Stone picked up. “Hello, there, how are things in Kansas?”

“I wouldn’t know. I got in last night, and your new airplane is in your hangar at Teterboro.”

“You’re early.”

“There were only a few cosmetic squawks, and they corrected those quickly.”

“Let’s go fly somewhere.”

“You need to do that—your insurer wants you to have five hours with a mentor pilot—i.e., yours truly—before you go single-pilot. I talked them down from thirty hours, since the old airplane and the new have identical cockpits.”

“Why don’t we run down to Key West for the weekend?”

“What a good idea!”

“I’ll pick you up at nine AM tomorrow. We’ll come back Monday morning.”

“That works for me. See you then.”

Stone hung up. A blah day had just turned sunny. He buzzed Joan. “Book me into the Marquesa, in Key West, for three nights, starting tomorrow. Best available cottage.”

“Will do.”

—

The following day, Charlie Carney’s driver pulled up a few feet from the bank’s front door at ten sharp, opening time. “Okay, you go around to the alley and wait for us there.” He and his two men got out of the van, each carrying a large duffel bag. As they approached the front door they pulled down their masks from under their baseball caps, produced riot guns from the duffels, then walked into the bank. Charlie made straight for the single uniformed guard, who was talking with a customer. He took the gun from the man’s belt. “On the floor.” The man complied. Charlie racked the shotgun and fired a round straight up. Bits of ceiling tiles rained down around him.

“Everybody on the floor! No alarms and nobody gets hurt!”

“Fifteen seconds,” one of his men said, and the two men handed Charlie their duffels.

Charlie went straight for the manager and his desk and put the shotgun barrel under his chin. “You and me in the vault, now.” The manager complied.

Inside the vault, Charlie dropped the duffels on the floor. “Start packing,” he said to the man, and both of them started raking stacks of bills off shelves into the bags.

“Forty-five seconds to go!” came the shout from inside the bank.

Charlie raked faster. The third bag was nearly full when fifteen seconds was called. There were a few stacks left, and he filled the last bag. “You,” he said to the manager, “grab two bags and lead me to the rear door. Ten seconds,” he yelled, when they reached the door. “Open it,” he said.

The man produced a key and unlocked the door.