Meaner Things

by David Anderson

  “Go on.”

  “There were so many false alarms that businesses stopped using them. The way the manufacturers have fixed the problem, while still giving the additional security protection, is by synchronising the two parts of the device. That means that both the infrared sensor and the microwave detector have to register significant changes at the same time. Only then will the alarm go off.”

  The light of hope was dawning in my mind. “Which means that we only have to neutralise one part in order to neutralise both.”

  “Correct.”

  “Charlie, you’re a genius.”

  “Not at all mate, it’s right there in the instruction manual. I only read it last, of course.”

  “Of course.” Now that I knew about the failsafe, it made a lot of sense. Papers falling off the table wouldn’t trigger the alarm because they wouldn’t alter the quantity of infrared light in the vault. Similarly, if somehow the light came on, whilst it would raise the temperature it wouldn’t interfere with the microwave pattern, so the alarm wouldn’t go off then either. But a human intruder would change both, and set off the alarm.

  “That’s good work, Charlie. Go to the top of the class. Now, just one more thing – how do we actually neutralise it?”

  Charlie rubbed his hands. “This is the best part. As you say, walking in slow motion is out, too risky by far. That’s where my invention comes in.” He grabbed my elbow and pulled me down the hallway, stopping at a narrow closet. I watched as he rummaged around inside, expecting him to produce some impressive piece of electronic wizardry. Instead, he handed me a long plastic stick.

  “What am I supposed to do with this broom handle? Spear the alarm?”

  He gave me a disappointed look. “I thought you were keeping up mentally. Let me explain. This isn’t a broom handle, it’s an MDMD. A motion detector masking device.”

  I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He snorted in disgust, grabbed the broom handle and marched down the hall back to his bedroom. Without waiting for me, he flung the door open and marched right up to the motion detector on the far wall. It was still winking its red light. As I watched, Charlie raised the broom handle and extended its length telescopically from the middle, until it reached the motion detector at the very top of the wall. On the top there was what looked like a large rectangular Styrofoam box, open at the end. Charlie placed this over the motion detector and adjusted the telescopic handle some more until it was tightly wedged between the floor and ceiling.

  The motion detector was now completely concealed, and it hadn’t gone off. Charlie swung around in triumph.

  “Voila!”

  I gave him an appreciative round of applause. “OK, now explain to me what you’ve just done.”

  “Hah!” he crowed, grinning from ear to ear, “I knew you’d be baffled. It’s all incredibly simple really.”

  “Hey, no more spinning this out. Tell me what you’ve just done or I’ll strangle you on the spot.”

  Charlie shook his head slowly. He knew he had me. “Now, now, show some patience. Let’s go and make some coffee first.”

  I sighed. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to drink it.”

  *

  “You cheated.”

  Charlie shrugged. “A little bit, I guess. But the look on your face was worth it.”

  I drained my glass of water. We were sitting in the kitchen and the potential of what Charlie had just shown me was buzzing in my brain. I thought I’d figured out at least part of it.

  “So, let me guess: you had already blocked out the infrared rays, right?”

  He nodded. “You got it. The PIR part of the detector is easy to block. There are tons of things infrared can’t penetrate, glass for example. But that doesn’t help us much. You can’t install a sheet of glass over it. We need something more practical that you can take with you into the vault during the daytime when the alarm’s turned off.”

  “And you found out what that is?”

  “Yup. Liquid glass. Or, to be more precise, hairspray.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. We just need to obscure the lens. A quick puff of hairspray does that brilliantly. I did the one in the bedroom twice, letting it dry the first time. It creates an opaque film over the lens that blocks the infrared. Vaseline works too, but it’s more obvious; someone might notice it.”

  “And hairspray is easier to apply.”

  “Exactly. You carry a can in your briefcase. When the vault’s empty you direct the can at the motion detector. Squirt, squirt and the job’s done. Once it dries, which only takes a few seconds, it’s virtually impossible to notice, as you’ve just found out. Repeat the next day and we’re good to go.”

  “That’s brilliant, Charlie.”

  He put down his cracked mug and looked sheepish. “It’s not bad, eh? I have to admit it wouldn’t work on the newer detectors though. They’re programmed to sense masking attempts. But fortunately, like much else, the Zheng Building has an old model.”

  I smiled to myself, remembering the museum warehouse all those years ago. Ageing buildings seemed to be my forte. “Now, what about the broom handle? It deals with the other half of the mechanism, the microwave sensor, right?”

  “Right. With the heat detector masked, the device is safe to approach whilst activated. But we still need to knock it out completely. After all, we’ll need to be in there quite a while. So, I came up with Styrofoam masking panels.”

  “Which act like a shield?”

  Again he nodded. “The problem was fitting them around the motion detector. We daren’t risk them falling off. So I designed my device, an extendable pole with the Styrofoam box at the top end and a holding foot at the bottom.”

  I went over to the sink, refilled my glass with tap water and raised it in a toast. “Charlie, you’re a genius. There’s just one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The other alarm, the light detector. How do we get past it?”

  *

  I pushed open the day gate and looked up at the vault ceiling. Along with everything else of interest to us, I’d filmed the light detector with the man purse camera, but since then I hadn’t given much thought to it. I could barely recall where it was located and now noted that it was bang in the centre of the ceiling, a long distance away from the motion detector at the far end of the room.

  I stood beneath it and gave it a good long look. It didn’t look like much at all, just a small rectangular box about half the length of a pen, with what looked like two tiny lenses at one end. These, if I remembered Charlie’s explanation correctly, would contain photo-resistors, high resistance semiconductors connected to a circuit board. When light waves came into contact with the semiconductors it triggered the device. Charlie had described it as an atomic reaction, which had made me visualise a giant mushroom-shaped explosion. The point was that the light waves created an electrical current which set off the alarm. It was the same technology used in cameras to set off an automatic flash in low-light conditions.

  I replayed the vault-closing scenario in my mind and recalled that Jeff D. switched out the lights in the vault and in the foyer in front of the vault before leaving. That meant on the night of the heist we would need to turn out the foyer lights before opening the vault door – assuming we could figure out how to open the door at all. Operating in total darkness for several hours was not a viable option; we would need light to see what we were doing.

  According to Charlie there were no fancy electronic ways to subvert the light detector without risking inadvertently setting it off. I had to find a simpler method, one guaranteed to work but that wouldn’t draw any attention to the device.

  I reached up and found that I could touch the detector with my fingertips. They had fitted it to a low part of the ceiling in the middle of the room, above which there seemed to be a concrete beam, probably designed to protect the vault against building collapse in the event of seismic disturbance. Va
ncouver, after all, was in an earthquake zone. That the detector was reachable by hand wouldn’t have been evident in the videos I’d taken for Charlie, so he wouldn’t have been able to factor this into his calculations.

  The discovery gave me an idea: perhaps all I needed to do was cover the two tiny lenses with electrical tape. The problem with this scheme was, that in order to guarantee the device was neutralised, I’d have to use a lot of tape. I’d need to tape it completely around, preferably several times over, to exclude any possibility of light rays getting through. Even if I could get a roll in the same shade of grey as the device itself, such obvious taping would be far too noticeable if it was in place for even a short time while the vault was open. It would only take one tenant, or worse still Jeff D. himself, to look up and raise the alarm. No; any taping would need to be done during the heist itself.

  Satisfied I’d discovered as much as I could, I took out my cell phone and snapped several close-ups of the light detector. Charlie would soon be conducting another bedroom experiment.

  *

  I opened a window in my stuffy office and sat at the desk to record some notes. Once again setting aside the biggest challenge of all – actually getting into the vault – I drew up a list of actions that would maximise our chances of beating the various detectors inside it. Which to disarm first, the motion detector or the light sensor? On a fresh page of A4 I settled on the following sequence:

  1. Mask the motion detector with a thick spray of adhesive film, knocking out the PIR;

  2. In complete darkness, carefully approach the light detector and thoroughly tape over it;

  3. Use low energy LED headlamps or red-lens flashlights to position the Styrofoam masking device in place over the motion detector;

  4. Switch on lights and get to work.

  After a little further thought I added at the bottom of the list: Total cost of materials: approximately $30.00.

  Thirty bucks to neutralise sophisticated, expensive technology guarding incriminating documents that could bring Zheng down, end his disgusting trade in human trafficking, and give Emma leverage over him for the rest of his miserable little life. Not to mention the millions of dollars of diamonds and other valuables.

  It seemed a pretty good deal to me.

  18.

  UPPING THE ANTE

  “Mike, I can’t help but wonder, are we ever going to be able to do it?”

  Lines creased Emma’s usually so-smooth forehead. She put down her coffee cup and looked out the window on her left. I followed her gaze and took in the stunning view of Vancouver spread out below us. The city seemed at peace, its concrete skyscrapers glowing in the setting sun, its busy harbour a light-infused aquamarine speckled with tiny black dots of outriggers and kayaks enjoying calm evening waters.

  We were sitting at a window table in The Observatory Restaurant at the top of Grouse Mountain. It was my birthday, August twenty-first, and she’d insisted on treating me to this celebratory meal. For the next four months I’d be a ‘year’ older than her, and that alone was cause enough for celebration, she insisted, teasing me gently.

  I was glad of the break from my routine. My everyday reconnaissance of the Zheng Building was getting claustrophobic, and my debates with Charlie over increasingly technical issues were beginning to wear me down.

  My one big worry about tonight was maintaining secrecy – if Zheng got wind that Emma and I were still seeing each other it could disrupt our plans for the heist. Let’s face it, I couldn’t rob his vault if he’d put me in hospital the day before. Naturally, Emma was sympathetic to that concern so had made sure that she hadn’t been followed. I’d taught her the ‘four right hand turns’ trick and she’d gone on and then off and then back on the highway, as instructed. She said she’d also jumped a red light, but assured me it had been safe to do so.

  We’d rendezvoused in the proverbial shadowy alley downtown. I’d kept a beady eye on the rear-view mirror while we motored across the Lions Gate Bridge and up Nancy Greene Way, and I’d eyeballed everyone in the cable car that took us up to Grouse. Even in the restaurant I’d insisted we forgo the table they’d reserved for her and move to a corner table at the back instead, from which I had a clear view of the other tables.

  We’d both gone for the five-course ‘Prix Fixe’ and I was finishing up my glass of ruby red Cabernet Sauvignon while Emma stuck to driver-friendly coffee. We’d talked about everything except the heist, so her somewhat despairing question came out of the blue.

  “Of course we are,” I replied. “The pieces are falling into place.”

  She sighed. “It’s just it’s taking so long. You’ve been there every day for weeks.”

  She was right of course. Only this morning I’d found an official letter from building management in my office mailbox, reminding me that the next two months of rent were due in advance, and asking me to set up an account. Emma had ponied-up the not insubstantial sum for the initial two months; but I knew that her finances, while vastly better than mine, were now seriously depleted. Her expensive lawyers were still attempting, probably in vain, to get some sort of reasonable divorce settlement from Zheng.

  “You’ve only got some of the pieces anyway,” she continued. “What about the vault door?”

  “Well, I’ve solved the key problem. You know that.”

  “You’re absolutely sure?”

  “As sure as it’s possible to be,” I said, glancing around to confirm that there was no-one within hearing distance. “We’ve gone over it before: the key is so long it comes apart in two pieces, what they call the ‘stamp’, which is the bit that fits into the lock, and the stem, which is basically a long thin pipe with a handle. The guard keeps the stem in a lockbox in the storage room to the left of the vault.”

  “I know all that,” she said.

  “Sure; I’m just going over it again, like I do every day in my head. Anyway, the guard is supposed to carry the stamp part with him, and probably lock it away somewhere else entirely. But I discovered he doesn’t; he keeps the two bits fitted together for convenience. I’ve checked it a dozen times; even peeked into the storage room and got a quick look at the lockbox. It’s a flimsy plywood door and an ordinary metal lockbox. Breaking in and getting the key is going to be easy.”

  “Sounds like a lazy guard.”

  “Or a complacent one. Or maybe he lost it one time or something.” I sipped a bit more Cabernet before continuing. “Now, that still leaves the four-number combination, but I’ve figured that out too.”

  “Stethoscope?”

  I shook my head. “That only works in movies. Turn the dial and listen for the tumblers clicking. We might get part of the combination that way if we kept at it for a good few hours. But it’s far too uncertain.”

  “Then dynamite it.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Charlie. A couple of pounds of plastic explosive, Semtex or C4, would open a normal safe. But we’d need a ton to do the vault – enough to bring the whole building down around our ears. And where would I get it anyway?”

  “OK, that leaves trial and error.”

  I laughed. “With zero to ninety nine on each turn of the dial, that’s a hundred million possibilities. Trial and error would take me the rest of my life. No, what will work is a camera hidden in the ceiling, directed over the vault door. I simply video Jeff opening it.”

  “How are you going to install it?”

  “That’s the hard part. Obviously not during business hours. It will have to be done at night-time.”

  She smiled. “And Charlie’s pretty confident of breaking into the safe deposit boxes, isn’t he?”

  “He is. He tells me he’s put together a sort of vise thingy that works through the keyhole. I’m going round to see it tomorrow.”

  “Will it work?”

  “From what he’s said, I think so. I’m getting him to make extra ones in case the main pin breaks.”

  Outside the window, the sun was disappearing fast. Only a thin sliver of tanger
ine disc still remained above the horizon. While we had talked, the sky had changed from deep cornflower blue to a subtle purple and seemed to be merging with the mauve-black water. We were now a pinnacle of light in a dark world and I felt exposed, dangerously on display. I looked around the restaurant again and reminded myself that we were far away from Zheng and his monster ape driver.

  “Sounds good,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I want this to happen. And I want one more thing.”

  This was unexpected. I had no idea what was coming.

  “What’s the other thing?”

  I must have looked worried, as she laughed. “Relax. You and Charlie are going ahead with this. I want in on it too.”

  So that was it. I was surprised and not surprised.

  “You’re already contributing,” I said.

  “I know. But I want to be there with you, on the night.”

  I thought for a moment before answering. Charlie would not be a happy camper. I wasn’t sure that I was either.

  “I can’t just say ‘yes’ without asking Charlie first,” I said. “He’d have to agree.”

  She shook her head. “You know he won’t. He thinks I’ll go loco on you again. But I have as much say as he has. This whole thing wouldn’t be possible without me, right?”

  “That’s true,” I acknowledged. “We’re doing it for you, and for ourselves too, of course.”

  “In Charlie’s case, for himself solely.” She smiled. “And that’s just fine. But my point is, there are three of us involved and we each have a vote. My vote is that I’m ‘in’. We can assume Charlie’s the opposite. That gives you the casting vote.”

  I was in a fix, but I couldn’t really fault what she said. The more I thought about it, right here at the dining table, the more fitting it seemed to be.

  “Why do you want to do it?” I asked.

  “Same reason as you,” she replied.

  “And that is . . .?”