Callous

The First National Bank in Clifden held a ton of money on the second Thursday of every month. It handled salaries for the big companies that ringed the area. Security was two guards, formerly of army service.

Three tellers and the manager comprised the staff.

At 9:15 on Thursday two heavily armed men wearing balaclavas rushed into the bank, shooting into the air and screaming obscenities.

The staff were forced to lie on the floor with the two security guards.

Shock and awe were the modus operandi of the men, and it worked, perfectly.

Five minutes, tops, and they were out of there, into a green van, driven by a third figure.

By the time the Guards arrived, the gang was long gone, the van found burned on a side road.

Estimates of the haul ranged from a hundred thousand to half a million.

Serious cash.

A Garda superintendent hinted at paramilitary links.

He also said,

“We are following definite leads.”

They weren’t.

The papers focused on the efficiency of the raid and suggested a military-style operation.

I had only the vaguest knowledge of this as I read the papers in the pub. I was a regular there by now, I was still referred to as the Yank, but with no malice riding point.

Leeds arrived, excitement writ large, led the way to a snug for privacy, and near shouted,

“You know I’ve been following Colin and his thugs.”

I did not.

I said,

“You’ve got to be crazy. Those guys are dangerous. Trust me, you do not want them to know you’re in their business.”

He was excited, dying to tell me his news, said,

“I saw them steal a green van and guess what? That van was used in the bank heist.”

Colin and his buddies were robbing banks?

I said,

“Leeds. Leeds, listen to me: if those guys are robbing banks, you do not want to be a witness.”

He was offended, hurt by my nonappreciation, said,

“What is your plan? Let them do what they like?”

Pretty much, in truth.

I tried,

“We have to locate Keegan, let the cops deal with him.”

He was way down disappointed, accused,

“You’re afraid of them. You used to be a cop. How can you be so...”

Pause.

He fumbled for the right word, settled on,

“Useless?”

I said, lamely,

“We’ll think of something, something less risky.”

He was disgusted, stormed out, muttering,

“Coward.”

I went to Colin’s new house, and new it was. As in, recently built.

Knocked on the door, opened by Abbott, who waved me into a large front room. And the first thing I saw was stacks of money lining one wall. Colin appeared, shadowed by Costello. He indicated the money, asked,

“Need a loan?”

On the floor were what appeared to be a stockpile of weapons.

Uzis.

AKs.

Handguns.

I asked,

“Expecting a war?”

Colin went to the coffee pot, poured some, said,

“Just the cartel.”

I looked ’round, said,

“This is. Insane.”

Costello said,

“We do crazy.”

I said,

“Keegan has gone to ground; you’re wasting your time.”

Costello said,

“We’ll keep busy knocking over banks.”

Fuck.

Kate did not know how she felt about the death of Dio. She had to admit he’d been growing on her, and the edge he possessed was exciting. She was in her house, drinking coffee with Nora B. She said,

“I never thought I’d be sorry for him.”

Nora scoffed, said,

“He was a drug-dealing psycho; no shortage of them.”

Kate changed tack, asked,

“You’re seeing my brother?”

Kept her tone mild, as if it were no big thing.

“Fucking,”

Said Nora.

“I was fucking him. No great love affair.”

Kate was shocked that she was shocked. She had herself down as chill, but this, I mean, c’mon.

She tried,

“Whatever.”

And Nora smiled.