She liked this aura of power and she really liked the new respect she was suddenly getting at the bank. As she followed the trembling teller past two Diebold ATMs and then through the meeter-greeter area of the lobby, Brianne thought about the precious seconds she had already taken. The Mastermind had been explicit about the tight schedule for the robbery. He had repeated over and over that everything depended on perfect execution.

Minutes matter, Brianne.

Seconds matter, Brianne.

It even matters that it's Citibank we've chosen to hit today, Brianne.

The robbery had to be exact, precise, perfect. She got it, she got it. The Mastermind had planned it on what he called 'a numerical scale of 9.9999 out of 10."

With the heel of her left hand, Brianne shoved the teller into the manager's office. She heard the low hum of a computer coming from inside. Then she saw Betsy Buccieri sitting behind her big, executive-style desk.

"You open up your safe every morning at five past eight, so open it for me!" she screamed at the manager, who was wide-eyed with surprise and fear. "Open it. Now!"

"I can't open the vault," Mrs. Buccieri protested. "The vault is automatically opened by a computer signal from the main office in Manhattan. It never happens at the same time."

The bank robber pointed to her own left ear. She signaled with her finger for Mrs. Betsy Buccieri to listen. To listen to what, though? "Five four three two …" Brianne said. Then she reached for the phone on the manager's desk. It rang. Perfect timing.