by Steve Levi
“So we’ve wash . . . er . . . invested the money with no problem with the feds?”
“What I am saying,” Richiamo was careful to enunciate because, after all, the telephone was a federally regulated entity, “is RMD, LLC is no longer in possession of the actual cash, your cash, which was stored in North Carolina. The federal government has relocated the money. To compensate for the relocation of the actual cash, the feds have arranged for North Carolina Mutual Indemnity to pay RMD, LLC a check in that amount.”
“Our cash is gone?”
“Correct. Further, First Sandersonville Bank of Trust is accepting promise of the check. As RMD, LLC has indicated to you and your associates, the entire amount of the check—less my commission—will be invested in land purchases you and your associated have already approved.”
“So we’re getting the land with no hassle from the feds?” Now Lenny was ecstatic.
“There will be no problem with the feds because RMD, LLC is paying for the land with a third-party check.” Richiamo then let silence fill the airwaves.
At last Rusnak was fully awake and got it. “I see. That’s wonderful. I will be sure to tell my associates their legally acquired investment capital is now in the form of land in North Carolina.”
“Within thirty days, sir, within thirty days.”
“Well, this is . . . is wonderful.”
“Have a good evening.” Then the call went dead.
FRIDAY
Chapter 39
Friday morning Noonan put in a call to Chelsea Edison, Ramon Delgado, and John Swensen. He told all of them to meet him at the Pamlico Tunnel no later than 1:00 p.m. When he was asked why, he told them there were a few loose ends to tie up. One of them was how the armored car had disappeared in the Pamlico Tunnel.
That excited all of them.
He told them to bring a change of clothes. Old ones. They were going to get very wet. When he was asked to explain, Noonan just said to be at the tunnel by 1:00 p.m. And bring some towels.
Then Noonan hit the streets.
His first stop was at a hardware store where he bought several rolls of one hundred feet of heavy nylon rope, a pair of heavy work gloves, and a pair of hip waders. In the lumber department he had some plywood sheets cut into four foot by four foot sections. He also purchased a dozen brushes, plastic gloves, a plastic drop cloth, and a gallon of fluorescent yellow paint. He couldn’t find a cheap pair of binoculars at the sporting goods store, so he settled for a spyglass at a hobby shop. His last stop was at the supermarket where he bought a five-gallon thermos, which he filled with coffee.
“Going to be long night?” The cash-register operator probably thought he was being funny.
Noonan didn’t think so. “No. I just like coffee. This is my afternoon refill.”
The clerk grunted and handed him his change.
It was a little after one o’clock when he made it to the tunnel. He was the last to arrive. “This is going to be fun,” he told the three. “We are going to solve an impossible crime.”
“But no crime has been committed,” Edison reminded him.
“True, true,” Noonan replied. “But in law enforcement you never want to leave a question unanswered. The last big one is how an armored truck can disappear in a tunnel.”
“OK,” said Delgado. “I’ll ask. How?”
“I’m glad you asked,” replied Noonan. “Let’s see if we can figure it out together.”
The young Swensen liked that. “Absolutely. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how an armored truck under guard can dematerialize in a tunnel.”
Noonan smiled. “Come and help me unload some gear, and I’ll show you whippersnappers how us old codgers go about solving riddles.”
Delgado laughed, and all three began unpacking his car. Noonan spread the plastic tarp out beside the roadway and placed the gallon of fluorescent paint in the center. Then he laid out the four-byfour sheets of plywood along with the brushes and gloves. He had everyone put on vinyl gloves and set them painting both sides of all the plywood sheets. When they finished, they set the plywood sheets against a tree to dry.
“I hate to ask this, Captain,” Swensen asked. “But what are you going to do with those plywood sheets? And why the fluorescent paint?”
Noonan chuckled. “Well, son, all in good time. You’ll just have to wait and see.” Noonan signaled for the three to come over to his car. Each was given a bundle of rope. He handed the spyglass to Edison. “Just put it in your pocket, Chelsea,” he said as he put on the hip waders and the heavy pair of work gloves.
“You’ve got the strangest way of looking for an armored car,” Edison said as she tucked the spyglass into her pistol belt. “Why didn’t you get a pair of binoculars? At least they’d have a neck strap around them.”
“Gotta watch every penny, Chelsea.” Noonan smiled as he stood up and pulled the wader straps over his shoulders.
It was a strange procession entering the Pamlico Tunnel from the east side. Noonan, slogging along in hip waders, led the troupe into the tunnel. Behind him came Edison with the spyglass, and behind her came Delgado and Swensen gingerly holding the plywood sheets with the fluorescent yellow paint. The minute the procession entered the tunnel, they all flicked on their flashlights. Noonan had Delgado lead them to the alley where both men had found the scrapes on the wall. As Noonan was pointing out the scrapes, Edison remarked, “What do you expect to find here?”
“The armored car, of course,” Noonan told her. “Now. Let’s set the scene. When you two security guards went into the garage,” he pointed at Delgado and Swensen, “you were not given any paperwork. It was just a routine assignment. You didn’t check the truck to make sure it was a real armored truck, and there was no reason you should have. You two were outside in the yard, and the armored truck was in the garage. You assumed Steigle, the senior, was doing his job correctly. He was the one who did the checking, not you.”
“Correct,” said Swensen.
“When the armored truck came out of the garage, you didn’t give it a good look-over.”
Swensen thought for a moment and then said, “That’s right. I just assumed it was an armored truck. Our armored truck. I guess I glanced at it and confirmed it was one of ours. That’s it.”
“That’s what Steigle wanted. Earlier in the day he had taken the real armored car out of the garage. No one stopped him coming in early because he was known by the guard at the front gate. He drove the armored car out of the garage, and the guard at the front gate didn’t stop him because the exit was routine. To keep his destination secret, he turned off the GPS in the truck—how it is done I do not know, but Steigle did—and he drove the truck out to the warehouse garage he had rented. The truck went in, and a fake one came out. It looked just enough like a real armored truck, it would be taken for real armored truck. I don’t know where the fake truck came from. Possibly a junkyard. The point is, the truck was made to look like a Swensen Armored Car Company truck. But it was actually just a large pickup truck. The back of the truck was balsa wood. All of it. It was designed so it could come off easily at the right moment.
“Then Steigle drove the fake truck back to the garage. He wasn’t stopped coming in because the truck looked authentic. Once the truck was in the garage, the Jacksons got inside to drive it away. Steigle filled out the paperwork on the fake armored car just as if it were a real one. No one cared to check the truck because there was no money on board. When Stiegel came out of the garage, the two of you,” Noonan pointed at Delgado and Swensen, “just gave the truck a glance. It looked like an armored truck, so, in your mind, it was. You started up your motorcycles and headed out. That was probably the last time you looked back.”
“Correct,” said Delgado. “I cannot remember looking back at all. But then, again, on the security runs I am not supposed to be looking back. I’m supposed to be looking for trouble ahead of the truck.”
“That’s how Steigle figured it. He knew all
you’d give the truck was one quick glance across the parking area and that was going to be it. It looked like an armored truck. The vehicle was there, where it was supposed to be, and you left. You didn’t know the truck you were escorting was actually a wooden frame set on a large truck. From the front it looked like an armored vehicle. The back of the armored was made out of balsa wood, which is why the trip to the tunnel was slower than usual. Steigle couldn’t afford to let the wind rip off the back cover.”
“This is a great story, Captain.”
“Heinz.”
“Right, Heinz. It’s a great story, but there is not a shred of proof it happened. And if it did happen that way, what happened to the Jacksons and the woman who was driving the truck? Where did she come from? There was no one in the tunnel when we went through.”
“That’s right,” agreed Delgado. “The tunnel was empty.”
“The woman was already in the truck,” replied Noonan. “She came in with Steigle. She was probably sitting in the back. All she had to do for whatever she was paid was drive the truck out of the tunnel. If she could make to a clean exit, all the better. If she was caught in a police blockade, all she had to be was Triple-C.”
“Triple-C?” said Edison. “I’ve never heard that expression.”
“Calm, Cool, and Collected,” said Noonan. “It’s an old law-enforcement adage. There was really no reason for the woman to worry. The fake driver’s license was very good. It had her picture on it, and the license plates matched her name at DMV. Steigle had planned well.”
“OK,” said Delgado. “I’ll buy the woman most likely was in the back of the truck. I don’t see an alternative. But this still leaves the Jacksons. They didn’t just disappear into thin air.”
“In actual fact, Ramon. They did. We all know the truck went into the tunnel, right?”
There were mutterings of assent in the darkness. These were drowned by the noise of a convoy coming through the tunnel. Everyone waited until the convoy passed and the noise faded. Then Noonan continued.
“We know for a fact the armored truck came into the tunnel. The Jacksons followed protocol. Steigle and the Jacksons knew the armored car company wanted the escorted vehicle to be the last in the queue into a tunnel. If the truck must enter a tunnel being repaired—even if the truck is empty—the guards are required to take precautions. The entourage sends half the escort to one end of the tunnel and leaves the other half with the vehicle. Then the armored truck goes through unescorted. The security men on motorcycles couldn’t see in the dark, so they’d be sitting ducks for anyone with a gun. That’s how the company protects its people. The insurance will pay for any dollar losses, but you cannot replace a human life. The security guards also make sure the armored enters the tunnel as the last vehicle. That way they always know where it is, and if there is any trouble, no civilians get hit in a crossfire.”
“And the Jacksons knew the escort had to place the armored car last. That was all part of Steigle’s plan.” Delgado shook his head in belated understanding.
“Right. The fake armored car entered the tunnel and stopped about here.” Noonan flicked his light on the pavement. “Exactly here,” he said as he flashed his light onto the walls of the alleyway, “there was some kind of a small, hand-operated crane. The minute the fake armored car arrived here, one of the Jacksons jumped out of the truck and attached a cable to the balsa wood super carriage. The super carriage probably was hinged so it could lift off as a single unit very quickly. All the Jacksons had to do was attach the cable in one or two spots and pull the cable. They’d probably practiced the move so much that they’d have had no trouble doing it in the tunnel in the dark. And while the Jacksons were pulling the balsa structure off the truck, the woman was replacing the armored-truck license plates with her own.”
“Clever,” said Edison. “Smooth and efficient. Then all she had to do was get into the truck and drive away. She only had to wait for the fake balsa wood structure to clear the back of the truck, the pickup bed. Then she caught up with the convoy and drove out of the tunnel as if nothing had happened. If the Jacksons were efficient, she could have changed the license plates and been gone in under a minute.”
“Probably that fast,” said Noonan. “I’m sure she practiced with the Jacksons. Time was of the essence, and they were making a lot of money for very little actual work.”
“If this true,” Swensen broke in, “what happened to the super carriage? And what happened to the crane?”
Noonan started to answer, but another convoy of vehicles drowned him out. When they had passed, he responded to the question. “Let’s go find it,” he said as he proceeded down the narrow alleyway. When he got to the junction of the alleyway and the hallway with the aqueduct, he stopped. But when he spoke now, he had to shout to be heard above the rush of water beneath the floor grates.
“The crane was temporary. As soon as the super carriage was pulled off, the men only had about four minutes to cover their tracks. The crane to be used to remove the superstructure was already in place, so there was time saved.”
“Yeah, but where is the super carriage?” Delgado had to shout to be heard above the rushing water. “We searched this alleyway within ten minutes of the disappearance. We didn’t find anything.” Noonan heard the voice and recognized it, but the tunnel was so dark he could not see Delgado.
“You didn’t find anything,” Noonan shouted, “because you didn’t know what you were looking for. You were looking for a truck. I’m betting the super carriage was hinged such that no piece would be wider than four feet in any direction. Why four feet? Because that’s how wide this aqueduct here is.” Noonan indicated the aqueduct below his feet. “It had been raining, so there was some water here. The Jacksons just pulled back the grate and broke the balsa into smaller pieces. They probably turned one of the grates over and crushed the balsa to splinters. The splinters went into the water and were carried out of the tunnel.”
Noonan reached down and pulled one of the grates up. Then he stepped into the aqueduct. Water swirled to midcalf.
“Now, Ramon,” Noonan’s flashlight found Delgado and caught him in the beam, “I’m betting I find the crane and pulley in here. The balsa wood probably had water-soluble paint, so even if you found large chunks of it downstream,” Noonan pointed in the direction the water in the aqueduct was surging, “the paint would have washed away, and you wouldn’t be able to reconstruct the super carriage. But they couldn’t toss the crane out. They had to hide it.” Noonan’s flashlight beam danced along the grates. “Get those grates up, and let’s see what we can find.”
Fighting the current, Noonan felt his way along the aqueduct. He covered twenty feet before he hit something. While the young Swensen and Delgado held one arm, Noonan reached into the swirling waters and pulled up a cable. Noonan pulled himself out the aqueduct, and all of them pulled on the cable, and out of the depths came a small crane with a hand crank. It was supported by two four-foot beams, each of which had a V-shaped head that could fit on corners.
Swensen examined the feet. “They would fit the marks on the wall, Heinz. You hit the bull’s eye this time.”
“Not yet; he didn’t!” shouted Edison above the roar of the aqueduct. “What about the Jacksons? They never came out, and they couldn’t stay here because this place was searched.”
“Step this way!” Noonan yelled and sloshed his way down the hallway in the direction of the floodgate where the water exited the tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, the water rushed out of the aqueduct and arched skyward before it turned into a long, sickening, plunge two hundred feet down to the river below. By the time the jet of water from the aqueduct hit the river, it was a pelting rain that was gradually digging a hole in the river’s edge.
“Pull these up,” Noonan said as he indicated the last two grates of the aqueduct. “But first things first,” Noonan said over his shoulder. “Chelsea, bring your spyglass up here.”
When the last grate had been removed, Noon
an ordered the four-by-four sheets of plywood be dumped into the rushing stream.
“Keep an eye on those plywood sheets!” Noonan yelled to Edison.
In the next instant, the four fluorescent-yellow plywood sheets jetted out of the aqueduct mouth. They hung midair for an instant and then plunged downward, twisting as air currents spun them. Two of them landed in the center of the pool and disappeared for an instant before bobbing to the surface. A third one landed directly on top of the first two and split into thirds, the pieces skittering across the pool. The fourth, finding a unique air current, landed closer to the shore. Here the water was shallow, and when the plywood sheet hit, it burst into splinters. Edison, watching from above through the spyglass, marveled at the show. “Quite a show, Heinz. Now I see why you wanted fluorescent paint. There’s no missing it even from up here.”
“Right,” replied Noonan. “When we get down there,” he pointed to the river below, “we have to scour the riverbank for whatever is left of the balsa wood super carriage; we can chart the river flow by where you find pieces of fluorescent wood.”
Swensen pulled himself back into the hallway. “OK. So much for the super carriage. Now, how about the Jacksons. You say they jumped down there!” He pointed at the river far below.
“Not jumped. Rappelled. They had to leave from here.” Noonan tapped the railing, keeping the four of them from tumbling into the river below. “They only had two choices. Up over the top of the tunnel and up the mountainside or down to the edge of the river. I’m betting they went down.” He pointed down at the surging water. “Going up, they might have been spotted by a police helicopter. They had no way of knowing if one was available, so they couldn’t afford to take a chance. Going down, they only had to make it into those trees running along with the river.” Noonan pointed to the side of the river below.