Authors: Andy McNab
I
T HADN'T BEEN A
great start to the week for Kevin. By the end of the day, all he wanted was to get home and spend a relaxing evening with Linda. In the car he put on their favourite Billy Joel tape, the one with their song on it, hoping she wouldn't ask him if he had managed to get Friday off. He knew she'd ask, but he wanted a few minutes' peace before the storm.
When they were sitting on the sofa drinking tea and watching
EastEnders,
she still hadn't asked. Kevin realized he was going to have to tell her, and ruin the evening. He waited until the end of the programme.
'I'm sorry, Linda. I asked Symington for the day off, but he said no.'
Linda's face flushed. He could see she was trying to control her anger. 'But he can't do that. He's no right. You're entitled to a day off. It's just not fair.'
'He said we're just too busy.'
'Busy? When's that place ever busy?'
'I know, but I gave four days' notice and the rules say I have to give five.'
He could see that her annoyance had transferred from Symington to him.
'I told you you should have done it last week. I was really looking forward to this weekend. It's our anniversary.'
'I know. I'm so sorry. I was waiting for the right time to ask him.' He put a hand on her knee. 'I'm really sorry. At least we've still got the weekend.'
Linda could see he was upset too and knew it was pointless to go on at him. Kevin was almost too gentle, too nice. She'd tried to encourage him to stand up for himself a bit more, push himself forward a bit, but he never seemed able to do it. It meant people walked all over him. She needed to help him build his self-confidence. She knew he had it in him to be more forceful. Maybe one day the penny would finally drop.
'Something else happened today, though.' Kevin changed the subject. 'Guess who came into the bank.' He had saved the good news to tell her after the bad.
'Who?'
'Jessica Drake.'
'No! You're kidding me! Was she wearing it?'
'Yep – and a big fur coat.'
'What's it like? What's
she
like? What else was she wearing?' Now she was caught up in a real-life gossip mag. 'I can't believe you've met Jessica Drake! Wait till I tell the girls at work. How big was the sapphire?'
Kevin made a rock-sized circle with his thumb and index finger. 'She had the world's most stunning necklace, but she wasn't the world's most stunning woman. My wife is.'
Linda grinned and shuffled up next to him on the sofa. 'Of course,' she said, pleased. 'Come here.'
As they kissed, he realized it was true. Linda
was
more beautiful than Jessica. She was natural, and lovely, and kind. Far better than that fake, second-rate actress. He hugged her closer.
And then it happened. Today became the day that Kevin Dodds got angry. Really angry. He didn't know if it was because Symington wouldn't give him the day off, or because Jessica Drake had thrown her coat at him, or even because he'd seen his wife's disappointment in
him. But while he was sitting on the sofa and Linda was waffling on about the Augusta, the dam burst. He felt pure anger twist and spread through his body until he was filled with rage. He clenched his fists, his breathing came fast and the blood rushed to his head. He didn't have to live like this. He didn't have to take it all lying down. He could fight back. It was time to stop being the grey man.
Slowly a plan began to hatch.
Linda glanced at him. 'What are you grinning at?'
'Just thinking about Saturday night, that's all. I'm going to make it the most wonderful night you've ever had. I'll make up for not getting Friday off, I promise.'
And for the first time Kevin's life got interesting.
Tuesday, 7 February, 11.28 a.m.
F
OR
G
ARY AND
A
LICE,
today was like any other day at the bank. There was the usual lack of customers and Symington shouting at them every now and again. But for Kevin today wasn't an ordinary day. He was in his office, with his paperwork in front of him, and his mug of coffee in his hand, but today was the day that would change his life for ever.
He paused for a moment, his finger hovering over the mouse. Google's search engine was on screen and he had already typed in 'homemade explosives'. If he clicked, Kevin knew there would be no turning back. He was terrified, but he'd had enough of people walking all over him. He'd had enough of smiling. It was now or never. He was going to do something that Robert de Niro, and Clint Eastwood had done loads of times. He was going to rob
a bank. He took a long, deep breath, and then the grey man struck back. He clicked the mouse.
The first page of home-made explosives was on the screen but before Kevin had a chance to start reading, Symington burst into his office. 'Dodds! Why aren't you out there making sure those two are doing their work?'
Kevin stood behind his desk hoping that Symington wouldn't walk round it and see what was on the screen. He peered out through his door and saw Alice at the counter doing paperwork. Gary was making a phone call.
'Well, er . . . Alice can handle the counter. And Gary's making business calls. It's not busy so I thought I'd start this month's report early.'
Symington wasn't too sure how to react to that one. 'Good.' He left Kevin's office and stormed back to his own. Kevin closed the door and got back to his PC.
He checked out a number of websites that showed him how to make explosives before it dawned on him. Why was he looking at all this stuff? He didn't know the first thing about blowing up safe-deposit boxes. He'd probably blow himself up instead. As Clint had said to
him one Saturday night, 'A man's got to know his limitations.'
Kevin sat back in his chair and thought about his. He didn't have a clue about what he was doing. He had no experience in such matters. Except that he'd watched a hundred and one bank-robbery movies, the good ones at least twice. He wasn't fit, so the chance of him swinging above motion detectors by his fingernails, wasn't good. And he wasn't a genius, so he was unlikely to come up with a plan no one else had ever thought of. No, his plan would depend on two things. First, it should need no brains and no fitness, and second, it used the one advantage he did have. He was already in the bank and knew how the systems worked.
He closed down Google and rested his elbows on the desk, dropping his head into his hands. He knew the exact safe-deposit box he was going to break into, but how to do it without anyone knowing he had? That was the problem. After all, it wasn't as if he was going to run away with Linda to a tropical island. If a theft was obvious, the police would soon have him as a suspect. After all, Kevin had keys to the bank and dealt with the deposit boxes every day. He
didn't know how he would stand up to their questions. Would he confess out of fear? Would guilt be written all over his face? He never had been a good liar. No, this had to be a crime that no one ever knew had been committed. So, no alarms, no noisy explosives, no bits of broken deposit-box strewn across the floor. It had to be a clean, silent crime that no one ever knew about.
Kevin had a sip of coffee to wake himself up. Even if he could get to the safe-deposit box with the guard key, he would still need the client key to open it. How was he going to get his hands on it?
Symington was outside his door again, moaning at Gary, who had offered to cover for Kevin on Friday. 'This is a place of work, not a charity.'
Kevin felt the anger twist in his belly. He was going to put his plan into action this Friday evening. He was looking forward to coming into work on Monday morning. Symington and everyone else would be none the wiser as to what had taken place. But he'd go back to his plan later. Now he had to start on that report. After all, he'd said he would.
A
FTER WORK,
K
EVIN MET
Linda at Specsavers as usual, and they drove home together. Instead of their usual banter, they were silent. Linda was worried about Kevin. He seemed distant, as if he was in another world. Maybe he was tired.
The rest of the evening should have felt normal but it didn't. Kevin sat and watched TV with Linda as usual and cuddled her as usual. But Linda could feel that something wasn't right. Kevin's thoughts were elsewhere. He replied to anything she asked him with a one-word answer. Otherwise he didn't speak at all.
Something was wrong. Linda could feel it. Maybe it was work . . . but maybe it was her. Had she done something to upset him? She kept her head on his chest so she didn't have to look him in the eye as the ten o'clock news started. 'You OK, Kev? You've been really quiet all night.'
He stroked her hair. He had been thinking
about the plan that was now forming in his head. 'Course I am.' He kissed her. 'I'm fine. Just worried about some extra work I've got to do.'
'Symington cocked up again?'
'Yeah, sort of.'
Linda was relieved it wasn't something she had done. 'Come on.' She pulled herself to her feet. 'Bed.'
'I think I'd better make a start on it now. I have to get some stuff done by Friday. You go on. I'll be up in a bit.'
Linda went to bed but lay on her back looking up at the ceiling. Things still didn't feel right. Kevin didn't worry about work. She rolled over, switched off the lamp and tried to go to sleep.
Kevin was back online with his mate Google. He knew what the client lock looked like, but didn't have a clue what sort it was, or how it worked. Hopefully Google would show him. He had worked out a sort of plan, but a million things were buzzing around in his mind and they had to be put into order. Kevin wasn't fazed by that. OK, so he was used to dealing with bank stuff, not robbery, but he was sure the basic idea had to be similar. A bit like when
he had to decide if a customer could have a loan. If he wasn't sure, he got more information. He clicked enter.
Google came up with hundreds of different locks. It took some time but Kevin finally found what he was looking for.
Kevin sat back in his chair, pleased with himself. It was like being in a film. If it was a western, he would have been wearing a poncho and sucking at a big fat cigar. Just like Clint.
N
OW
K
EVIN KNEW HOW
the client's lock worked, he had to find out how to pick it open. He clicked through more websites and found out that he didn't need to know. A company in Holland could send him a machine that would do the job for him. He punched in his credit-card details and pressed 'Purchase Now'. As the order went through, he felt a wave of fear. Not only had he left a record on his own PC about lock-picking, and looked up explosives on his work PC, he had given his credit-card number and taken action. There would be a record of it. If anything went wrong with his plan and the robbery was discovered, he would end up in jail. Still, if it didn't worry de Niro in
The Score,
then it shouldn't worry him. He would just have to make sure that he wasn't caught.
Time for tea and a KitKat. As he went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the biscuit tin, he thought of the safe-deposit box's guard key.
During the day, he had easy access to it since it was in his office safe. But even if Kevin could pick the client lock with his Dutch kit, he wouldn't be able to do it in office hours. Symington had the CCTV security screens in his office and would see him 'attacking' the client lock. He felt pleased with himself. He had just used a real lock-picker's expression. He was becoming a pro.
Even if Symington was doing his crossword and not looking up at the time, Kevin would still be on film. If there was an incident in the bank that day, if a customer slipped on a wet floor and hurt himself, the tape would have to be sent to Head Office in case the customer sued the bank. Kevin had to make sure he wasn't on any CCTV tape before he attacked the lock. He would have to do it at night when there was no risk of a customer problem. He wouldn't put the tapes in the recorders on Friday night.
He made the tea, and as he took the first bite of his KitKat, Linda appeared in her dressing-gown. 'You sure you're OK, Kev? I'm sorry for getting angry last night. It's Symington, not you. Is it really just work? I haven't done anything wrong, have I? I mean, you never stay up and—'
'I'm sorry. I'm not really working.'
Tears started to fall down her cheeks. Kevin put down his mug and rushed over to her. 'It's OK. It's nothing bad. You remember last night when I promised you the best Saturday night ever?'
She nodded.
'Well, it's a secret, and it's going to take a little work to set up. That's all. You go to bed and keep out of my way for a bit, so I can get on.' He held her close and stroked her hair until she'd calmed down. 'It's OK. I'll be up in a minute.'
'I was really worried. Look at me, crying, but . . .'
Kevin walked with her to the stairs. 'It's OK. Anyway, you look beautiful when you cry. Take my tea – I'll be up soon.'
Kevin could hear Linda up in the bedroom as he got back online. Maybe all those Saturday nights spent watching movies and eating toffee-covered popcorn were going to pay off after all.
Wednesday, 8 February, 06.48 a.m.
K
EVIN WAS UP AND
dressed much earlier than usual as he knew he had a lot to do before he went to work. He had barely slept. His mind had been too active. He had his regular tea and toast for breakfast, and was pouring the milk over Linda's sugar-free muesli when she came into the kitchen.
She kissed him. 'You're up early,' she said.
'Yeah, got to go. I've got stuff to do before Saturday night.'
'What stuff?'
He picked up his briefcase. 'You'll see.'
They normally went to work separately and today was no exception. Kevin took the number-eleven bus, but didn't get off at his usual stop. Today he was going to get off seven stops later, at B&Q. He put his briefcase on the seat beside him and opened it. He took
out one of Linda's compact mirrors.
The compact was square, with two mirrors. He slid them out of the compact, then pulled out the clasp that held the sides together when it was closed. Now the compact was empty, and there was a hole where the clasp had been. He stuffed everything back into his briefcase. He'd need the compact, but he would chuck away the other bits later.
Last night, he had lain in bed putting his thoughts in order. He was working on de Niro's bank-robbing idea in
The Score.
The simpler the plan, the more likely it was to work. Kevin had come up with a simple five-step plan:
There were still two problems to be solved. First, he had to open the office safe without Symington's key. That was where the compact and B&Q came in. Second, he had to pick the client lock, and that was where the Dutch kit would come in. The website had told Kevin it would be with him in two days.
Out of the window, Kevin could see the morning traffic battling into work. It felt good not to be a commuter today – or, at least, not for a while. Right now he was a real bank robber. He felt a rush of excitement. Sitting around him, office workers were reading their papers and listening to their ipods, but he wasn't. He was on his way to buy stuff to make a key just like Symington's.
He reached the stop near B&Q and ran across
the car park. Even at that time of the morning it was busy with builders loading up for the day. A quick whiz round the aisles and he'd be done.
Kevin was more than fifteen minutes late for work. He had had to fill the compact with the modelling clay he'd just bought before he got the bus. Then the traffic was bad on the way into the city. Out of breath, he raced into the bank. He had run all the way from the bus stop. His briefcase was full of the stuff he had bought from B&Q and he hid it all in his desk drawers. As he was putting away the clay-filled compact, Symington burst in. This is a place of work, Dodds! You can't just come and go as you please.'
Kevin was standing behind his desk. The drawer was open, crammed with B&Q bags. 'I'm sorry, Mr Symington. The traffic was—'
Symington turned and walked out. 'You have work to do. Get on with it.'
Kevin closed the drawer and left his office to help Gary prepare the counter for the public.
Gary nodded towards Symington's office. 'I see he's in a good mood again.'
'Yeah, nothing changes.' Kevin tried to sound casual, because for him of course, everything had changed.
Symington was sitting at his desk with the
Daily Telegraph
spread out before him. He didn't look up as Kevin walked behind him to get to the cupboard with the video recorders. He replaced the three tapes and took a deep breath. Then he turned to make his first attempt at getting his hands on his boss's safe key. His mouth was dry.
'If you're busy, Mr Symington, I can open the safe for you.'
Symington closed the paper to reveal a bunch of keys beneath it. The safe key was on the keyring, just inches away from him. Kevin needed it for just a few seconds.
'What did you say?'
'I'll open the safe for you. I'm going back to my office now.'
Symington waved him away with one hand and the other slipped the keys into his desk drawer. 'I'll be along in a minute. You've got your own work to do.'
Kevin worked through the lunch-hour and Gary brought him a sandwich. All morning he'd been waiting for a chance to get to Symington's key. Symington had gone for lunch but must have taken his keys with him. Kevin had
checked the man's office after he had left.
Now it was early afternoon. He started to panic. What if he never got them? If he did, what if he was caught making the copy? He was starting to have second thoughts about the whole idea. Planning the job was one thing, but doing it was something else.
Symington came back from lunch and headed for his office. Ten minutes later, Kevin saw him come out and go downstairs to the toilets. Now was his chance. He grabbed the compact from his drawer and walked quickly, but not too quickly, into Symington's office.
The keys were where he'd thought they would be. He took them out of the drawer and, with trembling hands, opened the compact. He pressed the safe key into the clay, exactly in the centre. He squeezed the two halves of the compact together, slowly but firmly, just as the website had said.
'Gary! Your tie is loose.' Symington's voice was getting louder. He was heading for his office. Kevin's hands shook harder. The compact and the keys clattered on to the carpet. Shit. Shit.
SHIT.
'Yes, a lovely day, Mrs Wright.' The office
door burst open. 'What are you doing in here?'
Kevin stood by the desk and kicked the compact and keys under it. 'I – I – well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being late this morning. It won't happen again.'
'Well, make sure of it. Now leave me to get on with my work. There's a lot to do.'
Kevin went to the door.
'Dodds, get me a coffee, would you?'