Hannibal Heyes tilted his black hat to the back of his head and surveyed the building across the street. Slowly folding his arms across his chest he smiled smugly at his partner.
"Told you the key came from a bank."
"It's a bank alright, but it's not like any bank I've ever seen," replied Curry with a dubious shake of his head. "I thought the one in Denver was big, but this..."
Heyes sighed and his brown eyes took on a far-away look as he cast his mind back to Denver and the most satisfying plan of his illustrious safe-cracking career.
The Merchant's Bank of Denver, Colorado, had solid brick walls and thick steel bars at the windows, a fitting combination with which to complement the piéce de rèsistance inside; a Pierce and Hamilton 1878. The P&H '78 was a new fool-proof safe which Heyes had once spent a whole night trying to open by manipulating the tumblers, and failed. Because it was not in his nature to allow a safe to beat him there followed several months of meticulous calculations and careful preparation before he had tried again. This time the plan had been to seal up the seams around the doors with quick-dry putty and then use a Bryant air pump to create a vacuum inside. After that it was simply a matter of introducing a carefully measured amount of nitro glycerine directly into the vault by way of a rubber tube, putting a match to a long fuse, and BOOM! the steel doors of the safe had obligingly swung open.
As far as Heyes was aware, he was the only person to have attempted a bank robbery as complex as that, but he doubted it would remain that way for long. Even before going straight he had begun to find that his sensitive fingers and acute hearing, together with the occasional assistance from jacks or grippers, was failing to get the job done on most new models. There was also no doubt in his mind that many a would-be genius would soon replicate his techniques, and other genuine geniuses like him, would devise schemes of their own with which to outwit a bank's security systems.
Right now, however, the object of Heyes' admiration was not a safe, but the whole of the First Pacific Bank. With its façade of white granite it was three storeys high and occupied the greater part of the city block on which it stood. At one corner of the building four fluted columns marked the grand entrance where a domed roof made of copper sheltered a tiled floor and led up to an impressive pair of strong oak doors. Each of the tall arched windows at street level had at its centre the very same design he had sketched from the key, and now that he could see the etching on the glass it became obvious that in the centre of the elaborate pattern there was indeed a fish.
The area was obviously an affluent one. Adjacent to the bank were more brick-built buildings housing the offices of lawyers and architects and on the opposite side of the street there were several up-market stores. It was against the wall of one of these stores, an expensive ladies and gentlemen's outfitters, that Heyes now leaned.
Obtaining the amnesty offered by the Governor of Wyoming was proving to be more difficult than either of them had first thought, especially when it seemed as if life was continuously testing their resolve by putting obstacles or temptation in their path. Heyes especially missed the thrill of sneaking into a bank under cover of darkness; his sole purpose to gain access to a safe which wasn't supposed to be opened by anyone but the person who knew the combination, then leaving undetected with whatever items of value it happened to contain.
Aware that his partner felt this way, Kid Curry was concerned that Heyes was looking a little too interested in the First Pacific Bank.
"Heyes, you ain't thinkin' of...?"
The retired safe-cracker shook his head. "Nope. Much as I hate to admit it, Kid, I don't think even I would try to break into a bank like that. It's real tempting, but the vault would be the very latest, and figuring out a plan that was fool-proof would take me best part of a year. See those windows? They're probably sealed and they have bars on the inside. You'd attract a lot of attention breaking the glass before you could even begin forcing those bars apart. Trying to bust open those doors would be a waste of time too. No Kid, it would take a full load of dynamite to get into the place plus every member of the Devil's Hole Gang past and present waiting outside to back me up!"
"So, if we're not gonna break in, how we gonna get to the lock box?"
"Yeah, about that..." Heyes glanced uncomfortably at his partner. "I still don't know the box number. There's no number on the key." Anticipating some kind of outburst Heyes winced.
"You're sayin' we walked all this way and you don't even know which box to look for!" complained Curry. "I suppose you're gonna tell me you don't have a plan neither?"
A somewhat helpless shrug in reply prompted an exasperated growl.
"Looks like I was right. You are slippin'."
"We know which bank it belongs to," Heyes replied, indignantly.
"Yeah, and it cost us two dollars and a whole bag of bear signs for that kid to lead us here. And we didn't even stop for lunch," objected Curry.
"Would have taken us a whole lot longer to find it without Tag's help."
Not wishing to aggravate his partner's barely contained temper any further Heyes didn't dare smile, but that didn't stop him from enjoying re-visiting the image of Tag rapidly stuffing one sweet donut after the other into his mouth while a hungry Kid Curry looked on.
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
Finding their way back across the city without young Tag to guide them was not quite as simple as they had first thought it would be. The business district was pretty straightforward; most of the streets were laid out in a grid pattern; it was the less reputable areas that gave them trouble. There were more un-named alleys and dead ends than they remembered, so that by the time they found the right street and the Brass Shack came into view, both men were tired and more than a little jaded.
"Aaw no," groaned the Kid as he spotted a familiar figure walking toward them. "I'm too hungry to deal with him. Llet's cross the street. "
"Too late," murmured Heyes. "He's seen us."
"Good evening, gentlemen! Are you enjoying your vacation?" Sergeant Finney enquired, pleasantly.
As tired as Heyes felt, he once again summoned his best smile. "Very much, thank you. Mighty fine city, San Francisco."
"Mighty fine," echoed Curry.
"You look a little footsore to me," observed the policeman. "Did you not think to take the cable railway to see... whatever it was you were wanting to see?"
"We find you can get a better feel for a place on foot," replied Heyes. "Isn't that right, Thaddeus?"
"Oh yeah, a better feel," Curry parroted, only to receive a frustrated glare from his partner.
Heyes thought it best to change the subject. "Have you had any success with your search for Ashdown's diamonds, Sergeant?"
"Not yet, Mister Smith, but I am following a couple of promising leads," Finney told him. "It won't be long now before I find that carefully chosen place of his."
"I'm sure it won't. Well, our hotel is just along here."
Finney's eyes followed Heyes' pointing finger and smiled. "Ah yes, so it is."
When the policeman didn't step aside to let them pass Heyes pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "C'mon Thaddeus," he said, quickly steering his friend past the policeman. "We don't want to be late for supper."
While they ate another basic but satisfying meal Heyes suggested that, even though he made a decent profit yesterday, it would be a good idea to find a more lucrative poker game tonight; the kind which necessitated his partner's full concentration on watching his back while he played. A few substantial pots would go a long way to funding their stay in the city which, in an idea taking shape at the back of his mind, was about to become considerably more expensive.
Upon finishing his supper, Heyes once again regarded his pocket watch. It was still too early to find the kind of game he needed, and not wishing to partake of too much liquor while they waited, he suggested they retire to their room to bide their time in relative comfort.
Kid Curry lowered himself and his exceedingly replete stomach down onto his bed.
"We're gonna look for another hotel tomorrow," he stated bluntly as he toed off his boots.
"Oh, why?"
"That doggone policeman on our tail is why."
Heyes didn't bother with his boots he just swung his legs up onto the comforter and leaned back onto the pillows, his hands behind his head. "I didn't see him following us today, did you?"
"No, Heyes, I didn't. I was too busy tryin' not to have my pocket picked. But you heard what the man said. He said he was 'following a couple of promisin' leads' and I figure those promisin' leads are us!"
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
"Mornin'!" Hannibal Heyes said with a cheery smile as the hotel clerk emerged from a nearby room in answer to his incessant ringing of the bell on the front desk. "Is there a tailor's shop near here?"
The man pulled up his braces and yawned. "S'ppose ol' Sol's place'd be the closest."
"Old Sol?"
"Cohen and Son, 'bout five blocks west o' here."
"Do you know if they have suits for hire?"
Still half asleep the clerk scratched his head. "Ain't much call fer suits around these parts. But, I don't see why not."
Heyes nodded his thanks. "Much obliged."
Unconcerned about the disgruntled clerk's eyes glaring at the back of his head Heyes took the stairs two at a time, but made sure to stop at the door to their room. The possibility of being greeted by a Colt .45 in the hand of a sleepy gunman required a cautious entry so he knocked twice, rattled the door handle, then knocked again.
As he let himself in Kid Curry took his hand away from the revolver which he had routinely placed on the dresser next to him and reached instead for the cut-throat razor. The lower half of his face was already slathered with shaving soap so he proceeded to slowly drag the sharp blade across his morning stubble.
Heyes flopped down on the nearest bed. "Kid, I've been thinking... you're right, we should move outta this hotel."
Curry paused to stare at his cousin in the mirror. "Well, now you're finally talkin' sense."
Ignoring the sarcastic tone Heyes went on, "We should move to a better district; Nob Hill should do nicely."
There was a loud clatter as the razor struck porcelain. Curry snatched up a towel and with a sharp intake of breath dabbed at the thin trickle of red which was now making its way down his cheek.
"Nob Hill! You pluck some money outta thin air or somethin'?"
Heyes chuckled. "Something like that. I did pretty good at poker last night so I know we can afford it. We need an expensive address to give to the First Pacific; a bank like that is likely to make enquiries."
Curry picked the razor out of the bowl and resumed shaving while Heyes went on. "Ashdown's key must open one of their lock boxes and the only way for us to get access to the vault, the only legal way that is, is to rent one ourselves. What we do after that... well, that may not be quite so legal." Heyes paused for a moment to think, but quickly realized that he should probably not let his partner have the opportunity to start objecting. "Now, in order to be taken seriously we need to look like wealthy gents who want to deposit something of value. So, first we have to get us a couple of smart suits and a room in some swanky hotel, then we go see the bank manager and—"
"How come we both need to go see him?" interrupted Curry.
"Because I need you there to watch my back."
"But if you don't know the box number you won't be doin' anything worth watchin'."
"I might... if the manager tells me the number."
Having wiped the remainder of the shaving soap from his face Curry asked dubiously, "What makes you think he'll do a fool thing like that?"
Although Heyes was reputed to have a 'silver tongue', even he wasn't sure whether he could make the bank manager tell him something like that, but still he said confidently, "Because I'm gonna ask him."
