The Francisco Seven [multiple celebrities] [complete]

[Cindylover1969]

“…so come on this is my adventure, this is my fantasy…”
In the next room, the shower really was running and someone really was singing in it – but whoever it was, JoAnna reflected ruefully as real life crashed in, had a higher voice than Shay (not exactly Michael Clarke Duncan herself).  Hayden was also still on the bed, and since none of the other robbers looked as if they were likely to be watching Nickelodeon (although JoAnna had to admit, some of the guys on the shows were VERY cute – so she’d heard, of course...), that only left Lucy.
Rueing the twin facts that she hadn’t woken up first and that she was the only one of the three hostages who hadn’t been cut loose for sex purposes – not because she wanted to be fucked by Shay (by THEM!) but because being unbound would have made it easier to get undressed and in the bath – the redhead turned to her blonde bedmate, also awake and humming a little tune (while waiting for Lucy to finish in the shower).
“Catchy tune…”
“The theme from ’Human Target,’” Hayden explained. “They should NEVER have changed the music  after the first season; dumping Bear McCreary for the guy who does ‘Chuck’? Bad idea…”
JoAnna’s fiancé had been among the few people to stay with the show throughout either season, but she’d never watched an episode in full and she had no idea who this Bear McCreary guy was. Anyway, she had other things on her mind.
“I heard you with that blonde last night,” JoAnna said, thankful that Jaime hadn’t put the gag back on.
“Glad to be of service,” Hayden replied. “Just trying to get into their good books for when this is over.”
“It might be over sooner than you think,” the redhead admitted nervously.
“They need us to get out of here, and I don’t think they’ll dump us somewhere with bullets in our heads.”
“Well, certainly not two of us… are you a religious woman?”
“Not really,” Hayden ‘fessed up.
“Couldn’t hurt to pray you don’t draw Jaime.”
“If we all do it, one of us isn’t going to get her prayer answered,” the reporter pointed out.
“There is something you can do now though,” JoAnna said, turning with her back to Hayden. “You can untie me.”
“Question, Miss… er, I never got your name…”
“JoAnna Garcia,” the teller replied as Hayden struggled a little with the Gordian knots those robbers had used on them; no wonder Grace and Jaime had gone for the same way of loosening them as Alexander the Great had.

[Cindylover1969]

“If you had to fuck any of these robbers, which one would it be?”
“I don’t want to f… sleep with any of them, thank you very much.”
“Yeah?” Hayden smiled. “Then how come you kept me up by going ‘Shay Mitchell, you’re so hot’ half the night?”
At that moment, a freshly-scrubbed Lucy Hale came back into the room. “Okay, all yours… um, how come your face is so red, JoAnna?”
* * * * * * * * *
Nine showers of varying lengths later, they were gathered together with the set tuned to Channel 7 again; at least the news wasn’t on yet.
“Which one’a you bitches finished off the hot water?” Jaime grumbled as she swigged her coffee and waited for the news to end.
Grace, who’d been the next to last to shower, didn’t say a word as she concentrated on her computers.
“Never mind,” Megan admonished, munching an oatmeal and raisin cookie. “We’ll be out of here by… Roselyn?”
Roselyn wanted to suggest that they stay until they heard from Rhona, but at the same time they knew that the longer they hung around, the more likely it was that Jaime was right about Rhona never coming. Wishing that it was someone else’s decision to make, she swallowed her doughnut (and wished they’d gotten something decent to eat around here, but they needed Grace on the computers and Megan, the only other member of the gang who’d never been seen – mask or no mask – was the only other member who could move out and about relatively safely, and none of them had bothered to give her a shopping list. Plus, y’know, spending stolen money instead of using what they had on them…).
“We’ll make a move at noon,” Roselyn stated. “This whole thing started around then, so it ends around then.”
“Fine with me,” Blake agreed. “The sooner we get out of this, the better.”
“Finally we agree on something,” Emma muttered, studying the TV and pretending to be interested in that morning’s paternity dispute on “Maury.”
“Maybe we should make the draw now,” Shay suggested, not even pretending to be interested in Mr. Povich and his guests.
“For what?” Lucy asked, from the floor where she and JoAnna had been relegated – not enough chairs or cushions.
“For who goes with which group,” Roselyn replied. “Did my girls LITERALLY fuck your brains out last night?”

[Cindylover1969]

She regretted saying that the second she said it, and told herself to keep from losing it. It wasn’t Lucy’s fault she was here… “Actually, Shay’s right – we should decide who takes who. And as soon as the reporter gets back from the bathroom we’ll do it.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Blake and Lucy were the only people involved, robbers or hostages, who’d had the chance to do any clothes-changing. Back in her dress, Hayden had made sure to get into the bathroom again as soon as she’d bathed – she’d told her fellow hostages that she really needed it. Which was true, but there was another reason as well.
Relieved in both senses of the word, the blonde reporter took her cellphone out – it had been a double stroke of luck that no one had found it and that she’d had it on silent. And as a bonus, she knew where they were; a little message via the ol’ 911 and…
“2 New Messages.”
Well, Hayden was a fast texter – she could scan the messages before sending out the SOS. Hayden pressed “View,” and was more than a little happy to see that the two messages were from Troian. At least she could let her know she was OK… the reporter opened them in order of arrival:
"Mushroom - A's in on the robbery and she set you up. My ass still hurts but so will hers when I get my hands on her. Luv you, Troi."
"Ashley nearly killed me. In it with some Rhona Mitra bitch. Call me when you get this. Sorry I called you Mushroom. T.”
Hayden stared at the phone screen, feeling as if she had been hit around the head with a sledgehammer. This couldn’t be happening… Ashley had done this to her? And to Troian? Was she okay? How big WAS this?
She shook her head to try and clear it, and her finger pressed “Reply.”
“T.-“ And that was all she had time to write before the screen suddenly changed to show a rectangular shape and the words “BATTERY EMPTY.”
“Shit!” the reporter hissed as it went off. Of all the days she had to pick to not charge her phone, it had to be yesterday. “This just gets better and better…”
* * * * * * * * * *
“About time!”
“Nice to see you too,” Hayden snapped at Megan as she went for whatever food was left, picking up a Berliner doughnut.
“Sorry, it’s just that we’ve got something to sort out and we had to have the whole gang here,” said the driver, offering the reporter a small bag. “Here, have a—“

[Cindylover1969]

“Uh uh uh,” Roselyn interrupted. “It’s in alphabetical order, forgotten?  JoAnna first, then Lucy Hale, and THEN our reporter friend.”
“She ain’t MY friend,” Jaime muttered, and shot Blake and Emma a look that *dared* them to make a comment. The friend to all men and the safecracker drew imaginary zips across their lips.
“Go for it,” Megan said, handing the bag to JoAnna as Hayden, munching her doughnut, joined the other hostages. “And remember, no looking.”
JoAnna shut her eyes as she put her fingers inside the bag, and pulled out a chocolate bar. When she opened her eyes, she visibly sighed in relief on seeing an Almond Joy bar; she handed the bag to Lucy who squeezed her eyes shut, fingering inside the bag and mouthing “Eeny-meeny-miny-mo” before pulling out a Hershey’s milk chocolate bar.
“Sorry,” she mouthed before handing the bag to Hayden.  Not knowing what for, the reporter put her hand in the bag, eyes closed like the others, before pulling out a Cookies’n’Crème bar.
“You didn’t really have to shut your eyes for that one,” Grace chuckled. “There were only three in there – one for each group when we make like trees and get out of here. It was Megan’s idea – she’s got a sweet tooth. Among other things,” she added with an eye on Megan’s shirt and the nipples poking through it.
“Eyes off the tits and back on the screen, Nerd Girl,” Megan muttered. “Anyway, Lucy got the plain old candy bar so she’s going with me, Grace and Blake.”
“And the Almond Joy?” Hayden asked, as JoAnna filled her mouth; this was one time she felt like a nut, all right.
“Means JoAnna’s going with me and Emma,” Shay explained.
“So that means I’m going with...  oh, FUCK.”
“Eat up, shrimp,” Jaime cackled. “You, me and the boss lady are gonna have a lot of fun on our little road trip.”
As Hayden took a bite of her bar, she and Roselyn exchanged resigned looks.
* * * * * * * * * *
Unlike Hayden’s phone, Ashley’s was fully charged up and vibrating away as soon as she got out of the shower.
“Oh, gimme a break!” she shouted at the phone. It was bad enough that Troian was out of her hands – and even though Rhona had assured her she’d be taken care of, who knew how long that would take? – but she hadn’t managed to have any sex last night; by the time the men Rhona had sent had straightened up everything and removed any lingering Bellisarian traces, she just wanted to get to bed.
And now this… Ashley snatched the phone up and read the message. It wasn’t much, just some information, but it was all she needed. And it was from Rhona.

[Cindylover1969]

She could do this. She’d done it before…
* * * * * * * * *
The Jane Doe had been out like a light since arriving at San Francisco General Hospital the night before; she looked like she had gone 15 rounds with Wolverine and the Predator. The paramedics who brought her in had joked about wondering what the other lady looked like, and looked for ID on her – in neither case had they been successful.
For the time being, neither the doctors on duty nor anyone else would know where Troian Bellisario was.
* * * * * * * * * *
Grace was munching on pretzels and had all hailing frequencies open like an Asiatic Uhura – basically, like Hoshi Sato - and Megan was out lining up three alternate methods of transportation (read: heisting three cars). Everyone else studied JoAnna Garcia and Shay Mitchell as the two tellers – real and fictional – sat among the banknotes and coins, each counting the take and dividing it as fast as they could; even though high noon was still four hours away, the sooner all this was settled the faster they could split. But even with two of them going through all the green-white bills, it took some time.
“If this was British currency it would be easier to keep track,” Emma mused. “Different colours, different sizes…”
“What good old American greenbacks lack in variety they make up for in volume,” Roselyn pointed out. “Plus they’re easier to fold in your purse or bag or whatever.”
“… and that’s your $1,114,285.72 (approx.) each, three times over,” JoAnna finished, pushing the bag containing the swag over to Blake. “Nice doing business with you,” she added with the standard smile as she and Shay began on the final load – Shay and Emma’s (Roselyn had insisted on doing the boss’s first and Jaime, for once, had agreed).
“Megan’ll be so pleased when she gets back,” Blake said. “Just hope she doesn’t get a girl’s car.”
“What, you’re the world’s greatest tranny?” Jaime cackled.
“No… it’s just that I’ve never had any luck dealing with women, is all.”
“Superstitous, are we?”  Grace laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re in the car with the wheelgirl. We’ll be fine.”
“Hey, have you gotten anything yet?” Shay asked as her fingers dealt with the notes.
“Cool it, kid. As soon as I hear anything you’ll be the first to… oh CRAP!”
Everyone turned to look at the hacker on those last two words, as Grace brought up the volume on the speakers. Since she’d gotten to the monitors she’d been checking all the police frequencies with a particular emphasis on the lines going into the stations – and so far there’d been nothing. Until now.

[Cindylover1969]

“Yes, go on, ma’am,” said the police dispatcher, a little fuzzily but clear enough for them all to hear.
“I was heading to work… and I think I saw the van from the bank robbery yesterday – the one that was on the news…” a nervous female voice said. “It was parked just outside the… wait, it’s coming to me… the Victoria’s Secret on Stockton Street, the one that closed down a while back…”
Roselyn snatched up her cellphone, muttering “Please, Megan, have your damn handsfree on” to herself as she dialled.
A sharp cry cut through the air – everyone glanced at the source as the witness continued to give away their location.
“ASHLEY!?!” yelled a shocked Hayden Panettiere.
* * * * * * * * *
“…it’s a big brown GMC cargo van…”
“Uh-huh.”
“…plate number 4GHD859. I don’t know if it’s still there or not…”
“If it isn’t, we know who to look for. Thank you, miss…”
“Just wanted to help… I saw the reports…” Ashley said, reading the information Rhona had sent her in the same voice she’d used when tipping off Hayden.
* * * * * * * * *
“Who?” asked Emma.
“She means Ashley Benson from Channel 7,” Grace explained. “Doesn’t sound like her though-“
“SHE GOT ME DOWN HERE!” the reporter shouted. “That’s the same voice she put on! My girl was right; that bitch is in this up to her bleached head!”
“Hang on,” Jaime said icily. “Hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
“The phone, dwarf. Either you and your girlfriend have some kinda freak psychic link or she managed to get some messages in to you, and I ain’t about to let you get some out.”
“But my phone’s dead!”
“Gimme the fucking phone, or you’re gonna join it!”
Glaring at Jaime, Hayden took the phone out and handed it over. “Benson beat up my girlfriend and I don’t know how she is - if anything else happens to Troian, I *promise* your pals are going to be splitting up your share of the take.”
“Like you could take care of me?”
“I hear she took care of her pretty good last night,” Blake whispered, and Shay couldn’t resist a smile.
“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN?” Jaime snarled.
Nothing.  From any of them.
* * * * * * * * *
There were two ways to steal cars - quickly, or smartly. Megan Fox specialized more in the second category, though in times of crisis, she could do fast as well as she did smart.
Of course, stealing cars the smart way takes time, and she couldn’t just grab the first three cars she found on Stockton Street. Three cars go missing on the same street, and the cops start to notice. No, she’d have to spread her thieving out a little.
Of course, she could only get so far on foot. If she’d thought about it, she would’ve brought one of the other girls along to drive her further out into San Fran to find more cars. The selection in the neighborhoods around the abandoned Victoria’s Secret was decidedly lower middle-class, not the usual hot rods Megan preferred. There were no Corvette Stingrays, no Mercedes Benz E550’s or the precious SLS AMGs, not even a sporty little Firebird or anything of the like.
No, Megan was forced to make due with a Nissan. A Nissan Sentra, clearly a good decade old, in the most unremarkable grey paint job she’d ever seen. But the guy she’d seen getting out of it had left his keys in the windshield visor and thought his remote was enough to keep it safe. Megan had a universal remote in her left breast pocket that unlocked the car in less than thirty seconds. Then it was just a casual walk over to the Nissan, open the door, and drive it the four blocks back to Stockton Street.
She didn’t park the car near the Victoria’s Secret - though there were enough spaces out front she could have. The store was abandoned, and if there were suddenly a lot of cars showing up, it would draw attention from some nosy neighbor or something, and even if the girls left quickly, that was a risk none of them wanted to take. Better to spread the cars out a little bit, leaving them on the street.
After parking the Nissan and taking the keys with her, Megan went in the completely opposite direction, strolling six blocks to the south-west where she found a blue-green Chevy Cavalier that was running outside the Washington & Hyde Mini Park. It was even older than the Nissan, but had more horsepower and had the added bonus of a nearly full tank of gas. Whoever had left it running didn’t seem to notice when she pulled out against traffic and started riding back towards Stockton Street.
That was when her phone rang.
“Megan?” Roselyn’s voice was clipped and hurried, something that didn’t help with her accent.
“Boss lady?” Megan asked. “What’s up?”

[Cindylover1969]

“We’ve been made - cops just got a call giving away our position EXACTLY. Get back here with the rides, FAST.”
“Shit, I’ve still got another car to steal first!”
“No TIME! Just grab one here on the street, and we’ll go as soon as you get it to us!” With that, Roselyn hung up, leaving Megan swearing at her cellphone.
This time, she dropped the Chevy off right in front of the Victoria’s Secret - no time for keeping secrets now, she mused, then rushed down the street. There weren’t many choices, and her time was short, so when she saw a boxy, grey little Ford Escort wagon with its window half rolled down, she took it. She only had to drive it down the street - she was taking the Chevy to get her, Grace, Blake and their hostage out of town. This wheel girl was taking the most horsepower she could get out of her limited options.
She was a bit surprised at the quality shape the Ford was in - it was clearly ancient, her age if not older, but when she hotwired it, the engine purred to life, and the little box handled like a dream for a car of its size. Sure, it had a tape deck in it - a TAPE deck, not even a CD player, let alone MP3, but an honest to god tape deck! - but whoever kept this relic clearly had loved and cared for the machine. It was a piece of luck that Megan was happy to take as she darted the little thing down the street to the Victoria’s Secret, pulling it up right next to the broken van. Ten seconds later, she was rushing up the stairs to the hideout, half expecting the cops to pull in behind her.
“You guys all packed up and ready to go?!” she yelled as soon as she burst into the main area.
They’d all gotten packed up, meaning they had their weapons and the money; Grace would have to leave the hardware behind, but there wasn’t anything on them that could tell the cops where they were heading. In any case, once they were free and clear she could buy some decent shit.
“What are you going to do to us?” Lucy asked, her arms nearly torn out of their sockets with the weight of all the money in the bag she was carrying.
“We’re dropping you off at the state line,” Megan told her.
“Alive?” Jaime asked in disbelief.
“YES, ALIVE!” the driver snapped at the blonde, before returning to Lucy and relieving her of the bag. “You’re not gonna say anything, are you?”
“Not a word,” she replied in relief as they headed for the door, grateful for not being hustled along the way Hayden was by Jaime. “I just wanna get out of here.”
“Seconded,” panted JoAnna, wondering when it had been decided that the hostages should carry all or most of the cash.
“Thirded,” grunted Hayden.
“Okay, outside there’s a blue-green Chevy and a grey Ford Escort wagon – my group’s got the Chevy, and Shay and her team take the wagon.”

[Cindylover1969]

“Oooh, leg room. I like it,” Shay giggled.
“Roselyn, you and the others go down two blocks to the left and you’ll find a grey Nissan Sentra; that’s your ride. If you don’t like what you got wait until you get out of the city to change it.”
“Like we’re going to stay in the same stolen cars for who knows how long?” Grace asked. “I may be a geek, but I’m not stupid.”
“Well, I’m not going to pretend it was a blast working with you all… especially Emma… because it wasn’t,” Blake said, brushing her hair aside. “But you must admit it was quite a payday.”
“No shit. The next time I’m going back to working alone though,” the safecracker added.
“Just glad I’ve got enough to get out of the country,” Shay said as they got outside. “Make a fresh start, go somewhere no one knows me…”
“Wait wait wait… where we all headed anyway? Not all in the same direction,” Jaime pointed out.
“I’m taking my crew south,” Roselyn stated. “I’ll feel safer once I’m in Mexico – family, friends, places to hide.”
“Do you wanna drive, Shay?” Emma asked.
“Not really,” the family criminal admitted.  “Cars always make me a little nervous.”
“Long time to the border, because unless this thing works underwater I’m heading East. Always wanted to visit Texas.”
“You got a problem with Canuck TV, ladies?” Grace asked. “It’s gonna be a long trip up the coast.”
“Vancouver’s a nice place to visit; I could try and get to Hong Kong from there,” Blake agreed wistfully; she’d had some fun times there. They loved tall American blondes…
An instant later she snapped out of her reverie with a yelp as Grace slapped her ass. “Move it or lose it!”
“You were just looking for an excuse, weren’t you?” Blake muttered.
“You heard the lady – goodbye, and good luck…” Roselyn said.
“Maybe we’ll meet up again sometime,” Grace said to Hayden with a little smile.
“If we’re unlucky,” the reporter replied, returning the smile as she and all the others moved it, each getting into or heading down the street to their cars; Lucy dumped the money in the boot before joining Grace in the back seat.
As she slinked into the front to join Megan, Blake saw Grace’s eyes zeroing in straight on her legs and she sighed in resignation. Grace had been right – this was gonna be a LONG trip.
* * * * * * * * *
“Have you seen Troian?”

[Cindylover1969]

“I heard she had to go to the hospital,” Ashley told the intern. “Whatever she had, must’ve gotten worse since yesterday. Poor kid.”
“Yeah, I hope she and Hayden get back soon… I don’t want to have to come in and find out we have to do her obituary.”
“That would suck,” Ashley lied.
* * * * * * * * *
As she got to her cubicle, Tammin Sursok - for the first time since she had no idea how long - wasn’t dreading work this morning. They were still a way from getting those robbers, but they were a little closer than yesterday; she had yet to find out much about this R.M. Housing, but it was a crack in the surface and even the tiniest crack could become a big, wide opening. Al Capone had gone down because of simple tax fraud – who was to say that a real estate deal couldn’t be responsible for the whole thing coming to a head?
In the meantime, as she punched in and mentally just plain punched the first of the many, many people who said “Hi, BJ!” she set herself to tracking down whoever was in charge of the company. Deep Throat – now there was a sex reference she could live with – had had the right idea; follow the money. The money owned R.M., the money had gotten Reiko, and the money had to have some kind of link to Emma… maybe even to what was left of the Roberts family…
“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eh kid?”
Tammin looked up from her desk in amazement. Kristen Bell was actually EARLY?
“You should have seen Biel’s face when she heard I got in on time for once,” the blonde Fed chuckled. “Thought it was a terror attack or something… it’s just that when I’m on a case, I just can’t rest, you know? Not until it’s all wrapped up.”
“I read you, K-Bell.”
“I told you before – don’t call me that.”
Tammin had learned not to argue with Federal hypocrisy unless she was in a really strong position to do so.
“So have you got anything on that real estate place?” Kristen continued.
“Nothing much so far – they’ve been in business for about four or five years, and they’re not about to file for Chapter 11 any time soon. There is one thing, though… I found out what the R.M. stands for.”
“Oh, this’ll be thrilling,” Kristen said, pretending to be hooked.
“It’s for the two partners – the M is Monica Bellucci, but the R is where it gets interesting. The R is Roselyn Sanchez.”

[Cindylover1969]

Kristen’s eyebrows raised; she wasn’t pretending any longer. “THE Roselyn Sanchez? As in the Black Panty Gang?”
“Could be. The company’s website has their bios, but Monica’s is a lot more thorough than Roselyn’s even allowing for her having top billing. And check this out…” Tammin brought up the page on the site, and scrolled down to Monica’s section. The screen showed lots of text detailing her credentials and prior career next to a picture of a fleshy, smouldering black-haired woman; Kristen whistled. That woman could sell fridges to Eskimos, or XXXL underwear to Kristen Bell.
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Tammin laughed. “Now check out the other founder.” The page went down to Roselyn’s part; there was also a fair amount of text. But…
“No picture,” Kristen mused. “That IS interesting.”
“She might just be shy, and it could be another Roselyn Sanchez, but it’s the best we’ve got now. Might be more interesting to see what her partner thinks about it; maybe she doesn’t know about Roselyn’s skeletons. “
“Or maybe she does and she’s keeping quiet for the good of the business. Or her own good.”
“Roselyn never killed anybody,” Tammin pointed out.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Anyway, once I’ve put some other stuff to bed I’m heading down there to talk to Bellucci and see if she can shed any light on what they’re doing with Emma Roberts.”
“Got an appointment?”
“Screw that, we’re the FBI…”
“BELL!”
Jessica Biel’s husky voice came close to cracking as she shouted for the agent, running out of her office holstering her gun. Kristen shot her head round to face her boss.
“Emergency?”
“You bet your tiny ass it’s an emergency! SFPD did something right for once – just told us someone saw the van they used in the Union Bank job, parked outside the Victoria’s Secret on Stockton! Called like two or three minutes ago…”
Kristen immediately started for the door, and Tammin instinctively got up to follow.
“Where do you think YOU’RE going, young lady? This one’s for the grownups… “
“I’ve got other things to do, anyway,” Agent Sursok told Kristen, hiding her disappointment. She didn’t even turn to check out the way the agents wiggled when they ran out.

[Cindylover1969]

Shut out though she may have been, she was right; she did have other things to do. Like get told to make coffee in the next few minutes, since R.M. Housing didn’t open until 9. Why didn’t they just get Beverley Mitchell to do it? She was the secretary, it was her JOB…
* * * * * * * * *
Pushing the car as close to the speed limit as she dared, Kristen propelled herself and Jessica towards Stockton Street.
“FUCK the limit! I’ll pay for the ticket!” Jessica shouted as they saw a series of black-and-whites heading in the same direction.
Kristen stamped on the accelerator; the cops may have been wanting to get the gang for being responsible for killing some of their own (it was a miracle that the driver of the trolley car had survived – minus two legs and an arm, but at least he wouldn’t be added to the body count), but she’d be damned if they were going to be left out of the fun.
They weren’t the first on the scene, but they did come in second. The two Feds leaped out of the car the second Kristen screeched it to a stop near the van, and ran into the store along with several other uniformed cops.
Both had their guns out, and burst into the main area expecting to catch several surprised robbers and three grateful hostages but not expecting much in the way of resistance; and got what they expected. In terms of resistance, anyway.
There were lots of empty food wrappings, cushions and chairs with all the signs of having been occupied recently, and some computers nearby. But no sign of any humans, robbers or otherwise.
“YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Kristen shouted. “It was like just NOW we heard!”
Disbelieving that defeat had been snatched from the jaws of victory, Kristen and the cops raced throughout the hideout on what they knew was a wild goose chase, but hoping that maybe, just maybe one of them might be still there.  All the rooms were burst into in a matter of seconds, but there wasn’t hide nor hair to be found. Plenty of slept-on bedding, but nothing else.
“DAMMIT!” Jessica yelled, glaring at the computers. “WE WERE SO CLOSE!!!”
If they weren’t evidence, she would have emptied her gun into them.
* * * * * * * * *
Paperwork, filing and coffee had all piled up on Tammin, but at last she had managed to leave the building once all three had been completed as fast as she could. Certainly a lot faster than dealing with the traffic; she’d done a lot of glaring and swearing at traffic lights, but eventually she found herself pulling up to the building that housed R.M. Housing; the elevators were out of service, so it was a good thing they were on the ground floor. Okay, it would have been good exercise to walk up however many flights it would have been, but entering an office sweaty and a little breathless did not the ideal impression make.

[Cindylover1969]

R.M. Housing had about a quarter of the floor to itself; taking a look through the big glass doors with the company’s name on them she eyed the several desks filled with vampires – er, realtors – before she opened the glass doors. Tammin summoned up all her Federal officialism and strode up to the receptionist, trying not to let her façade crack on seeing a striking young woman behind the desk.
“Welcome to R.M. Housing. How may I help you?” she smiled widely.
“Agent Sursok, FBI,” Tammin replied briskly, showing the receptionist her badge. “Is your boss here?”
“Which one?” the receptionist asked unflappably. “Miss Sanchez or Miss Bellucci?”
“Miss Bellucci. We’re conducting a few routine inquiries into-“
“Wait, is it about that bank robbery yesterday? It is, isn’t it?” the receptionist interrupted.
“I really can’t say; it’s between me and Miss Bellucci. Now is she in, please?”
“She’s stepped out to meet a client, but she should be back in half an hour. If you’d like to…”
Tammin walked over to one of the chairs, sat down and took out her Kindle.
“Oh, you would.”
* * * * * * * * *
“How the hell did they get out so fast?!?” Kristen fumed as she and Jessica arrived in the office.
“You saw the set up; computers, speakers…  this gang seems to have gotten everything covered.”
“Not enough to keep from ID’ing one of them.”
“Yeah, but enough to keep from getting caught,” Jessica replied. “If they knew enough to get past the bank’s systems, they must have had someone keeping an eye on the police frequencies – the second someone called SFPD they must have been like a cat with its tail on fire. And we don’t even know what they used to get away or what!” The director slammed a fist against a cabinet, making the man sitting next to it jump. “I want them, Bell. If they get out of the country and they’ve split up  it’ll be hell getting them back. Man, I need some coffee…”
As they passed Beverley’s desk she drew a breath.
“BJ isn’t here,” Beverley said, correctly guessing what was coming next as she tapped her keyboard. “She said she was following up a lead you got from Aylesworth.”
“We might be able to salvage this day depending on what she turns up,” Jessica said. “C’mon, let’s get something hot and brown inside us. This time, I’ll make it.”
Kristen’s eyes widened. “You trust me with guns but not with coffee? That… is oddly reassuring.”
* * * * * * * * *

[Cindylover1969]

On the job she may have been, but even FBI agents slipped every now and then. Tammin’s mind had drifted from the interview to the exploits of Katniss Everdeen, and she was sunk so deep into “Mockingjay” that she almost dropped the Kindle when a hand tapped her shoulder.
“Yes?” she asked, mixing annoyance at having to abandon Suzanne Collins with a realisation that she had a job to do.
“Miss Bellucci just arrived,” the receptionist told her. “I did tell you… that must be some book you have there.”
“It is, yes,” Tammin admitted, mentally kicking herself for being unprofessional. “My fault.”
“Nah, the writer would be flattered,” said the receptionist. “I’ll let her know you’re here, and she’ll see you in a moment.”
Putting away the Kindle, Tammin’s wait this time was a lot shorter. “Go right in, Agent Sursok.”
Tammin went right in, resisting the urge to take one last look at the receptionist. Knowing her luck, she was probably straight or with someone…
This was not a bad place to work from, she thought as she entered Monica Bellucci’s office. A lot brighter, and more plush. She was thinking that if they ever caught the robbers they’d be holed up in a penthouse suite at this rate. And the most impressive thing in the office was sitting behind the desk, looking like she should have been on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than in a real estate agency. She was in her late 40s, but Tammin suddenly felt like she was seriously outgunned – the jet-black hair and eyes like almonds among the aquiline features of her face, and a body that screamed sex…
“You must be Agent Sursok,” Monica said in a soft Italian accent. “Jennifer told me you wanted to see me…”
“Jennifer?” Tammin asked, distracted by the realtor’s bosom for a moment.
“Jennifer Lawrence. My receptionist,” Monica explained, in a manner suggesting she knew perfectly well what she was doing to poor Tammin. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but I had to finalize a deal with a client. Now, what can I do for you?”
Tammin could think of many, many things Monica could do for and to her (and vice versa), but duty called. “We’re investigating the San Francisco Union Bank robbery…”
“Ah, yes. I’ve seen the news reports.”
“…and we have reason to believe one of the people involved may have a link to this company.”
Monica’s eyebrows rose. “THIS company? I find that difficult to believe. We have very stringent screening procedures, and we have some of the best salaries in the field…”
“Be that as it may,” Tammin interrupted, wishing that the desk wasn’t glass and that Monica Bellucci wasn’t wearing a dress of a shortness that women her age shouldn’t have been able to get away with (but which she certainly did), “we have to check all possibilities.”

[Cindylover1969]

“I suppose you have a job to do,” Monica sighed. “Curse these anti-smoking laws – a cigarette would be a help now.”
Lifelong non-smoker Tammin held her tongue.
“The only one of the robbers we’ve identified so far is a young safecracker called Emma Roberts,” the agent continued. “She was caught pulling an earlier job, and your company retained a very good and very expensive lawyer at Lycan Hollowman to get her off.  I’d be very interested to know why.”
“As would I. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
Tammin studied Monica’s face and body language – if there was the slightest hint that she was lying, it wasn’t there. Perhaps this was a case of the left hand not knowing about the right hand…
“How long have you known your partner?”
Monica relaxed. “For close to six years now.”
Six years. Not long after the shootout with the Black Panty Gang.
“She and I worked for the same investment company in very low-level positions; we decided we might have better luck striking out on our own. It has been difficult, but it’s been worth it. She’s very sharp; I only wish she was here this morning.”
You and me both, thought Tammin. “Is she dealing with a client?”
“No; her partner Alicia is ill and Roselyn has to stay with her.”
“Miss Bellucci…” Tammin started gently.
“Oh, call me Monica,” she said airily.
“Monica, there’s something you need to know about Roselyn; she was in… some trouble before you two met.”
“She told me.”
Tammin would have lost the ability to stand up if she hadn’t been seated. Roselyn had TOLD her…?
“When she was younger, she stole some money from one of her employers; she also told me that she made restitution. I have no reason to believe she’s done anything worse.”
“Actually, she has done worse… she was the leader of a gang of bank robbers called the Black Panty Gang. Only two of the gang are still alive now, and we don’t know the whereabouts of one of them. Roselyn’s the other one.”
Monica stared at her, shaking her head.
“She disappeared six years ago, and until now we had no idea what had happened to her. It’s probably just as well that the gang never hit California…”
“There must be some mistake,” Monica protested.

[Cindylover1969]

“It would explain why her picture isn’t on your company’s website and yours is.”
“Can I be perfectly frank with you, Miss Sursok? Roselyn is a very good realtor, but she’s happier to allow me to be the face of the business.” Monica got up, sashayed over to the window and looked through it for a moment, knowing the agent was eyeing her and taking in her plentiful curves. “Also, she has… less of what sells than I do.”
Studying Monica’s legs and perfectly round rump, Tammin was getting the point. She swallowed as the gorgeous real estate agent turned around, headed back to the desk and sat down adding “Roselyn may have made some mistakes in her past, but that’s in the past.”
“I believe you didn’t know anything about it. But we have a former criminal linked to a deal involving a current criminal; if you can tell me where Roselyn lives, we’d be closer to….”
“Do you know for sure if she’s involved? All you can do is question her. Roselyn has done nothing since we began this agency except work hard…  before she left she closed deals for a family of five and a TV news reporter, and she was thorough with both of them.”
Tammin’s Spider-sense, had she had it, would have tingled. “Did you say a TV news reporter?”
“Yes. It was that young Italian blonde on Channel 7.” Monica let herself smile at that. “You should have seen our male employees when she came in…”
“Wait wait wait,” Tammin interrupted. “Italian? Was it Hayden Panettiere?”
“Indeed it was. She was here to arrange to buy a beachfront house; she’s always wanted to live by the sea.”
“Best place in the world for it,” Tammin said. “And Roselyn was the one who handled it?”
“Yes. They never actually met – one of the other agents met with her - but Roselyn insisted on locating the property herself. Hayden told us she was very satisfied with the business.”
Tammin was feeling a bit satisfied herself… so Hayden DID have some prior history with Roselyn. And they hadn’t exactly parted on bad terms. “Here’s my card, Miss Be- Monica. As soon as Roselyn returns, or if you have any more information for me, please get in touch with me and never mind what time it is.”
Monica reached over the table to accept it, enjoying Tammin’s eyes widening as she saw the inches of swelling Mediterranean melons. “I shall.”
“And… um… when this case is over…” the uncharacteristically flustered Fed started.
“You’d like to spend an evening with me,” Monica finished.
Tammin, wondering what the heck was up with her, nodded.
“You’re a very lovely young lady, Agent Sursok. Unfortunately, so is my wife.”
“Your… wife?”