by Andy McNab
The safe in Kevin's office also had two locks to open and close it. Symington held the guard key and Kevin had the second. Each morning Symington would open his lock, then Kevin opened his. At the end of the day, they both locked the safe for the night.
'Come on, then.' Jessica snatched the little key out of his hand. 'Show me my box.'
'It's downstairs, if you'd like to follow me. Oh, I should have introduced myself. I'm Kevin Dodds, deputy manager.'
Jessica looked put out. 'Deputy manager? I thought you were the manager. I can't hand over my necklace to any Tom, Dick or Harry. I insist on dealing with the manager.'
'I look after deposits, madam, and you don't need to hand your necklace to me. You can lock it into the safe yourself and keep the key, so that you can be sure it's all in order.'
'I know that.' She looked Kevin up and down. 'I've had more safe-deposit boxes than you've had hot dinners, but I will not be taken care of by a deputy. It's like going to the theatre and getting the understudy, you silly little man.'
She slapped the top of his desk. 'Fetch me the manager. Now!'
Kevin smiled and went to look for Symington in his office.
Symington dropped his newspaper when Kevin told him who wanted to see him and scuttled out to meet the star.
'Oh, there you are, darling. I told him I could only deal with the manager.' Jessica looked out of Kevin's office window to check that the other staff were watching. There was nothing she liked more than making a scene. 'Now, let's go and put away my Augusta. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to take it off me.'
Symington's eyes were very wide. He could only nod. Then, as if she were on stage, Jessica pulled off her coat and flung it at Kevin. 'Make yourself useful.'
She turned the clasp to the back of her neck and lifted her hair for Symington to undo the catch. Even from where he was standing, Kevin could hear his boss breathing heavily. Kevin was seriously pissed off. Deposits were his job. He had really wanted to undo the clasp of a two-million-pound necklace.
Symington handed the necklace to Jessica, who placed it in a black box that her assistant pulled out from her bag. 'Madam, if you'd like to follow me, I'll show you to your deposit box downstairs. Dodds, look after Ms Drake's coat.'
Jessica took the box from her assistant and headed for the stairs with the bank manager. Kevin heard Symington's voice as they went down to the basement. 'I do apologize for my deputy. He's not very bright, and tends to get a bit star-struck.'
'Darling, he was no problem. I'm used to it. It's just nice to have the manager in charge of such an important deposit. Besides, that deputy of yours has his hands full now. He looks like a yeti all covered with fur.'
He heard them chuckle as they trotted down the stairs. Jessica's assistant took the coat from him and Kevin made his way back to the counter. He felt pleased that the great Jessica Drake hadn't been in any films for a long time. He was glad she had to travel up and down the country just to get a small part in a small town. She was a bitch.
CHAPTER TEN
IT HADN'T BEEN A great start to the week for Kevin. By the end of the day, all he wanted was to get home and spend a relaxing evening with Linda. In the car he put on their favourite Billy Joel tape, the one with their song on it, hoping she wouldn't ask him if he had managed to get Friday off. He knew she'd ask, but he wanted a few minutes' peace before the storm.
When they were sitting on the sofa drinking tea and watching EastEnders, she still hadn't asked. Kevin realized he was going to have to tell her, and ruin the evening. He waited until the end of the programme.
'I'm sorry, Linda. I asked Symington for the day off, but he said no.'
Linda's face flushed. He could see she was trying to control her anger. 'But he can't do that. He's no right. You're entitled to a day off. It's just not fair.'
'He said we're just too busy.'
'Busy? When's that place ever busy?'
'I know, but I gave four days' notice and the rules say I have to give five.'
He could see that her annoyance had transferred from Symington to him.
'I told you you should have done it last week. I was really looking forward to this weekend. It's our anniversary.'
'I know. I'm so sorry. I was waiting for the right time to ask him.' He put a hand on her knee. 'I'm really sorry. At least we've still got the weekend.'
Linda could see he was upset too and knew it was pointless to go on at him. Kevin was almost too gentle, too nice. She'd tried to encourage him to stand up for himself a bit more, push himself forward a bit, but he never seemed able to do it. It meant people walked all over him. She needed to help him build his self-confidence. She knew he had it in him to be more forceful. Maybe one day the penny would finally drop.
'Something else happened today, though.' Kevin changed the subject. 'Guess who came into the bank.' He had saved the good news to tell her after the bad.
'Who?'
'Jessica Drake.'
'No! You're kidding me! Was she wearing it?'
'Yep – and a big fur coat.'
'What's it like? What's she like? What else was she wearing?' Now she was caught up in a real-life gossip mag. 'I can't believe you've met Jessica Drake! Wait till I tell the girls at work. How big was the sapphire?'
Kevin made a rock-sized circle with his thumb and index finger. 'She had the world's most stunning necklace, but she wasn't the world's most stunning woman. My wife is.'
Linda grinned and shuffled up next to him on the sofa. 'Of course,' she said, pleased. 'Come here.'
As they kissed, he realized it was true. Linda was more beautiful than Jessica. She was natural, and lovely, and kind. Far better than that fake, second-rate actress. He hugged her closer.
And then it happened. Today became the day that Kevin Dodds got angry. Really angry. He didn't know if it was because Symington wouldn't give him the day off, or because Jessica Drake had thrown her coat at him, or even because he'd seen his wife's disappointment in him. But while he was sitting on the sofa and Linda was waffling on about the Augusta, the dam burst. He felt pure anger twist and spread through his body until he was filled with rage. He clenched his fists, his breathing came fast and the blood rushed to his head. He didn't have to live like this. He didn't have to take it all lying down. He could fight back. It was time to stop being the grey man.
Slowly a plan began to hatch.
Linda glanced at him. 'What are you grinning at?'
'Just thinking about Saturday night, that's all. I'm going to make it the most wonderful night you've ever had. I'll make up for not getting Friday off, I promise.'
And for the first time Kevin's life got interesting.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tuesday, 7 February, 11.28 a.m.
FOR GARY AND ALICE, today was like any other day at the bank. There was the usual lack of customers and Symington shouting at them every now and again. But for Kevin today wasn't an ordinary day. He was in his office, with his paperwork in front of him, and his mug of coffee in his hand, but today was the day that would change his life for ever.
He paused for a moment, his finger hovering over the mouse. Google's search engine was on screen and he had already typed in 'homemade explosives'. If he clicked, Kevin knew there would be no turning back. He was terrified, but he'd had enough of people walking all over him. He'd had enough of smiling. It was now or never. He was going to do something that Robert de Niro, and Clint Eastwood had done loads of times. He was going to rob a bank. He took a long, deep breath, and then the grey man struck back. He clicked the mouse.
The first page of home-made explosives was on the screen but before Kevin had a chance to start reading, Symington burst into his office. 'Dodds! Why aren't you out there making sure those two are doing their work?'
Kevin stood behind his desk hoping that Symington wouldn't walk round it and see what was on the screen. He peered out through his door and saw Alice at the counter doing paperwork. Gary was making a phone call.
'Well, e
r . . . Alice can handle the counter. And Gary's making business calls. It's not busy so I thought I'd start this month's report early.'
Symington wasn't too sure how to react to that one. 'Good.' He left Kevin's office and stormed back to his own. Kevin closed the door and got back to his PC.
He checked out a number of websites that showed him how to make explosives before it dawned on him. Why was he looking at all this stuff? He didn't know the first thing about blowing up safe-deposit boxes. He'd probably blow himself up instead. As Clint had said to him one Saturday night, 'A man's got to know his limitations.'
Kevin sat back in his chair and thought about his. He didn't have a clue about what he was doing. He had no experience in such matters. Except that he'd watched a hundred and one bank-robbery movies, the good ones at least twice. He wasn't fit, so the chance of him swinging above motion detectors by his fingernails, wasn't good. And he wasn't a genius, so he was unlikely to come up with a plan no one else had ever thought of. No, his plan would depend on two things. First, it should need no brains and no fitness, and second, it used the one advantage he did have. He was already in the bank and knew how the systems worked.
He closed down Google and rested his elbows on the desk, dropping his head into his hands. He knew the exact safe-deposit box he was going to break into, but how to do it without anyone knowing he had? That was the problem. After all, it wasn't as if he was going to run away with Linda to a tropical island. If a theft was obvious, the police would soon have him as a suspect. After all, Kevin had keys to the bank and dealt with the deposit boxes every day. He didn't know how he would stand up to their questions. Would he confess out of fear? Would guilt be written all over his face? He never had been a good liar. No, this had to be a crime that no one ever knew had been committed. So, no alarms, no noisy explosives, no bits of broken deposit-box strewn across the floor. It had to be a clean, silent crime that no one ever knew about.
Kevin had a sip of coffee to wake himself up. Even if he could get to the safe-deposit box with the guard key, he would still need the client key to open it. How was he going to get his hands on it?
Symington was outside his door again, moaning at Gary, who had offered to cover for Kevin on Friday. 'This is a place of work, not a charity.'
Kevin felt the anger twist in his belly. He was going to put his plan into action this Friday evening. He was looking forward to coming into work on Monday morning. Symington and everyone else would be none the wiser as to what had taken place. But he'd go back to his plan later. Now he had to start on that report. After all, he'd said he would.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER WORK, KEVIN MET Linda at Specsavers as usual, and they drove home together. Instead of their usual banter, they were silent. Linda was worried about Kevin. He seemed distant, as if he was in another world. Maybe he was tired.
The rest of the evening should have felt normal but it didn't. Kevin sat and watched TV with Linda as usual and cuddled her as usual. But Linda could feel that something wasn't right. Kevin's thoughts were elsewhere. He replied to anything she asked him with a one-word answer. Otherwise he didn't speak at all.
Something was wrong. Linda could feel it. Maybe it was work . . . but maybe it was her. Had she done something to upset him? She kept her head on his chest so she didn't have to look him in the eye as the ten o'clock news started. 'You OK, Kev? You've been really quiet all night.'
He stroked her hair. He had been thinking about the plan that was now forming in his head. 'Course I am.' He kissed her. 'I'm fine. Just worried about some extra work I've got to do.'
'Symington cocked up again?'
'Yeah, sort of.'
Linda was relieved it wasn't something she had done. 'Come on.' She pulled herself to her feet. 'Bed.'
'I think I'd better make a start on it now. I have to get some stuff done by Friday. You go on. I'll be up in a bit.'
Linda went to bed but lay on her back looking up at the ceiling. Things still didn't feel right. Kevin didn't worry about work. She rolled over, switched off the lamp and tried to go to sleep.
Kevin was back online with his mate Google. He knew what the client lock looked like, but didn't have a clue what sort it was, or how it worked. Hopefully Google would show him. He had worked out a sort of plan, but a million things were buzzing around in his mind and they had to be put into order. Kevin wasn't fazed by that. OK, so he was used to dealing with bank stuff, not robbery, but he was sure the basic idea had to be similar. A bit like when he had to decide if a customer could have a loan. If he wasn't sure, he got more information. He clicked enter.
Google came up with hundreds of different locks. It took some time but Kevin finally found what he was looking for.
Kevin sat back in his chair, pleased with himself. It was like being in a film. If it was a western, he would have been wearing a poncho and sucking at a big fat cigar. Just like Clint.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NOW KEVIN KNEW HOW the client's lock worked, he had to find out how to pick it open. He clicked through more websites and found out that he didn't need to know. A company in Holland could send him a machine that would do the job for him. He punched in his credit-card details and pressed 'Purchase Now'. As the order went through, he felt a wave of fear. Not only had he left a record on his own PC about lock-picking, and looked up explosives on his work PC, he had given his credit-card number and taken action. There would be a record of it. If anything went wrong with his plan and the robbery was discovered, he would end up in jail. Still, if it didn't worry de Niro in The Score, then it shouldn't worry him. He would just have to make sure that he wasn't caught.
Time for tea and a KitKat. As he went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the biscuit tin, he thought of the safe-deposit box's guard key. During the day, he had easy access to it since it was in his office safe. But even if Kevin could pick the client lock with his Dutch kit, he wouldn't be able to do it in office hours. Symington had the CCTV security screens in his office and would see him 'attacking' the client lock. He felt pleased with himself. He had just used a real lock-picker's expression. He was becoming a pro.
Even if Symington was doing his crossword and not looking up at the time, Kevin would still be on film. If there was an incident in the bank that day, if a customer slipped on a wet floor and hurt himself, the tape would have to be sent to Head Office in case the customer sued the bank. Kevin had to make sure he wasn't on any CCTV tape before he attacked the lock. He would have to do it at night when there was no risk of a customer problem. He wouldn't put the tapes in the recorders on Friday night.
He made the tea, and as he took the first bite of his KitKat, Linda appeared in her dressing-gown. 'You sure you're OK, Kev? I'm sorry for getting angry last night. It's Symington, not you. Is it really just work? I haven't done anything wrong, have I? I mean, you never stay up and—'
'I'm sorry. I'm not really working.'
Tears started to fall down her cheeks. Kevin put down his mug and rushed over to her. 'It's OK. It's nothing bad. You remember last night when I promised you the best Saturday night ever?'
She nodded.
'Well, it's a secret, and it's going to take a little work to set up. That's all. You go to bed and keep out of my way for a bit, so I can get on.' He held her close and stroked her hair until she'd calmed down. 'It's OK. I'll be up in a minute.'
'I was really worried. Look at me, crying, but . . .'
Kevin walked with her to the stairs. 'It's OK. Anyway, you look beautiful when you cry. Take my tea – I'll be up soon.'
Kevin could hear Linda up in the bedroom as he got back online. Maybe all those Saturday nights spent watching movies and eating toffee-covered popcorn were going to pay off after all.