Roses Are Red

Falls Church. Ms. Green was there with him. They both had semiautomatic weapons in shoulder holsters underneath their windbreakers.
    Mr. Red and Mr. White went to the manager’s house. Katie Bartlett heard the door chimes and thought it was the baby-sitter. When she opened the front door, she turned pale and her legs buckled at the sight of an armed, masked man wearing a headset with a microphone jutting under his chin. Behind him was a second armed man.
    “Back inside! Move it!” Red screamed loudly through his mask. He held his gun inches from her face.
    Red and White herded the mother and her three small children into the family room on the main floor. The room featured a home entertainment center, and a Tae Bo video was playing. A picture window looked out on a small, still lake, but no one could see them unless they had a boat, and there were no boats on the lake that morning.
    “Now, we’re going to make a home movie,” Mr. Red explained to Mrs. Bartlett and the kids. He talked to them in a matter-of-fact, almost friendly way.
    “You don’t have to hurt anyone,” Katie Bartlett told him. “We’ll cooperate with you. Please put the guns away. I beg you.”
    “I hear you, Katie. But we have to show your husband that we’re serious and that I’m actually here in the house with you and the kids.”
    “They’re two, three, and four,” the mother said. She started to cry, but then she seemed to will herself to stop. “They’re just little babies. My babies.”
    Mr. Red slid his gun inside his holster. “There, there. I don’t want to hurt the kids. I promise I don’t.”
    He was pleased with the job so far. Katie seemed smart, and the kids were well behaved. They were a nice family, the Bartletts. Just as the Mastermind had said.
    “I want you to be the one to put this duct tape on the kids’ mouths,” Mr. Red told Katie Bartlett. He handed over a thick roll of tape.
    “They won’t make any noise. I
promise,
” she said. “They’re good kids.”
    Mr. Red felt sorry for her. She was pretty, and an okay lady. He thought of the couple and the kid in the movie
Life Is Beautiful.
Mr. Red spoke directly to the kids. “This is duct tape, and we’re going to play a game with it. It’ll be cool,” he said.
    Two of the kids glared at him, but the three-year-old grinned. “Duck tape?”
    “That’s right. Duck tape.
Quack, quack, quack, quack.
Now Mommy’s going to put the duck tape on everybody’s mouth. Then we make a home movie for Daddy to see how you look.”
    “Then what?” asked Dennis, the four-year-old, who now seemed interested in the game. “We quack up Daddy.”
    Mr. Red laughed. Even Mr. White managed a smirk. The kids were cute. He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill them in a few minutes.

Chapter 16
    SOMEBODY was going to be murdered in just a few minutes. It was 8:12. The Falls Church robbery was on the clock and it couldn’t be stopped.
    Ms. Green had a rapid-fire weapon aimed in the direction of two frightened women tellers; both of them were in their mid to late twenties.
    Mr. Blue was already in the manager’s office at the First Union branch. He was explaining the rules of the game of “truth or consequences” to James Bartlett and his assistant manager.
    “Nobody has any panic buttons on them?” Mr. Blue asked in a fast, high-pitched voice that was
intended
to communicate that he was tense and maybe close to losing it. “That would be a serious mistake, and there can be
no
mistakes.”
    “We don’t have panic buttons,” said the bank manager, who seemed smart enough and eager to please. “I would tell you if we did.”
    “You ever listen to the training tapes put out by the American Society for Industrial Security?” Blue asked.
    “N-no, I haven’t,” the bank manager answered with a nervous stutter. “I’m — I’m — s-sorry.”
    “Well, their number one recommendation during a robbery is cooperation so that no one gets hurt.”
    The manager nodded his head rapidly. “I agree with that. I hear you. I’m cooperating, sir.”
    “You’re a pretty smart guy for a bank manager. Everything I told you about your family being held as hostages is the absolute
truth.
I want you to always tell me the truth, too. Or there will be unfortunate
consequences.
That means
no
trip alarms,
no
bait money,
no
dye packs,
no
hidden cameras. If Sonitrol has a device in here that’s recording me now, tell me.”
    “I know about the job at the Citibank in Silver