1965 - The Way the Cookie Crumbles by James Hadley Chase Page B
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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‘I’ve found out there are five Texas oilmen due to leave at the end of the week. They’ve been winning thousands of dollars at the Casino. It’s an even bet they’ll leave their winnings in their safes before returning to Texas. You’ll find the numbers of the five safes in the second column.’
‘What’s the good of having the numbers of the damned safes?’ Algir snarled. ‘We want what’s in the safes!’
Neither Ira nor Edris paid any attention to him.
‘This is fine, baby,’ Edris said. ‘Now we want to find out how the security system works.’
‘I’ve found that out.’ Ira opened her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. She lit a cigarette, then went on, ‘I talked to Papa. He thinks I’m a career girl. He told me how the system works and if he doesn’t know, then no one does.’
Edris leaned forward, his little eyes sparkling.
‘How does it work?’
‘I’ll tell you this much: you don’t stand a prayer bursting into the bank at night. There are six armed guards and each of them has been screened. They are picked men and it would be like handling dynamite to try and get at them. They are on constant patrol with dogs all during the night. The safes are below the bank in a vault lined with three inch steel and backed with four foot concrete walls. At closing time, the vaults are flooded. The water is drained out by a timing clock device at 06.00 hours and dried out by heater fans. So you can skip any idea of breaking into the vaults during the night.’
Algir savagely ground his cigarette into the ashtray.
‘I told you all along it was crazy even to think of getting at those safes!’ he snarled at Edris. ‘We’re just damn well wasting our time.’
‘Wrap up!’ Edris said, not looking at him. ‘How about during the day, baby?’
‘Still too tough. There are twelve guards patrolling. The grill to the vaults is kept locked and guarded by two guards with automatic rifles. They look big and tough enough to scare an army. The place is crawling with alarms. Papa said if twenty men went into the bank with smoke bombs and guns, they wouldn’t stand a hope. There’s a guard in a bulletproof glass tower who checks everyone in. You can’t get near him. If anything should start, he presses a button that closes and locks all the exits. The vaults are flooded and the cop house is alerted. So a bust in during office hours is strictly for the birds.’
Edris chuckled and rubbed his stumpy hands together.
‘They’ve certainly thought of everything, haven’t they, baby? Now, tell me something. Who does go into the vaults?’
‘The clients.’
‘No one else?’
Ira smiled.
‘Now you’re getting warm. Yes, there’s someone else. There’s a receptionist who takes the clients to their safes.’
Edris nodded.
‘I’ve heard about her. You met her yet?’
‘I’ve met her. Her name’s Doris Kirby. She’s thirty-three and she’s been doing the job now for eight years. You could no more get to her than you could get to a bishop.’
‘Know where she lives, baby?’
‘No, but I can find out.’
Edris nodded.
‘You find out, baby, as soon as you can. Phone me the address. It’s as urgent as that.’
‘Okay.’
‘Just what does she do, baby? Do you know that?’
‘Imagine you’re a client,’ Ira settled further into the cushions of the settee, ‘and you want to rent a safe. You go to the bank and you fill in a form. Name, address and telephone number; how long and how often you want to use the safe. You are given a key. If you lose it, the lock has to be forced: there are no duplicates. Each safe has two locks. You have one key and the bank has a pass key to the other lock. The safes can’t be opened unless both keys are used. The Kirby girl takes care of the pass key which she gives to the guard when she leaves. When you want to use the safe, you go to the guard at the grill. You show him your key which is numbered. He checks the number which tells him your name
‘What’s the good of having the numbers of the damned safes?’ Algir snarled. ‘We want what’s in the safes!’
Neither Ira nor Edris paid any attention to him.
‘This is fine, baby,’ Edris said. ‘Now we want to find out how the security system works.’
‘I’ve found that out.’ Ira opened her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. She lit a cigarette, then went on, ‘I talked to Papa. He thinks I’m a career girl. He told me how the system works and if he doesn’t know, then no one does.’
Edris leaned forward, his little eyes sparkling.
‘How does it work?’
‘I’ll tell you this much: you don’t stand a prayer bursting into the bank at night. There are six armed guards and each of them has been screened. They are picked men and it would be like handling dynamite to try and get at them. They are on constant patrol with dogs all during the night. The safes are below the bank in a vault lined with three inch steel and backed with four foot concrete walls. At closing time, the vaults are flooded. The water is drained out by a timing clock device at 06.00 hours and dried out by heater fans. So you can skip any idea of breaking into the vaults during the night.’
Algir savagely ground his cigarette into the ashtray.
‘I told you all along it was crazy even to think of getting at those safes!’ he snarled at Edris. ‘We’re just damn well wasting our time.’
‘Wrap up!’ Edris said, not looking at him. ‘How about during the day, baby?’
‘Still too tough. There are twelve guards patrolling. The grill to the vaults is kept locked and guarded by two guards with automatic rifles. They look big and tough enough to scare an army. The place is crawling with alarms. Papa said if twenty men went into the bank with smoke bombs and guns, they wouldn’t stand a hope. There’s a guard in a bulletproof glass tower who checks everyone in. You can’t get near him. If anything should start, he presses a button that closes and locks all the exits. The vaults are flooded and the cop house is alerted. So a bust in during office hours is strictly for the birds.’
Edris chuckled and rubbed his stumpy hands together.
‘They’ve certainly thought of everything, haven’t they, baby? Now, tell me something. Who does go into the vaults?’
‘The clients.’
‘No one else?’
Ira smiled.
‘Now you’re getting warm. Yes, there’s someone else. There’s a receptionist who takes the clients to their safes.’
Edris nodded.
‘I’ve heard about her. You met her yet?’
‘I’ve met her. Her name’s Doris Kirby. She’s thirty-three and she’s been doing the job now for eight years. You could no more get to her than you could get to a bishop.’
‘Know where she lives, baby?’
‘No, but I can find out.’
Edris nodded.
‘You find out, baby, as soon as you can. Phone me the address. It’s as urgent as that.’
‘Okay.’
‘Just what does she do, baby? Do you know that?’
‘Imagine you’re a client,’ Ira settled further into the cushions of the settee, ‘and you want to rent a safe. You go to the bank and you fill in a form. Name, address and telephone number; how long and how often you want to use the safe. You are given a key. If you lose it, the lock has to be forced: there are no duplicates. Each safe has two locks. You have one key and the bank has a pass key to the other lock. The safes can’t be opened unless both keys are used. The Kirby girl takes care of the pass key which she gives to the guard when she leaves. When you want to use the safe, you go to the guard at the grill. You show him your key which is numbered. He checks the number which tells him your name
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