Authors: David Anderson
“I’m pretty sure the sound wouldn’t travel all the way up to the third floor,” I said, “But if a guard is doing his rounds in the main floor foyer, he might hear it.”
“You think so?” Charlie said.
I nodded. “This is an old building; the sound proofing’s probably not that great. What really worries me is a guard coming down the back stairs. That place is like an echo chamber.”
“We need someone watching,” Emma said, “I’ll do it.”
I thought for a minute. Somehow I didn’t like the idea of her leaving us; it brought up an old shadow deep in my psyche I’d been trying to suppress. Put simply, it scared me. I told myself not to be stupid: Charlie and I had to do the box opening, which meant that Emma was the one to stand guard.
“Agreed,” I said. “You’d better take a flashlight and go up the backstairs. The stairwell door on the main floor should be a good place. Keep out of sight of the cameras.”
“First I want to see what’s in the box.”
I’d almost forgotten about it in the aftermath of bursting the door. We crowded around the box, its door now hanging limply aside. I reached in and extracted the only contents, a white cardboard box about the size of a packet of Christmas cards.
“Open it,” Charlie said.
I took the lid off and inside there was a row of small envelopes, each neatly folded. I knew what they were. So did Charlie.
“Diamond papers,” he said, awe in his voice.
I set the box on the floor, took out one of the white papers and carefully unfolded it. Inside, on an inner lining of shiny silvery paper, lay about twenty small white diamonds. Their polished sides refracted the dull fluorescent light of the vault, turning it into a kaleidoscope of glimmering, twinkling rays.
“OK, upstairs now Emma,” I said, “If worst comes to worst, maybe we can at least get out of here in time.”
She turned to go, then paused. I felt her tightly squeeze my arm.
“I won’t let you down,” she said, looking intently at me.
“I know,” I replied. “Stay there until I come and get you.”
“I will,” she said. Then she was gone.
*
Charlie and I took it in turns after that; he forced open the next box then I did one, and so on. It became routine surprisingly fast, despite the jaw-dropping contents we were unearthing in each box. Soon I had to clear a space in the middle of the floor, where we began to pile up the loot.
Charlie’s first box contained twenty-three stones, all of them larger than the first packet.
“What do you think of these?” I asked him.
“About two carats each?”
I thought back to my time in the jewellery store and tried to recall the specifics of assessing diamonds.
“Hmm . . . I think you’re right.” I picked one out, carefully holding it up between thumb and forefinger. “This one’s bigger, around three carats.”
My box was more of a mixed bag: several gold necklaces, half-a-dozen pairs of diamond earrings, five diamond-studded bracelets, a silk pouch containing various gold and diamond rings, and another pouch of ladies watches.
‘Nice’ was Charlie’s understated remark.
“That’s not all,” I said, opening a slim metal box at the bottom of the bundle. It was stuffed with high denomination American banknotes. I quickly counted them.
“Roughly ten thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills.”
Charlie gave a low whistle and immediately started on another deposit box. He chose one of the biggest types and went at it like crazy, twisting the short handle of his door buster as if his life depended on it. Sweat poured down his forehead.
“Easy, Charlie, we have a long way to go yet. Got to pace yourself.”
He paid me not the slightest attention and seemed to have acquired boundless energy. This must be what it’s like when prospectors hit a gold seam, I thought. Another couple of minutes and from the loud screech of metal I could tell that he almost had the door off.
There was another sudden CRACK like a small explosion and the door flew back on its hinges. Charlie reached inside with both hands and trawled the contents out onto the floor. I went over to join him and he looked up at me, a gleam of madness in his eyes. He put his arms protectively over the mound.
“Get away! This one’s mine!”
I was shocked at the sheer antagonism on his face. His upper lip was curled in a snarl like a lion ready to defend its recently slaughtered prey. This was not the laid back Charlie I knew. I had to fix this fast.
“Relax, mate. We take as much as we can and we split it three ways later. Remember?”
He continued to glare at me, not moving.
“Remember?”
At last something seemed to click in his head. Slowly his arms moved away from the mound. He looked at me, then down at the mound, seemingly introspective.
“Sorry, Mike.” His voice was a bare croak. “Got sorta feverish or something.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled to reassure him, but I was mighty relieved beneath it. For several seconds the prospect of a raging argument or even a fist fight had been on the cards. “This stuff can have that effect.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right.” He rose and turned away from the mound, evidently apologetic. “You sort it.”
I did. There was a lot more in this bigger box than in the two small ones we’d already opened. I found a tray of what I knew were called marquise-cut diamonds – gems cut in elongated ovals with pointed ends, suitable for mounting on rings. There was a silk pouch containing gold earrings, another with gold cufflinks, and a third full of gold pendants embedded with what looked like amethysts and pearls. A velvet-lined box contained row upon row of gold coins, including many Kruggerands. In another box I found blister packs of gemstones, and in yet another there were wrapped diamond papers containing loose stones. I opened a few of them and discovered gems cut in marquise, heart, pear and brilliant styles.
“Charlie, you remember more about this than I do. What do you think?”
He peered at the open paper of loose diamonds I was holding out. “The bigger ones must be four carats,” he said.
I remembered the time and hurriedly refolded the diamond paper. “Let’s pack up what we have so far,” I said. We bundled the loot into bags and set them aside.
By now I was getting the hang of the box buster tool and opened the next box, a small one at chest height, without much trouble. It made the same worrying firecracker explosion on opening which, despite knowing it was about to happen, still startled me. The contents were disappointing: it contained only a few items, the best of which was a hexagonal-cut black diamond.
“That’s a rare one,” Charlie said. “Probably two carats too.”
I added it and the rest to the loot bags. “Take the next one slow and steady,” I reminded him.
He nodded and got down to work. In a few minutes there was another loud bang like a starter pistol being fired inside the vault and, despite being completely ready for it, I jumped a bit again. No doubt about it, these minor explosions were unsettling and I was getting really worried about the noise carrying to other floors.
Charlie dragged out the goodies, which I could tell were heavy. He held something up in his two hands.
“It’s a gold brick,” he said.
“Too heavy,” I replied, “Leave it.”
We went through the rest and added more diamonds, jewellery and cash to our bags. I knew we had to be selective; there was only so much that the three of us could carry out of here and there’d be no going back for seconds.
I took the next turn and opened one of the bigger boxes at floor level. The sound these ones made when they burst open was a bit different in tone, but just as loud. When I pulled out the contents, and checked them, I groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked.
“I’m pretty sure these are industrial diamonds, flawed leftovers, only good for drilling tools. We can do better.” I tossed the packets of low grade diamonds across the room. In less than an hour I’d become picky about what diamonds I cared to own. “Now I need to check if Emma’s OK.”
Charlie didn’t protest my leaving him and probably expected it. I went to the stairwell door and stuck my ear to it, listening. I couldn’t hear anything on the other side. Just standing there, pressing myself tight against the door, I had a weird premonition: if I went through this door, something bad was going to happen. The illogic of the thought couldn’t have been more irrelevant. If I went through this door I’d make it happen and it would be bad, very bad.
What other choice had I? Emma was on the stairwell somewhere and I needed to find her and see if she’d seen any guards patrolling around. It was simple. I just needed to be careful, but I was always careful. No big deal. Get Emma and come back down.
I couldn’t shake off the bad feeling. All I could do was try to push it away and carry on. I turned the door handle and opened the door a crack. The stairwell was dark and deserted; my eyes scanned it and found nothing. Emma must be up above, probably at the main floor.
Well . . . unless she had gone back to the garage and driven off into the night, in which case Charlie and I were royally screwed. Echoes of my past were beginning to torment me. Was Emma repeating what she’d done to me on that rooftop all those years ago?
The whole scenario – betrayal – nagged at me as I stood there, undecided. I kept telling myself that I had no evidence to support it. Maybe I was the world’s worst judge of character, but maybe I wasn’t, and I just couldn’t believe she’d do it. I
didn’t
believe it; not yet anyway.
I opened the door and slipped into the stairwell. The light was dimmer here, just some tiny long-life bulbs sunk into the walls, high up. The air was musty and thick, like a cold, dry fog in the lungs. My eyes adapted and I examined the stairs and handrail as if Emma would magically appear at that very moment. I stepped forward and peered up the inner stairwell, but could see nothing.
“Emma?” The sound barely escaped my lips.
There was no reply. I stepped silently up the stairs to the floor above. This was ‘minus one’ and I suddenly realised that I knew nothing about it. So much for all my weeks of casing the building. ‘
What’s
on
that
floor
?’ was one question I’d forgotten to ask.
The premonition started bothering me again. I tried to ignore it. Emma would be up there watching the main floor, she had to be. I went up the next half-flight, expecting to see her come into view at any second. At the level area half-way up I stopped and turned. Maybe I heard something, I’m not sure.
That’s when the door to ‘minus one’ opened, and it wasn’t Emma who appeared.
WILD GOOSE CHASE
It was Jeff D. and a woman I didn’t recognise. I only got the quickest of looks at her before I leaned back out of their sight. Long, straight black hair, pale skin, young; probably a girlfriend. For some unfathomable reason Jeff D. had brought his girlfriend down here, and now they were coming my way.
I had no time to think about it. There was only one option and that was to keep going up. I took each step in quick succession, placing my foot flat to make the least sound. I might have made it if I hadn’t forgotten one thing.
The fracture I’d acquired ten years ago in my fall in the museum warehouse, and the creaky ankle joint that had been part of my life ever since.
Sure enough, my foot came down on the fourth or fifth step and my ankle made its distinctive cracking noise of two small bones rubbing together. I froze for a split second, then kept moving. I had no other choice.
Did they hear it? You bet they did.
“Someone’s up there,” Jeff D. said. I didn’t hang around for his companion’s reply. By now I was at the main floor door. I forced myself to move in slow motion and eased the push bar into its slot. The door opened quietly, but not silently.
“Are you sure?” It was the girl’s voice. I closed the door gently behind me and hoofed it down the hallway. Only when I was in the middle of the big, empty foyer did I remember the video cameras recording my every move, and that I was no longer wearing a mask. Breaking into the security room and stealing the tapes had now become utterly essential.
What the hell were Jeff D. and his playmate doing on the back stairs? I assumed there must be storage rooms down in ‘minus one’ and tried to imagine what might be of interest there to a security guard and his girlfriend at two o’clock in the morning. Mattresses? I’d never seen anyone go down to that floor but, then again, I hadn’t paid any attention to it either. Now I wished I had.
I knew I daren’t use the elevators, so rushed on past them and found myself at the front of the building. Any second now Jeff D. would come bursting through the stairwell door and would spot me in about two seconds flat.
Right in front of me was Roger G.’s glass-sided security cubicle. I was certain it would be locked, but grabbed the handle anyway and wrenched it down. The door opened.
I dived inside and spread myself out on the floor. The cubicle’s glass sides only extended from the middle upwards, so I was well out of sight. I curled myself around the metal legs of Roger G.’s high chair and listened for sounds.
For several seconds there was silence and I began to think I’d got away with it. Perhaps they weren’t coming after all. Maybe they’d continued on up to the third floor, though why they wouldn’t just take the elevator was baffling. Then I heard the stairwell door open and close. Footsteps approached. There was a heavy tread, which had to be Jeff D., and a lighter clip-clop of the girl’s heels. They got closer and closer and were coming right to me. How did they know I was here?
My heart raced and I could hear blood pulse in my ears. Any second the cubicle door was going to open and I’d be discovered. Even without my wig and glasses Jeff would figure out who I was as soon as he got a good look at me and heard my voice. If I did somehow manage to outrun him the cops would still come after me and probably find me. Anyway, once they arrested Charlie he was bound to squeal and that would be that.
“Do we have to do this?” the girl protested. She sounded annoyed, put out. I was on her side.
“I heard something creak on the stairs.”
“You’re just trying to scare me, aren’t you?”
“No,” Jeff replied, but I could hear a smile in his voice. Maybe he
was
just trying to scare her. He was certainly scaring me. “Didn’t you see something?” he said.
“All I heard was the door rattle. Maybe it’s a tenant.”
“Sometimes they work late, but not this late.” He sounded as if he was right behind me. I imagined him standing close up to the booth, peering in through the glass. Every muscle in my body turned to stone.
“Then it’s the draught. Or the beer. You’ve had too many already.”
“Wonder if it’s got anything to do with those banging noises?” Jeff D. continued, “I’ve never heard those before.”
“Come on, let’s go back up to three,” she replied huffily, “You’ve dragged me down here long enough.”
“Well, you wouldn’t stay up there by yourself.”
“In this creepy old building? You’ve gotta be joking.”
“You were all right the first time.”
“That was before you heard the noises. Anyway, I’ve had enough of that greasy boiler room, thanks.”
Yes
Jeff
,
push
off
.
Never
mind
me
,
take
your
babe
upstairs
.
Take
her
anywhere
but
here
.
“Seemed to be coming from down below though,” Jeff D. said. “Somewhere at the back of the building. I’d nearly finished my rounds when I heard it.”
“Yeah, so you keep saying. Forget it; your beer’s getting warm.”
Come
on
,
get
him
upstairs
.
Whatever
it
takes
,
do
it
.
“OK, OK. It’s probably just sludge in the boiler or the copper pipes rattling. Sounded a bit explosive though. I’m supposed to check stuff like that.”
“You just did check it. And there’s supposed to be two of you doing it.”
Jeff D. made a sort of snorting sound. “You know Razor always calls in sick on long weekends.”
“Boylan should sack the big ape.”
“He doesn’t give a damn about Boylan or anybody else. Anyway, I’ll just take a last look around, only take a minute.”
“You’ve already looked everywhere, ’cept the vault.”
“I’d look in there too, if it wasn’t locked.”
“I bet you would.”
“I’ll just take a quick look in Roger’s cubicle here.”
“You just want to steal that bottle he keeps under the counter.”
“Always the model employee, that’s me.”
This time my heart really did stop. As soon as Jeff D. opened the door the game was up. I held my breath, twisted my head and saw the door handle start to move. Any second now . . .
One of the elevators gave a loud ding as its car arrived on the main floor. The doors opened with their usual noisy rattle.
The cubicle door handle stopped moving.
“What the . . . ?” Jeff D. said. “What brought that here?”
“I dinged the button with my elbow on the way past.”
“Did you?”
“Might have.”
I heard Jeff D. march over to the elevator.
“Who’s in there?” he shouted. I didn’t catch any reply.
“Hey Vanessa, come over here and look at this,” he called to her.
I listened to the clip-clop of her heels as she went over to him and rose cautiously to my knees to get a look at what was happening. In the dim light I reckoned it was safe to take a quick peek through the glass.
Jeff D. was holding Sammy the teddy bear in his outstretched arms, staring at it as if it was the most astounding thing he’d ever seen.
“It was sitting in the middle of the floor,” he said, “When the elevator came down.”
“How’d you know it didn’t come up?”
“It’s one of two that doesn’t go below ground level. Anyway, how the hell did this toy get here?”
“Kinda cute, isn’t it? Tiny little thing. Some kid musta dropped it.”
“You think so?”
“How else? Been lying there since Friday. Can I have it?”
He held it out to her. She took it and smiled.
“Looks like you’ve spooked yourself,” she said. “Not me. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company tonight.”
Jeff D. shook his head a little as if to clear it. He reached out and pulled the girl to him and she gave a squeal of pleasure. When it came to girlfriends, I’d have laid bets that Jeff D. was a straight to the action sort of guy who wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. I was right. They kissed so passionately I thought they were going to eat each other.
She finally broke away. “Let’s go upstairs. No more sneaking around. Or do I go home already?”
That did the trick. Jeff D. didn’t say anything, but wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her into the elevator. The doors closed and they went up. I still didn’t move; just knelt there and listened intently for the slightest sound. Only when I was sure that Jeff D. wasn’t coming back did I finally stir. Very slowly, and careful not to make any noise myself, I rose to my feet and opened the door a crack. Even then, I took a good look around to be completely sure that the foyer was empty.
Silently, I mouthed a quick ‘Thank you’ to Emma, wherever she was. I still wasn’t out of the woods though. When Jeff D. went walkabout again he’d figure out where the firecracker sounds were coming from; he’d got dangerously close the last time. If Charlie had broken open a box while Jeff D. and his lady friend had been on the stairs . . . it would have all been over. I needed to get back down to him and warn him to muffle the sound of the deposit box doors bursting open.
I got up and made my way past the elevators, watching the numbers above the doors in case they changed. The one that Jeff D. and his squeeze had taken was at the third floor and I kept my eyes glued on it as I passed by. My only safe way of moving around was the stairs and I slipped through the fire door into the stairwell.
Up or down? Charlie and several million dollars of currency, diamonds and gold lay below. I knew that Charlie wouldn’t stop busting open boxes unless he passed out from total exhaustion, and there were enough unopened boxes to keep him going until dawn. By now there would already be a great mound of plunder heaped in bags in the middle of the floor, more than enough to set us up for life. All I had to do was join him, gather up the loot and slip out the garage exit.
So . . . go back down to Charlie or on a potentially wild goose chase after Emma? She might even be down in the vault with Charlie. Or she might be up above, with Jeff D. sniffing at her heels. In which case, she’d need me just as I had needed her a couple of minutes ago.
Going straight back down to the vault felt too much like abandoning her. She’d said she would stay where she was until I came for her, but I assumed she’d encountered Jeff D. too. As it could only have been her who sent Sammy down, that meant she was upstairs. I looked at my watch and was shocked at the time: past two thirty.
I stood in the cool, dank stairwell wasting precious time, deciding.
Then I took the stairs up.
*
Ten
,
maybe
fifteen
minutes
,
Emma
,
that’s
all
I
can
give
you
.
I went up as quickly as I dared, taking the stairs two at a time, but quietly. At the entrance to the first floor I stopped and listened, then opened the door cautiously. I could think of no reason why she’d be here, but she had to be somewhere. The floor seemed empty, dead. I didn’t hang around, but went on up to the second floor and repeated the process, with the same result.
I stood outside the third floor, where the most danger in the whole building lay.
I
must
be
crazy
. A quick look in here and then I’d have to backtrack. I pushed the slide bar quietly in and eased the door open a crack.
This corridor was better lit than the first two, probably due to some longstanding arrangement between management and the security guards. I spotted the guard room quite far down the hallway on my side, about halfway between the backstairs and the elevators. The door to the room was wide open and I could see light flickering inside. In the stillness I caught a faint murmur of voices.
Anyone in their right mind would have turned back at this point, finished work in the vault and buzzed off. I wasn’t in my right mind; I had some weird sense that I had to do this, had to go above and beyond the call of duty. I rationalised that I needed to find out if Jeff D. was still bothered by the elevator incident. In particular, if he’d done anything to follow up on it. Anyway, I told myself,
Nothing
can
go
wrong
:
just
creep
up
to
the
doorway
,
take
a
listen
,
then
creep
away
again
. As I say, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.