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Roman shook his head. “Not anymore. Nearly all alarm systems run on cellular networks now. But a military-grade cell jammer would take out both everyone’s cell phones and the ability for any of the tellers to trip the silent alarm. Two birds, one stone.”
“Exactly,” Capelli said. “That kind of cell jammer doesn’t exactly grow on trees, but they’re not too tough to find if you know your way around the dark web. Certainly not traceable.”
“So, wait,” Camila said, clearly trying to process everything. “Did they have control over the cameras, too?”
Detective Hale shook her head. “No. That, he was lying about,” she said, and another screen on the array lit up, depicting the bank’s lobby. Roman’s throat tightened as he watched the figures explode into the frame, saw the image of himself turn to block Camila as she jumped, startled.
It made sense. Those state-of-the-art CCTV systems were damn near impossible to bypass nowadays unless you had some expert-level hacking skills or you physically disabled the cameras. Even then, both took time and left potential trails. Still… “Hell of a fear tactic, making everyone think they had that much control,” Roman said.
“Well, it worked,” Garza said, his stare chilly as he moved it to the third screen. “These assholes had everyone exactly where they wanted them in seconds. Tactical gear, clear strategy, no possibility to call for help, solid exit plan. They even knew the bank manager’s name. The whole thing was orchestrated down to the second.”
“So, they’re pros.” Roman’s brain kicked into gear, sorting information and calculating ways to dig in to the facts. “Which means they’ve done this before. Any other robberies match the M.O.?”
“Not locally,” Isabella said, shaking her head. “But we widened the net and uncovered twelve other bank robberies across four states with the same footprint, although the first two were a little sloppier.”
“Twelve?” Camila’s eyes were saucer-wide.
Isabella nodded. “This robbery is their first in North Carolina, making us state number five.”
The numbers lined up in Roman’s head. “That’s three robberies per state? Or is there a different distribution?”
“Three per state, plus the last one here to make thirteen,” Capelli said. A hint of appreciation flickered behind the guy’s black-framed glasses. Ah, tech guys. They always had a hard-on for the numbers.
Roman just had a hard-on for work. “Any patterns in the locations?” Maybe these guys were moving across the country? Or the states had some sort of significance, were familiar to the robbers in some way?
Capelli shook his head, killing the notion. “No. Nothing discernable. At least, not yet. They started in Nashville, then hit Detroit. Then Kansas City, then Louisville, and now here. They’re not staying central to one particular area, and they’re also not covering ground from east to west or vice versa. So far, the locations seem random.”
“Anything to the frequency of the robberies?” Roman tried, earning a nod from Hollister.
“Nothing exact, but there is a general pattern. Three robberies, each seven to ten days apart. Then a month to six weeks later, the robberies start again in a new city.”
It would give the assailants enough time to lie low between jobs, then do on-the-ground recon before each next robbery. Roman put a pin in the thought, then said, “I take it the robberies all go to the same plan, too?”
“They do,” Sinclair said. “Assailants go in dressed in tactical gear, faces covered, and get everyone on the floor. The leader stays in the lobby with everyone other than the bank manager, who they always call by name.”
“Another fear tactic,” Roman murmured, a bitter taste flooding his mouth as he remembered the way the leader had asked Camila her full name.
Sinclair didn’t disagree as he continued. “The other two take the bank manager to the back to get the vault open and help load the cash into bags. As soon as they’re done, the leader pops a couple warning shots into the ceiling, then they bolt in a stolen car.”
“Which is then found, torched, a day or two later in some remote part of town,” Maxwell added.
Well, shit. So much for physical evidence. “How about the money?”
“Most banks keep as little cash as they can in their vaults,” Hale said. “But they have to keep a certain percentage on-hand to complete anticipated transactions. So, the bigger the bank…”
“The more money they’ll have in the vault.” Remington Financial was the biggest bank in the city, and that branch was their busiest. No wonder these guys weren’t choosing small towns. “What’s the average haul?”
Isabella frowned as Capelli flashed a string of figures across the array. “Between two and four hundred grand per robbery.”
“Damn.” Roman whistled softly.
“Holy crap,” Camila said. “I thought money was really heavy. How can they take that much each time?”
Hale answered, no judgment in her voice. “It’s actually a myth that cash, at least in amounts like that, is super heavy, especially when banks keep larger bills in their vaults. Crazy, right?”
“That’s still a hell of a payday.” Switching gears yet again, Roman said, “So, we’ve got a string of robberies that fit the same M.O. Any idea who these guys are?”
The thudding silence that followed was one hell of a negative. “We’re still working on it,” Isabella said. “But, obviously, they’re pretty slick. We have no physical descriptions to go on other than build. We ran the heterochromia that Camila saw on the one robber through all the databases to which we have access, but nothing popped. Whoever the guy is, he doesn’t have a record.”
