is it?"
"Those invoices Shalik gave me. It puts us right in the photo." Fennel drank a little of his whisky and water. "I now know the museum must be underground. A lift complete with all the works was delivered to Kahlenberg's place and as the house is on one floor, the answer to the lift is the museum is under the house. Get it?"
"Keep going," Garry said.
"Listed in the invoices are six television close-circuit sets and one monitor. That tells me there are six rooms in the museum and there is one guard watching the monitor, probably somewhere in the house. By pressing buttons, the guard can survey each of the six rooms, but only one at the time." Fennel lit a cigarette, then went on, "I know this system. The weakness is that the guard could fall asleep, he could read a book without watching the monitor or he could leave to go to the toilet. But we must find out if he does all or any of these things and if he is on duty at night. That's your job to find out," and Fennel pointed his stubby finger at Garry.
Garry nodded.
"The door to the museum is listed on the invoice. It is of massive steel. I worked for Bahlstrom so I know about their equipment. The door has a time lock on it. You set it at a certain time and set the counter dial at another time and no one on earth except Bahlstroms can open the door between these two times." Fennel grinned. "Except me. I know how to handle that time lock. I helped to build it.
Now we come to something you will have to take care of." He was talking directly at Garry.
"The lift . . . this is a tricky one. We will do the job at night. What I want to know is if the lift is out of action during the night. By that, I mean is the electricity cut. If the lift doesn't work at night I don't see how the hell we are getting to the museum."
"Let's be pessimistic," Garry said. "Suppose the juice is cut off?"
"It's up to you to turn it on or we're sunk."
Garry grimaced.
"There's always the chance there could be stairs as well as the lift."
"Could be." Fennel nodded. "That too you have to find out. It's your job to find out as much as you can once you're in. Another thing you will have to tell me is how I get in . . . door or window? Again this is up to you. All the dope you collect you give to me over the two-way radio so I'll know what to be ready for."
"If the dope can be got, I'll get it."
Fennel finished his drink.
"If you don't get it, we don't do the job . . . it's as simple as that."
Gaye got to her feet. She looked sensationally lovely in the sky blue cotton dress she was wearing: a dress that clung to her figure. The three men watched her.
"Well, I'll leave you and take a tub. I want some sleep. I didn't sleep a wink on the plane."
She nodded to them and left the room. Garry stretched and yawned.
"Me too . . . unless you want me for anything else?"
"No." Fennel looked at Ken. "How about the equipment? Have you got that lined up?"
"I think so. I'll take a bath and go check. A friend of mine is organizing it for me. I sent him a cable from London telling him what we want. I'll go over there and see how far he's got. Do you want to come with me?"
"Why not? Okay, I'll wait here for you."
Garry and Ken went along the corridor to their rooms. They were all on the eighth floor: each had a small suite with an air conditioner and a view of the city.
"Well, see you," Garry said, pausing at his door. "This could be a tricky one."
Ken grinned. Garry had now learned that Ken was an incurable optimist.
"You never know . . . could work out fine. Me for the tub," and he went off whistling to his room.
An hour later, he returned to Fennel's room. Fennel had been punishing the whisky and looked a little flushed.
"Shall we go?" Ken asked, leaning against the doorway.
"Yeah." Fennel got to his feet and the two men walked along the corridor to the lifts.
"This pal of mine runs a garage on Plein Street," Ken said as the lift descended. "It's just across the
"Those invoices Shalik gave me. It puts us right in the photo." Fennel drank a little of his whisky and water. "I now know the museum must be underground. A lift complete with all the works was delivered to Kahlenberg's place and as the house is on one floor, the answer to the lift is the museum is under the house. Get it?"
"Keep going," Garry said.
"Listed in the invoices are six television close-circuit sets and one monitor. That tells me there are six rooms in the museum and there is one guard watching the monitor, probably somewhere in the house. By pressing buttons, the guard can survey each of the six rooms, but only one at the time." Fennel lit a cigarette, then went on, "I know this system. The weakness is that the guard could fall asleep, he could read a book without watching the monitor or he could leave to go to the toilet. But we must find out if he does all or any of these things and if he is on duty at night. That's your job to find out," and Fennel pointed his stubby finger at Garry.
Garry nodded.
"The door to the museum is listed on the invoice. It is of massive steel. I worked for Bahlstrom so I know about their equipment. The door has a time lock on it. You set it at a certain time and set the counter dial at another time and no one on earth except Bahlstroms can open the door between these two times." Fennel grinned. "Except me. I know how to handle that time lock. I helped to build it.
Now we come to something you will have to take care of." He was talking directly at Garry.
"The lift . . . this is a tricky one. We will do the job at night. What I want to know is if the lift is out of action during the night. By that, I mean is the electricity cut. If the lift doesn't work at night I don't see how the hell we are getting to the museum."
"Let's be pessimistic," Garry said. "Suppose the juice is cut off?"
"It's up to you to turn it on or we're sunk."
Garry grimaced.
"There's always the chance there could be stairs as well as the lift."
"Could be." Fennel nodded. "That too you have to find out. It's your job to find out as much as you can once you're in. Another thing you will have to tell me is how I get in . . . door or window? Again this is up to you. All the dope you collect you give to me over the two-way radio so I'll know what to be ready for."
"If the dope can be got, I'll get it."
Fennel finished his drink.
"If you don't get it, we don't do the job . . . it's as simple as that."
Gaye got to her feet. She looked sensationally lovely in the sky blue cotton dress she was wearing: a dress that clung to her figure. The three men watched her.
"Well, I'll leave you and take a tub. I want some sleep. I didn't sleep a wink on the plane."
She nodded to them and left the room. Garry stretched and yawned.
"Me too . . . unless you want me for anything else?"
"No." Fennel looked at Ken. "How about the equipment? Have you got that lined up?"
"I think so. I'll take a bath and go check. A friend of mine is organizing it for me. I sent him a cable from London telling him what we want. I'll go over there and see how far he's got. Do you want to come with me?"
"Why not? Okay, I'll wait here for you."
Garry and Ken went along the corridor to their rooms. They were all on the eighth floor: each had a small suite with an air conditioner and a view of the city.
"Well, see you," Garry said, pausing at his door. "This could be a tricky one."
Ken grinned. Garry had now learned that Ken was an incurable optimist.
"You never know . . . could work out fine. Me for the tub," and he went off whistling to his room.
An hour later, he returned to Fennel's room. Fennel had been punishing the whisky and looked a little flushed.
"Shall we go?" Ken asked, leaning against the doorway.
"Yeah." Fennel got to his feet and the two men walked along the corridor to the lifts.
"This pal of mine runs a garage on Plein Street," Ken said as the lift descended. "It's just across the
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