Authors: David Anderson
*
I opened a window in my stuffy office and sat at the desk to record some notes. Once again setting aside the biggest challenge of all – actually getting into the vault – I drew up a list of actions that would maximise our chances of beating the various detectors inside it. Which to disarm first, the motion detector or the light sensor? On a fresh page of A4 I settled on the following sequence:
1
.
Mask
the
motion
detector
with
a
thick
spray
of
adhesive
film
,
knocking
out
the
PIR
;
2
.
In
complete
darkness
,
carefully
approach
the
light
detector
and
thoroughly
tape
over
it
;
3
.
Use
low
energy
LED
headlamps
or
red
-
lens
flashlights
to
position
the
Styrofoam
masking
device
in
place
over
the
motion
detector
;
4
.
Switch
on
lights
and
get
to
work
.
After a little further thought I added at the bottom of the list:
Total
cost
of
materials
:
approx
imately $
30
.
00
.
Thirty bucks to neutralise sophisticated, expensive technology guarding incriminating documents that could bring Zheng down, end his disgusting trade in human trafficking, and give Emma leverage over him for the rest of his miserable little life. Not to mention the millions of dollars of diamonds and other valuables.
It seemed a pretty good deal to me.
UPPING THE ANTE
“Mike, I can’t help but wonder, are we ever going to be able to do it?”
Lines creased Emma’s usually so-smooth forehead. She put down her coffee cup and looked out the window on her left. I followed her gaze and took in the stunning view of Vancouver spread out below us. The city seemed at peace, its concrete skyscrapers glowing in the setting sun, its busy harbour a light-infused aquamarine speckled with tiny black dots of outriggers and kayaks enjoying calm evening waters.
We were sitting at a window table in The Observatory Restaurant at the top of Grouse Mountain. It was my birthday, August twenty-first, and she’d insisted on treating me to this celebratory meal. For the next four months I’d be a ‘year’ older than her, and that alone was cause enough for celebration, she insisted, teasing me gently.
I was glad of the break from my routine. My everyday reconnaissance of the Zheng Building was getting claustrophobic, and my debates with Charlie over increasingly technical issues were beginning to wear me down.
My one big worry about tonight was maintaining secrecy – if Zheng got wind that Emma and I were still seeing each other it could disrupt our plans for the heist. Let’s face it, I couldn’t rob his vault if he’d put me in hospital the day before. Naturally, Emma was sympathetic to that concern so had made sure that she hadn’t been followed. I’d taught her the ‘four right hand turns’ trick and she’d gone on and then off and then back on the highway, as instructed. She said she’d also jumped a red light, but assured me it had been safe to do so.
We’d rendezvoused in the proverbial shadowy alley downtown. I’d kept a beady eye on the rear-view mirror while we motored across the Lions Gate Bridge and up Nancy Greene Way, and I’d eyeballed everyone in the cable car that took us up to Grouse. Even in the restaurant I’d insisted we forgo the table they’d reserved for her and move to a corner table at the back instead, from which I had a clear view of the other tables.
We’d both gone for the five-course ‘Prix Fixe’ and I was finishing up my glass of ruby red Cabernet Sauvignon while Emma stuck to driver-friendly coffee. We’d talked about everything
except
the heist, so her somewhat despairing question came out of the blue.
“Of course we are,” I replied. “The pieces are falling into place.”
She sighed. “It’s just it’s taking so long. You’ve been there every day for weeks.”
She was right of course. Only this morning I’d found an official letter from building management in my office mailbox, reminding me that the next two months of rent were due in advance, and asking me to set up an account. Emma had ponied-up the not insubstantial sum for the initial two months; but I knew that her finances, while vastly better than mine, were now seriously depleted. Her expensive lawyers were still attempting, probably in vain, to get some sort of reasonable divorce settlement from Zheng.
“You’ve only got
some
of the pieces anyway,” she continued. “What about the vault door?”
“Well, I’ve solved the key problem. You know that.”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“As sure as it’s possible to be,” I said, glancing around to confirm that there was no-one within hearing distance. “We’ve gone over it before: the key is so long it comes apart in two pieces, what they call the ‘stamp’, which is the bit that fits into the lock, and the stem, which is basically a long thin pipe with a handle. The guard keeps the stem in a lockbox in the storage room to the left of the vault.”
“I know all that,” she said.
“Sure; I’m just going over it again, like I do every day in my head. Anyway, the guard is
supposed
to carry the stamp part with him, and probably lock it away somewhere else entirely. But I discovered he doesn’t; he keeps the two bits fitted together for convenience. I’ve checked it a dozen times; even peeked into the storage room and got a quick look at the lockbox. It’s a flimsy plywood door and an ordinary metal lockbox. Breaking in and getting the key is going to be easy.”
“Sounds like a lazy guard.”
“Or a complacent one. Or maybe he lost it one time or something.” I sipped a bit more Cabernet before continuing. “Now, that still leaves the four-number combination, but I’ve figured that out too.”
“Stethoscope?”
I shook my head. “That only works in movies. Turn the dial and listen for the tumblers clicking. We might get part of the combination that way if we kept at it for a good few hours. But it’s far too uncertain.”
“Then dynamite it.”
“Now you’re sounding like Charlie. A couple of pounds of plastic explosive, Semtex or C4, would open a normal safe. But we’d need a ton to do the vault – enough to bring the whole building down around our ears. And where would I get it anyway?”
“OK, that leaves trial and error.”
I laughed. “With zero to ninety nine on each turn of the dial, that’s a hundred million possibilities. Trial and error would take me the rest of my life. No, what will work is a camera hidden in the ceiling, directed over the vault door. I simply video Jeff opening it.”
“How are you going to install it?”
“That’s the hard part. Obviously not during business hours. It will have to be done at night-time.”
She smiled. “And Charlie’s pretty confident of breaking into the safe deposit boxes, isn’t he?”
“He is. He tells me he’s put together a sort of vise thingy that works through the keyhole. I’m going round to see it tomorrow.”
“Will it work?”
“From what he’s said, I think so. I’m getting him to make extra ones in case the main pin breaks.”
Outside the window, the sun was disappearing fast. Only a thin sliver of tangerine disc still remained above the horizon. While we had talked, the sky had changed from deep cornflower blue to a subtle purple and seemed to be merging with the mauve-black water. We were now a pinnacle of light in a dark world and I felt exposed, dangerously on display. I looked around the restaurant again and reminded myself that we were far away from Zheng and his monster ape driver.
“Sounds good,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I want this to happen. And I want one more thing.”
This was unexpected. I had no idea what was coming.
“What’s the other thing?”
I must have looked worried, as she laughed. “Relax. You and Charlie are going ahead with this. I want in on it too.”
So that was it. I was surprised and not surprised.
“You’re already contributing,” I said.
“I know. But I want to be there with you, on the night.”
I thought for a moment before answering. Charlie would not be a happy camper. I wasn’t sure that I was either.
“I can’t just say ‘yes’ without asking Charlie first,” I said. “He’d have to agree.”
She shook her head. “You know he won’t. He thinks I’ll go loco on you again. But I have as much say as he has. This whole thing wouldn’t be possible without me, right?”
“That’s true,” I acknowledged. “We’re doing it for you, and for ourselves too, of course.”
“In Charlie’s case, for himself solely.” She smiled. “And that’s just fine. But my point is, there are three of us involved and we each have a vote. My vote is that I’m ‘in’. We can assume Charlie’s the opposite. That gives you the casting vote.”
I was in a fix, but I couldn’t really fault what she said. The more I thought about it, right here at the dining table, the more fitting it seemed to be.
“Why do you want to do it?” I asked.
“Same reason as you,” she replied.
“And that is . . .?”
“Bring down a bad man who used me. Get rich doing it. Plus your other reason.”
“My
other
reason? What’s that?”
“A chance to redeem ourselves.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Was she right? Was that what this whole crazy venture was all about? Redeeming myself?
“You still have to vote, Mike. How’s it going to be?”
I swirled the remaining Cabernet in my glass. My mind was buzzing. Maybe she was right about the redemption thing. Finally I said, “We could use a third pair of hands.”
She sat back, seemingly content at my answer. For a while we just sat there. My eyes travelled over her again, as they had many times throughout the evening. Over the slim, honey-brown limbs, over the perfect collar bones that held me strangely captivated, over the smooth, perfect division of her breasts above the classic ‘little black dress’ she was wearing. Above all, over the beautiful face with the upturned nose, grey-green eyes and long blonde tresses. I was captivated by her, sinking in her depths, and happy to drown.
She sighed gently. “Thank you, Mike. From what you’ve told me, everything’s good so far.”
“It is good,” I replied. Suddenly we were businesslike again. “There’s still some stuff I have to work out, but it shouldn’t take long. Then we do the job, get out of the country quickly, and live happily ever after. On that tropical island you always wanted.”
She leaned forward, her expression serious. “That’ll be nice. And being free of
him
will be nicer still. But I meant what I said before, Mike, it’s no longer about money for me.”
“It’s really about redemption?”
She stretched out a slim arm and took my hands in hers. “It’s about finally fixing an old mistake. It’s about being with you.”
It was what I had wanted to hear for the last ten years and it made me incredibly happy. I didn’t know what to say, so just kept looking at her as we left the restaurant. We held hands like teenagers as we descended in the cable car down to the car park, only letting go of each other to get into her car.
She started the engine and drove off. I glanced in the passenger side mirror out of habit. Even with my head fuzzy with wine I still noticed another vehicle pulling out of the car park behind us. I told myself not to be paranoid and looked elsewhere. It followed behind us down the steeply descending road, and I peered into the right-side mirror and tried to make it out. It was black, but then all cars looked black at this time of night. Emma noticed my change in mood and asked if anything was wrong. I assured her I was fine and made an effort to forget about the vehicle behind. Maybe not a very good one.
“You think someone’s following us?” she asked.
Damn, there was no fooling her. “It’s nothing; everyone going home from Grouse has to come down this road,” I replied.
She smiled. “That’s what I think too.”
Good, I’d convinced her. Now I just had to convince myself. I itched to check the mirror again, but forced myself not to; at the bottom of the hill we went through traffic lights and Emma glanced at me.
“That car’s turned left,” she said.
*
The elevator doors closed and I looked at my watch. It was coming up to ten o’clock already and so far I hadn’t done very well this morning. Last night I’d gone to bed with the intention of getting up early and being at the vault when Jeff D. came down to open it at seven a.m. My alarm had duly sounded at a quarter to six, but I’d turned it off while still only half awake, rolled over and gone back to sleep. So much for getting another look at the opening procedure.
I went into the vault foyer and stared at the vault door, now opened wide. Fortunately, it wasn’t completely back against the wall: the policy was to open it about one hundred and ten degrees, leaving lots of room for tenants to walk in and out. I ambled around the giant circle of gleaming steel and took a look at the front of the door. By now I was no longer afraid of being challenged for such things – the guards at the video monitors never seemed to pay any attention to my vagaries of behaviour. If one of them noticed my latest perambulation and bothered to come down, I had an excuse ready anyway: I wanted to check the manufacturer’s name so that I could recommend the facilities to one of my diamond-dealing colleagues. That sort of flimsy explanation would have aroused concern in other places, but no-one here seemed the suspicious sort.
Charlie had already taken several stills from my covert video of the door, enlarged them, and we’d studied the magnetic alarm in close-up detail. It was such a simple thing, just a bloody magnet for God’s sake, so there must be a way around it, right? So far, we hadn’t found one.
It consisted of an elongated rectangular metal box, divided in two matching halves each about thirty centimetres long and ten centimetres wide. The first half was bolted horizontally to the edge of the door at the upper right side. The second half, which I couldn’t see right now, and which according to Charlie was called ‘the receiver’, was attached high up on the doorframe in a matching position. When the vault door was closed, both these pieces aligned perfectly side by side.
A flexible steel pipe led from the top of the receiver up to a box in the ceiling and, presumably, contained the mechanism’s wiring. Charlie had given this pipe a lot of attention, but I’d insisted he was wasting his time – after all, any tampering with the wiring would itself set off the alarm.
A keypad on the wall beneath the receiver had also fascinated Charlie for a long time. It armed and disarmed all the alarms inside the vault as well as the magnetic alarm on the door.