As she'd been instructed to, Brianne counted off the minutes as she filled the duffel bags. "Eight-o-seven … eight-o-eight. Finally she was finished with her part in the vault.

"I'm locking you both inside the vault. Don't say one word or I'll shoot you, then lock your dead bodies up."

She hoisted the black duffel bags.

"Don't hurt my husband or my baby, "Betsy Buccieri begged. We did what you '

Brianne slammed the heavy metal door on Betsy Buccieri's desperate plea.

She was running late. She walked across the lobby, unlocked the front door with plastic-gloved hands, and went outside. She yanked her President Clinton mask from her sweaty face. She felt like running as fast as she could to her car, but she walked calmly, as if she didn't have a care in the world on this fine spring morning. She was tempted to pull out her six-shooter and put a hole into the big Egg McShit staring down on her. Yeah, she had an attitude, all right.

When she got to the Acura, she checked her watch: Fifty-two seconds past 8:10. And counting. She was late but that was the way it was supposed to be. She smiled.

She didn't call Errol at the Buccieri house where Steve, Tommy and the nanny, Anna, were being held. She didn't tell him she had the money, and she was safely in the Acura.

She was told not to by the Mastermind.

The hostages were supposed to die.

Book One The Robbery-Murders

Chapter One

There's an old saying that I've learned to believe in my time as a detective: Don't think there are no crocodiles because the water is calm.

The water was certainly lovely and calm that night. My young and irrepressible daughter, Jannie, had Rosie the cat up on her hind legs and she was holding Rosie's front paws in her hands. She and la chatte rouge were dancing as they often do.