Perhaps that was why, when she
later reflected upon the bank robbery itself, she realized she had never been
concerned about the possibility of her own death. She had no husband to leave
behind, no children to orphan, no mother to damn into endless grief.
It had happened so quickly, she was really quite impressed. And with such
subterfuge that she wasn’t at all sure how many of them there were. The
one who had winked, obviously. The one who stood guarding the door, holding a
gun identical to the leader’s. But different people kept emerging and it
was difficult for her to keep up.
And about this leader. He was tall, he had a jaw sharp enough to etch diamond,
and the moment she heard his voice she was convinced. Convinced of what, she
wasn’t sure. Just convinced . He could have read the most
outlandish children’s story and she would have believed him. Hecould have announced that he was here to rustle up
recruits for a new communist army bent on unseating Roosevelt and she would
have been convinced it was so, and convinced it was just. He could have told her
that this entire, impressively choreographed, painstakingly timed, undoubtedly
risky endeavor was all a ruse to win her heart, and she would have been
convinced. Her only disappointment was that he spoke so little.
As the gang leader strode past the tellers, Darcy saw him notice a customer at
another desk slowly pulling his hands away from a small stack of bills. The
poor man looked like an old farmhand, and the expression on his face, Darcy
saw, was not crestfallen but placid, as if he was so accustomed to weathering
disasters that a gun-wielding bandit was well within the realm of the expected.
“You can pick that back up, sir,” the leader had told the farmer as
he walked past. “We’re not here for your money, just the
bank’s. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
What else had he said? She tried to remember as the dirt road became a bit less
accommodating and she tightened her grip. “I’m going to have to ask
you for that combination, Mr. President.” And “All righty, boys,
we’re down to a minute” and “I really like those shoes, did
you buy them in town?” and “Get a chair for that lady over there,
she looks faint” and, finally, joyously, “All righty, you and you
and you and”—the finger pretending to pick her arbitrarily, even
though the slight grin belied any such thing— “you ,
you’ll need to step outside with us.” Darcy knew the difference
between fate and desire, thank you.
But that was all he’d said. How many words was that in total? Fifty?
Seventy, perhaps? She wondered how many thousands of dollars they had taken
with them in those Gladstone bags, how many bills each of his words had brought
in. A man like that could talk in gold. She only wanted to hear him say
something more.
The robbers had silently corralled the hostages in the front of the bank lobby
and marched them outside, where Darcy noticed the phalanx of police officers
standing helplessly on the sidewalk. This was when she first realized that she
was in some modicum of danger. Not from this dapper robber and his
assistants—the man positively exuded calm—but from the surely
terrified police and their weapons. Her stomach tightened.
She was standing on the Buick’s running board when one of the officers
called upon the robbers to halt and surrender. The thieves laughedand informed him that any attempt to intervene could cost
the lives of these nice hostages. Alarming words indeed, but she looked at the
officers and saw their meek expressions, as if they knew there was no point in
trying to stop the crooks and had spoken up only for appearance’s sake.
“They’re going to kill us!” the man who had vomited now
screamed to his fellow hostages as they rocketed through the woods west of
town. The police Fords were long gone, left behind by the speeding Buick. Given
her background, Darcy knew enough about cars to be certain that this did not
have
later reflected upon the bank robbery itself, she realized she had never been
concerned about the possibility of her own death. She had no husband to leave
behind, no children to orphan, no mother to damn into endless grief.
It had happened so quickly, she was really quite impressed. And with such
subterfuge that she wasn’t at all sure how many of them there were. The
one who had winked, obviously. The one who stood guarding the door, holding a
gun identical to the leader’s. But different people kept emerging and it
was difficult for her to keep up.
And about this leader. He was tall, he had a jaw sharp enough to etch diamond,
and the moment she heard his voice she was convinced. Convinced of what, she
wasn’t sure. Just convinced . He could have read the most
outlandish children’s story and she would have believed him. Hecould have announced that he was here to rustle up
recruits for a new communist army bent on unseating Roosevelt and she would
have been convinced it was so, and convinced it was just. He could have told her
that this entire, impressively choreographed, painstakingly timed, undoubtedly
risky endeavor was all a ruse to win her heart, and she would have been
convinced. Her only disappointment was that he spoke so little.
As the gang leader strode past the tellers, Darcy saw him notice a customer at
another desk slowly pulling his hands away from a small stack of bills. The
poor man looked like an old farmhand, and the expression on his face, Darcy
saw, was not crestfallen but placid, as if he was so accustomed to weathering
disasters that a gun-wielding bandit was well within the realm of the expected.
“You can pick that back up, sir,” the leader had told the farmer as
he walked past. “We’re not here for your money, just the
bank’s. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
What else had he said? She tried to remember as the dirt road became a bit less
accommodating and she tightened her grip. “I’m going to have to ask
you for that combination, Mr. President.” And “All righty, boys,
we’re down to a minute” and “I really like those shoes, did
you buy them in town?” and “Get a chair for that lady over there,
she looks faint” and, finally, joyously, “All righty, you and you
and you and”—the finger pretending to pick her arbitrarily, even
though the slight grin belied any such thing— “you ,
you’ll need to step outside with us.” Darcy knew the difference
between fate and desire, thank you.
But that was all he’d said. How many words was that in total? Fifty?
Seventy, perhaps? She wondered how many thousands of dollars they had taken
with them in those Gladstone bags, how many bills each of his words had brought
in. A man like that could talk in gold. She only wanted to hear him say
something more.
The robbers had silently corralled the hostages in the front of the bank lobby
and marched them outside, where Darcy noticed the phalanx of police officers
standing helplessly on the sidewalk. This was when she first realized that she
was in some modicum of danger. Not from this dapper robber and his
assistants—the man positively exuded calm—but from the surely
terrified police and their weapons. Her stomach tightened.
She was standing on the Buick’s running board when one of the officers
called upon the robbers to halt and surrender. The thieves laughedand informed him that any attempt to intervene could cost
the lives of these nice hostages. Alarming words indeed, but she looked at the
officers and saw their meek expressions, as if they knew there was no point in
trying to stop the crooks and had spoken up only for appearance’s sake.
“They’re going to kill us!” the man who had vomited now
screamed to his fellow hostages as they rocketed through the woods west of
town. The police Fords were long gone, left behind by the speeding Buick. Given
her background, Darcy knew enough about cars to be certain that this did not
have
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