tina and I always part ways and run our individual errands. My first stop is always to the bank to deposit whatever checks we’ve collected for the week. That days deposit was $3,856.22, slightly less than average, but not much. Between the time I finished running and the time we finished breakfast we experienced a short but major Kansas rain. The kind where the gray clouds turn black and you wonder if god just tossed a barrel of water out his window.

   “Do you think we should wait a little before we leave? Channel 13 says the rain is going to be over quickly.” Tina asked as she stood motionlessly looking out the window into our backyard and across the golf course. My wife is a news junky, if she hears something on the Today Show, it’s a honest to god fact. Even if she hears it on the local broadcast sandwiched around the Today Show. And that’s where she got her forecast.

   I stood looking over her shoulder thinking that I had just been on the path around the course without the slightest idea that it would rain. I should start watching the news more, or at least reading the section of the paper with the weather prediction. I like the rain on warm days, it reminds me of good times from my youth. On a rainy summer day my brothers and I would go outside and play football. Our goal was to slip and slide and get as muddy as possible. If it wasn’t raining hard enough we’d turn on the sprinklers and even toss mud on each other. This would have been a perfect opportunity to play a little mud football. I wished we still had that type of relationship. My younger brother Nick and I talk 2 or 3 times a week but Carl and I haven’t since mom’s funeral last Fall. Tina visits with Carl if he happens to answer the phone when she calls his wife; she says he tells her to say “hi” to me. I think if he wanted to say “hi” he’d call me and say it.

   “No,” I answered with the thoughts of rainy day football and my brothers flashing through my head in less than a second, “I’ll drop you at the door, you know I don’t mind getting wet.” Tina twisted her shoulders slightly, stood on her tiptoes and kissed my on the check. She knew and I knew before she asked what I’d answer. Not that she asks that question very often, it just doesn’t rain that much in Kansas. It’s just that we know each other pretty well. We surprise each other occasionally and when we do it’s either the joy of seeing an unexpected magic trick or the sorrow of the person who finds out their dog has been hit by a truck. Usually it’s the joy.

   “I appreciate the offer, but we need to take separate cars.” That answer surprised me, it was kind of half joy because of the mirth she had in her voice and half sorrow because I wasn’t connecting some of the dots. I pride myself on being a clear thinker, and most of the time I am.

   “Then I’ll walk over to your parking spot and hold the umbrella to protect you.” This satisfied her as she handed me the brown umbrella with the duck head handle and we walked out the door into the garage. “Are you really going to make me do that?” I asked with mock indignation in my voice. Tina smiled and with a quick hand motion took the umbrella back and got into her car.

   By the time we got to the restaurant god had quit throwing barrels of water out his window and was down to thimbles. Oddly enough he did that without transitioning through buckets and glasses. That’s one thing I like about Kansas weather, it’s weird.

   I’ve often wondered, if I’d surprised her that morning and said, “let’s wait a few minutes” or “It’s raining pretty hard, why don’t I make my world famous waffles this morning,” how my life would be different. Maybe it wouldn’t be any different, I’d just have one less interesting story to tell. Who knows maybe I would have finished making and eating the waffles at the exact same time as we finished at First Watch and everything else would be the same. Except I’d be wondering how things would have been if we’d eaten at First Watch.

   My dad used to say, “If a dog had floppy ears and a fluffy tail it’d be a rabbit.” I think that was his way of saying that the only things that matters in life is the way things are, not the way they could be. I’ve always fixated on how things would be different if I’d only done something different. That’s a very foreign thought to my dad. He had to work hard for everything he got; he didn’t have the luxury of thinking about what ifs.

   The bank had been open for less than ten minutes when I arrived. I usually use the drive through teller but the last thing Tina told me before we parted was that we needed some cash so I went inside. Sure I can get cash from the drive through, but I’d already filled out my deposit slip and I’ve found it’s easier to make modifications standing in front of the teller. They tend not to trust the people in cars as much. At least I think they don’t trust me as much when I’m in the car.

   When I first switched to this bank they seemed to treat me suspiciously. Now I’ve been making these deposits for so long that my routine has become their routine. Still when I modify my deposit slip and I’m in my car they make me send my drivers license through the tube that sucks the checks into the bank. Inside they don’t seem to care if I’m licensed to drive. Maybe they think I’ve walked. It’s silliness, but easier for me to go inside.

   It was my turn to drive our new BMW that morning. If I’d driven the SUV maybe things would have been different. It’s funny how little things change fate. Because the BMW was new, and Tina told me not to scratch it I parked far enough away from the bank that I could be assured that no one would park close enough to give me a door ding. I’m one of those obnoxious people who takes up two parking spaces and lets that action say “Look at me, I’ve got a new car. And it’s a BMW 545i. Don’t park near me!”

   Usually my memory is not very good, unless it’s something important. I will remember every detail of the next 15 minutes all of my life.

   I got out of my car and was looking back at it as I walked to the bank. I pointed my remote at it and reconfirmed that it was locked. Even though I live, and bank, in one of the lowest crime rate areas of the Kansas City metro I always lock my car. The lights blinked at me telling me the alarm was set for my 5 minute trip inside. As I crossed the parking lot looking back I nearly walked into a faded green older Ford truck with darkly tinted windows. I could barely see through the windshield, both the driver and the passenger were straining to see inside the bank windows. My first thought was there were looking for someone. The truck came to a stop in front of the entrance. I walked up behind it as I made my way inside and noticed that it was covered in mud. I figured that someone had been doing with their truck what my brothers and I use to do with a football on a rainy day. The mud was even splashed up covering the license plate. At least as I walked by I thought it had been splashed up covering the plate. When I told this part of the story to the police after the robbery I was aware of the fact that the mud was a little to well placed too have happen any other way than by hand.

   The truck was clearly a work truck. The bumper was dented declaring it wasn’t one of those sissy truck that only carried groceries and the occasional friend’s coach as they moved. In the bed was a large machine I identified as a concrete splitter. The splitter was surrounded by an array of litter, mostly discarded Quick Trip coffee cups. I particularly noticed the QT cups because I’m an addict for their French Roast. There were also a couple dozen empty beer cans of various brands and sizes. The tailgate sported two bumper stickers. I couldn’t read the one on the left at all because of the mud and only picked up the word “gun” from the one on the right.

   I bank at the local branch of the largest bank in America. At least I think that’s what there advertising is trying to tell me. I don’t really care how large or small they are. When we moved to Kansas City I chose the closest bank to my new home. I sure didn’t choose it on looks. It doesn’t look bad; there is just nothing interesting about it. I’d be guessing and I’d probably be guessing wrong if I tried to tell you the size. I can tell you it’s shaped like a shoebox. You enter this shoebox through double doors on the Southwest corner. You could just as easily be entering a J. C. Penny’s, it’s that non-descript. I passed through the doors right behind the passenger of the Mustang. Behind him I watched him pull a gun out of his back pocket and I noticed he had a women’s stocking pulled over his face. His tee shirt was plane and brown. He wore Levi’s 560 size 32” by 34”. His inseam was 2 inches longer than my 32” but I’d say he was about my height at 6’2”. When he pulled the gun out of his back pocket I saw that he was wearing a thick leather belt with fancy tooling. I think the Harley Davidson logo was stamped in the middle of the belt. The belt was the only thing that made him look like a biker, he wore Sperry Topsiders, the kind with the white soles. I don’t think many bikers wear Sperry’s. He had on a runners watch, I couldn’t tell the brand but I knew it was similar to mine because of the band. I actually noticed the shoes, the watch and the pant sizes before I saw the gun. I have a habit of looking at the little things in life.

   I didn’t know much about bank robberies before I found myself in the middle of one. I knew that they didn’t really happen the way they are depicted on TV. At the same time I knew that life had started imitating art and bank robbers were getting their ideas from the movies and TV.

   I’ve learned a lot of odd facts. Friday mornings between 9 and 11 is the most common time for a bank to be robbed. A bank that has been robbed once has a higher probability of beening rob again than a bank that has never been robbed. I was 50 – 50 that day. It was a Friday but it was the first time this branch has been robbed. Friday is the busiest day, robbery wise, for banks because historically Friday is payday and there is a perception that there will be more money. It’s a false perception, but one that has cause Friday’s to have a disproportional amount of trouble.

   As soon as I saw the gun drawn I turned around to exit the bank and grabbed for the cell phone on my belt. Bad idea. The driver of the Mustang stuck his stocking covered face out his window, shook his finger at me and motioned for me to toss my cell phone to the ground. I felt like an old-west cowboy who has been force to toss his six-shooters in the dust. He flicked all four fingers of his left hand at me indicating that I need to go inside the bank. I noticed he was wearing a wedding ring. A wedding ring with a large diamond, I don’t know why but in my mind I named him Diamond Jim Brady. When I told the police my story I excised the naming detail.

   Upon entering the bank I laid down on the floor with the other customers and employees. I did it without being told. I noticed that the young housewife laying closest to me had her eyes tightly shut. I imagined Mr. Harley – Davidson with the Topsiders had given those instructions. I didn’t close mine. I wanted to see everything I could.

   According to the FBI a branch office is 18 times more likely to be robbed than the main branch. Of course my bank must have a couple of hundred branches. I wonder if there are more or less than 18 times as many branch offices as there are main offices. The FBI doesn’t know; it would seem like you’d need to know that to made the 18 times statistic meaningful. Last year of the more than 8,000 bank robberies only 94 of them involved breaking into the bank after-hours. If I was going to rob banks I think I’d be an after-hours type of robber. More class and finesse. I think this was my robber’s first time, he had no finesse. In Crime Indicators System, Fourth Semiannual Briefing on Crime published over 20 years ago, Robert Akiyama established two bank robber classifications; “professional” and “amateur.” Our guy was diffidently in the amateur group. Even without knowing that robbers were classified this way I knew ours was. It’s always dangerous to have anything done by an amateur. If I were a skydiver, which I’m not, I’m sure I wouldn’t want my pack packed by an amateur. I knew as it was happening I didn’t like my bank being robbed by a first timer.

   “On the floor,” Harley-Davidson with the topsiders yelled. I couldn’t determine whom he was yelling at. He made a quick 360-degree turn with his gun pointed at those of us lying on the cold marble flooring. I tried to take a mental photo of the gun so I could describe it latter, I just don’t know enough about guns to say much about it. The gun was a dark gray, the handle matched. It was a revolver and I estimated it to be about four or five inches long.

   “I need this money; I need all your money!” He reached across the counter into the teller’s space and caused something to make a crashing sound. I couldn’t tell what he’d done but it was violent. From my vantage point the tellers seemed to be cooperative, but he appeared to be getting more hyper as time moved on. A sixth customer entered the bank and immediately lay on the floor. In the movies the only person who enters the bank during a robbery is the hero with the gun and the sure shot. I knew that wasn’t me; or the sixty-something grandma who slowly sprawled out beside me. I could hear her breathing.

   I learned latter that most bank robbers never say a word. They walk up to the teller, pass them a note, collect their money and take off. There was one famous bank robber in Nebraska, they called the gentlemen robber because he tipped his hat to the teller before he’d pass the note. His notes started with an apology and an explanation that he needed the money to help offset his daughter’s medical expenses. His notes always demanded a specific amount. It was usually in the range of $1,200 to 1,500. Over a three-year period he collected right at $45,000 without every making a deposit. The taskforce that was assigned to catch him spent a lot of time linking the amounts asked for to individual medical cost and procedures in a four state area. He was finally caught because an off-duty cop heard him bragging in a bar. He had neither a daughter nor medical expenses, he told the investigators he put that in his notes because he thought it was funny. Six months after he went to prison he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and is currently being treated at taxpayer expense in the Hospital at Tecumseh State Correctional Institution in Tecumseh, Nebraska.

   In psychics class, not that I was smart enough to study psychics, but I imagine they teach that time is a constant. The intervals between seconds are always the same. That’s probably true, however the intervals between seconds during a bank robbery are large enough to place an oversized chair. You could schooch down and get comfortable between seconds, if it were possible to become comfortable during a robbery.

   When Mr. Harley-Davidson with the topsiders reached across the counter his arm extended out of his tee shirt sleeve far enough for me to see two things. He was well muscled, and he had a tattoo. I took a mental picture of the tat. If he weren’t holding a gun in his left hand I would call his muscles guns. It just seems inappropriate to use that slang when a real gun is closely connected. There is no doubt in my mind that he works out.

   Although I only saw the tattoo for a second I was fortunate that it was one of those seconds that lets you get comfortable. It was either an eagle or a hawk attacking talons first. The left wing was arched higher than the right and the left talon was leading the attack. The right talon was clutching a knife. The tattoo wasn’t real big, and I was at least 15 feet away, but somehow I could see it clearly. Maybe adrenalin makes your eyesight better. He did a quick turn and looked at me, I closed my eyes and he shouted “Keet den closed.” I counted to three and opened them again. He was looking inside the bag they put the money in. “Ya got more dan this, now git it.” I think the accent was fake, which indicates he had put some thought into this adventure and that maybe I was wrong about him being an amateur. Of course even amateurs do some planning.

   On the topic of planning one interesting thing I found out from the FBI reports is that most bank robbers do not “case” a bank by going into it before a robbery. I guess of all the movies I’ve seen were the mastermind has a hidden stopwatch timing the actions of all bank employees and charts their break times and peculiarities are just Hollywood fantasies. It just isn’t that glamorous in real life. It’s usually one or two guys driving by a bank and noticing it, a little hopped up on something, and saying “Stop here, I need some cash.” Over half the time they either write the demand note in the parking lot or in the bank foray.

   One would be Jessie James pulled into a banks parking lot and drew the attention of an uncover cop on stakeout because he tore his car apart looking for a piece of paper to write his demand note. He was furiously throwing things around his car when the cop noticed the gun sticking out of his pants when he bent over the front seat trying to reach under the cushions of the back seat to find either a pen or some paper. He is currently doing time in an over crowded prison in Texas.

   I consider myself very observant. I think my chosen profession of photographer has helped me develop the skill. It’s hard to say which came first, taking photos or the skill of noticing the little things. When I approach a shot I start by taking pictures in my mind. That’s what I did during this robbery. I’ve already told you about the first set of mental photos I took of the green truck and as I entered the bank. When I’m on a shoot, the mental photos I don’t like I throw away and don’t bother to take with my camera. I knew I couldn’t toss any of today’s photos out. It wasn’t for me to decide what was important. Sometimes when I’m on an assignment everything falls together instantly and I knew exactly where I should place my camera and my subject. In the bank I didn’t have the luxury of making any decisions. A camera placed on the floor can sometimes get very interesting photos. My most nearly famous photo, the cover shot for the Rocky Morse Band’s live album had such a camera placement. The two lead singers looked like giants glistening with dripping sweat. The angle of distortion, because of the camera placement made it not only a great album cover but also a poster that found its way into nearly every college and university dorm in America in the 1980s. I collected nearly $3,000 in royalties last year from that photo alone; not bad for 20 years after. It doesn’t hurt that the Rocky Morse Band is still churning out the hits.

   I was clicking as many mental photos as I could as I tried to lie still. I could feel my pulse race and my heartbeat against the cold marble floor. The scent of lemon wax seemed to rise up from the cold stone. As I clicked my pictures I thought of the opening of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Paul Newman walks into the bank he is planning on robbing and sees that it is a fortress. Big locks and big safes, tellers safely behind protective bars; the money isn’t there for the taking. Everything seems to be a shade of rust, even the dirt particles that are perfectly captured by the camera as they float in the air. Paul abandons his plans and walks out into the sunlight. They knew how to build a bank 100 years ago. I wondered who lost the plans.

   This bank invites robbery with its high polished floor, low counters and no safety precautions that can be seen. We all know that the camera that is taking pictures of everything sucks. I always laugh at the evening news when a photo is shown from a bank surveillance camera. “If you’ve seen this man, contact your local FBI.” What man? Looking at the photos I can’t even be sure it is a man. Of course I now know that men commit 90% of all bank robberies.

   I heard a car horn honk and I closed my eyes as Mr. Harley Davidson with the Topsiders turn towards the door. I was directly in his path. He kicked my hand and stopped in front of me. “Gib it too me.” His oddly accented voice demanded.

   “What?” I opened my eyes and looked up.

   “Da watch.”

   Not my watch. Tina had given it to me two weeks ago. My eyes bugged out when I opened the box. A solid gold Rolex Yacht Master. (one word or two) I was afraid to find out how much she spent, I was sure it was at least $11,000. One of my errands that day was to stop my insurance agents office and add it my policy. I’d been promising Tina since the day she gave it to me that I’d get it added to our rider. I couldn’t give up my new Rolex.

   “Hurry!”

   I followed his command. I instinctively knew it wasn’t worth my life to try and save my watch. An $11,000 watch, why’d she have to buy me an $11,000 watch? I fumbled a little, but I was able to pop the clasp on the Rolex and hold it up above my head. He grabbed the watch with a clean fast jerk, kicked my arm out of his path and without a trace of an accent said “Thank you, I think I’ll enjoy wearing this.” I watched him make his way to the door. I could tell that he was taking a quick look over everyone to see what else he might snatch. “I want everyone to lie on the floor for five minutes before you get up and call the police.” Again he spoke without an accent. In the excitement of stealing my watch I think he forgot he was trying to sound like a hick.

   Swoosh; the second door closed and I immediately popped to my feet and raced to the window. “They’re gone, you can get up.” I told everyone.

   “Are you sure?” The voice came from the other side of the counter.

   I didn’t bother to answer. I saw the grandma who had been lying next to me having trouble getting to her feet and I help lift her up. She couldn’t have weight more than 100 pounds and now that I was taking a good look at her I’d place her age at least 75, maybe 80. Why that matters, I don’t know.

   She was shaking. “You OK?” I asked. “They’re gone. You’re safe, your money’s safe. Now you have an interesting story to tell.” I was rambling as I tried to calm her down. Everyone else was now on their feet, but no one had spoken a word. “Your flower is crushed,” I pointed to the overly large fake red rose she had pinned to her lapel. “I’m sure the bank will replace that for you.” I wasn’t sure of anything, especially if my insurance would cover my watch or if the bank would take responsibility if the insurance company didn’t. I guess I’m just like everyone else in America; I want someone else to take responsibility for my mistakes. I should have added my watch to my policy the day I got it. I didn’t really need to go in to the office in person to add it; I just wanted to show it to Dave and Scottie, my insurance agents.

   “What’s your name?” I asked her.

   “Stella,” her quivering voice replied. “Did he take your watch?” I nodded as I tried to give a non-challaunt response. “I’m glad it didn’t see mine.” She showed me her Timex. I guessed there was about a $10,925 difference between the two watches. “It was the last gift my Nate gave me. We were married 58 years before he passed last June.”

   “Why don’t you come over here and sit down.” I instructed her as I lead her to the chair in front of the new accounts desk. She sat down hard. I crouched next to her and began patting the back of her liver spotted hand. Her hand was cold, colder than the floor she’d just been hugging. She took a deep breath and began to cry. I didn’t have any words to soother her. Crouching next to her, I leaned in and hugged her, she hugged me back, much harder than I would have guess she could. She cried but I think my hugs helped.

   Silence from the rest of the onlookers. Was everyone in shock? Shouldn’t the bank manager be taking charge? Where were the police? The robbers had been gone for at least 3 or 4 minutes. That was plenty of time to get here. Especially if someone had sounded the silent alarm before the robbery was over.

   Chapter 2

   The same rain that fell on Tina and Hobie fell on Steve and Neil. It was a hard rain. It was a hard day. Steve pulled up to the worksite in his Ford pickup and stepped out into the rain. He didn’t attempt to protect himself from the downpour. He pride was too damaged to worry about his body. Standing in the rain he rotated his head looking through the storm and looking for his brother. He couldn’t find him, he decided to reach back into his truck and get Neil attention with the horn. The honk coincided with the sound of nearby thunder and both sounds faded into the equal disregard. Pulling his cell phone from it’s belt clip Steve hit the 2 and # buttons to speed dial his younger brother.

   “You’re late, where are you?”

   “I just pulled up. Where are you?” Steve didn’t need an answer. He saw his brother round the southwest corner of their half done house and cause of all their financial troubles. Steve and Neil flipped their phones closed in unison and stepped into garage exchanging disheartened looks. Neil brushed his hands down his poncho removing some of the excess rain. Steve didn’t seem to care that he was soaked and starting to shiver.

   “He said no,” Steve responded to the look Neil gave him. “I even called Uncle John and he said he couldn’t help us out. At least he was kind enough to remind us that he warned us not to get involved in this venture.” They watched the rain as it slowed to a near stop.

   “What are we going to do? Do we have any choice but to walk away?” Neil’s face was wet with both rain and tears as he said this.

   “Our only choice is to walk into the bank with five grand today, and that only holds us off for a week.”

   “But in week we’ll have our buyers nailed down and plenty of money. I can’t believe they would rather take this back from us and go to all the trouble of finishing it or reselling it, rather than giving us another week.”

   “That argument worked the first few times we used it. They just don’t believe us anymore.” On Monday Steve had been given a one week reprieve by the banks senior officer, on Steve’s guarantee that he could get the at least $5,000 towards what they owed by the next Monday. They had spent most of the last week trying to find a way to keep that promise and keep their investment intact. Neither of them could believe that they could lose their life savings and their pride because of a new home build project that went bad. The week before Steve had hocked the diamond from his wedding ring and replaced it with a cubeick to get one more week. His wife had no idea they were in the kind of trouble they were in. He told himself that he would replace it as soon as they finished the house and were able to get their profits out of it.

   It started with the best intentions eleven months before. The brothers decided to form their own new homes building company and go it alone. They both had been working as foremen for the largest regional builder in the Midwest and were sure they had what it takes to get their own company up and going. They decided they would specialize in upper end custom homes and only break ground once they had a purchase contract. Now they were mired in their first project on the verge of losing both the project and having to file for bankruptcy.

   Their first customer is the one who brought them down. The president of a large bio-tech firm he contracted with them to build a 11,000 square foot home with every conceivable custom feature available. The $250,000 non-refundable down payment and the six-month $1,900,000 construction loan seemed like more than enough money for the brothers to successfully complete the home. The agreed upon sales price was $2,300,000. Even with over-runs the brothers figured on making at least $400,000.

   It didn’t work out that way. As they stood in the garage of their less than half finished house they had spent all of the banks $1,900,000, all of their former customers quarter million dollars and nearly $300,000 of their own money; and all they had was a piece of property without a buyer that needed to sell for at least three million to make the kind of money they needed. Their original client filled bankruptcy after they had spent all of his down payment and another $250,000 on a retaining wall he requested that they hadn’t budgeted into the project. They had also agreed to his every upgrade request without getting increasing his deposit. They figured it would take about $400,000 to finish the house and they needed to sell it for $3,100,000 to breakeven.

   The bank had been very patient until about six weeks ago when they started sending demand notes to the brothers. At first Steve, who worked as the business and sales manager didn’t tell Neil they were in danger. He had been working with a buyer from California who seemed anxious to commit his money to this new home. He was thrilled with how much more house his money would buy.

   The negotiations took much longer than the Steve and Neil had hoped. As a skilled negotiator their buyer recognized the desperation the brother felt and used that to his advantage. He could also tell that time seemed to be on his side. While he had decided to accept the brothers verbal offer of $3,000,000 with a down payment of $500,000; he hadn’t told them yet. He planned to call them on Saturday and try to get the price down another $100,000. To him this was a game. To the brothers it was a loss of between $100,000 and $200,000, and maybe a loss of everything.

   Neither brother blames the other for their circumstances. Neil broke the silence of the rain with “What do we need to do?” His brother just shook his head in confusion. “We need money, banks have money, and maybe we should stop by one and make our own withdrawal.” “If we had one with any money in it I do it.”

   “They all have money. It’s just not ours … yet.” Neil said with a half smile that could mean a lot of different things. Neil is six foot and still looks like he could be the high school football star he once was. He’s a young thirty is used to getting by on his boyish good looks. He’s also the risk taker of the two.

   “We’ll just change our names to Frank and Jessie and we’re good to go.”

   “Stephen, listen to me, there reasons we should consider my idea.” Neil started as he started convincing his more cautious brother that they should do the most fool hearty and reckless act of their lives. The rain stopped the same time that Neil stopped.

   “I don’t know, if we get caught; … if we get caught…” Steve couldn’t find a way to finish his sentence.

   “Sara would kill you?” Neil finished for him. “And if we don’t get the money she’ll leave you anyways. I don’t want to say anything bad about her, but we both know what she’ll do to you come Monday morning and we don’t have any money for the bank.” Steve wasn’t looking at his brother as he talked to him. Steve wasn’t sure what he was thinking so he continued, “One unauthorized withdrawal, we get enough money to walk into the bank on Monday and buy time until we get the deal down with Mayer. I don’t care if after we get everything straightened out if we send what we take back. We need the money now and they should be giving it to us now. That’s their business. We can send it back with interest, we just can’t let them ruin our lives.”

   “We don’t know anything about robbing a bank.”

   “What’s to know?” Neil pulled the stockings out of his back pocket he’d brought with him knowing he would be making this argument this morning. “I walk in with a realistic looking water pistol demand some money and walk out. Nothing to it. Did you know that only ten percent of all bank robbers get caught?” Neil just made that fact up, but he was sure he and Steve are a lot smarter than the average bank robber. “Most of them only get caught because they keep doing it over and over again. Us; just this once, and we can send the money back when we get paid off on the house.”

   “This is ridicules,” Steve couldn’t believe he was seriously discussing robbing a bank.

   “If you’ve got another idea I’ll vote for it big brother.”

   “OK, is that mask a one size fits all?” Steve pointed to the stocking Neil held.

   “Let’s roll.” Neil tossed him his mask and walked to the back of the truck and smeared a hand full of mud over the license.

   Steve’s hands begun to shake as he thought about what he’d just agreed to do. He knew it wasn’t to late to back out, but he thought of some other risky things he done with his brother that’d paid off. Nothing like this, nothing illegal. But Neil did have a way about him of making things work out. He didn’t want to give up his dream and his brother was right the bank should have given him another extension. He knew for a fact that they’d given plenty of extensions to the Enron’s of the world. He watch Neil run back into the garage and stick his hands into a bucket to get the mud off of them, wipe them on a shop rag and pick up a supermarket shopping bag that was on a saw horse. Once he was in the truck Neil pulled the plastic guns out of the bag and showed them to Steve.

   “You’ve done some planning, where do you suggest we go to make sure we get $10,000?” Steve back down the yet to be graded driveway and splashed even more mud on the truck.

   “Let’s go to the CSA branch on 135th.”

   “Our branch?” Steve showed total surprise with this choice.

   “No, the one in Overland Park. We’ll only go to ours if we don’t quite get enough money from the first”

   “You said we’d only have to do this once.”

   “Yes, I did. But I don’t know if we can get all we need on our first try. I mean we’ll only do it one day. Today.” Neil flashed his smile that told his brother he’d knowingly misled.

   “I don’t want to do this more than once. Get everything they got. How long to you think we have before the police show up?”

   “I’d guess between 3 and 5 minutes. I’ll get it all in two and a half. Don’t worry big brother, I don’t want to go to jail.”

   They coasted into the CSA parking lot and slowly pulled up to the front door, trying to peer inside to see if anything looked unusual. Steve looked at his brother and gave him his only instructions of the day, “If you see any customer with a green bank bag grab it too. It could be a cash deposit from some high volume fast food place.” Steve had no idea why he said that, he just figured if they were going to do this they might as well try to do it right, and only once.

   Steve sat in the car and worried the whole time Neil was in the bank. He watch a police cruiser pass through the intersection without looking in his direction. He could feel his pulse race and sweat begun to form on his forehead. He thought back to the day he tried to tell his teacher a lie about his homework and couldn’t. Why did he agree to this? This wasn’t like him.

   Exactly four minutes and 15 seconds after entering Neil walked out of the bank and got into the truck. Steve pulled away from the bank quickly without drawing attention and pulled his mask off at the same time. He was through the parking lot, past the McDonalds and back on 135th street and up the freeway on ramp before he said anything. “Well, how did we do?”

   “It’s looks like we are almost half way there.” Neil said with a smile. “Plus,” He showed off a solid gold Rolex as he slid it onto his wrist.

   “What’s that?” “A bonus. I got it off a customer who wasn’t following my directions. This will teach him a lesson.”

   “That makes us thieves.”

   “And robbing a bank doesn’t?”

   “It’s different we are going to return the money, how can we return a watch without getting caught?”

   “Don’t worry about it big,” Neil often calls his big brother just ‘big’, “we’ve got another bank to rob.”