by Helen Harper
‘Rexta Stimms,’ I said. ‘How long have you worked here?’
‘Thirteen years.’
‘What does your job entail?’
‘I clean.’ She shrugged, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. ‘That’s it. That’s what I do.’
‘You clean every part of this bank?’
She nodded. ‘Da.’
‘That means you have access to a lot of private information.’
Her golden skin paled and she shrank in her chair. ‘Da.’
‘Do you know who owns safety deposit boxes at this bank?’
She swallowed. ‘Some. I see the people come. Sometimes I see them leave.’
‘Rexta,’ my voice thrummed, ‘do you know which box Lady Carr owns?’
Her head shook wildly from side to side. ‘Nyet!’
‘How about Lord Horvath?’
‘Nyet! No!’
‘Okay. You can go.’
‘You’re sure?’ Fred asked, making a mark on his list.
‘I’m sure. Send the next one in.’
I leaned forward. ‘David Finti. How long have you worked here?’
‘Th–three years.’
‘What is your job exactly?’
‘I manage the IT system and troubleshoot when there are any issues.’
‘Do you know who owns safety deposit boxes at this bank?’
‘Ye–yes. I have full access to the bank’s information systems.’
‘David, do you know which box Lord McGuigan owns?’
‘Z523.’
I folded my arms. ‘You can remember that information off the top of your head?’
‘I’m g–good with numbers. I remember a lot. Not deliberately. It just happens.’ His hands were shaking. Mr Finta was fully expecting to be arrested at any moment.
‘Have you ever told anyone that number? David Finta, have you revealed to anyone which safety deposit box belongs to Lord McGuigan?’
‘No!’
‘Are you working with others to steal his box?’
‘You’re crazy!’
‘Answer the question, David.’
He sagged. ‘No.’
‘You can go.’
Each face was replaced by another. Some were angry and sullen, some were scared, some were eager to cooperate. All of them answered the questions and none of them raised any red flags. Slightly more than two hours later, we were done. I cursed, slumping my shoulders. Nothing. Not a goddamned thing.
‘I thought it would take longer than that to get through everyone,’ Fred said. ‘It’d be pretty handy if that compulsion thing worked on humans.’
‘Yeah,’ I sighed. ‘It doesn’t work on every supe. Even with their real names, it’s not foolproof. One or more of them might still be lying. And you can’t compel someone to do or say something that goes beyond what lies within their own heart. For instance, I couldn’t compel you to rob this bank unless a part of you already wanted to do so.’
‘Do you think any of them are lying?’ Fred asked.
‘Do you?’ I countered.
His mouth flattened. ‘No.’
I pushed back my hair. Exhaustion was gnawing at the edges of my very soul. ‘Neither do I. We’re at a dead end. But that gang got those box numbers from somewhere.’
‘Now what?’
‘Now we talk to Pralk again.’
***
We found him in the main hall, talking to the security specialist who hadn’t been on the premises until recently. ‘What would you do,’ Pralk asked, ‘if someone came through that door right now with a gun and demanded that you open the vault?’
‘The vault is on a timer,’ the specialist, whose name I remembered as Billo Tritt, said. ‘It can’t be opened, no matter what happens. Shoot me. Threaten my family. Say what you like. I can’t open the vault.’
‘And what if this gunman demanded to be taken to the safety deposit boxes?’ Pralk questioned. ‘What would you do then?’
I cleared my throat. He turned and gestured to Billo Tritt to leave, then looked at me. ‘It’s not his fault that any of this happened, you know. He’s not responsible for the flaws in our security system.’ His lanky body hunched over. ‘We’ve relied too much on protection from the more powerful supes and our own reputation for zero tolerance. The board believed that further investment in security wasn’t necessary. I didn’t argue. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.’
It took considerable strength to take full responsibility for a robbery that, to all intents and purposes, hadn’t happened. ‘You know that you can speak to Tritt and the others as much as you like, and prepare as much as possible,’ I said. ‘When this happens again, neither you nor they will remember any of it.’
Pralk offered a wan smile. ‘It’s better than feeling helpless. This is my bank, after all. It’s my baby.’
I smiled back. ‘I understand.’ I paused. ‘You’ve not asked if I’ve uncovered anything from your staff.’
‘I don’t have to, DC Bellamy,’ he said simply. ‘I told you already, I trust them all implicitly.’
‘You’re a good boss.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Not good enough if people get killed on my watch.’
‘That’s not your fault.’
‘The buck stops with me, detective. That’s the way it works.’ He stared into the distance for a long second then glanced back at me. ‘Are you finished here now?’
‘There’s one more thing.’
‘Go on.’
I looked around. ‘Do you have a back entrance to this place?’
‘There is a door to the rear, yes.’
‘Can you show it to me?’
A muscle jerked in his cheek. He knew why I was asking. ‘Very well.’
Pralk led me out of the main hallway into the corridor. We passed the safety deposit box room and the expensive paintings. Something niggled at me, a vaporous thought that seemed important but wouldn’t quite coalesce.
I frowned and followed him through the building. I noted the way as I glanced into the other rooms, from the small computer server room with its blinking lights and wires, to the staff room with its coffee machine and saggy sofas. Eventually we reached a steel door. Pralk tapped on it with his fingernails; the tinny sound echoed ominously.
‘Despite the damning evidence to the contrary,’ he told me, ‘we do take security seriously. This door is reinforced and self-locking. It can only be opened with a code, which is generated randomly and which changes every three days.’ He reached up to a small number pad and tapped several of the buttons. There was a click and the door swung open.
I peered out, noting the few chairs sitting outside in the high-walled courtyard and the utilitarian ashtray. So goblins weren’t immune to the addictive allure of nicotine, then. I looked around some more. The steel door appeared to be the only way in or out. This was going to be more complicated than I’d thought.
‘There are invisible sensors laid into the top of the wall,’ Pralk told me. ‘Anything heavier than a pigeon will set them off. When that happens, they immediately sound an alarm inside the bank and we automatically go into shut down.’
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. ‘Has that ever happened?’
‘Just once. Some kids playing football kicked their ball over here.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I can only assume it was curiosity on their part. They climbed over, the alarms went off and all hell broke loose.’
I walked into the centre of the courtyard and slowly turned round. ‘What’s that?’ I asked, pointing at the roof beyond the wall and just to the right of the bank itself.
‘A doctor’s surgery. It’s more of a leap from there to here than you’d expect. A wolf could make it and I expect a vampire could too, at a push.’ He gave me an assessing look. I pretended not to notice. ‘A human would not manage.’ He raised his eyebrows expectantly and waited for me to protest that I was human. I didn’t bother; both of us knew otherwise.
‘Okay.’ I turned to the door. There was an identical k
eypad on the outside of it. ‘When is the code due to change?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’
‘So?’
‘Five-oh-two-three-seven-four,’ he told me.
I repeated it under my breath a few times then I tried it. There was a satisfying click. ‘What happens if someone gets the code wrong and puts in different numbers?’
Pralk twirled a finger above his head. ‘Sirens. Lockdown. Hell breaks loose.’
Got it. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
Pralk watched me. ‘Can you do it?’ he asked. ‘Can you prevent the robbery, stop anyone from dying and find the culprits at the same time?’
‘I’ll have to,’ I answered simply. ‘But unless something miraculous occurs to me in the next few hours, there’s no other way to do it than through this back door.’
Chapter Twenty
Liza had already called, first to complain about the copious number of mugs of tea she was being ordered to make, the loss of her prized chocolate cake, and the mess that Collier’s team were creating in our office, and second to inform me that, despite her best efforts, she hadn’t managed to track down any records about who might own the locksmith shop that Adam Jones had mentioned. The best she could come up with was a gentleman whose address was an anonymous PO Box and whose name was Joseph Bloggs. The lack of imagination depressed me, particularly when it appeared that Mr Bloggs’ little business had managed to avoid filing a single tax return for the half-dozen years that it had been up and running. Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs had definitely missed a trick.
I sighed and told her to finish up for the day. Collier would manage without her tea-making skills. I also sent Fred home. Another pair of eyes would be useful, but I was wary of what might be waiting at the locksmiths. In the end, I needn’t have worried about having someone with me. By the time I pulled Tallulah up in front of the darkened shop, Lukas was already there. When I stepped out of the car, he stepped out of the shadows. I didn’t need to see his expression to know that it was grim.
‘How are things going in Soho and Lisson Grove?’ I asked. ‘Is everyone behaving themselves?’
A beat passed before Lukas answered. ‘There have been some … discussions between various supes and various members of the Metropolitan Police.’
I swallowed. ‘Loud discussions?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Violent?’
‘No.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘Even the wolves have been behaving.’
I sensed there was more he wanted to say but he was unwilling to say it. ‘Are you alright?’
Initially, I didn’t think he was going to answer. His eyes were hooded and his body language suggested deep discomfort. Eventually, however, he licked his lips and displayed the briefest flash of white fangs. ‘This is very difficult for me, Emma.’ He sighed. ‘When it comes to a situation like this, my people look to me. But in reality, I am the vampire Lord of nothing. I’m entirely impotent and at the mercy of whatever the human authorities decide. They’re using the suggestion of terrorism as a loophole to do whatever they want. We’ve put a great deal of work into creating a façade to the public that portrays vampires as frivolous and unthreatening. We follow the laws, although we chafe at them. And still,’ he added heavily, ‘all it takes is a couple of hours and a few unpleasant incidents for all that to be undone.’
He gazed at me. ‘It doesn’t help that I know this is nothing more than a test run, and anything that happens today will be undone tomorrow. And the only person who has any chance of controlling it is you.’ He took a step closer until our bodies were almost touching. ‘You have so much power. You don’t realise how much.’
From the look in his eyes, he was no longer talking about either the bank robbery or the police. He took my right hand and stroked my pinkie gently. ‘You have the ability to wrap everyone round your little finger. Especially me.’
I tilted my face up to his. ‘It terrifies me,’ I whispered, truth vibrating through every word.
His response was quiet but laden with meaning. ‘I know.’
A car passed by, its headlights illuminating the darkening road. It broke the reverie and Lukas and I moved back like mirror images of each other. I shook myself and turned to the locksmiths. It didn’t look like much.
‘You’re sure this is the place?’ Lukas questioned.
‘According to Adam Jones it is,’ I said. ‘He told me that he followed the gang here, sneaked inside and overheard them planning the robbery.’
It wasn’t a large place; from here, its interior seemed to be no bigger than that of a tiny corner shop. At one point, the front had been painted a brick-red colour, no doubt to stand out, but it was a long time since it had enjoyed a touch-up. Years of pollution had added layers of grime, the colour had faded and the paint was peeling. The door and windows were protected by an ugly steel mesh to ward off would-be invaders; it seemed to me that it would be the height of irony for anyone to attempt to break into a locksmiths. The name itself wasn’t much more inspiring: AAA Locksmiths. It might have garnered them top billing in the old Yellow Pages but it didn’t do much else.
‘Have you been here long?’
‘About twenty minutes or so,’ Lukas said. ‘I was considering heading in to investigate on my own, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate the effort.’ His black eyes glinted. ‘I wanted to be a good boy.’
I sent him a sidelong look. ‘You’ve been a very good boy,’ I murmured. ‘Perhaps I’ll reward you later.’ And then my cheeks flushed. I coughed to hide my thoughts. I wasn’t usually this easily embarrassed.
Lukas winked but fortunately didn’t pursue the subject and add to my mortification. ‘There’s been no sign of life inside,’ he informed me. ‘No shadows, no lights, no sounds. I’m pretty certain it’s empty.’
My stomach tightened. Maybe I’d been wrong to prioritise the bank over the locksmiths. Maybe I should have come here first. If I had, would I have had the chance to confront the gang?
‘It’s good that they’re not here,’ Lukas said, reading my mind. ‘Arresting them now won’t do any good. This is your chance to find out as much about them as possible so your final re-set not only stops them in their tracks but brings them to justice before anyone is killed.’
‘Yeah.’ The trouble was that there was a huge amount riding on that last re-set. If I didn’t get it right, the only person I could blame was myself. ‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘Let’s see how good their locks actually are.’
He flashed me a quick grin and we crossed the road. I squinted in through a mesh-covered window, trying to make sense of the shadows. Lukas did the same, before letting out a loud fake gasp. ‘Oh my goodness! Detective, I think there’s someone in there who’s collapsed! We’d better break down the door and check that they’re alright.’
I gave him a long look. ‘In a few hours’ time, these events won’t exist – they’ll be erased from history. The only person who’ll remember them is me. I don’t have the slightest qualm about illegally entering this shop.’
Lukas raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re saying that the end justifies the means?’
Fuck it. ‘Yeah,’ I said sadly, realising I was crossing a line I might never return from, whether anyone else would remember it or not. ‘I guess I am.’
‘In that case,’ he murmured, ‘I’ll do the honours.’ He stepped sideways to the door, curled his fingers through the mesh and yanked it off with one swift tug. Then he used his elbow to smash the glass and reach inside for the lock. A moment later the door swung open. I’d barely had time to draw a breath.
‘Hey presto.’ Lukas smiled. ‘Although I don’t think I’ll be hiring these guys myself any time soon.’
I didn’t smile back. ‘It seems too easy.’
‘Sometimes things are easy because they’re easy, D’Artagnan.’
‘Is that supposed to be a deep, philosophical statement?’
He shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. ‘There’s no alarm. There�
��s no one inside.’ He glanced around the deserted street. ‘No one is running towards us with a gun.’
‘Maybe it was easy because there’s nothing inside to find.’
Lukas stepped across the threshold. ‘Then let’s find out if that’s true.’
I hesitated for a second before following him in. Part of me was expecting to be gunned down or slammed into a headlock by a blonde Russian with a fake Cockney accent, but nothing happened. It really was that easy.
The wall on the right was covered with uncut keys, a range of padlocks and some plastic-wrapped burglar alarms. A single tattered poster pinned to the wall behind the counter demanded, How Safe Is Your Home? Let AAA Locksmiths carry out an assessment so YOU can sleep safely at night. The clipart picture of a cartoonish burglar with a sack over one shoulder and a striped jumper suggested that it had been designed many years earlier. From the evidence on display, AAA Locksmiths was not exactly a thriving business.
Lukas vaulted over the counter and rummaged underneath. ‘Dust balls, old receipts and,’ he paused to pull out a bag, ‘mint humbugs.’
I pulled a face.
‘You don’t like mint humbugs?’
‘They get stuck in my teeth.’ I pointed at the flimsy wooden door that led beyond the shop floor. ‘Shall we?’
Lukas bowed. I twisted the doorknob and opened the door. The rusty hinges creaked but there was no other sound. Fumbling around, I found a light switch and flicked it on. Several fluorescent strip lights buzzed into life, illuminating some sort of all-purpose back room. The piles of cardboard boxes indicated that it was a store room, but there was also a desk to one side with a dusty computer and a dirty mug with an inch of cold coffee inside it. I pressed the computer’s power button, hoping that there might be something useful in its digital history. Lukas, who had followed me in, reached for a wastepaper basket and started rummaging through its contents.
The computer took an age to start up. While I waited, I flicked through the various books and folders stacked on a shelf. Three health and safety manuals, a guide to lock picking, instructions for using a handheld drill, and a dog-eared copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. I sighed.