by Stan Mason
‘But it’ll all take time,’ she responded sharply. ‘A long time!’
‘You’re not going to win this one, Diane!’
‘I don’t mind losing the battles as long as I win the war. I’ll be in touch... darling!’
He almost breathed fire as he replaced the receiver and looked at Betty Brewer. ‘The woman’s a vixen!’ he snarled angrily. ‘You wouldn’t believe how different she was when I married her. Was I really responsible for changing her that much?’
The telephone rang again before his secretary could reply. ‘It’s Mr. Grover, the Industrial Relations Manager,’ she told him, still dwelling on the last telephone conversation.
‘Rigby!’ snarled the voice at the other end of the line. ‘Are you the man who told me to go to Hell yesterday when I ran about an impending strike.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well don’t you dare talk to me like that again.’ continued the man.
‘Clement Davies had just collapsed and passed away. Your call was very ill-timed. What can I do for you?’
At eleven o’clock, Betty Brewer placed a cup of tea on the desk in front of him and present him with a single digestive biscuit. He chewed it woodenly and sipped the liquid slowly, still sensing a kind of numbness which had persisted since the removal man had entered his old office earlier in the day. Everything was happening so quickly that it seemed unreal and he found it difficult to adjust to events in such a short space of time.
‘Well we seem to have coped for an hour,’ he ventured. ‘I know we’ve a pair of young nitwits to deal with... the two in a marital pickle... and there’s the possibility of a bank strike over pay, but everything else seems fairly quiet.’
‘You probably read more into the job than it really is,’ she replied with optimism.
‘You’re probably right,’ he reflected, beginning to cheer up a little. The telephone rang and Rigby watched his secretary’s face as she answered the call. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, as her eyes widened like saucers.
‘It’s the Security Office,’ she informed him, her face turning a whiter shade of pale. ‘A man is being interviewed by the Manager at Croydon branch. He’s in there with him now.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘There’s a holdall on the man’s lap. He says there’s a bomb in it and its connected to his body. He wants all the money in the safe or he’ll blow the branch sky-high with everyone in it. They want to know what we can do about it.’
‘Oh boy!’ uttered the Rigby trying to keep a cool head. ‘Oh boy! What have you done to me, Clement? And I’ve got three months ahead of me. I must have been crazy to make that deal with MacDonald! All right, Betty. Put the call through on line one. Make certain the Croydon branch is on line two. Get the police chief of the Metropolitan Police Force or any other police force on line three. And get MacDonald on line four.’
‘But there isn’t a line four,’ she told him casually.
‘Betty!’ he cried, attempting to take full command of the situation. ‘We’re here to solve problems not to make them. Get someone to fix up another line!’ He lifted the receiver, his heart pounding like a steam hammer. ‘Who’s speaking?’ he demanded.
‘Corby, Security Office.’
‘All right, Corby,’ he began. ‘What’s all this about Croydon branch? Let me have it slow and clear.’
After the man had related his story, Rigby replaced the receiver and looked up at the ceiling as if penetrating it to reach to Heaven. ‘Clement!’ he called out, waving his fist at the invisible ghost of his predecessor. Then, as if in agony, he shouted with full stentorian voice that reverberated his frustration throughout the office. ‘Clement!’
Chapter Two
The Imperial Bank was an enormous organisation. It had the distinction of ranking as the second largest bank in the country and was listed as number eleven in the world banking league. Established in the early part of the nineteenth century, it now controlled over three thousand branches at home and abroad, as well as subsidiary companies which swelled its numbers considerably worldwide. Throughout the decades, officer had been set up in most of the major countries. For example, the Eurobank in New York was an operation which included branches in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Nassau, the Cayman Islands and Bermuda while international development in Australia and the Pacific Basin included branches in Singapore, Hong Kong, Jakarta and Karachi. Additionally, comprehensive banking services were provided in South America, Africa and in the Middle and Far Eastern countries.
Over the past twenty years, the development of the bank had been substantial. Progress had taken the organisation into many new areas such as merchant banking, leasing, factoring, insurance broking, instalment finance, project financing, oil, aerospace, and, most importantly, into computer and Internet services. It had acquainted itself with the technology currently in use in a wide variety of fields to maintain its place in the banking league at the same time increasing its market share in the face of fierce competition. Imperial had become quite a bank! However Rigby had little inclination to ponder the grandeur of the organisation or to contemplate the power it could muster financially or politically on a national or international scale.
‘I’ve managed to contact Croydon branch,’ his secretary told him, trying to hide the element of concern in her voice.
Rigby glanced at her eyes, sensing her tenseness. ‘You mustn’t take these problems to heart, Betty,’ he advised sagely. ‘Try to be dispassionate. This is part of our lives now and we have to deal with problems in the same way we did when we tackled lending applications.’ He raised the receiver to his ear with a smooth movement of his arm. ‘Rigby here!’ he barked down the line. ‘Who am I speaking to?’
‘Carlisle, sir. Tom Carlisle. I’m the Assistant Manager at Croydon branch.’ There was no doubt from the tone of the man’s voice that he was frightened. ‘We need help here, sir... urgently!’
‘Keep cool, Carlisle. Just keep cool! Tell me exactly what’s going on there.’
The Assistant Manager rattled off two sentences at tremendous speed in an effort t to communicate quickly but he was soon stopped in his tracks.
‘Hold it! Hold it, Carlisle!’ the senior executive shouted down the line. ‘You’re babbling! I can’t make head or tail of what you’re saying! Slow down! Take your time and let me know the whole story!’
There was a pause at the other end of the line while the junior man composed himself. ‘The manager arranged to interview a new customer this morning,’ he said more slowly as he took firmer control of his emotions. ‘After Mr. Brown admitted him to his office, the customer claimed he had a bomb in his holdall connected to his body, and demanded all the money from the safe. On Wednesdays, we have over a hundred thousand pounds delivered to provide the wages for a nearby factory. He threatened to blow up the branch and everyone in it if we didn’t comply with his demand.’
Rigby pulled a wry face and paused to allow himself time to think. ‘Did the customer give a name... or anything that might assist me?’
His card showed that he’s Terence Johnson or 36. Liverpool Gardens, Croydon.’
‘Well that’s a start, I suppose.’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve checked the map and there isn’t a Liverpool Gardens in Croydon.’
The senior man puffed out his cheeks and chewed his lower lip unconsciously. ‘What’s happened with the staff, Carlisle? Where are they all at this precise moment?’
‘We didn’t know whether it was a hoax or not,’ went on the Assistant Manger. ‘I decided it was best to act democratically. I put it to the vote. Some of the staff decided to leave and they’re waiting down the road. The rest have stayed behind to clear the backlog of work.’
Rigby felt the hackles rising at the back of his neck as his blood-pressure rose rapidly. ‘Carlisl
e!’ he roared, sending fear into the other man, ‘get those idiots out of the branch now! Do you hear me? I want only one person to remain there for communication purposes... and that’s you! Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ came the subdued tone of the Assistant Manager. ‘What do we do about the money in the safe and the cashier’s tills?’
‘To Hell with all of that! Carlisle... I’m giving you a direct instruction to order the rest of your staff and any customers out of the bank! Do it now and lock the front door so that no one else can get inside! What’s the name of the nearest branch to you?’
‘Croydon South, sir.’
‘Tell all the staff to go to Croydon South branch and wait until they hear from me! Now move them out and report back to me! I’ll hold on!’
There was a short silence before the telephone receiver rattled on the table where Carlisle threw it, and his feeble voice could be heard to issue the instruction in the background.
‘Have you ever heard of such lunacy?’ commented Rigby to his secretary, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘There’s a man sitting less than twenty feet away in an office with a bomb on his lap which he says he’s ready to detonate. The Assistant Manager decides it might be a hoax so he takes a vote on whether the staff should continue working or not. They wanted to stay to clear the backlog he tells me. Have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous in your life? I mean, who in their right mind would want to work in those condition?’
Before she could reply to his question, another telephone rang which she answered immediately. ‘It’s Chief Inspector Church of New Scotland Yard for you,’ she told him with an element of awe. A feeling of uneasiness swept through her. Direct contact with senior policemen was an unnerving experience even though she was totally innocent with nothing to hide.
‘Put him on ‘hold’ for a few moments,’ whispered Rigby, having covered the mouthpiece of his own receiver with the palm of his hand. ‘I have to sort out the branch staff first. Human lives must take priority. After all, with the kind of heroics displayed at Croydon branch who knows what they’ll do next. We have to thank our lucky stars they didn’t rush the Manager’s office. ‘ There was a cackle on the receiver in his hand and he reacted swiftly. ‘Yes, Carlisle!’ he uttered into the mouthpiece, forestalling the opening remark of the other man. ‘Have they all gone?’
‘All except for the Accountant. He’s letting the others out now. I’ll see him off the premises in a moment.’
‘Good man! Now go through it all in detail, from the time Johnson entered the branch until he went into the Manager’s office.’
‘Mr. Brown called him into his office and he rang me on the internal telephone a few minutes later. He told me that the man was demanding all the money in the safe and that he had a bomb in the holdall on his lap which was connected to his body. So I took the prescribed action.’
Rigby felt himself go numb, then the hackles on the back of his neck rose in anticipation of what the man might say next. ‘What was the prescribed action?’ he asked, with his heart in his mouth.
‘I locked the Manager’s door so that the man couldn’t escape and informed you of the situation without delay.’
‘You what?’ shouted Rigby even louder than before as anguish flooded his mind. He found it incredible to believe that any instruction could be issued to endorse such action. ‘Are you telling me that you locked both of them in the office?’
Carlisle was surprised at the offence taken by the senior man. ‘That’s the procedure we decided to take if a situation like this ever emerged. It had the approval of Mr. Brown... so I acted accordingly.’
‘Carlisle... unlock that door at once! Do you hear me?’
‘But it’s Mr. Brown’s instruction,’ bleated the junior man.
‘Can you give me one good reason why that door should be locked?’
‘To prevent the thief from leaving.’
‘Well what you’ve actually done is to terrify a lunatic who will soon realise that you’ve cut off his only chance to escape. What do you think he’ll do when he realises he’s a caged animal. You’ve issued your Manager with a death warrant. So, for God’s sake, unlock that door as fast as you can or the whole place with go up, and you and your Manager with it, when that bomb goes off. ‘
He paused as the Assistant Manager followed his instructions and turned to his secretary. ‘I hope you’re getting the gist of all this,’ he ventured hopefully as if to find an outlet for his despair and someone with whom to share it. It seemed important for her to agree with him so she nodded her assent.
She felt a certain resentment, however, at being pitch forked into urgent matters that scared the living daylights out of her. ‘Don’t forget Chief Inspector Church,’ she reminded him, holding up the receiver of her telephone to attract his attention.
He nodded as though he understood. ‘I’m fast coming to the conclusion,’ he went on, ‘that people are dangerous of their own welfare when it comes to making important decisions. They seem to have a natural lemming instinct. Isn’t that ridiculous?’
Carlisle returned to the telephone at that moment. ‘I’ve unlocked the door,’ he uttered quietly, ‘but I would like your confirmation in writing that you ordered me to do it, if you don’t mind., just to satisfy Mr. Brown. If anything goes wrong... ’
‘Shut up, Carlisle!’ snapped Rigby angrily. ‘If anything goes wrong there won’t be a Mr. Brown! What’s the location of the Manager’s office. For a start, tell me where the window faces.’
‘Onto a side street adjacent to the main road. Lots of people use the street as a short cut.’
‘Very well. I want you to telephone Mr. Brown. Inform him that the door has been unlocked and that Mr. Johnson may leave the branch of his own accord with no involvement by the police or any bank security staff. Do that right away please!’
Rigby rested the receiver on his desk and picked up the next one. ‘Is Scotland Yard on this line?’ he asked quickly. Betty Brewer nodded her head and he placed the instrument to his ear. ‘Rigby of Imperial Bank, Chief Inspector,’ he began. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. There’s a man in the Manager’s office at our Croydon branch with a bomb on his lap. He’s demanding money and threatening to blow up the branch if he doesn’t get it. That’s all we have at present.’
‘Mr. Rigby,’ commented the senior police officer. ‘I couldn’t help hearing your efforts to resolve this matter by your own means. We always appreciate the help of the public at times of crisis however, with due respect, I suggest that we’re fully equipped to deal with such matters. I strongly suggest you let us handle it.’
‘Point taken, Chief Inspector,’ muttered the banker. On the one hand, he was relieved to have professional assistance; on the other, he bridled at the attitude of the senior police officer. ‘However there are a number of things I need to do with regard to branch personnel which are of paramount importance. Are you taking immediate action?’
‘We’re ringing off the branch from a safe distance as we speak and we’re taking steps to evacuate those in ships and offices in close vicinity of your branch.,’
‘The man claims his name is Johnson but he gave a false address,’ ventured Rigby trying to be helpful. ‘Do you know of such a man? Does he have a criminal record?’
‘We’re working on a number of possibilities at the moment, Mr. Rigby. All we ask is that you stand aside and let us control the operation. If there’s anything else that comes to light, please contact me directly.’
The line went dead and the banker stared at the telephone rather dumbfounded. ‘Well,’ he managed to say sarcastically as though still connected, ‘that’s a great help, Chief Inspector! Don’t do this! Don’t do that! We’ll let you know if something happens! Who do you think you are?’ The telephone began to cackle and he turned his attention to it. ‘Yes, Carlisle!’
‘I
’ve spoken to the Managers.’ His voice was trembling. ‘He was very angry that you countermanded his instructions.’
‘He’s got a death wish, has he? Never mind! Did you learn anything else?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Come on, man! Didn’t he say anything to you? What were his actual words?’
‘He said “For Heaven’s sake, I gave clear instructions on this matter. I have a man sitting opposite me with a holdall on his lap and he holding a piece of wire in each hand!” That’s all really.’
‘I hope he can hold his attention for a while,’ returned the senior man thoughtfully. ‘He’s not going to wait indefinitely. Is the window to the Manager’s room frosted?’
‘Yes, sir... half way.’
‘Are there any shops or offices outside that window?’
‘Yes... one that belongs to a Swiss bank.’
‘Carlisle, is it possible for someone to get into the Swiss bank and take a photograph of the man? Bearing in mind that he’s sitting opposite the Manager!’
The Assistant Manager thought the idea through, staring out of the window at the other bank. ‘I suppose so. The angle’s a bit tight but it is possible.’
‘Good man!’ came the enthusiastic response. ‘If there are any developments, ring me immediately. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ came the obedient reply.
‘And Carlisle... I think you’re doing a great job there. I’ll see you come out of this with credit.’
Rigby would have heard the junior manager’s words of gratitude but he had already replaced the receiver to press on with his task. ‘Did Clement Davies’s secretary leave any files?’ he asked his secretary. ‘Have you got in touch with her about them?’
Betty Brewer shook her head sadly. ‘His secretary left the bank three weeks ago. He was using temporary secretaries fromn employment agencies until Personnel Division appointed another one.’
