65: The great bank heist (part two)

‘We’re on a schedule and I haven’t even been properly briefed.’

‘Need to know.’ It was early morning and we were sat in the car, covering the entrance to the old bank.

‘Just tell me why this isn’t just, common burglary then?’

‘I am a Trustee, you are a Trustee, we are entering our own property. It just happens to be outside normal business hours.’

‘And Fin?’

‘He’s our contractor, here to do routine maintaince on the security system he installed; testing it, involves disabling it.’

‘And my role.’

‘Observer, here to take pictures of anything of interest which may happen, secure in the knowledge you cannot possibly incriminate yourself. Besides, if we turn up anything interesting, I’ll be the one waking up the Chief Constable, before alerting our friends in the media.’

‘You mean, if there’s a haul, it already belongs to us.’

‘Well, morally, probably not. But we will be seen to do the right thing.’

‘But why all the drama of a dawn swoop?

‘Because the valve lies not in what may be recovered, but the story of how it is recovered. Right, here they come.’

‘Are we set? Everyone know what they’re doing? Gloves, check. Okay, Fin, here are the two keys for the side entrance.’

‘Where did they come from?’ Demanded Charlie.

‘They’re the spares, I palmed them the other day whilst Bernard’s attention was elsewhere.’

‘What!’

‘Well, what with all that card manipulation for the wedding reception, my hands kind of did it for themselves. Cat, these are the keys for the safe.’

‘They look right, according to Mr Chubb’s catalogue, circa eighteen fifty.’ He replied.

‘Oh my god.’ Murmured Charlie.

Cat produced two cans of aerosol, one merely fresh air we were assured, the other the latest refinement of jet engine lubricant. Having blasted out dust and dirty, he held up each key, lightly sprayed them with magic oil and let them drop into the keyholes. ‘This could take a while, the mechanism will have a hole on the other side, when this liquidises again it may drip on whatever’s in there. I’ll do lots of gentle jiggling, but eventually one key will turn clockwise, the other anti, so the bolts withdraw from the side panels.’ After a while one key just kept turning, trying the other in the opposite direction, it worked too. ‘Now, the lid has to be lifted off, it has no complete hinge, just these groves that it sits in. There you go.’

We stared into the abyss. The only item, was some sort of smallish rectangular shaped leather holdall. ‘Kind of thing an engine driver might carry, room for a metal flask, bacon and eggs for frying on the fireman’s shovel.’ So offered Fin.

‘I’ll try the handles.’ Said Cat. Almost immediately he paused; ‘It’s heavy, there’s a fair chance these handles will give way. Fin, Charlie, get your hands underneath it as soon as you can.’

As soon as it was safely on the floor, Cat undid the straps and pulled back the cover.

‘Kitchen foil!’ Exclaimed Charlie.

‘Wooden lining, then lead foil.’ Corrected Cat. He peeled back one side, then the other. They lacked any lustre, they were small ingots and looked roughly made from a poor mould, but they were the right colour. There was a note, in copper-plate on a stiff placement card of some sort, it read; ‘I am the last of the Crimean gold.’

‘Well, well, who’d have thought. The sly old bugger, he primed me and I didn’t even know it. He didn’t know himself, just a gut feeling.’

‘Who? Your father?’ Charlie spoke.

‘I was only about ten, out of the blue one day he said; “Let’s take the afternoon off, go see a movie”. In this very city would you believe, The First Great Train Robbery starring Sean Connery. Of course, coming back into the light afterwards I must have said something like; “Was it a true story, did it really happen?” Then he explained, it was mostly fantasy, but there had been a real robbery, first of its kind, of the London Bridge - Folkestone boat train in the eighteen-fifties, a transfer of gold coins and bullion between London and Paris banks to balance the reserves, since onward payments for the war in Crimea would come from the French banks.’

‘Time-check please, Tony.’ Asked Cat.

‘Christ!’ I stepped forward and took a close-up snap of the exposed ingots and note. ‘Right, I’ll text that, to you know who. Now, Charlie, a variety of photos of the whole scene, show context, show safe as well, no people but something to show scale, we’ll all step back in the corner. Now, the call. Ringing. Ah! Good morning, Chief Constable, I’d like to report the discovery of stolen property, property of the Crown I have reason to believe. ..I’m using the same device I’ve used before, location activated. Thought I ought to inform you immediately on account of any moment now, cleaning services will enter the building, be surprised that alarms don’t go off, flip the switch, discover the alarms do go off; but anyway, your colleagues may get prolonged flashing lights, I thought you might care to take personal control?’

Next, I took a look at Charlie’s pictures; ‘There’s just one to add. Charlie, stand about there, take off your gloves, pick up an ingot and make like you’re holding a winning lottery ticket.’

And she did. ‘Right, here’s your phone back. Text the pictures to Wooley now, may take several texts, no words; then wait for him to call you.’ Then the alarm system went off.

‘How long before the police arrive?’ Asked Cat.

‘Depends who’s in the vicinity. Depends who gets informed. We’ll open the basement door, indicate our presence, we don’t want unnecessary strangers and chaos throughout the building.’

‘I’ll go first,’ said Fin, ‘I’ve met some of the cleaners before. Besides, I’d like to get to the nearest video panel, see what’s happening in the street.’

We hung back as Fin proceeded with caution. After a minute or so there was conversation above. Another couple of minutes and Fin called me; ‘You’re on speaker,’ I responded.

‘There were just a couple of rozzers standing by their car, next to your car as it happens, you’ll be illegally parked in twenty-three minutes by the way. Anyway, madam just arrived, with another male officer of some sort.’

‘Right, make sure all aspects of the security system are switched back on, as in normal working day, then back here as fast as you can. Charlie, gloves back on now those pics are sent.’

‘This had better be good Anthony, just because you’re connected, doesn’t mean I won’t nick you for wasting police time. Please put your phone down Sparkwell. Oh Christ, you’ve got the whole placed wired, haven’t you?’

‘Meet Fin Heptonstall here, he installed it all, including the latest facial recognition technology. Perhaps, if you would allow Charlie to take a picture of you with the haul, she’ll text it to The Beacon, it might get into print along with all the others she’s already sent, then you’d have praise showered upon you by a grateful nation...’

‘We’ll see about that. Okay, let the dog see the rabbit.’

It was after we’d all departed the scene, leaving everything to forensics, that the Chief Constable suddenly paused; ‘I’ve just realised, its bloody you. Isn’t it? Last week I got a memo about what facial recognition software we’re supposed to buy, it said a demo could be provided by Brinkley Associates.’

‘Tried and tested commercial software, off the shelf, at the normal commercial rate. You know, where you went wrong with that previous system was trying to use your old mugshot database and just round up the usual suspects...’

‘Shut it! For almost two years now I’ve been forced to waste countless hours reading documents about you two. Orders from on high. You want to know what conclusion I’ve come to? Charlotte, despite straying, on several occasions, has always wanted to play it straight, whilst you, have a clean record, all the privileges, but are forever tempting provenance, be warned, I always get my man.’

‘Well, I would love to chat more, it’s just that we must get going, otherwise in two minutes time you’ll be entitled to slap a ticket on our car.’

End of season five.

64: The great bank heist (part one)

‘An invitation, sir.’ So said Charlie shoving the silver salver under my chin.

‘How do you know?’

‘I got an identical envelope.’

‘So, you’re standing there, waiting for me to open it, when you already know what’s inside.’

‘I wouldn’t want to spoil your enjoyment.’

‘I see. Oh look, who’d have thought, an invitation to attend upon the day that County Estates open their new branch.

‘Should be a laugh.’

‘Absolutely. We shall combine it with a visit to Bernard, I’ve got all of father’s Trust related documents sorted and ready to pass over. And, with your cooperation, we could have some fun viz-a-viz, the basement.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I’ll explain later. Meanwhile you might add these invitations to the growing collection above the fireplace in the reception room.’

‘I notice Mrs Hayward’s portrait remains unhung, with her face turned to the wall, sir.’

‘There are some things it’s better she doesn’t see.’

Arriving at the old bank, we paused to survey the properties on offer in the window display. Most, as one would expect, were for desirable rural homes plus a few farms. One stood out, shouted-out, its exceptionalism. ‘Melbury Buildings!’ Exclaimed Charlotte; ‘All I did was mention it in passing at the first online Owl meeting. You wouldn’t think a place like this would “soil their hands” with it.’

‘Ah, well that’s part of the deal; that business should trickle down from the top of the building to the bottom, then creep along the street to the new bank.’

‘Who was Melbury anyway?’

‘You’ve never heard tell of “One-coat” Melbury?’

‘Sartorially challenged, sir?’

‘Well, no doubt he was, on many occasions. But no, the sobriquet came from him having started-out as a jobbing builder. New residents would move in and discover his one concession to interior design was a single coat of whitewash.’

‘Whitewash?’

‘An early soluble paint, the emulsion that didn’t stick. You must have found yourself pressed-up against a few old barn walls in your time, only to discover later you were covered in white power.’

‘What an imagination you have. But he must have made it big in the end?’

‘One of the first to call himself a developer, became a councillor, chair of the Bay Council planning committee.’

‘Named the building after himself then?’

‘His vanity soon caught up with him. Took to cutting corners in a big way, went bankrupt. Then it emerged, he’d offered and taken backhanders, did time for it.’

‘Blimey.’

‘The gossip was that he liked to check-in to various B&Bs and Guest Houses all along the coast road, sign his name simply, Melbury, hoping to be taken for a Lord by gullible proprietors.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Well, I overheard odd things as a child, but he does appear in father’s office day books quite a bit, not the gossip as such, but the old man was clearly keeping an eye on this particular development years before the Trust actually acquired it.’

‘But if this Melbury had cut corners...’

‘Nerves of steel father, hung-on through the whole bankruptcy thing, the discovery building standards hadn’t been met. Arguments over obligations to tenants, government covering the cost of bringing it up to standard. The legal obligation to put it on the market, waiting through the lack of interest.’

‘So, in the end he gets it at his price.’

‘Precisely.’

‘I’m Thayer.’ Said the man who approached us as we entered the cut-above property emporium, speaking with a distinctly local accent, from north of the Moor if I had to guess.

‘Pleased to meet you. I say, pardon me for being so forward and all that, but I thought your lot all buggered off to Essex in the seventeenth century?’

‘We did, but we weren’t all convinced by the puritanism, neither did we want to build a new England, so we came home. I was told you was local, but didn’t sound it.’

‘Ah, well, the old school. Anyway, let me introduce to my PA, Charlotte Sparkwell. Do excuse the cardboard box, more work for Merriweather.’

‘Welcome to County Estates, Ms Sparkwell. Much more than a PA, if the press is to be believed.’

‘Greatly exaggerated, sir.’

Then we were interrupted; ‘Tony! Ms Sparkwell.’

‘Charlie has a present for you Bernard.’

‘Good Lord!’

‘The gap in the Trust archive has been closed, and is indeed intriguing.’

‘Excellent, Lawrence will be exited.’

‘They are the original documents, I’ve scanned those I’ll want to look at again, I think we need to make this a bit formal, demand a receipt and all that.’

‘My goodness, I’ll ring upstairs, we can creep up the back staircase, once you’ve had a good look around.’

‘Talking of which, what’s the current situation with the basement?’

‘I’ve no idea. Haven’t been down there since the reinforcements for the lift shaft were done. Dusty and a lot of rubble I should imagine.’

‘Are the doors still locked?’

‘Doors? Plural? Tony, you’ve had access to this place a lot longer than Lawrence or I!’

‘Yes, but I don’t hold any keys.’

‘Ah. Point taken. What’s the sudden interest in our nether regions?’

‘It’s in the box, if you can read between the lines. A search for any and all keys please.’

‘Very well, this may be altogether too much for Lawrence, he may need to take one of his power naps.’

To cut a long story short, I managed to cause a good hour’s disquiet on the two floors above whilst we enjoyed snacks, nibbles and a glass of something, all the time interrogating Thayer about the top-end property market throughout the county. Bernard looked quite flushed when he finally returned. ‘This is your receipt, this is the key for the basement that’s kept at reception for whenever the lift engineer turns up, and that, is the ever-expanding collection of unidentifiable-s!’

‘Excellent, shall we proceed?’

‘Can anyone come along?’ Asked Thayer.

‘The more the merrier.’ I replied.

The lighting was better than I remembered, updated when the lift was seen to no doubt. I pointed out to my companions, the scars on the walls and floor. ‘Once upon a time there was a cage, with a locked gate, with the strongboxes and safe inside. Now, that should be it.’ I kicked aside various collapsed old packaging and debris.

‘Should be what?’ Asked Bernard.

‘The original safe of the old bank.’

‘Doesn’t look anything like a safe.’

‘Top loaded, like an old washing machine, there you go, two keyholes.’

‘Good lord! Well, we sure as hell haven’t got keys here for anything like that!’

‘You were lying.’

‘Well...’

‘You spent the whole time watching the rest of us, you knew the layout, the fact it was used as a safe room. You’ve already got the keys.’

‘It was question of flushing Bernard out onto open ground. I needed to know what he already knew. He, will wait for Brinkley to go through the documents with his accountant’s eye for misplaced details. Eventually the two of them will realise there is a story, and that some of the documents are missing, but of course they can’t demand them. As for the keys, it’s not a question of getting the right ones, but whether they will turn the locks which haven’t moved for at least sixty, possibly a hundred years!’

‘Well?’

‘Well, what?’

‘What do you expect to find inside?’

‘I don’t expect anything. Now, time for an unannounced visit to Cat Mackintosh.’

‘Don’t tell me, he has safecracker on his CV along with everything else.’

‘Not quite, but he will know about cleaning, lubrication, rust removal etc. I’m also expecting to get his situation report on the state of the Park, post Summit.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I asked him to do a sweep, for any bugs left behind by the conference dwellers.’

‘Foreign spies, disguised as diplomats?’

'Oh no, I’m much more concerned about our own side.’

63: The wedding party

‘Attic bedroom, front. Shout, if you need help.’ Said Mrs Tufnell.

Moving around Tuffy’s house I always feel a bit guilty. Knowing so much about the people in a place not one’s own, all none of my business really. Thankfully, the watercolours were back in their rightful place.

The storage space was neat, systematic. Now then, left fairly close at hand I imagine, placed more in hope than expectation, sentiment. Ah! The same old box, as luck would have it. And upon opening, sitting on the top, the opera hat! Hay ho.

Once downstairs again I started to fiddle with the tricks. ‘You’re looking very smart today Tony. But then you always do. We must remember, it will be their day.’

‘At the last wedding I attended, the bride accused me of being better dressed than she was.’

‘That’s what I meant.’

‘So, let me know what the happy couple intend to wear and Charlotte and I will endeavour to dress down. You know my tailor has taken quite a shine to her, he’s determined she should be my equal on all social occasions.’

‘I should think so!’

‘Oh, absolutely.’

‘Those tricks will need practice.’

‘Yes, I appreciate that, it’ll need to be every day, over and over.’

‘I’ve slowed down a lot over the last year, what with Victoria insisting on taking care of things.’

‘I can imagine. Right, then I’ll mark you down for twice around the harbour and a march along the Prom in the bracing sea air, each day they’re away.’

‘Goodness!’

‘Before lunch somewhere nice, of course. And fear not, I’ll have my chauffeur follow behind, ready to whisk you away should the occasion demand.’

‘How’s your Aunt Julia?’

‘Okay, as far as I can tell. We’ll be off for our summer visit soon, once Tuffy and Victoria are back, repenting at leisure.’

‘Wicked boy. And you can hardly accuse them of marrying in haste!’

‘True enough.’ Then I was pinged. ‘My carriage awaits. So, text me, constant communication, will see us through.’

‘Don’t laugh. In fact, stop watching. This is all meant to come as a surprise. It won’t work unless all those present, react spontaneously. Mistakes are part of the misdirection; they have to be practiced even more. The audience don’t want perfection, but they will be willing me to succeed, so it all has to come together at the end.’

In the end, we concluded that dressing down wouldn’t work. It would only make us look disrespectful of the occasion, and anyway I’d seen Tuffy look scruffy, even in the best attire. Conversely, the Lady Vic, what with her ballet background, always looked elegant and graceful whatever she was wearing. We decided the answer was to enhance the others, so arranged to turn-up with extra buttonholes and straw boaters for all.

Registry offices always look so depressing, don’t you think? Even ours, which is part of an old country house, still has the air of a government office. I whispered to my companion; ‘I don’t think I was ever told, where did you and the late great get married?’

‘I was just thinking of that, it was such a joyous, sunny day, the Abbey looked resplendent.’

‘What! Not the Abbey?’

‘Stupid boy! No, the abbey church at Abbey Ducis.’

‘Oh right, just down the road from Jocelyn St. Mary you mean?’

‘That’s the one.’

Matters continued with a dull inevitability. Repeating the same script, day in day out, must make it difficult for any registrar to put any life enhancing positivity into their performance. I couldn’t help mumbling aloud a certain ditty; “The groom is nervous, he answers twice; It’s really killin’, that he’s so willin’...’

‘Behave, Anthony.’

“Think what a year can bring, yes; He’s washin’ dishes and baby clothes; He’s so ambitious he even sows” ...’

‘I suppose I can’t really admonish you, my husband used to sing it to himself all the time.’

‘Gosh, so that’s where I get my love of jazz age musicals.’

‘My son alas, hath no music in him.’

‘Is that grounds for objection, can I stop the wedding?’

After we’d bourn witness and passed the next couple on their way in, Charlie produced some confetti from I know not where? We took turns taking pictures and I made a mental note not to give up entirely on my own chances of hearing the wedding bells ring out.

‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed...’ And believe it or not, for ten minutes, they were. They wanted to be; they were in the mood for silliness. Life in the Tufnell household always did have a quite gentleness to it. It was life outside that caused Tuffy agitation. I asked Charlie; ‘So, do you think you’ve finally got him of your hands?’

‘Me! I’m not the one trying to get rid of him, you palmed him off onto Victoria.’

‘You know what I mean!’

‘Actually, he just apologised and said he would not be able to come to me for any more treatments in the future, paid me off with a big tip in fact.’ Then she stuck out her tongue.

‘Be sure to pay it into the bank.’ I sort out the bride; ‘So, where is Tuffy whisking you away to?’

‘He won’t say, it’s a bit worrying really.’

‘You’d better prepare to be delighted then.’

We were still none the wiser when a taxi arrived to deliver the happy couple to the railway station. Tuffy’s parting words stayed with me; ‘Thanks old man. You will take care of mother; she’s really quite highly strung you know.’

One day, when we were walking the Prom, I placed a tentative foot in the water, so to speak. ‘Did my father know your Mr Tufnell well?’

‘Not hugely, it was only a couple of years between you boys meeting at school and your parent’s accident.’

‘Right. I’ve inherited much of my father’s stuff, via my aunt, been trying to make sense of the documents. I noticed Mr Tufnell in father’s big, business address book the other day, various numbers, etc.’

‘I never really talked business with my husband, just listened to him sounding-off when frustrated about something.’

‘Did he have any connection to the old bank, three doors down from the new bank in our great cathedral city?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘When the new bank created itself, the building of the old remained in the family and became part of the Trust.’

‘What exactly is the problem?’

‘Well, father’s papers should close a gap in the Trust archive, show how the nineteen fifties becomes the nineteen eighties, but, as of now they don’t quite meet.’

‘Your fishing, but I’m elderly, I need something specific to trigger the old memory!’

‘You were my last hope.’

‘Well, it’s no good asking me, if you don’t know what you are looking for! If you see what I mean?

‘Yes, I think I do. I’ll just have to physically visit all the spaces the Trust owns and see if any of that resonates.’

‘But surely most of it is rented or leased to somebody, can you get access without resorting to breaking and entering?’

‘Oh, now that’s an idea. Come to think of it, one could try robbing a bank.’

We’d arrived at a cafe. I left Mrs Tufnell to sit and admire the view, whilst I ordered. Upon returning, she said; ‘Always an intrigue with you Tony. First you lost trust in everybody but yourself. That meant you became a watcher, always observing before taking any action. Then the secret plotting, for fear that some nameless dread might descend upon you.’

‘Charlotte calls it my “scheming”.’

‘And always in pursuit of a woman, whether you’re actually involved or not.’

‘Ah, well, that’s just natural.’