Tehran Decree (30 page)

‘You’re joking sir.’

No, I’m afraid not, the problem is familiarity, one
becomes bored with the same repetitive procedures human life hands
out, and a change is as good as a tonic, even if it is grossly
dishonest. As a matter of fact it’s probably the dishonesty which
gives the situation its edge.

Also Mrs. Chester has shown us that not only is she a
secretive woman, but she is also capable of anything, and so was
Chester -- not your average police couple.’

‘But why and how would Chester be in league with the
BIB?’

‘Fact is stranger than fiction Jeff. A highly placed
policeman usually has enormous clout with his contemporaries and
the public generally. What most people overlook is the human
factor...such people are just 326

as vulnerable to criminal activity as anyone else.
The man was a closet drug addict and his moral sense was well and
truly burnt-out -- nothing was theoretically beyond his reach. BIB
obviously had some sort of hold over him and I suspect that hold
could very well have been his drug addiction.

If you want to solve a perplexing problem concerning
an individual you should first look at his, or her, Achilles heel,
and there are plenty of choices here, it’s usually drugs, sex,
greed or power. But at the bottom of it all Jeff, is our old
favourite...money, which is what were going to attempt to sort out
next,’

Chapter Fifty-eight

Harry Cutts had been manager of the St. Peters Bank
for the last ten years and had never experienced such a strange
robbery in his life; there was simply no precedence. Initially, he
was most upset when it was suggested that the job must have been
carried out from the inside. The police had searched his home,
accessed his bank account, and every other investment he had, and
minutely examined his telephone records going back several months,
as well as interviewing every staff member in great detail.

Cutts was aware that his large build and huge hands
often intimidated people, and tried to compensate for this by
trying to appear less daunting. Even so, the police saw him as the
usual corrupt male bank employee, they took his finger prints and a
front and side view photo.

Desperate as the police were to make an arrest, they
simply couldn’t find any evidence. It was as Cutts had suspected
all along, they wanted a scapegoat and a bank manager was as good
as any. The same procedure ensued for all of his bank staff and the
slightest sniff of dishonesty brought on even more investigative
procedures. The police finally gave up in frustration when they
finally realised it was a clever inside job involving outside
resources and was beyond their capabilities. It began to take shape
as one of Sydney’s great criminal mysteries and there was no
shortage of such incidents in the metropolitan area.

A special investigator named Commander Roger Jansen
was due any minute for a tour of the beleaguered bank with a
particular emphasise on the under ground storage vault.

Cutts finished his morning coffee as the intercom on
his desk buzzed.

‘Commander Jansen is here sir.’

‘Good, send him straight in.’

Jensen came in and shook hands with the manager who
also shook hands with Dutton. The three men sat around the
manager’s desk -- Cutts managed a pleasant smile.

‘You’re just in time for morning coffee commander,’
Jansen raised his hand and returned the smile.

‘Thank you Mr. Cutts, but we had our fortification a
little earlier,’ Jansen couldn’t help noticing how big a man Cutts
was, he must have been a good six and a half feet in his bear
feet.

‘In that case commander we could proceed to the
underground vault.’

Jansen surreptitiously surveyed the surroundings as
they made there way to the vault, taking particular notice of any
building alterations and recent renovations.

A small lift lead directly to the small room
containing the large steel safe. The lift was intolerably slow and
must have been the first lift installed on completion of the
original building. Its maximum capacity stipulated only six persons
at a time, which prompted a question from Jansen.

‘The lift is very slow Mr. Cutts...is it used for the
regular transmission of money to and from the bank?’

‘Not really commander, the vault is used for longer
term storage of high denomination notes of fifty dollar notes and
upwards; it is only used periodically by the staff. It is a
deposition area prior to distribution to other branches and is one
of a number of storage areas around the Sydney business
district.’

Finally the lift came to a bumpy halt at the basement
room which housed the large safe. Cutts pulled the metal lattice
door open and stood aside to let them pass.

The damage to the safe was immediately obvious as
they entered the room. The handle and opening mechanism were
encrusted with a large black carbon deposit. A significant amount
of explosive had been used to dislodge the door and it was hanging
at a crazy angle of thirty degrees from the normal. Whoever had
carried it out knew exactly what they were doing. Cutts pointed to
the mangled door.

‘As you can see Commnader...they certainly weren’t
amateurs.

‘Apparently not, and that’s rather more worrying,
because this sort of technical expertise makes them safe blowing
professionals,' Jansen continued his discreet monitoring of the
surroundings.

‘It seems odd Mr. Cutts that there is only one entry
point down here. I suppose the police were aware of that,’ Cutts
suddenly looked flustered and he wiped his sweaty hands on his
pocket handkerchief.

‘You can say that again commander...the ruddy police
have turned the place upside down and searched everything within
half a mile of the place. They even searched private dwellings
looking for cellars and hidden cubby holes,’ he sat down in a
plastic chair at the side of the vault and wiped the gathering
perspiration from his forehead. Behind a frustrated grimace he
pointed to the lift.

‘That lift is always locked and I have the only
key...it’s still here in my wallet.’ He produced his wallet and
removed a large brass Yale key.

‘This is the impossible robbery commander.’

‘Well if you’re not involved Mr. Cutts, you could
well be right. However, as all rational people would agree, there
is no such thing as the impossible robbery, or the perfect robbery.
They, whoever they are, have made errors and left clues. It is our
job to find these, and find

them we will,’ said Jansen running his index finger
across the carbon deposit on the safe door and studying its
composition close up.

Chapter Fifty-nine

A tray of tea and biscuits had been brought down to
the vault on the instructions of Mr. Cutts, who still resided on
the only chair in the small room.

During his careful scanning of the of the decor
Jansen noticed the flimsy plastic chair was beginning to sag under
the bank managers great weight. The man was obviously used to
sitting for long periods in his office, and his body now insisted
that he sit down at every opportunity. It had become a battle with
himself with the bodies desires winning most times.

Something else caught Jansen’s eye, he went over to
the chair, took out a tissue from a small pack he always carried,
and scraped off a brown stain from side of the chair.

‘This might just be your answer Mr. Cutts,’ Jansen
rolled over the brown, soil-like grains with his finger.

‘You know...it’s the little things in life which tell
the biggest stories. This sandy soil is the sort of stuff the whole
of Sydney is built on. He looked up at the ceiling of the room,
with its pastel yellow acrylic coating, and then at the adjacent
off-white tiled walls. They formed a mild, unobtrusive contrast,
and helped to lighten what would otherwise have been a very dark
and dingy room.

Jansen finally stared at the bank manager.

‘Is this room reinforced Mr. Cutts?’

‘Not in the impregnable sense...there’s a layer of
crushed stone covered with concrete, both approximately ten
centimetres thick.’

‘Not much protection for a substantial bank vault Mr.
Cutts.’

‘True, but don’t overlook the fact that the whole
exterior of the room is solid earth commander and don’t forget
there is no evidence of a tunnel in this room,’ Jansen wiped the
soil residue from his fingers.

‘I have to disagree with you there Mr. Cutts --
everything points to an external tunnel. This plastic chair has
soil residue on it and was probably used during the robbery.

‘That doesn't mean a thing commander...that mark
could have been there for years.’

‘It seems pretty fresh to me Mr. Cutts, also I have
carefully examined this room visually, and there seems to be no
evidence of a direct break in...except perhaps for that penultimate
row of tiles up there,’ Jansen pointed to the corner of the room
directly above the safe.

‘If you look very carefully you will see that the
tile gap is slightly wider...perhaps only a millimeter or so. And
if you follow the gap around, it continues to form a square
approximately fifty centimeters in length; just about right for
your average man to squeeze through. May I borrow your chair Mr.
Cutts?’ the bank manger grimaced and reluctantly gave up his
chair.

‘Give us a hand will you Jeff,’ Jansen pulled the
chair up to the wall, and with Dutton’s assistance climbed onto
it,’ he took a fifty cent piece from his pocket and started

to tap along the line of tiles. A series of dull
clicks resonated around the room as he worked his way along the
wall. Then suddenly the click became hollow as he moved down to the
next row of tiles.

‘That’s it gentlemen, this part of the wall is
hollow. Do you have a screwdriver or penknife around the place?’
Dutton moved forward and produced a set of keys.

‘I have a miniature penknife on my key ring sir,’ he
passed the key ring over. Jansen inserted the blade between the
tiles, and gently levered them way from the wall, working his way
around the gap. Finally he lifted a square piece of hardboard away
from the wall and handed it to Dutton. The three men studied the
artifact in amazement -- it was a well crafted hardboard square
with tiles stuck to one side. A series of spring clips had been
screwed around the edges with a handle fixed to the middle. It was
clearly a device for accurately blocking off a tunnel from the
opening, so that the robbers could go back down the tunnel from
whence they came, and not be detected. Jansen took a second look at
the tiles and thought for a while, then remembered that two boxes
of tiles were stored under the bench in Chester’s shed.

‘Do you have any overalls here Mr. Cutts.’

‘Not really, but we do have grey house coats for the
cleaning staff commander.’

‘Good...could we borrow a couple?’

Chapter Sixty

Jansen stood on the plastic chair and pulled himself
into the tunnel, he turned around and held is arm out towards
Dutton,

‘Come on Jeff...your turn,’ Dutton grasped Jansen’s
arm and heaved himself into the opening. The bank manager then
passed them two large flashlights kept for emergency during
blackouts. Jansen smiled at the manager.

‘Ring the police if we’re not back in an hour,’ Cutts
smiled back.

‘Right you are commander...and the best of luck!’

Dutton shone his light the length of the tunnel; it
reminded him of a gigantic worm hole, with dangling roots and
cobweb entanglements throughout its length.

Jansen studied the technical aspects and pondered the
age of the rudimentary earthworks. It was round, just like the
modern cutting of a mole tunnel machine, and yet it had the
distinct scars of a hand made edifice. It certainly wasn’t a recent
excavation judging by the grotesque collection of cobwebs, and
miniature lime stone stalagmites. And yet parts of it were of
recent origin seemingly designed to widen the orifice as it
approached the bank vault.

It increased in girth appreciably as the two men
continued along the floor of the tunnel, and they were now able to
stand full height.

There were small dribbles of moisture, and larger
riverlets curving down the side of the dampened earth. Droplets
fell from stalagmites making tiny splashing noises in the shallow
puddles along the ground.

They were the result of occasional heavy Sydney rain
storms percolating through the ashfelt jungle above. The tunnel
began to curve gently, then suddenly turned sharply and continued
for another thirty metres, before branching out into a small round
amphitheatre.

A concrete, breeze-block wall partitioned the
northern end, and Jansen figured it was the main containment
partition to the cross city tunnel. Confirmation came from the
heavy droning noise of traffic emanating from beyond the concrete
wall. In the middle of the edifice was a sheet of hardboard waist
high. It had a tell tale handle screwed to the middle of it. Dutton
grasped the handle and gave it a hard tug.

The board came away revealing a direct opening in the
wall, and the bitumen road surface of what appeared to be an
elaborate underpass. Vehicles raced along creating clouds of carbon
monoxide gas -- it was the cross city tunnel in all its glory.
Jansen looked back at the crude opening they had just struggled
along. This was clearly one tunnel offshoot the irascible Chester
had kept strictly to himself, but to be fair to the man, the whole
information assemblage Chester was privy to would probably corrupt
anybody. And in any case the whole ruddy world seemed to be heading
for total corruption. This would probably be the end case for the
human race -- death by corruption. The more advanced and
complicated life became the more difficult it was to live a normal
life for the average person in the street. Eventually it would
become virtually intolerable for the human race to exist on any
sensible level. The inevitable cliché -- power corrupts and
absolute power corrupts absolutely repeatedly reared its ugly
head.