Life is filled with rules. The world is filled with rules. Without rules, anarchy would reign and the world would be an impossible place in which to live – so, on balance, I think rules are a good thing. But not all rules.

The rule that seems to require the telephone to ring just as you’ve immersed yourself in a bath is not a good rule. Nor the rule that guarantees your nose will itch the instant you’ve got your hands covered with grease. Who can love the rule that makes it mandatory that, when you’re stuck in traffic, the minute you move out of your lane into the one that’s been moving, the new lane stops cold while the old one starts to roll forward? Speaking of lanes, who created the certain rule that makes whichever line you choose at the bank or supermarket the slowest? And don’t tell me there’s no rule that says if you drop a slice of buttered toast, it’ll land buttered-side down.

In the new thriller by Robert Crais, there is “The Two Minute Rule” (Simon & Schuster, 323 pages, $24.95). This is the bank robber’s rule. It states that, if you are holding up a bank, you have no more than two minutes to get in, do what you’re there to do, and get out. Professional bank robbers take this as gospel. Two minutes is the shortest amount of time it takes for a bank employee to trigger the silent alarm to the security firm that monitors these things, for that company to confirm it’s the real thing and notify the police, and for the police to respond. Every second after that decreases the chances of getting out with the loot.

Max Holman, by minding the two minute rule, had a good run until he had the bad luck to have a customer suffer a heart attack while he was robbing a bank. He stayed to give him CPR, going way past his allotted two minutes, and so got caught. He was sent away for a long time, even though headlines named him the Hero Bandit.

On the day of his release from prison, Holman learns that the son he hadn’t seen or heard from since the kid was 8 years old had grown up to become a cop and had, the night before, been killed in the line of duty. He wants to learn what happened and, when the LAPD stonewalls him, he calls the only person he can think of to help him – the former FBI agent who put him away, Katherine Pollard.

Pollard doesn’t know what to think but smells something fishy when a lot of high-ranking cops seem intent on keeping Holman from learning the truth about his son. Now a single mother whose husband left her for a younger woman, Pollard doesn’t exactly trust men and tries to keep Holman at arm’s length while she calls on old contacts and Holman tirelessly digs for information. This Oscar and Felix of crime stories soon learn that two bank robbers who had been shot and killed when they violated the two minute rule left behind $16 million that was not recovered.

Mr. Crais is a master of suspense, as evidenced by his previous thrillers, “Demolition Angel” and “Hostage.” Both are exciting, nonstop rollercoaster rides that leave the reader breathless. (The latter was filmed with Bruce Willis, and the first half-hour was as much of a nail-biter as I’ve ever seen – until the filmmakers decided to get creative and abandon the book.) Still, I admit a preference for the author’s Elvis Cole series, which are a tad more devoted to character and relationship than his stand-alone novels. Elvis is one of the more deeply etched characters in contemporary mystery fiction, and so is his sidekick, Joe Pitt. If you haven’t yet discovered them, you are depriving yourself of one of life’s pleasures.

Having said that, Max Holman, the bank robber with a heart of gold, is utterly credible as a deeply flawed but irresistible protagonist. When he sees himself in a mirror after his release from prison, he isn’t surprised.”He didn’t look like a kid anymore,” Mr. Crais writes, “and probably never had.” Holman, strangely believable as a professional thief who nonetheless is incorruptible, only wants to know how his son died and, more important, how he lived. When he first learns he was a policeman, Holman is ecstatic to learn that the boy hadn’t turned out like him. His fears return when it seems almost certain that the rookie was one of a group of men in blue who had their own plans for the $16 million.

This could be the best non-series book Mr. Robert has written, and it’s certain to be the best-selling one. Although he has been a regular on the best-seller lists for a while now, his new publisher has even bigger plans for him. I don’t live in Chelsea, so don’t get the wrong idea, but this guy is probably the handsomest writer in America, one of those Tom Cruise-like guys so good looking you just want to smack him upside the head.

Simon & Schuster evidently recognizes this, and they plan to put his face on a big billboard in Times Square. Oh, yeah, that happens all the time. Mystery writers are constantly getting their head shots on billboards. Sometimes, even good-looking actors can act. And sometimes even good-looking writers can write.

You’ve got two minutes to go out and get a copy of “The Two Minute Rule” and see if I’m lying to you.

Mr. Penzler is the proprietor of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan and the series editor of the annual “Best American Mystery Stories.” He can be reached at ottopenzler@mysteriousbookshop.com.