KnockOut Read Free

come close to the terrifying reality. He admired their courage. He walked over to the group. “Who’s the assistant manager?”
    “I am, Agent Savich,” a woman said. “Is Mac going to be all right?”
    “The EMT told me he was going to make it.” Just a small exaggeration, but the relief flooding all the faces around him made it worthwhile. “If you guys could keep everyone calm for a while longer, I’d really appreciate it.”
    Four FBI agents and a couple of local cops stood staring down at the woman. It was hard to tell she was soaked in her own blood since she was dressed entirely in black. Someone had pulled off her black mask. She was about thirty-five, he thought, dark-haired and dark-eyed like her daughter. She had soft white skin and hard eyes, now empty of life.
    Buzz Riley came to stand by him. “I’ve heard of this group, of course, got bulletins on each of their jobs. Mac and I even discussed them over lunch the other day. He said they always knew when a bank got a cash delivery from the Federal Reserve. I knew they killed all the bank security guards on their way out, but I’ll tell you, Savich, I never dreamed they’d come here to Georgetown. Neither did Mac. None of us were very worried, even though Mac brought up that shoot-out of yours at the Barnes and Noble. I’ll tell you, when the guy shoved that thirty-eight in my ear, I thought I was a dead man.” Buzz paused a moment, swallowed hard. “Thanks, Savich. Lordy, when I tell my kids how you brought one of the robbers down and saved my life, expect a dozen excited calls.”
    “We’re about even on that score, Buzz.”
    Buzz waved that away. He said, his voice still hyper, “You know, when I heard women were part of the group, I didn’t know if I believed it, in my gut, you know? I mean, Bonnie Parker hit the scene long before I was even born. But this, Savich, bringing her kid with her to rob a bank. Can you figure that?”
    No, Savich couldn’t figure it.
    “That girl—she was vicious, whacked out. I bet I’ll be seeing more white hairs than I had five minutes before these bozos came charging into the bank.” Buzz put his hand on Savich’s arm. “You know what? When I believed in my gut I’d reached the end, I saw my grandmother, isn’t that strange? I think I was a little kid and she was yelling something at me.” He swallowed, shook his head.
    Savich said, “It was close, but only Mac got hurt, that’s what’s amazing, with all those bullets flying around.”
    “We lucked out. We surely did.” Buzz grinned over at Sherlock, who was speaking to the assistant manager. “Your wife, right? Mac told me about her, said she was a pistol, said he was looking forward to seeing her at the gym.”
     
    AFTER THREE HOURS OF exhaustive debriefing at the Hoover Building, Savich took a call from Jumbo Hardy of The Washington Post. Jumbo said only one word, “Why?”
    “One of the robbers had a gun in the security guard’s ear. He was going to kill him for the sport of it.”
    Jumbo was silent for a moment. “That’s Buzz Riley, right? Retired cop?”
    “Yes.”
    A pause, then, “I spoke to him. He told me that girl was going to kill you too. Jeez, Savich, that was a hell of a risk you took.”
    It beat lying there watching Buzz get his brains blown out, Savich thought, and knew his own brains had been on the line too. He said what he’d said a dozen times already, the last time to Director Mueller himself: “I had no choice and no time. I had to act.” Savich could hear Hardy typing on his laptop.
    “Oh, yeah, I checked the hospital. The girl you kicked in the gut—of all things, you injured her duodenum, and maybe her pancreas, something the doctors only see in auto accidents. My friends at the hospital tell me she’s in surgery. She’ll probably make it, but she’s not going to be a happy camper for a while. You know her name?”
    Of course they knew all the robbers’ names now. “Good try, Jumbo. You know I