Kheng’s opportunity came shortly after his first year at the Maklai provincial branch. Mr Tann informed Kheng in their regular evening exchange of grumbling farewells that he was planning to be away for three days to go to his village and attend the funeral of an uncle. It wasn’t a particularly well-loved uncle or one he held in any kind of high esteem. However, there was an expectation from the family that he would have to shuffle all the way out there and watch his brothers get drunk and unruly. What could he do? He would get no enjoyment from this enforced leave. Kheng immediately rallied in a show of support and offered to take charge of locking the bank’s doors each evening for him. Mr Tann had declined the offer. It saddened him to do so as Kheng would no doubt be very committed to the task. However, the old boy Papa Han would have to do the job himself for a change, as really the bank was his responsibility. Mr Tann did accept, however, that Papa Han would probably struggle to get the doors locked with his failing eyesight and shaky arthritic hands. The key for the back door was becoming a bit stiff in the lock so needed some oiling as well. Mr Tann had often mentioned the need for oil but no one who had been subjected to his moaning had developed sufficient verve for the task to help him out. Kheng sympathised with Mr Tann’s predicament and agreed to come to work early the next day, and bring some oil from his home to sort it out. Not only would he supervise Papa Han to lock the doors, but he would clean up the keys and oil the locks as well.
As the bank had been closing up, Kheng had arrived with his usual grubby rucksack swinging from his shoulder and was directed towards the back of the bank and into the kitchen area to wait for Papa Han. Whilst waiting for the old man to make his befuddled way to the rear of the building, Kheng produced a small can of oil, some rags, and some metal polish and began the task of cleaning up the lock, and the door knob, and oiling the mechanism. As he did so Papa Han arrived, producing the large ring that was filled with the bank’s many keys, which were jangling together as they were grasped in his shaking hand.”
Kheng had been his usual helpful and friendly self:
“Hello, Boss. I’m just oiling the lock like Mr Tann requested. Have you got the key there? I’ll give that a bit of a clean as well while I’m here before I lock up.”
Papa Han passed over the whole bunch.
“Here Kheng, you work out which is the right key, I can’t tell one of the damn things from another.”
Kheng took the keys and turned his back on Papa Han. He proceeded to make a lot of noise as he appeared to be attempting to try various keys to find the right one. Had Papa Han not only been able to hear but also see what Kheng was doing he would have known that Kheng had found the right key almost immediately. What he was actually doing was taking the back-door key from the key ring, and replacing it with a different one. Having done this, he turned to Papa Han to make a show of locking the door and testing it to make sure it couldn’t open. He then put on a big show of polishing up the key so that it looked good as new and would work much better. He then handed back the bunch of keys to their custodian.
“Mr Kheng you are a marvel. It looks good as new, even with my old eyes.”
“Just trying to help, Mr Han.”
“Well we’d better get out of here or my wife will be wondering if I’ve had another one of my black-outs and fallen down somewhere.”
Papa Han shuffled off towards the front of the building, and Kheng followed to support with door locking at the front of the building.
As usual, Kheng milled about a bit, inspected the progress of various shrubs by the front wall, swept up a bit of rubbish that had accumulated next to the gate, and then once it was dark he slipped through the gate, as these were in the days long before there were security cameras, and headed home for his dinner. He had decided it was best not to deviate from the normal routine and to avoid arousing any unnecessary suspicion.
When Kheng returned an hour or so later, his rucksack was a little heavier than usual, with a variety of tools and equipment inside, weighing down on top of his trusted hammock. He headed for the back of the bank. He then produced from his pocket the original key for the lock that he had swiped earlier. He turned it gently in the well-oiled lock and the door swung forward.
During the day, Kheng had been to the hardware store on the main road junction near the petrol station and bought an identical locking mechanism for the bank’s back door. It included the door knob for each side of the door and the mechanical working for inside. He carefully dismantled the existing locking mechanism in the back door, and then installed the new locking mechanism, but using the original door knobs. Only the inner workings had been replaced. The door would look the same, other than the shiny new key that was now safely tucked unassumingly amongst the many baffling keys that Mr Tann kept on the ring in case one day someone worked out what they might open. Kheng added the two spare keys to his own but less embellished key ring, which until that point had held just the key for his front door.
By the time he’d completed his mission, it was still only 11.30pm. Kheng had expected the delicate operation to take all night, but in the end it had turned out to be quite an easy undertaking. He decided that he’d mark the achievement by going inside and using the facilities.
For the past six years, whenever Kheng had felt a call of nature he’d let himself into the bank. He had not previously shared this hygienic innovation with Salt and Meebor. It was something that required a degree of discipline. He had to make sure there were no muddy footprints left behind in the rainy season, no allowing of curiosity to persuade him to venture beyond the back room and check out the bank, and no forgetting to lock up everything again, exactly as he had found it. One minor slip and the entire scam could be uncovered. He also felt that there was a need to develop a certain level of trust before letting co-workers know that you had changed the locks on the door of a bank so you could let yourself in at night. Having achieved quite a lot of background information on Meebor and Salt in the first few days, Kheng had felt even more justified in the decision to keep his keys to himself. Being the one responsible for lending a key for the back door of the bank to two high profile criminals would not have helped him sleep easy in his bed at night. However, things were different now. The wild boar had spoken of the buffalo and the triangle, and the forest spirits were clearly not going to let up until he appeased them.
33. Ritual
Kheng finished explaining to Meebor and Salt how he’d come by the key for the back door. He then held out his coffee cup to allow Mr Salt to provide a refill. Meebor was the first to respond:
“It’s an amazing story, Kheng. You’d have made a great burglar. We could have done with a man like you back in the day. We were always stronger on self-confidence and daring than we were on the technical side of plotting and scheming. Discipline is always a good trait in a burglar.”
“Well, I’ve made sure I looked after the locking mechanism ever since. Oiled it regularly, made sure the fittings are tight. That way they never think about wanting to change the locks again.”
Salt made ‘hmm’ noises to further support Meebor’s observation:
“Well, Mr Kheng, I suggest you open up the kitchen door. I can fetch out the large mat. The one that’s just next to the sink. You know, the large plastic woven one. They use it when the bank staff want to sit on the floor and share lunch. I can bring it out here. We can perform some convocations before we get stuck into the main part of the robbery.”
Kheng turned to Salt with an expression of bemusement:
“Are you sure, Mr Salt? Is it really necessary?”
Kheng had been rather taken aback by this unexpected suggestion. You can never always predict what people’s priorities are going to be in a new situation. However, Meebor was quick to comment on the deviation to the plan:
“Unbelievable! First a ban on armaments, and now we’re having an opening ceremony. This is the daftest bank robbery I’ve ever heard of.”
“Well, maybe it’s important to Mr Salt. He is,
after all, dealing with a lot of stress at the moment. And we are basing a lot of this on the slightly obscure advice of a wayward tree spirit. Making sure the spirit in question is still backing the plan might not be a bad move. At least perhaps it will help ease Mr Salt’s mind before we get going.”
Meebor shook his head. This was nothing like robbing in the old days. People were careful how they chose who to work with. If you were planning a serious heist you’d make sure you never ended up with a crew like this one. He was starting to wonder what he’d got himself into.
Kheng led Meebor and Salt over to the back of the building where he took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the back door. Salt took off his shoes and slipped inside. Soon he was back with the large plastic floor mat. He unrolled it and laid it out on the ground at the back of the bank, putting a stone on each corner to stop it from curling up again.
Mr Salt walked over to where his bag was hanging from a half sawn branch on the trunk of the jackfruit tree. He rooted around in the depths of the main compartment until he found a thin orange candle. He returned, having found a slightly larger flat rock en route, and placed it in the middle of the mat. The candle was lit and Salt held it at an angle to dribble hot wax on to the stone until there was enough warm wax in which to place the base of the candle and secure it. With the gathering breeze, the candle burned and flickered furiously.
“Take a seat then Mr Meebor, Mr Kheng.”
The three sat down on the mat, facing the candle.
Meebor mumbled as they did so:
“Well we are sitting in a triangle. But there is such a thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy you know.”
Mr Salt ignored him and decided to launch into the proceedings:
“Now, has anyone got any gold on them? A ring, pendant, something like that.”
Kheng and Meebor gazed at the shadowy face of Mr Salt, as the deep-set cavities of his eyes and length of his nose seemed to expand and contract with the flickering of the flame.
“Not that I know of, why do you ask?” replied Kheng. His tone had become less amicable and more cautious: he felt they were rapidly drifting from his efficiently planned operation.
“If you take an oath and you’re wearing gold, then magical spirits looking for mischief can make use of the gold and cause deception. It’s a very well-known problem.”
Meebor shuffled about on the mat:
“Well, I’ve got gold in one of my teeth, that one at the back, look.”
Meebor leaned over the candle. It was still flickering and the wind-blown wax from beneath the flame was forming an elaborate series of trails down to the stone to create a stalagmite of wax below. He stuck his finger in his mouth, and was pulling his cheek to the side in an attempt to waylay any doubts of his sincerity on the matter.
Kheng was intrigued:
“Where did you get that done? Not in this province I’m sure?”
“No, not in Maklai. It was up in Khoyleng when I was a younger man. One of the times when I was up on my luck I headed to the capital and got it fixed. Dentists weren’t what they are today though. None of this hi-tech nonsense. My doctor had one of those drills that you had to power with a foot pedal like an old sewing machine. No pain-killers either. It was worth it in the end though. You wouldn’t believe the change it brought. The things I could eat again without the pain.”
“It doesn’t matter how he got it. We just need to know that it’s there.”
Mr Salt paused from his outburst while he thought of a solution:
“You’ll just have to lean backward. Make it so that your head is outside of the mat. That should be enough to make the risk minimal.”
Mr Meebor looked at Mr Kheng. Mr Kheng looked back at Meebor and shrugged. Meebor turned back towards Mr Salt and then shuffled away from him until he reached the edge of the mat before leaning backwards and resting on his elbows. On completion, Meebor turned and raised his eyebrows at Salt to indicate he was now compliant with the instruction, although not necessarily buying in to the reasoning. Mr Salt continued:
“Now then, Mr Kheng, as this is your scheme, you should say the oath.”
“The oath, Mr Salt?”
Kheng had not prepared an oath. Neither the designing of oaths, nor the public speaking of oaths, were usually his thing. As far as he was concerned, ceremonial words were the domain of the monks. Much of his younger life, indeed much of his life, had been with the army, he’d never spent time living as a monk. However, in the hope that it would help to move proceedings along, he took a deep breath. The air smelled of the soil, like it did in the rainy season before a shower, and the scent of the damp ground travels on the winds that gambol just ahead of the cloud before the downpour. Kheng took this earthy and pleasing taste in the air as a sign that the spirits were glad that their ethereal wishes were being pre-empted with an oath. He cleared his throat and began:
“I swear, that I have initiated this robbery in good faith, based on the visitation of the spirits of the forest to my dreams, and thorough interpretations there off…”
Kheng looked at the others to see if they were with him on this, or if he was losing the essence of it all, due to his lack of practice. Salt was looking pleased with how things were progressing. Meebor was leaning right back and gazing up at the blackened sky, keeping his molars out of the way of mischievous sprites, so it was difficult to tell. Kheng continued:
“So by taking this oath, we all agree to be respectful of each other and look out for each other, no matter what happens.”
“Great,” said Salt, grinning widely, “I swear.”
“I swear as well,” said Meebor in an apathetic tone of voice before allowing himself to sit forwards again. “Can we get on with this robbery now?”
“I think we should,” agreed Kheng.
“Do we also need to pray for good fortune and health, like the monks do in Sanskrit?” asked Salt. Clearly, his enthusiasm for ceremony was distracting him a little.
“I don’t speak ‘monk’ and I doubt if you two do either,” said Meebor. He had already started to stand up and put his hands behind his back to have a bit of a stretch. “We’d be better off thinking about more practical things, like escape routes and trying not to leave fingerprints.”
“Meebor’s right,” said Kheng. “I think the current oath will have to do. We really need to get on with this now. There’s only so much time in one night available for undertaking a bank heist.”
As if Meebor’s raised voice was the source of the tempest, a gust of wind blew out the candle whilst the first fat drops of rain from the gathering downpour began to rhythmically tap on the plastic mat. Salt grabbed the candle, Kheng took the mat, rolling it as he ran, and not stopping until they were all sheltering under the eaves of the roof by the back door. Despite their haste, by the time they got to the building the drops had rapidly evolved to a heavy downpour and all three of them were drenched.
“Don’t anyone go inside.”
Kheng’s order was dutifully obeyed. He didn’t raise his voice very often, but when he did he could sound as commanding as any drill sergeant or captain that he had served under in his army days.
“We can’t risk going in the bank and dripping water or mud and leaving any evidence that we were there. We’ll have to strip off out here, down to our underwear, leave our clothes by the back door and then go in, wiping our feet on our trousers as we do so.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before the two guards obeyed their captain and began to remove their outer clothing.
“The rain should be seen as a sign of luck. Like with the harvest. It’s if the spirits are with us.”
Salt’s offering was said to appease the frustration that he had heard in Kheng’s voice. Kheng snorted. The rains bringing luck for the annual rice harvest was not his immediate concern.
Once they were inside the kitchen door, Kheng took the torch and examined the floor for any traces of water from their feet. Superficially, it all looked okay. Things were ba
ck on track. Well, in a way. He turned to address Meebor:
“Just before it rained, you raised the issue of fingerprints. What’s your view on that?”
“Not good if our prints are found all over the safe room. It’s probably best to cover our hands up. Gloves would be the way to go.”
“Do you have gloves?”
“No, not really.”
Mr Salt reached for his canvas bag.
“I‘ve got some plastic bags. Used them to put the coffee cups in. And spoons and things. There should be enough. We can use them for our hands.”
“Okay,” replied Kheng. “So pass them out and we can put those on our hands and get moving.”
Having mittened-up with the thin plastic bags, the three oath-bound underwear-clad conspirators cautiously made their way through the dark, imposing recesses of the Maklai Provincial Bank.
Part 2
34. The Safe Room
The three men stood in silence, staring at each other, wondering what to do. It had never occurred to any one of them that there would be such an irreconcilable clash of ideologies. Meebor was unwavering in his conviction that a robbery was a get-rich scheme where you took all you could get. The risk involved and the potential consequences didn’t diminish much if you decided to be kind to your victim and leave half of it behind. Kheng, meanwhile, was equally confident that they were in the safe room right now on account of his dream and his tree spirit. If not for him, Meebor would be out misguidedly casing Mr Navey’s house and Salt would be lying in his hammock fretting about his wife. The higher power from the spirit world was the driving force behind the decision-making, not the petty aspirations of the individuals that were taking part. Finally, Salt was in the bank as a means to an end, the robbery was just a step towards the solution of helping his wife. It wasn’t the end game itself. It wasn’t a reason to throw away the life he was trying to lead in Maklai.
The Feiquon Heist Page 13
