The Feiquon Heist

by D. C. J Wardle

  26. Cash

  Mr Hua Lin dragged himself to his desk after yet another big night out. His head was throbbing. It was painful to try to keep his eyes open and yet he had a full day’s work ahead of him. His stomach felt heavy with the volume of beer that he’d endured until the early hours whilst repeatedly toasting the provincial business fraternity.

  He’d spent most of his night desperately trying to inveigle his way into the shallow affections of the daughter of Mr Guim. He was the businessman who owned the two big fuel stations that stood like sentries either side of the main town as well as the main one near the old bus station. Mr Guim was an important member of the provincial business community and had a big account at the bank. His fortune was only ever going to get bigger. He had gone to school with the provincial governor and it was that same governor who had granted him one of the very few licences to run a fuel station. More importantly, he had also helped a few people part with their roadside land at more than reasonable prices. His fuel stations could then be built at the most convenient and, therefore, the most lucrative locations in the town. Finally, Guim’s friend the governor also controlled who was allowed to tanker fuel into the province in the first place. Guim always got the best deal and his fuel was always a little cheaper than the other fuel sellers. It was a stable monopoly in a visibly competitive sector and a situation which suited Guim and his associates very nicely. Whilst Hua Lin recognised that the business part of Guim’s life was enviable, his daughter Lae Souk was turning out to be a total nightmare.

  Mr Guim had a very long and manicured thumb nail on his right hand which had been sharpened to a point. On his left hand he’d done something similar with the nail of the little finger which he used to point at text when discussing text in contracts with his business associates. This didn’t greatly add to the accuracy of his pointing, but it did regularly bring to everyone’s attention that Mr Guim didn’t need to work with his hands. He was no peasant slaving in the rice paddies or labourer moving boxes around a warehouse. No, the only time he did need to lift a finger was to point with his pointy nail in a way that reminded others how much power and money he had.

  Guim’s daughter, Lae Souk, had been brought up so that she could also be displayed like a pointed manicured accessory whose function was to impress on others how much the family was worth. Hua Lin was finding that she had very expensive tastes and very limited conversation. When she did enlighten others with her thoughts, the flow of noise was all about shopping trips for clothes in Khoyleng, and what outfits she needed to buy to match the jewellery her father had given her for her birthday. It was apparently vital for Lae Souk to keep track of what she had worn and when. This was to make sure she didn’t die of embarrassment at a society wedding by choosing an ensemble she’d been seen in before, or worse still an outfit that someone else had worn first. These vain priorities were a little lost on Mr Hua Lin. He owned two suits. One of which he wore for work, and the other he kept aside for special occasions. He was of a social background where the diversity of his suit ownership was in itself fairly impressive. Inspirational stories of Hua Lin starting out with nothing and dragging himself from the poor end of town to the streets of success were never going to have a lasting impact on Lae Souk. The hard work and determination of a person climbing the ladder of success wasn’t a message to inspire awe. That kind of information meant that you were fundamentally a peasant and you didn’t belong anywhere near a set who were born with connections and money. Mr Hua Lin knew that his first task in promoting himself as a potential suitor was to demonstrate his right to move in her social circles. He would never be able to let on that he was perhaps punching above his weight. Wooing Lae Souk wasn’t ever going to be an easy challenge. Indeed it was something of a gamble and it seemed highly likely he would become bankrupt before reaching his goal of tying the knot with the family.

  Mr Hua Lin sat for a long time behind the closed door of this office, his elbows on the old wooden desk of Papa Han, cradling his aching head in his hands. His plan of marrying into money was not panning out. He could neither face nor afford another night out with the bland and shallow Lae Souk. ‘Plan B’ was to abandon finding a wealthy marriage and to find a wealthy benefactor instead. The problem was that wealthy benefactors were usually in short supply for someone who started out with nothing from the poor end of town. Desperation, amplified by the pounding in his head, was directing him away from the easier route, and whispering to him that there was also a Plan C.

  In the absence of a human benefactor, the remaining option was going to be an interest-free loan from the room at the back of the bank where all the unsecured money was kept. It would be a loan of course. He would just borrow some. He might even write a note to keep track of the amount to prove his honourable intentions. After all, he was doing this mostly for the good of the bank: the office at Khoyleng should see it as an investment. He would buy himself a marriage with a young woman of influence but more tolerable than Lae Souk Guim and then pay back the cash with the spoils from the wedding gifts. The bank would be none the wiser, Hua Lin would be financially secure plus have his wife’s family to back him as he forged ahead with his career. The more he thought about it through the fog of yet another aching hangover, Plan C started to make a lot of sense.

  27. Inspiration

  It had been a restless night. Kheng dozed and then woke. He dozed a bit more and then woke again, this time in a bit of a panic. He couldn’t decide if he’d dreamed the same vision yet again, or if he was just thinking about it so much it was always swimming through his head every time he drifted between sleep and consciousness. Maybe he would be better off going under the house and setting up his hammock between the wooden supports. He never had this kind of trouble sleeping when he was swaying gently, slumbering in the open air of his hammock. He’d always used his hammock when he was with the army, protected from the enemy by the thick canopy above and the scrubby undergrowth that surrounded him. At the bank he’d had content and dreamless sleeps beneath the tree at the back of the bank. Maybe the hammock was where he was supposed to sleep.

  That morning Kheng decided to go to the nearby noodle shop for breakfast. There was one at the end of the road that made good noodle soup. They didn’t skimp on the meat, got the flavours in the soup just right and provided plenty of greens, usually a large chunk of cabbage, long beans, basil and chilli peppers. In spite of his difficult night, he was able to approach the new day with a remarkable amount of clarity. The pieces of the puzzle had now finally come together. It had taken the disjointed suggestions of Mr Salt and a lack of sleep throughout the night to help him to see beyond the jumble of imagery: the tree, the moon, the wild boar, Aunt Kaylin. Of course, the insane rambling of Mama Tae had possibly added a little bit to his thoughts around dream analysis, but looking back she’d caused more confusion than anything else. Anyway, Kheng finally had it all sorted out. There was now no doubt in his mind what the dream had meant and what it meant he had to do about it.

  Remarkably, the outcome of all of the interpretation that Kheng had applied to his disturbing vision was rather extreme. The only conclusion that he could reach was that he was destined to rob the Maklai Provincial Bank. If he’d arrived at this staggering revelation a month ago then he would have been utterly shocked. However, having spent so many days being tormented by the dream and its many aspects, it was more of a relief than anything to finally have some understanding, and to know what to do about it all.

  Kheng finished slurping the remains of the soup from the bottom of his bowl of spicy noodles. He then drained his glass of thick chewy coffee. He returned home, taking the kind of big confident strides that someone with a renewed purpose in life would use. After a morning of swaying in his hammock beneath his stilt house and adding further details to his analysis, he knew his understanding was sufficient for him to be ready to act. It was with a much lightened heart and greater spring in his step for some time that Kheng made his way to work that afternoon. Meebor,
as usual, was hanging around the gates, keeping tabs on the arrival and departure of the more valued customers.

  “Afternoon, Mr Kheng. How are you? It’s been a busy old morning here. There’s no sign of Mrs Khamgenn from the hardware store, but Mr Navey’s been in again with a fairly heavy looking bag. If I were looking for a joint in town to turn over, then I think old Navey’s jewellery shop is edging its way into the lead. Anyway, I’m ready to head home and get a late lunch. Here’s the notebook; sign for the chair and the torch then, Mr Kheng, and I’ll be on my way.”

  A rapid departure from Mr Meebor didn’t fit with Kheng’s current scheming.

  “No, I don’t think so, Mr Meebor. This time I think we need to do a proper and organised handover. Check the perimeter, go round the back of the bank to make sure everything is okay, and then do the signing over.”

  Meebor shrugged.

  “If you say so, Mr Kheng. Up to you. But it’s all the same as normal back there.”

  “I do say so, Mr Meebor. Come on.”

  Kheng gestured, flicking his head to the side to beckon Meebor to follow. As they moved around the side of the bank Kheng peered in through the provincial manager’s office. The security computer continued to show its predictable scene: the front gate, the front door and the cashier’s desks in the front of the bank.

  “Everything okay, Mr Kheng?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. The security cameras are working normally and pointing just where they need to be. It’s all good.”

  Meebor was a little curious about Kheng’s sudden concern about the maintenance of the security cameras.

  “You’re lucky you can see them at all. I noticed earlier when checking through the window that Mr Hua Lin has been sat in front of the screen most of the morning holding his head in his hands. I’m surprised at him. He came across as being so business-like in the interview. All professional and classy, exuding self-confidence. He just looks really tired these days. The pressures of high office must be getting to him. He’d be better off like us, bottom of the food chain, take less pay but let the bosses lose their sleep over all the responsibility. Anyway, why all the sudden concern about the cameras?”

  Kheng was thinking about Hua Lin:

  “Well, Mr Meebor, if you choose a high responsibility job, and the salary that goes with it, then you have to learn to take the pressure.”

  Meebor nodded. All this talk of management and responsibility sounded a bit serious when all they needed to do was sign over the torch and the chair. Kheng stood back from the window and thought for a moment. He then proceeded to lead Meebor to the back of the bank. Kheng made his way over to the shade under the jackfruit tree, away from the back door in the far corner of the compound, so they would be out of earshot of any of the clerks using the kitchen area at the rear of the building. Then he turned to face Mr Meebor. His expression displayed a level of seriousness that Meebor had previously never seen in him.

  “I need you to come back here, tonight, Meebor. You need to get here shortly after the start of Mr Salt’s shift at about quarter past ten. And I need you to do exactly what I say, and when I say it. Can you do that, Meebor? It’s important.”

  “What are you talking about, Mr Kheng?”

  “I have a plan that might just solve the impossible problem that Mr Salt has. His wife is desperately in need of treatment, but there’s no money. She may die if we don’t help. So I have a plan, but I need you here, and we have to do it tonight. It’s the full moon tonight, right. I checked with the monks on the way over here and they confirmed it for me. It’s definitely the full moon, so this is the only chance we have. It’s one in, all in. I saw it all in the dream. If you’re not prepared to help then you need to say now.”

  “What dream?”

  “A dream I had. More of a vision really. Like a message from the forest spirits. You don’t have to worry about that now, I’ll explain it all later. Let’s just say that the skills you developed in your shady and regrettable past may be just about to pay off.”

  “What are you talking about, Kheng?”

  “Mr Meebor. Tonight, you, me and Mr Salt are going to rob the bank!”

  “Rob the bank!?”

  “Shushhh. Meebor. Yes. Rob the bank. Well, some of it. But don’t worry about the details. This is what I want you to do…”

  28. Self-Service

  It was about 4.15pm as Mr Hua Lin made his way down the corridor in the bank and spotted the safe room door was ajar. The opportunity was too great to miss and so he pushed the door open and entered. To his surprise, Mr Tann was inside the room reaching for the door handle so he could make his way out. Both gentlemen seemed equally flustered by the crossing of their paths. Mr Tann was the first to offer a reason for his unexpected presence:

  “I was just checking dimensions, Mr Hua Lin.”

  “Hmmm, good. Of what?”

  “The room, Mr Hua Lin. Seeing what might fit. What we would be able to get through the door. That sort of thing.”

  “Right?”

  “The safe, Mr Hua Lin. I’m wondering if the door to the room is too small to get a bigger safe inside. We may have to take the window out and hoist it in that way. Or maybe knock down an inner wall then bring it in through the front doors.”

  Hua Lin stared at Mr Tann with a puzzled expression. It was a long and vacant stare as Hua Lin was far too tired to change his expression back again. Mr Tann panicked a little and gabbled a further explanation.

  “For the new safe that we need in the bank, so we can lock up all this extra money. To make sure we follow the Khoyleng regulations and procedures.”

  “And what did you calculate?”

  Hua Lin motioned at Mr Tann’s bulging satchel, having leaped to the assumption that, as Mr Tann wasn’t clutching a set of drawings and measurements, then they must be stored in his bag.

  “What?”

  “What did you work out? How big a space do we need?”

  “Just thinking through the options for now…pacing things out.”

  Sweat began to bead on Mr Tann’s brow as he clung on to the battered old satchel even tighter for fear Mr Hua Lin might make a grab for it.

  Hua Lin was sweating a bit as well. He’d been blaming the previous night’s alcohol intake for his leaky skin, but if Mr Tann was perspiring as well then perhaps it really was too hot in the safe room.

  “Well, maybe we should meet tomorrow and you can discuss your ideas, Mr Tann.”

  “That would be great. I’ll look forward to it.”

  Mr Tann scuttled off with a sense of relief and headed for his desk. Mr Hua Lin quickly grabbed a couple of wads of bank notes and stuffed them into his jacket pockets. He then closed the door behind him and followed Mr Tann back down the corridor, cursing his luck. As he passed Mr Tann’s room he stuck his head round the corner of the door:

  “Shall we say 11.00am?”

  “Huh?”

  “11.00am. Tomorrow. To discuss the calculations for the safe?”

  “What? Yes. Eleven. Let’s do that at eleven then. Okay?”

  Hua Lin closed Mr Tann’s door and returned to his office. It was almost laughable that he had taken the extra step to shore up his alibi by following Mr Tann into, and then immediately out of, the safe room. What cash he’d taken wasn’t even enough to fund a weekend with the impossibly vain and extravagant Ms Lae Souk should he bother to pursue that line. It was scarcely enough to get him through the upcoming evening of karaoke that he had planned with Mr Liangtok and his associates. Although, at least there was a chance that Liangtok’s daughter couldn’t be any more horrendous than Lae Souk. Now, despite his upcoming social expenses and continuing run of poor luck, he would have to meet Mr Tann in the morning for a tedious conversation about something he hadn’t even wanted the old dinosaur involved in. Hua Lin would have to come up with a new way to lift from the safe room the considerable sums that he needed to fuel his expensive lifestyle and keep up with the wealthy provincial socialites. He couldn’t
risk a second encounter with other staff while he did it.

  29. Elegance

  Ms Win-Kham left the bank that afternoon with a smug, albeit wry, grin spreading across her face. Operation ‘ensnare’, the final part of her three-phase strategy, was in play. It was while she had been watching Mrs Yeo-bo manically check that she’d definitely locked the door to the safe room for the umpteenth time that Ms Win-Kham realised the weakness of her original plan. The only people who had keys to the safe room were Mrs Yeo-bo and old Mr Tann. Therefore they were the only people who could really get away with taking the money: anyone else planning to do so would need to enlist a key-holder as an accomplice. An accomplice wasn’t really an option for operation ‘ensnare’. Ms Win-Kham really needed to win this one on her own.