The Grey Man

by Andy McNab

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Wednesday, 8 February, 06.48 a.m.

  KEVIN WAS UP AND dressed much earlier than usual as he knew he had a lot to do before he went to work. He had barely slept. His mind had been too active. He had his regular tea and toast for breakfast, and was pouring the milk over Linda's sugar-free muesli when she came into the kitchen.

  She kissed him. 'You're up early,' she said.

  'Yeah, got to go. I've got stuff to do before Saturday night.'

  'What stuff?'

  He picked up his briefcase. 'You'll see.'

  They normally went to work separately and today was no exception. Kevin took the number-eleven bus, but didn't get off at his usual stop. Today he was going to get off seven stops later, at B&Q. He put his briefcase on the seat beside him and opened it. He took out one of Linda's compact mirrors.

  The compact was square, with two mirrors. He slid them out of the compact, then pulled out the clasp that held the sides together when it was closed. Now the compact was empty, and there was a hole where the clasp had been. He stuffed everything back into his briefcase. He'd need the compact, but he would chuck away the other bits later.

  Last night, he had lain in bed putting his thoughts in order. He was working on de Niro's bank-robbing idea in The Score. The simpler the plan, the more likely it was to work. Kevin had come up with a simple five-step plan:

  He wouldn't put any videos into the CCTV recorder on Friday before the bank closed for the weekend.

  He would wait for Linda to leave for bingo on Friday, then head back to the bank. He would open the door and switch off the alarm by entering his pin number on the pad, just as he did in the morning when he got in first.

  He would open the safe in his office and take the guard key for the deposit box.

  He would go down to the basement and open the guard lock on the deposit box and leave the key in place while he picked the client lock and took the contents of the black box.

  He'd lock everything up again, then go home so that he was there before Linda got back from bingo at around ten thirty.

  There were still two problems to be solved. First, he had to open the office safe without Symington's key. That was where the compact and B&Q came in. Second, he had to pick the client lock, and that was where the Dutch kit would come in. The website had told Kevin it would be with him in two days.

  Out of the window, Kevin could see the morning traffic battling into work. It felt good not to be a commuter today – or, at least, not for a while. Right now he was a real bank robber. He felt a rush of excitement. Sitting around him, office workers were reading their papers and listening to their ipods, but he wasn't. He was on his way to buy stuff to make a key just like Symington's.

  He reached the stop near B&Q and ran across the car park. Even at that time of the morning it was busy with builders loading up for the day. A quick whiz round the aisles and he'd be done.

  Kevin was more than fifteen minutes late for work. He had had to fill the compact with the modelling clay he'd just bought before he got the bus. Then the traffic was bad on the way into the city. Out of breath, he raced into the bank. He had run all the way from the bus stop. His briefcase was full of the stuff he had bought from B&Q and he hid it all in his desk drawers. As he was putting away the clay-filled compact, Symington burst in. This is a place of work, Dodds! You can't just come and go as you please.'

  Kevin was standing behind his desk. The drawer was open, crammed with B&Q bags. 'I'm sorry, Mr Symington. The traffic was—'

  Symington turned and walked out. 'You have work to do. Get on with it.'

  Kevin closed the drawer and left his office to help Gary prepare the counter for the public.

  Gary nodded towards Symington's office. 'I see he's in a good mood again.'

  'Yeah, nothing changes.' Kevin tried to sound casual, because for him of course, everything had changed.

  Symington was sitting at his desk with the Daily Telegraph spread out before him. He didn't look up as Kevin walked behind him to get to the cupboard with the video recorders. He replaced the three tapes and took a deep breath. Then he turned to make his first attempt at getting his hands on his boss's safe key. His mouth was dry.

  'If you're busy, Mr Symington, I can open the safe for you.'

  Symington closed the paper to reveal a bunch of keys beneath it. The safe key was on the keyring, just inches away from him. Kevin needed it for just a few seconds.

  'What did you say?'

  'I'll open the safe for you. I'm going back to my office now.'

  Symington waved him away with one hand and the other slipped the keys into his desk drawer. 'I'll be along in a minute. You've got your own work to do.'

  Kevin worked through the lunch-hour and Gary brought him a sandwich. All morning he'd been waiting for a chance to get to Symington's key. Symington had gone for lunch but must have taken his keys with him. Kevin had checked the man's office after he had left.

  Now it was early afternoon. He started to panic. What if he never got them? If he did, what if he was caught making the copy? He was starting to have second thoughts about the whole idea. Planning the job was one thing, but doing it was something else.

  Symington came back from lunch and headed for his office. Ten minutes later, Kevin saw him come out and go downstairs to the toilets. Now was his chance. He grabbed the compact from his drawer and walked quickly, but not too quickly, into Symington's office.

  The keys were where he'd thought they would be. He took them out of the drawer and, with trembling hands, opened the compact. He pressed the safe key into the clay, exactly in the centre. He squeezed the two halves of the compact together, slowly but firmly, just as the website had said.

  'Gary! Your tie is loose.' Symington's voice was getting louder. He was heading for his office. Kevin's hands shook harder. The compact and the keys clattered on to the carpet. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

  'Yes, a lovely day, Mrs Wright.' The office door burst open. 'What are you doing in here?'

  Kevin stood by the desk and kicked the compact and keys under it. 'I – I – well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being late this morning. It won't happen again.'

  'Well, make sure of it. Now leave me to get on with my work. There's a lot to do.'

  Kevin went to the door.

  'Dodds, get me a coffee, would you?'

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  KEVIN WENT TO MAKE the coffee. He could feel the blood pumping in his neck. His chest felt tight. It was hard to breathe. Cold sweat had broken out all over his body.

  He could hardly control his shaking hands as he held the kettle under the tap. He didn't know what to do. He was terrified. He paced up and down the small kitchen while he waited for the water to boil. Any minute now Symington would be screaming his name when he found what lay under his desk. 'Shit, shit, shit'

  Alice came in to hang up her coat after lunch. 'You OK, Kev?' The kettle clicked off. 'You don't look too good. He giving you a hard time again?'

  Kevin made Symington's coffee. 'I'm just a bit tired. Got a lot on my mind.'

  Alice nodded as she left him. 'Know the feeling.'

  He had to stop panicking, and work out how to get the compact back before Symington spotted it.

  Symington was on the far side of his office when Kevin went in with the coffee. He was delving into his filing cabinet. Kevin went towards him. 'Here you are, Mr Symington. I hope it's strong enough for you – whoa!' He tripped over the bin again.

  The coffee splashed down the back of the bank manager's jacket. 'You damned fool! What's wrong with you?' Symington tore it off as Kevin dropped to his knees to pick up the mug, which had rolled across the floor. 'I'm so sorry – I didn't see the bin again. So sorry Mr Symington. Are you OK? I'll pay for the cleaning.'

  'You should open an account at the dry-cleaners.'

  Kevin reached over to the box of tissues on Symington's desk and pulled out a wad. 'Here, let me help you.'

  Symington snatched it fro
m him, and started to dab at his jacket. Kevin grabbed another handful of tissues and began to mop the carpet, the desktop and drawers. 'I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. I'll clear it all up for you.'

  'Get out of my sight. Send Alice in. She'll make a better job of it.'

  'Yes, sir.' Kevin stuffed the tissues into his pocket and left the room.

  Gary and Alice had heard the whole thing. Alice smiled at Kevin as he mouthed, 'Sorry.' She went into Symington's office. Gary swivelled on his stool at the counter and gave Kevin a thumbs-up. Kevin shrugged and went back into his office.

  He closed the door and leaned against it. Then he allowed himself a slight smile. It had worked. He took the tissues out of his pocket, then put his hand back in and pulled out the compact. Separating the bunch of keys from the compact and putting them back into the desk drawer had been a nightmare. Maybe it was because his hands were trembling so much. He opened it and saw a perfect print of the key. His smile became broader. This was it. He'd copied the safe key. He was going to rob the bank!

  That evening was much like the last one. Linda tried to talk to him, but Kevin was barely speaking. He had told her he had to stay up late again as he had more to do on the computer.

  'Don't be too long,' she said, as she went up to bed.

  When she'd gone, Kevin turned on the oven and placed the closed compact on the top shelf. It would take forty minutes for the clay to harden. Meanwhile he opened the tin of wood-filler he had also bought at B&Q and turned on the hob. He had a bit of cooking to do. He heated the filler until it became a brown liquid.

  When the clay had hardened, he poured it into the print of the key. His website had told him it would harden overnight. He slipped it into his briefcase and washed up.

  In bed, he couldn't sleep. He felt scared, excited too.

  Linda's eyes were closed, but she was awake. She wasn't excited. She was just scared.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Thursday, 9 February, 12.27 p.m.

  KEVIN WAS AT HIS desk. His door was closed and he was almost whispering into his mobile. 'But you said it would be here today.'

  The Dutch woman at the end of the line was calm. She was used to anxious customers. 'But today isn't over yet, sir. I'll keep checking for your delivery time. If you give me your mobile number, I'll text you with the details.' Kevin gave it to her, then closed his phone.

  It hadn't been a good morning. He took a deep breath and stood up, ready to go to lunch. Keep calm, Kev. He picked up his briefcase and made for the door. You've still got stuff to do.

  With a prawn sandwich in one hand and the brown, now hardened, copy of the safe key in the other, he handed it to Greg at the heel bar.

  'Thanks for the overdraft, Mr Dodds. It's been pretty quiet for this time of year. I'm hoping things will pick up, come spring.'

  'No problem, Greg. It'll get busy. I'm sure of it.'

  Greg looked at the strange brown shape, then put it into the clamp of the cutting machine. 'It's from an old safe key, isn't it?'

  Kevin munched his sandwich, more out of fear than hunger. 'It's my mother-in-law's. She lost the key but for some reason she had this copy stashed away. Why she didn't just get a proper spare cut in the first place, I don't know.' Kevin was flapping. He took another bite of sandwich to keep himself quiet and checked his mobile for texts. He knew he hadn't got one because the phone would have bleeped, but he couldn't stop himself.

  Greg finished cutting the key and handed it to him with the copy. 'I thought for a minute you might be planning to rob your own bank!'

  'How did you guess? It was meant to be a secret. How much?'

  'On the house, Mr Dodds. And thanks again.'

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DURING THE REST OF the afternoon Kevin found it impossible to work. He checked his watch. 4.06 p.m. Holland was an hour ahead and he still hadn't had a text. He called again and the same woman answered. 'Look, I just need to know if it's here. Can I collect it yet?'

  'As I've already explained, sir, I'm trying to find out where it is in the delivery chain. As soon as I know, I will text you.'

  Kevin and Linda didn't have much to say to each other all evening. They still lay together on the settee, but Linda was only half watching the TV, and Kevin kept checking his mobile for texts.

  Then it happened! Four bleeps blasted out from Kevin's mobile. He nearly kicked Linda off the settee as he got up. The Dutch kit was on its way and could be picked up from the courier's depot any time after eleven tomorrow morning. He would fetch it during the lunch hour.

  'Who's the text from, Kev?' Linda was watching him as he put the phone on the mantelpiece and headed for the kitchen.

  'Er, just someone about Saturday night. You'll have to wait, remember? Want some tea?' He left the room.

  Linda sat on the settee and stared at his mobile. She had never read any of his texts or emails before, but now she walked over and picked up the phone. Nothing. He had deleted it.

  The rest of the evening carried on as before until they both went up to bed and fell asleep. Well, Kevin pretended he was asleep. In fact, he was going over his plan. Tonight he felt no excitement, just pure fear. He thought about all the heroes he had seen on-screen and tried to work out if they had been scared. He felt better when he remembered that many of them had. He cuddled into Linda and waited for the hours to pass.

  Linda felt him behind her but kept her eyes closed. She couldn't sleep either. Had that text been from another woman? Debs, even? Maybe it was a money problem. They didn't have much, but they got by, didn't they? Or was he in debt? Maybe he was bored with her. She held back the tears. She loved him so much. She wanted to talk to him and find out the truth. But Linda was too frightened to ask.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Friday, 10 February, 8.47 p.m.

  KEVIN CLOSED THE MAIN doors of the bank, opened his briefcase and took out his small yellow B&Q torch. He used the shaft of light to take him through the darkness towards the security door and into his office.

  He had kept his work clothes on for this evening, thinking that if he looked the part it wouldn't seem strange when he went into the bank at night. He had quite fancied wearing black overalls like de Niro did in The Score, but he'd thought they might look a bit odd on the bus home. Besides, he needed his briefcase to carry the contents of the safe-deposit box. An office suit and raincoat were more appropriate.

  It had been easy getting into the bank. He had put his PIN number into the door alarm and left all the other alarms on. It wasn't as if he was going to attack the main vault, or blow his way in through a wall.

  With the torch in his mouth Kevin knelt by his office safe and pulled the copy of Symington's key from his jacket pocket. He could hear shouts and thudding music from the two pubs further along the street. He had never been in this part of town so late at night. It was packed with young guys out for the night and most of them were pissed.

  Slowly he turned the copy key and heard the clunk of the lock as it opened for him. He had done it! All he had to do now was open his own lock. He left the copy key in the safe lock, ready to secure it later. One of the lock picking websites had told Kevin that if a cut works first time, why take it out to maybe not work a second time?

  With the torch in his mouth and dribble trickling down his chin, Kevin fished for the deposit-box guard key. He got up, picked up his briefcase and turned towards the door, lighting up the anniversary card and chocolates that Gary, Alice and Margaret had given him that morning. He had forgotten to take them home. It had been a nightmare trying to act as if today was like any other. Kevin had kept to his office as much as he could. He had been worried his face would give away his secret. He placed the card and chocolates in his briefcase and headed for the stairs.