by Ian Campbell
"Right you are Sir. I'll be there.., half an hour...”
"Yes, half an hour.., I'll make it worth your while..."
Pascoe entered the office passing two ladies on the way. Sam was waiting for him.
"Any problems Miss Fairbrother?" he asked.
"None at all Sir," she replied, remaining overly formal while the door was open." The ladies from the bureau arrived twenty minutes ago and I gave them coffee and said you'd speak to them when you arrived."
"Did we have any clients this morning?"
"Seven in all and we took about £10,000 from each of them."
"Right, let's put the rest of the money into the briefcase and the file-cards of those seven clients from this morning."
Sam opened the safe and passed out the money.
"We'd better leave £ 1,000 there just in case." Added Pascoe, handing some of the money back." Is the other briefcase empty?"
"I'll look."
Satisfied that the second case contained no incriminating evidence, Pascoe set it down at the right-hand side of the desk." Fine. We'll leave that behind for the girls to use for the banking. I'll just grab myself a coffee and then you had better wheel them in. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes, I've checked everything."
"Good. Leave the talking to me. If we have any callers in the meantime, you had better deal with them in the outer office. O.K?"
"Of course." Sam invited the 'temps' into the inner office and introduced them to Pascoe.
"Miss Napier and Mrs. Hardcastle Sir."
"Please come in ladies and sit down."
"I am afraid our acquaintanceship will be short, as both Miss Fairbrother and I are booked on the Inter-City to Edinburgh at two o'clock, so I must be brief. Let me run through things for you. First... we need you here because our cashier has been taken ill and we have an important business appointment in Scotland. Our business in this country is on behalf of the 'Second National City Bank of Dallas'. We have been running a confidential pre-launch of our bank's travelers’ cheques in London, to prepare the ground for the full launch of our services later this year. We are currently at the end of our introductory period and will need to maintain this office only until the middle of next week, when our main office will take over. During that time we expect some 20 clients to call and to enable them to do so, we wish you to keep the office open from nine 'til six, including the weekend."
"Excuse me, Sir," said the elder of the two women, "But the weekend wasn't mentioned to us at the agency."
"Possibly not, but if you can cover that time as well, we shall make it worth your while... say a bonus of £100 each!" Both women smiled.
"The work involves accepting cash from our clients, paying them a commission fee and banking the balance. I understand Miss Fairbrother has already been through that with you?"
"Yes, but how do we know what amounts we should receive and what amounts we should pay out?" asked Miss Napier.
"Everything, Miss Napier, is marked on the client's file card." Pascoe picked one out at random and indicated the figures on the back of the card." Here is the initial amount of dollar travelers’ cheques issued," he continued. "Now, at the end of the day, we expect either to receive the total amount of those dollars converted into sterling at $1.40 to the pound, or all the cheques back, or more likely, some cheques and some sterling. We are paying to each client, 15% of the total value of dollar cheques exchanged - no more and no less. Which of you ladies is the cashier?" Mrs. Hardcastle raised her hand.
"I'm sure Mrs. Hardcastle, that the figures involved pose no problems?" Pascoe took her silent nod as tacit agreement. "If they pay in lesser amounts, you will of course pay their commission on a pro-rata basis. So, to sum up, the amount a client should pay in will be the amount of dollars exchanged at $1.40 to the pound, less 15% commission, plus any of the cheques not cashed. Each day at three o'clock, one of you will be driven by a guard to the Provincial Bank in Gresham Street, to pay in any monies you may have taken. The paying-in book and everything else is here for you." Pascoe opened his own brief-case and gave them the documents. "Now are there any questions?" There were none. "Then I shall continue with the rest of your duties. We require one of you to be registered as a key holder of these premises, so that should we have any problems with the alarm system, someone will be able to let the police into the office. Any volunteers?"
"Yes, I don't mind doing that," said Mrs. Hardcastle.
"Good. If you would like to write your name and address on this note-pad, I'll notify the security room." Pascoe provided the woman with pen and pad.
"Miss Napier, if you would like to come with me, I'll show you the entry route to the office and how to set the alarm."
The younger woman followed Pascoe into the outer office. He had just finished explaining the system to her when the buzzer sounded in the inner office and Mrs. Hardcastle, familiar with the intercom equipment, fielded the call.
"There is a Mr. Spriggs to see you Mr. Guyton."
"Please send him in. I am expecting him."
"Mr. Spriggs is our janitor." Pascoe explained to the newcomers." If you have any problems you'll find his office on the ground floor. Thank you for coming Mr. Spriggs, I just wanted you to meet the ladies who'll be holding the fort while we are away. "Pascoe opened the door and let Spriggs out.
"Now ladies, there remains only one thing more before we leave you and that concerns the loss of a client's travelers cheques. You will find the appropriate notes in the booklet in the drawer of the desk, but all we require of you is to take note of the numbers of the cheques lost and to remind the client to report the event to the police. The commission to be paid in the case of lost cheques is only calculated on the money paid in to us, not on the whole amount issued. Now, if you are sure you can manage, we must leave for the station. Thank you ladies. Goodbye. There's a briefcase by the desk you can use for banking and you'll find petty-cash in the safe which we run on the imprest system. That reminds me, I haven't given you the combination for the safe." Pascoe hurriedly wrote the number down on the desk-pad, picked up the briefcase with the money in it and left the office.
"We'll ring you in a day or so, just in case... ",he called out as he passed through the door.
"Head for Cornhill Sam. I'll catch you up," said Pascoe, darting down the corridor in search of Spriggs." Just a quick word Mr. Spriggs. Look after the girls and make sure they're all right." He didn't give Spriggs time to reply, but pressed a £20 note into his hand. It was sufficient explanation. He caught up with Sam at the junction with Leadenhall Street, where they grabbed the first free cab.
"Liverpool Street Station please." Pascoe instructed the driver. He took Sam's hand and held it tight. Neither of them dared to speak. Within minutes of their arrival they had collected their baggage from the hotel and were back on the concourse.
"What now?" demanded Sam.
"As if you needed to ask. The left luggage office. I hope you've got your receipts."
He left Sam to collect the luggage and wandered across to the bookstall. A little later, he noticed that Sam was having trouble with the left-luggage clerk and rejoined her at the baggage counter.
"Problems darling?"
"You could say that. This gentleman says I should have picked the bags up yesterday and that I have to pay for an extra day's storage."
"And just how much is that?"
"That's an extra £1.60 on each case ma'am."
"So what's the problem?" asked Pascoe.
"I haven't got any cash on me..."Pascoe, thinking of the amount of money contained in each of the bags, couldn't help himself from laughing at the irony of the situation.
"What's so funny?"
"You are darling.., not having any money on you. Here you are, keep the change," said Pascoe handing a fiver to the clerk. He took the two heavier cases from the clerk and gave the third to Sam. He hadn't considered having to manage the luggage from the hotel as well as the money they’d brought from the office an
d had forgotten how heavy the money weighed. In the end, he had to summon a porter with a trolley to help them out as far as the taxi rank.
"Where do you fancy darling, the Savoy, Ritz or the Dorchester?"
"If you'd really like me to choose, how about the Grosvenor?"
"I think that might prove a bit rich for my blood. Driver, what sort of a day have you had?"
"Fair to middlin' squire."
"Would a trip to Victoria brighten it up?"
"Wouldn't hurt."
"Off we go then."
"What do you have in mind?" asked Sam.
"Wait and see darling.., wait and see."
"But I've been patient all day."
Pascoe moved close to her and whispered in her ear, "Can I interest you in a dirty couple of days in Paris."
"Do I get to buy some clothes?"
"Of course you can, but for what I have in mind, you won't need them much." His reward was a sharp elbow in the ribs.
About the time they were arriving at Victoria, a Thomas Cook clerk at the Dover Hover Port office received a telephone call from his head office, referring to an enquiry made the previous day about the 'Dallasbank' cheques.
"Hello, I spoke to someone earlier this morning about the Dallasbank cheques," said the voice from head office.
"Yes, that's right. What's new?" replied the clerk.
"No news really. It just took a little while to find out anything about them, but we filed a circular on them two or three weeks ago."
"Then they were stolen."
"Good God, no! The circular informed us of the major launch of their travelers’ cheques onto the European market later this year. Evidently, they were releasing a few of them beforehand to familiarize everyone with them. They've organized it so that their cheques are handled with American Express cheques.., they run on the same sort of codes. However, you were right to check; better safe than sorry."
The clerk informed his colleagues that the Dallasbank cheques were all right and the news spread quickly through the office. For the next few minutes it was the sole topic of conversation.
"What did I tell you," commented the manager, back from holiday. His words were met with hoots of derision from the staff as everyone remembered his instructions at the time.
At Victoria station, Sam and Pascoe used the half-hour they had to wait before the first train to Bromley South to change their appearance. They split the luggage between them each taking one of the heavy briefcases containing the money as well as the luggage.
The facilities at Victoria Station were known locally as the "Superloos". They had been improved in the last few years and Pascoe remembered reading that the Gent's contained a barber's shop which he made a beeline for and had his beard removed. Next, in the privacy of one of the cubicles, he changed from his city suit into sweater and slacks. Before he left, he unfolded the rucksack and placed the briefcase and his other clothes in it. By using it as a rucksack proper, it left both hands free to carry the rest of his luggage.
He had little trouble locating Sam at the nearby bookstall, as she was easily the most attractive woman there. Her three piece pin-stripe suit had disappeared. She had retained just the skirt and blouse of the outfit and had unbuttoned her blouse just enough to be interesting. The splendid curve of her bosom was emphasized by a bright red silk scarf knotted about her throat which fell onto her breast. She had also unpinned her hair and it cascaded about her shoulders. For a finishing touch, she wore her glasses pushed up onto her forehead.
"I thought it was us women who took the time to change," she commented as Pascoe arrived.
"Well, I did have a little more to take off than you did darling. Shall we go?" Sam couldn't take her eyes off Pascoe's naked face, unsure whether she preferred him with or without his beard. "For God's sake say something darling.., I've been patient long enough."
Pascoe made sure that there was no-one within earshot before replying.
"We've done it darling. We've done it and we're clean away," excitement and elation were written all over his face.
"You're sure?"
"Yes. Quite sure. This morning went like a dream and if you had no problems at the office, then we're home and dry."
Sam reached for him and hugged him close. He tasted salt tears on her face.
"You're crying, darling. What's the matter?"
"It's because I'm happy," sobbed Sam. "I'm so happy." Her mascara had run and ruined her make up.
"I think you'd better rescue your face before we get to Bromley."
The car was just where Pascoe had left it and apart from having to use a lot of choke, it started without too much trouble. Although the roads in Bromley were strange to him, he had little difficulty picking up the signs for the M 2 motorway. Sam was asleep within minutes and dozed for the first 20 miles and only woke up after they had joined on the actual motorway.
"Didn't you mention something to me about Paris?" she asked as soon as she stirred.
"Typical of a woman to remember something like that."
"Then why didn't we go straight to the airport and fly."
"Two reasons. If we had left the car at the station longer than I had bought the tickets for, it would have been noticed and secondly, what would we have said if French customs had asked us to open the briefcases?"
"I understand about the car, but surely there isn't a problem taking the money into France, is there?"
"Unfortunately, they don't have the freedom from exchange controls that we have and it's necessary to declare amounts over 10,000 francs."
"Is that very much?"
"Not in terms of how much you have in your case, but it’s about £800 or so in sterling. It's best not to take the risk."
"Does that mean that I've said goodbye to my trip to Paris?"
"Of course not. We'll take the ferry from Dover this evening."
"Won't we have the same problems with the customs there?"
"Not if we arrive in Calais after six o'clock."
"Why?"
"Because the port customs officers work 9 to 5 hours and only keep a couple of officers on after that, to handle the freight traffic and the coaches and motorists."
"But that means us."
"Not if we travel as foot passengers.., they never check them!
They arrived at the flat in Canterbury shortly before five o'clock to be greeted by a motley collection of milk bottles on the doorstep. On the doormat lay an assortment of letters and bills... mostly bills.
"Is there anything here which needs dealing with before we go?" he called out to Sam as he picked them up.
"No, I don't think so.., I'll just leave a note for the milkman to cancel until further notice."
"How long will it take you to get ready.., remember, we're travelling light."
"Twenty minutes."
"Make it ten if you can."
"O.K." She said, moving towards the bathroom.
Pascoe was worried about the money; they had a little over £300,000 in their luggage and he didn't want to risk taking it all with them and yet at the same time couldn’t chance leaving it in the flat, so while Sam was freshening up, he removed the money from the briefcases and packed it into the two flight-bags, keeping £50,000 for the trip to France. He took the flight bags out to the car, emptied the boot of its contents, raised the carpet and lifted the spare-wheel from its compartment. Then with a little effort, he managed to wedge the bags into the space where the spare had been and replaced the carpet, laying the wheel on top of it with the rest of the boot's paraphernalia scattered about. As a long-term hiding place, it would fool no one, but for the week or so that they intended to be away, it would suffice.
Once under way, Pascoe drove to a garage near the West Gate Towers in Canterbury, where he remembered seeing lock-up garages for rent on a long-term basis. The man at the garage assured him that the car and its contents would be quite safe, as there was always somebody on the site. Pascoe paid up front for a month's rent and asked the propri
etor to call a taxi to take them to the East Station.
"Why the lock-up?" Sam asked on the way to the station.
"It was the safest place I could think of for the money," he whispered.
"You mean you left the money in the car?" She asked incredulously.
"Best place for it. It's hidden in the boot, under lock and key; they have somebody looking after the garage 24 hours a day and it certainly won't get searched by police or customs!" Sam's face showed just what she thought off the idea.
The trip to Dover was tedious, if short, except for the memory it triggered of the journey to London that had started it all. One day he would tell Sam all about it. They left the train at the Priory Station, a desolate place for foreign visitors to arrive. No one would ever guess from its appearance that it was one of the world's busiest railway stations. Sadly, it reflected England's worn out, down-at-heel character and they were pleased to leave it.
A short journey by courtesy bus took them quickly to the Eastern Dock Booking Hall, where they bought their Foot Passenger tickets. At Immigration their passports received only a cursory check.
There were only a few people on board the ferry, mostly coach passengers. Once the ship was under way, they made for the dining room and enjoyed a relaxed meal for the first time in a week. Over coffee and Armagnac, Pascoe handed Sam her security cards and key for the safe deposit.
“What is it?" She asked, looking at the curiously shaped key.
"It's the key to your future. I placed the bulk of the money in two safety deposit boxes in London, one for each of us. You'll need this card to get into the strong room, and this key, together with theirs to open your box.
“Thanks, it feels nice to be financially independent!"
The crossing was as smooth as silk and they dozed for most of the way. At Calais, there were no customs or immigration officers on duty at the port and for all the authorities knew, they could have been smuggling guns or heroin. From the reception area at the port he dialed the number of the local taxi company and requested a taxi to take them to a hotel in the town. His command of the French language was so complete that within the first micro-second of speaking to the telephonist in the taxi office, she switched to English.