See Part One for story details.
They walked through the bank's elegant corridors and Jenny thought of the front of house at the theatres they had visited during the Wallack case. There was no backstage here though and the plush carpeting and highly polished gold fittings continued as they descended to the lower level and approached the vault.
It looked like nothing more than a large, heavily bolted door. One that already stood open with two burly men in nicely tailored suits standing by. Beyond there was a wall of thick bars with another door set into it. That too was open and further on again, another door, this one set with a huge locking mechanism at its centre. The metal of the round mechanism gleamed and Jenny noticed that the older man who was standing by to open it had pristine white gloves on.
He turned the large mechanism in precise movements and hefted the door open. Jenny watched, fascinated when something of the internal locking mechanism was exposed as the door swung open. She glanced up at Vastra and raised a brow. There was a faint nod in reply and Jenny understood that her companion was as interested in this show of security as she was.
Sir Neville allowed them a few moments to take in the sight before indicating the inner vault with a twitch of his hand.
"I had the thing locked down as soon as I'd inspected the scene. No-one else has been near the vault all day. I've had Phillips telling our clients that we're upgrading the security and that the vault will be open again in," he glance at his pocket watch, "five hours and eleven minutes."
"Then Miss Flint and I should take a look, Sir Neville," Vastra said, "Perhaps you should return to your work, I'm sure your employees will answer any questions we may have."
Sir Neville bristled at being dismissed in such a manner but merely gave a curt nod and walked away. Jenny smiled at Phillips, who stood quietly off to the side, and at the man who had opened the vault door for them. He was pulling off his white gloves and pushing them into his coat pockets.
"You must be Mr Harcourt," she said, offering her hand.
He looked surprised but took it and nodded, "I would be, Miss. Reginald Harcourt, at your service."
"You are most kind, Mr Harcourt," Vastra took his hand in turn, "I am Madame Vastra and this is my associate, Miss Flint. Now, Mr Phillips, shall we?"
Phillips blanched and Harcourt said, "Perhaps I'd best take you inside, Madame. Though I'm not rightly sure I'd like my own wife and daughter to see such a thing. You are sure you're quite prepared for this, Madame?"
"It's not just a burglary then?" Jenny said.
Harcourt gave Phillips a sharp look and the younger man offered a faint shrug in reply. "Well I never, the old -" Harcourt caught whatever he was about to say and took a deep breath before shaking his head, "Most unfair of Sir Neville to ask you to investigate without telling you the facts as they stand, Madame. Most unfair indeed."
"The facts as they stand, Mr Harcourt? There is something more to this matter?"
"Indeed there is, Madame. A fair bit more in fact. You must prepare yourselves for quite a shock, ladies, for I'm afraid it's as nasty a piece of murder as I, or any of my lads, have ever seen."
Jenny looked up to Vastra's covered face and gave a nod in response to the faintest twitch of the veil. She turned to the men and said, "You'd best show us this nasty business then, wouldn't want someone capable of that sort of thing wondering the streets for too long, eh?"
Harcourt still looked doubtful, though there was admiration in his gaze as he considered them for a moment before leading the way through the large, heavily protected door. Inside was a beautifully polished table and all around it, set into the walls, row upon row of locked alcoves. Each had a steel door that bore two keyholes and a number in black metal. One wall had thin doors, barely more than four inches high, but the other two had larger spaces.
One of those spaces, number 136 off to the right as they entered the vault, was open, the little door left swinging on only one hinge, the metal twisted and scarred as if ripped from its place. There was a large steel box on the floor, close to the right side of the table. It looked as though the box had tumbled from the edge of the table as someone rushed to leave. Or in a fight perhaps. Jenny looked down at the corner of the room on that side. There was a body sprawled there, covered with a heavy blanket.
Harcourt stepped aside and allowed the women to take in the vault before they turned to the body and knelt down beside it. Vastra eased the cover up, exposing a man's head. An old man with big, bushy whiskers and unnaturally pale skin. His eyes were still open, wide and staring. Vastra gently eased the man's eyelids down before pulling the blanket back a little more, exposing a neatly starched collar and then his chest.
Jenny gagged despite herself and slapped her hand to her mouth. Vastra made to pull the covering back up but Jenny took her hand from her mouth and stopped the movement.
"No, Madame, I'm fine."
"You are sure, my dear?"
Jenny looked back down at the gaping hole in the man's chest. It was so large that there was barely a chest there at all. But no blood, Jenny noted and she was suddenly intrigued. She leaned in further, looking up to Vastra before studying the wound again. It was less a wound than a hole. No blood, no ragged edge, just the open space where his ribs should be and the petrified remains of his internal organs exposed to the air. Jenny sniffed hesitantly. There was a smell, something sharp that made her nose itch. It wasn't like burning, though, certainly not like burnt flesh.
"It is from the chemical reaction of the weapon and the poor man's flesh."
"No normal weapon that could make a hole like that. No blood either and no burn marks. What on earth is it, Madame?"
"Nothing on Earth, my dear," Vastra whispered.
Jenny stared at her. Was she serious? For once Jenny couldn't quite tell through the lace of the veil. But then, why would Vastra lie about such a thing, why make light of the poor man's death. No, she was serious.
"You mean," Jenny hesitated, trying to find the right words, "you mean like an alien thingy? Not Silurian?" she gasped and regretted it immediately.
"Most certainly not," Vastra's back straightened. They was a long pause and Vastra added, "Well, in fact a Silurian weapon could have made such a wound but, no, not this wound. This crime was committed not by one of my people — we are of this Earth, as I have told you before — but not one of your own either."
"Like an out there alien?"
"Exactly like that, yes. Now, if we may continue?"
Jenny grimaced at the tone and gave a meek nod. Vastra continued to pull the blanket away from the man, exposing his old fashioned but well-kept black trousers and his sparkling leather shoes. There were a few marks or strands of something on the trousers that didn't match the blanket's weave and a deep scratch across the toes of his left shoe but no other wounds. Vastra lay the blanket aside and leaned over his legs.
"Some sort of hair? One might almost say fur," she considered, adding, "I must investigate more closely, my dear."
Jenny stood, looking at Mr Harcourt who waited just inside the vault, watching the women expectantly.
"Well then, Sir, why don't you tell me what you know of the incident while by colleague continues her examination?" The man dragged his gaze away from the body and seemed to shake himself free of the horror of what lay there. Jenny looked around, seeing Phillips standing just outside the vault, "Mr Phillips too. Why don't we step outside, eh?"
Harcourt followed her from the vault and joined an embarrassed looking Phillips. Even having waited outside, the young man still looked pale and nervous. Jenny couldn't blame him; she was feeling quite pale herself. She glanced back into the vault to satisfy herself that neither of the men could see Vastra as she worked.
"Well then," Jenny offered them a reassuring smile, "who exactly is that man?"
Harcourt spoke up, "That'd be — or rather, that was — old Mr Edwards, Miss. He'd been here for years, practically since the place opened."
"His late father was one of the original employees," Phillips elaborated, "Mr Edwards had been working here since he was a boy."
"Bit old to be around at night like that?" Jenny said.
"He insisted," Harcourt said, "He had no family and nothing to go home to. All but lived here this past few years since his wife passed."
Phillips lowered his head respectfully, then added, "He refused to retire, said he'd have nothing to do if he left."
"So what was his job then?"
"He greeted the clients who wanted access to the vault. Lead them down here and used the bank's key to open the box with them."
"Each box has to have two keys?" Jenny asked.
"They do," Mr Harcourt said, "the client has their own and the bank has a second key. Both must be turned together and each turned again to lock the box."
"The same key for all the boxes?"
"Each client key is unique, Miss. The bank's keys are in batches, one key to so many boxes in that set."
"And clients can come in any time they want? Without appointment?"
Phillips said, "The clients using this vault, yes. They simply arrive at the door and are shown through."
"And what happened last night? You must have records of arrivals and such?"
"Oh yes Miss," Harcourt said, "Mr Edwards was very careful about that. And there's the boys too, I always have three men on guard through the night."
Jenny glanced back to the two burly men at the outer door. Too far away to intervene if something happened in the vault but she supposed privacy overrode security in matters like this.
"So what happened to your boys last night, Mr Harcourt?"
The man's cheeks tinged a dark red, though Jenny wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. When he spoke, his tone was grave.
"Knocked out cold, Miss. No idea what happened after the client arrived. Could barely describe the client at all. And the funny thing is, not a sign of a bruise or a mark, no sign of being struck at all. Just, bang, out for the count."
Jenny raised a brow, "Big chaps like them?" she indicated the guards outside the door.
"Bigger, two of them. Mason and Taylor," he added to Phillips.
The young man nodded in agreement and said, "According to Mr Edward's initial records, Mr Parker-Stewart arrived at five minutes after eleven. He requested immediate access to the vault and signed the appropriate papers. I was alerted at a little after two in the morning and contacted Sir Neville immediately."
"So who alerted you?"
"Mason. He had woken only a few minutes before. He sent word with a runner to myself and Mr Harcourt."
Harcourt continued, "I was round here within twenty minutes and found poor Mr Edwards as you found him, excepting the blanket of course. Taylor was still out for the count, though Booth was just about awake again."
"And the box, Mr Harcourt, was it left just as we found it too?"
"I confess, I had a look inside. There were some papers in the bottom still but nothing else."
"And do you know what was in there?"
Phillips looked alarmed, "We do not. Privacy and confidentiality are the bywords at Carter Lawrie."
"So you have no idea what's actually in any of the boxes?" Both men shook their heads. "But you're pretty sure something hefty has been taken?" Harcourt nodded again, though Phillips refused to even acknowledge the question. Jenny stiffled her sigh, "And this Parker-Stewart, who's he then?"
Phillip's face twitched painfully, "We are not at liberty to -"
"If you and Sir Neville want this matter dealt with, without Scotland Yard becoming involved," she added pointedly, "then I'd suggest you answer these questions."
Harcourt waved away whatever Phillips was about to say, "Quite right, Miss. Mr Parker-Stewart is an investor with the bank. An adventurer of some sort, I believe, and an inventor too. His box is a few rows down from the one that was opened."
"So the bank's key would be the same?"
"It would, yes."
"And would he have known that Mr Edwards had already made a note of his arrival?"
"I would have thought so, though I couldn't say for sure. Bit odd that he'd turn up and rob the place, eh? Especially when he could probably buy half the bank himself, should he see fit to do so. But then, how could anyone have fooled Old Edwards so? He had as sharp an eye as a man half his age, I can tell you."
"And the box that was actually opened, who did that belong to?"
"A Mr Kennedy, Miss, a Mr Richard Alastair Kennedy," Harcourt said.
"And he is?"
"Another investor and an industrialist of some sort, from what I can gather. In fact, I believe he had something to do with Mr Parker-Stewart, business-wise that is. Perhaps this is a personal matter of sorts?"
"Perhaps so," Vastra said from the doorway, "We will require the home and business addresses of both men, Mr Phillips. Pray do not protest, we must have this information." Vastra approached the three of them, "Well, then, Mr Harcourt, Mr Phillips, let us be quite clear of our duties. Do you wish for the stolen item or items to be found and returned without further comment or incident? Or does the bank want the culprit bought to justice? I will not tolerate vigilante justice, gentleman, so do not make such a request of Miss Flint and I."
Phillips was obviously startled by the comment but Harcourt nodded in understanding, "Well, Madame, it may not be my place to answer for the bank but I will do so anyway: your first priority is to find whatever is missing from that box and return it to the bank as soon as possible. If it is also possible to apprehend the culprit in a timely and preferrably quiet manner, then please do so. I believe it might be best to leave that to your better judgement, Madame, Miss, as I understand your judgment is quite sound in such matters."
"You are most kind Mr Harcourt. Mr Phillips, our remuneration; the bank is sufficiently able to withstand this shock that I do not need to request payment in advance?"
Jenny and Harcourt shared a smile but Phillips appeared scandalised by the very suggestion.
Jenny took pity on the young man and said, "Ignore her, Mr Phillips, the Madame does like to tease. All we ask is that our fee and expenses be paid in a timely manner upon completion of our task."
He agreed readily and offered to show the women back to the front entrance of the bank. Vastra declined, asking only that he provide them with the required information and that Harcourt take the time to show them the rest of the vault area. Phillips left them and Harcourt talked them through the process of opening and closing the vault, exactly what happened when a client visited and the standard procedures at other times.
"Mr Harcourt," Vastra said as they were lead through the corridors towards the back of the building, "what do you believe is the motivation for this crime?"
"You suspect more than simple theft, Madame?" he said.
"As do you, I believe."
"I do indeed, Madame. Why else use such a weapon? I saw service in the Crimea and in Indian and I thought I'd seen everything, every sort of horror known to man, but I can honestly say I've never seen anything of the sort, Madame. And I do hope you will both take good care of yourselves while investigating this crime, whatever sort of crime it turns out to be."