Surrounded

Monica. Nineteen stores, all under one roof."
        "Nineteen stores," Tucker said, not believing it. "Nineteen stores-and one bank."
        "That's right."
        "You want to hit a bank that's situated in the center of a goddamned enclosed shopping mall," Tucker said, incredulous. "Is that it?" He half turned away from the diagram and stared hard at Meyers. The big man had to be joking.
        He was serious. His broad face was creased by a silly but sincere grin. "I want that bank. That's mainly what we're after, naturally. But I also want two or three of the very best stores in the place."
        Tucker just stared at him.
        "Stores," Meyers repeated. "Jewelry, furs, antiques…"
        "I understood you the first time."
        "Do the logistics bother you?" Meyers asked.
        "They don't bother you?"
        "No."
        "They should."
        "If you'll look more closely at the drawing," Meyers said, "you'll see that there are only four entrances to the mall." He held up four thick fingers, as if he thought Tucker might need some learning reinforcement. "We can gain control of all the doors and then clean out everything worth taking." He laughed at Tucker's expression. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
        "Absolutely," Tucker said. He turned completely away from the table. "And you can count me out."
        Meyers stopped grinning. "Wait a minute." He laid one heavy hand on Tucker's shoulder. "It really is possible. It's safe. It's the sweetest thing I've ever come across."
        Tucker grimaced, shrugged.
        Meyers took the hint. He moved his hand.
        "Look," Tucker said, "even if you had control of the four mall doors, what would you do with all of the customers? That place will be full of them any day of the week. Shoppers coming and going, in and out…"
        "I'm aware of that."
        "Glad to hear it."
        Meyers's hoarse voice was touched by anxiety. "Believe me, I've got it all figured out. I'm no amateur. Those people won't bother us."
        Tucker ignored him, because he was pretty much convinced that whatever Meyers had "figured out" would be full of holes. "And what are you going to do about the telephones?"
        "Telephones?"
        "There, must be a hundred or more public and private phones in a shopping mall that size. Are you going to be able to put them all out of use before anyone in there can call the cops?"
        "We won't have to worry about the telephones," Meyers said. He was grinning again, though only tentatively. He resembled a big clumsy hound that wanted approval, affection, congratulations. But there was a decidedly human desperation in his eyes.
        "Furthermore," Tucker continued, "you'd need an army to hold the mall, once you'd taken it."
        "Just four or five men," Meyers said hastily.
        "Is that right?" Tucker turned, started for the kitchen door.
        "Wait a minute," Meyers said. "I'm not stupid. I know what the hell I'm doing." His anger was feigned. It was only meant to arrest Tucker, to make him listen for another moment. In the middle of the cluttered living room he caught Tucker by the arm and stopped him. "We wouldn't hit the damned place during shopping hours. I never said that."
        Tucker sighed, pulled loose of the big man's hand. He worked his shoulders to straighten his coat. "It's still no good. This would be twice as difficult as any normal after-hours bank job. You'd have two sets of alarms to deal with-the mall's and the bank's systems."
        Meyers shook his burly head. His close-cropped hair glinted like metal bristles. "No alarms."
        "A bank without alarms?"
        "Come back to the kitchen with me," Meyers said. He was almost pleading now. His desperation, whatever the source of it, was growing sharper by the minute. "Look at the diagram and listen to me. Hear me out. I won't keep you long. But… Right now you don't have any idea what's up my sleeve."
        "And I don't think I want to know," Tucker said.
        "Felton deals with me!" Meyers said. His whispery voice now contained a note of pride, a curious dignity that was at odds with his slovenly appearance. "I'm not a loser. I've been in this business all my life. I've been successful at it, too."
        Tucker looked around at the dirty walls, the unswept carpet, the tattered furniture. "If you've been so terribly successful what are you doing in a place like this?"
        Following