"Westlake, Donald E as Stark, Richard - Parker 12 - The Sour Lemon Score 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Westlake Donald E)

Parker went into the bank. Weiss was standing at one of the counters on the left wall, making out a deposit slip. Andrews was talking to the lone bank officer at the desks on the right, asking him about traveler's checks. There was nobody at the state lottery window in the far corner.

The guards came out of the vault area empty-handed, followed by the man with the clipboard. They walked past Parker and went outside again.

Three tellers' windows were open, two regular and the lottery window, all with female tellers. Two more female employees were at the calculating machines in back. Beside the clipboard men -- one in the vault, the other outside with the armored car -- and the bank officer to whom Andrews was talking, the only other male employee was the bank guard, an elderly man with a puffed-up pigeon chest and a dark blue uniform full of fold creases. His wife had ironed the shirt and folded it and put it away in a drawer, so when he took it out and put it on it had a checkerboard of creases all over it.

Parker stood looking around the room. It was a new bank with a low ceiling, which was good. There were only three straight customers in the bank, which was also good.

The two guards came back in, carrying the strongbox between them, one hand each. The clipboard man followed them, looking prissy and bored. Weiss crumpled up his deposit slip, put it in his pocket, and walked to the door. Parker went over to the bank guard and said, "Do you have a notary public here?"

His talking to the guard was the signal for Andrews to reach into his pocket and push the button on the little radio machine in there. Weiss was standing by the door, behind the armored car men and the clipboard man. If all was going right, Uhl was driving slowly down the block toward the bank right now, one hand holding that grenade.

The guard said, "Are you a deposi-- " and the wastebasket by the lottery window blew up.

It was a huge noise, loud enough to give everybody in the bank a brief headache, and with it came a flash of yellow and white, and then flames were licking up the front of the counter toward the lottery window. On the heels of the explosion, one of the women employees screamed.

Parker had been standing so the guard's back was to the lottery window. At the explosion the old man spun around, startled, and Parker took out his revolver and clipped him with it behind the ear.

While the old man was still falling Parker spun around and held down on the two armored-car men. He shouted, "No heroes!" He knew Andrews had a gun on the bank officer and would quickly herd him into a corner away from telephones. He knew Weiss was behind the armored car men to let them know they were in a crossfire. And Uhl, at the sound of the explosion, was to drop the grenade out of the passenger-side window so it would roll under the armored car and was then to pull directly in front of the armored car and wait. In ten seconds, the grenade would start spewing black smoke. There wasn't much breeze today; the smoke would quickly billow out and surround the armored car and puff all around the bank entrance.

While Parker was shouting, Weiss was shouting also. Andrews was on his feet, waving an automatic and shouting at the employees, "It's a stickup! Don't move! Don't move!"

The armored-car men were professional enough to know when to fold a hand. Neither of them reached for a gun.

Parker said, "Put the box down. Now move over that way. Hands on top of your heads." He motioned the gun at the clipboard man. "You too."

"You can't -- "

Weiss kicked the clipboard man in the butt. "Hurry up, shorty," he said. The clipboard man was about four inches taller than Weiss.

Parker and Andrews hurried over to the strongbox and each grabbed a handle. Weiss kept everybody covered. Parker went first, the heavy strongbox dragging him back, bumping into the back of his legs. He could see the smoke through the glass door, so Uhl was doing his job.

The smoke was everywhere, greasy and black, smelling of creosote. You couldn't see a thing, but Parker didn't have to see anything. He angled to the right, Andrews in his wake with the other end of the box, and they plunged through the smoke, Parker's hand out in front of him, till the heel of his hand hit the side of the car.

It took him a few seconds to figure out what part of the car he had, but then he moved quickly forward to the rear door, opened it, and clambered in with the strongbox banging against his heels. Andrews came piling in after it, and then Weiss rushed up out of the smoke, blundered the front door open, and jumped in.

Uhl burned rubber, taking off before either door was shut. For the first second or two he couldn't have been able to see a thing, but he tore out of the smoke as though God had told him personally there wasn't going to be anything in front of him, and there wasn't.

Everybody was done working now but Uhl, and Uhl had rehearsed his part so often he could almost do it asleep. Right at the corner, left at the alley halfway down the block, right at the next street, and then four blocks straight. They wouldn't hit a traffic light till then, and Uhl would be able to judge it from four blocks away and not have to stop for it. It was twenty minutes past ten in the morning, a dead time for traffic, so they'd be able to make any speed they wanted.

At that traffic light they'd make a left turn, and from there it was less than half a mile to the outskirts of town, where they'd stashed the other car. And after that a ten-minute drive to the farm, where they could hole up and wait for the fever to cool in the outside world.

Parker and Andrews straightened themselves out in the back seat, the strongbox lumping huge between them, leaning half on the seat and half on the floor. Andrews patted it, smiling, and said, "How much do you think?"

"Maybe forty," Parker said. "Maybe sixty. Maybe a little more."

"Not bad for a morning's work," Andrews said, forgetting the three weeks preparation.

Uhl, relaxed at the wheel now, glanced in the rear view mirror and said, "Shoot the lock off. Let's see how much it is."