Undercover Angel. Chapter 1- The Bank

This is the first chapter in the expansion of this short story:

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Undercover Angel  [GC] Short Story about an abused child. Sometimes, it's what you don't see. By: UY...

This is my very first attempt at anything so grand, (by grand, I mean a book, and fiction at that!) so please give me honest feedback. This expansion is the direct result of R&R's from many people who have read the short story above and wanted more, and for them, I thank them humbly for their awesome and honest feedback. I only hope this expanded story will be all they wanted, and more!

Chapter 1: The Bank

Sugar fidgeted nervously as she and her partner, Tank, waited their turn at the bank. Armed robbery wasn’t her thing, and she was sweating this one. Her choices in life, and her affinity for heroin had led her here. Actually, Tank had led her here, but she, being at his mercy, coupled with her complete dependency on him, had allowed herself to be led here. After all, Tank had told her just this morning- for the hundredth time- they had a kid to think about now. Her pregnancy was all too evident, even in her over-sized trench coat. She was aware of the disgusted glances thrown her way by several bank patrons, but she was used to them; she had long since gotten over caring what anyone thought when they saw her- the drugs helped quite nicely in that regard.

Sug didn’t take care of herself, and it showed. Her clothes were tattered ruins, dirtier than the streets she lived on. Her hair, a mess of dirty blond hair, hadn’t been cut in years, and it hung in greasy strings down her back. She seldom bothered to wash it; it was too much of a hassle for her. Her face, a big angry splotch of acne and blackheads, was unpleasant to look at. She had few teeth left, most of them being lost to gum disease. She couldn’t have said when she last brushed them nor did she care.

Tank didn’t fare much better in the looks department. He himself was an unwashed and unkempt street dweller, sharing not only Sugar’s affinity for heroin, but other street drugs as well. His unruly hair ran almost the length of his body, and he kept it loosely rolled up into a baseball cap that had once seen much whiter and cleaner days. He was a lean, tattooed man with a quick temper, who would stop at nothing to get his fixes. He scratched absently at a hole in his jacket, making it bigger in the process. Even the slightest movement exuded an aroma so strong that only the severest of unwashed people can lay claim to.

It was their turn. Casually, with an almost snakelike gracefulness, Tank glided to the next available teller, a smooth smile pasted onto his mean features. The effect was quite chilling. He was mean, and people merely had to look once at him to tell.

“Yes, Sir!” the teller said with a forced brightness that wasn’t lost on Tank. Her disdain for him was quite evident, but he was a customer, right? And so she must treat him as such. “How may I help you today?” Her words had a patronizing tone to them.

Tank’s temper instantly flared, but he held himself in check. "Careful now, Tank”, he silently berated himself. “Chill out, be cool, and you’ll be out of here in a few minutes. You can dig it.” Smiling as pleasantly as he could to the teller, he said, “How ya doin’ today?”

The teller’s smile never wavered for a second, but inwardly, an overwhelming panic flooded her. She had seen this pair on the streets many times before, on her way back and forth from her job, this job, and they always unnerved her. Her feeling that they were not here to make a deposit was evidenced immediately by Tank’s next words.

Throwing a falsely filled out check on the counter for show, speaking softly and quickly, so as not to alert other customers, he told the teller to transfer the money from her drawer into a bank envelope. “Quick, now, I have a gun and I’ll use it”. Then, louder, for benefit of the customers, he said, “Yes, Ma’am, twenties will be fine, thank you. A hundred into my checking, too, please.” Tank looked hard at her to make sure she knew that one false move would cost her dearly.

The teller, momentarily alone behind the counter, realized she had no choice but to comply if she wanted to escape this nightmare safely. She had a new baby at home, and she suddenly missed her baby with a deep aching she never knew existed within her. Reaching down, she simultaneously pushed two buttons next to her drawer; one that would summon the police, and the other to open her cash drawer. She began placing the bills into an envelope, going as slow as she dared, praying silently that the police would show up before she finished. Little did she know, there was an officer in the bank at that very moment, two places down the line waiting his turn with his young son.

Robbie, the officer, blissfully unaware of what was going on at the moment, happily played peek a boo with his son; the two of them laughing and carrying on as if they were not in a public place, but in their own private and carefree world, outside the confines of all restraint. The child suddenly whooped with delight, causing Sugar to jump. She instinctively turned around to see what the noise was, and immediately, her drug blurred eyes came into uncharacteristically sharp focus on Robbie. She knew him, Oh God, she knew this cop, knew him from her many years on the streets, and run-ins with him. Robbie had it in for her; he had for years. She’d committed several petty crimes, and always managed to elude arrest. She didn’t have as much going for her as she did her escape tactics. Charmed she was in that regard. She spun back around, panicky, paranoid, the result of years of drug abuse.

“Tank!” she hissed.

The teller looked up, just for a second, but that was long enough for her to read the panic in Sugar’s eyes. She quickly returned to stuffing money into the envelope, but kept her attention focused on the conversation in front of her.

“Shh!” Tank whispered back. “Just wait a minute, we’re almost done here! Shut up!”

“Tank!” Sugar hissed, trying desperately to curb the panic that now threatened to overwhelm her. Whispering now, “Robbie is here! He’s right behind us!”

Tank looked at her for a moment, sure she was mistaken. There was no way Robbie could be in here! No way! They couldn’t have been ratted out already, could they? He looked over Sugar’s head, glancing around only with his eyes. The customers still had no inkling as to what was happening in that bank, and he meant to keep it that way, or at least until he and Sugar were safely out the door. The cops would never be able to find them after they escaped.

Just a few seconds was all it took to recognize Robbie. There was a kid with him, and they looked like they were playing a game. So Robbie hadn’t seen them; he didn’t know they were here. “Good deal”, Tank thought to himself- “We’ll just walk on by like everything’s cool. By the time he finds out what happened, we’ll be long gone.”

In his surprise and anger at seeing Robbie standing just a few feet away from him, he had forgotten how cumbersome Sugar would be to him if they had to make a hasty exit. They hadn’t planned on anything going wrong, in fact, they had planned it carefully over the past few weeks, or as much as they could in between getting high.

He turned back around, willing himself to calm down, be smooth, and get out of there without being seen by Robbie. With clenched teeth, he breathed to the teller, “Hurry! 10 seconds and I’m gonna aim this gun at you and shoot it, and I won’t miss!” The teller’s face, devoid of all color, somehow managed to find it’s pasted smile again. She hastily thrust the envelope at Tank, both hoping to make a scene, but wanting to avoid one too.

“Have a nice day, Sir!” she managed to let out before she blacked out. The thud of her head slamming against the floor was enough to stop all conversation in the bank. Robbie stopped his childlike chant to his son in mid-sentence, and grabbing the boy’s hand in his own, he rushed forward, nearly knocking the man ahead of him into Sugar. In the few seconds it took for him to mumble a hasty apology to the man, and make sure his son was still with him, he was considerably slowed on getting to the teller, and suddenly, he found himself face to face with Tank.

Sparing only a second to make sure the teller was getting help, he turned his attention back to Tank.

“What are you doing in here, Tank?” Robbie asked.

Tank knew he better get out of there, and fast. This was way too close for him. “Easy does it man,” Tank said to himself. Smooth talk this man and get out of here. “Why, hey Robbie!” Tank said a little too brightly. “Just cashin’ the monthly check.”

Robbie tensed; he knew better. The only source of income these two had was their life of crime. They had no business in a bank unless...

Tank and Robbie locked eyes, Tank reading the obvious in Robbie's eyes.

"He knows what we're here for!" Tank thought to himself. "We got to get out of here now!" Grabbing Sugar, Tank tried to push his way past Robbie, who was now blocking his path. The man who Robbie had knocked into took Robbie's son and steered him to the side, out of the way of Tank and Robbie.

Now, the other customers had sensed something was up, and they began edging out of the line. Robbie grabbed Tank by his arm. He understood now that the teller, who by now was coming around, had pushed the button to summon the police. He knew his colleagues would be here in a matter of minutes, depending on when she was able to summon them. He also knew Tank always carried a gun, and he was fearful for the safety of everyone in the bank.

Tank slapped Robbie's hand off, and pushed him away. Robbie grabbed him again, but Tank feinted to the side. He was already reaching for his gun, and was starting toward Robbie.

Robbie screamed, "Down, everybody down!", as he tackled Tank and wrestled him to the floor. Tank by now had his gun out, and had it cocked. As he hit the floor with Robbie on top of him, he put the gun to Robbie's head and fired a single shot.

Robbie's grasp on Tank tightened for a second, then it loosened and his body went limp. He was dead the instant the bullet shattered his skull. Tank shoved Robbie off him and got up. He yelled "Come on!" to Sugar, and grabbed her. As they ran toward the doors leading out of the bank, Robbie's young son rushed to his father, screaming, "Daddy! Get up, Daddy!"

Tank looked back to see the boy huddled next to his father, holding his hand, and sobbing hysterically. There was an eerie calm within the bank, and those few moments seemed like hours for Tank. The wail of police and ambulance sirens cut into the silence. Without another glance back, he hurried out of the bank, and sprinted down the street to catch up with Sugar who by now was a half block ahead. She had successfully eluded the police once again, and Tank was not about to go down this time either.

*End Chapter 1*

Yes, Mom, chapter two is in the works!