At dawn the next day a dense mist silently rolled in off the ocean. It covered the whole city in a blanket of white, making everything damp, and the air temperature a great deal colder than one would expect for the middle of July. The fog's tendency to swirl about in an unearthly, almost menacing fashion was the thing that Kid Curry disliked most about San Francisco. It unnerved him, making the usually fearless gunslinger feel at a disadvantage. And what made the situation even worse today was the continued absence of his trusty Colt .45.

Unconsciously, his hand strayed to the empty space on his leg where his holster usually hung. Yesterday morning, prior to their visit to the bank, Heyes had declared that the suit-clad businessmen they were purporting to be would not wear worn, cut-down holsters and therefore, if they wanted to give the right impression, they should leave their guns behind in the hotel room. He had also insisted that the same should apply today.

When it came to a job Heyes could be downright pernickety. In fact, so concerned was he about attracting the attention of the security guards at the First Pacific that he had even refused to carry his pocket pistol in case they were searched and refused access to the vault.

Curry didn't usually allow his brown-eyed friend's fussiness to bother him too much, but today's lack of visibility together with the absence of his revolver definitely had him disturbed. He repeatedly checked that Heyes was still walking beside him, as well as taking long anxious looks over his shoulder. Not that he could see anything there anyway. Heck, he could hardly see his hand in front of his face! The fog didn't only make you virtually blind, it also had an uncanny way of muffling every sound, meaning someone could easily sneak up behind them, put a gun to their backs and...

"We're never gonna find our way to the doggone bank in this!"

Hannibal Heyes had been waiting for some kind of outburst. He was amazed it had taken the Kid so long. He had sensed his tension the minute they left the hotel.

"Of course we're gonna find it," he responded calmly. "I'll admit we got off to a bad start, what with getting turned around twice an' all, but we'll come to that clothing store any minute now. The bank is right across the street from there."

"And that's another thing. I ain't thrilled at the idea of risking my neck crossin' that busy street," griped Curry.

Heyes' plan didn't involve taking any more risks than were necessary. It entailed making a quick, early visit to the bank followed by an even swifter departure from the city. Despite the speed of the railroad compared to that of horses, he had still ruled out making this exit by train. Trains could be held up by outlaws (he had a wealth of personal experience in that regard). Even though he had always made sure that the Devil's Hole Gang didn't rob any of the passengers, other gangs routinely did, and once the diamonds were in his possession he intended on keeping them — until he handed them in for the reward, that is. So long as they stayed away from the main roads he felt they would be better off on horseback. Road agents didn't usually frequent the backtrails, and although it would mean traveling at a slower pace, it would be less risky. The one thing he hadn't factored into his plan, however, was the fog. On the plus side, it would keep them hidden should anyone follow them, but the limited visibility would make riding dangerous, especially at a gallop.

After another ten minutes of almost blindly walking along the sidewalk Heyes slapped his friend on the back, making him jump.

"Here's the store," he announced. "So the bank is right over there."

Both men turned to face a building they couldn't see. Then, just as Heyes was about to step off the sidewalk Curry thrust his arm out to stop him.

"What did you do that for? I can't hear horses," Heyes protested.

"I thought I saw somebody."

"Well, I guess it's possible there could be other folk fool enough to come out in this," sighed Heyes, with a touch of sarcasm.

At that very moment the swirling fog obligingly parted, revealing... the other side of the street.

"I don't see anyone."

"Well, I did," insisted Curry. "What if it was Finney?"

Heyes groaned loudly in frustration. "Are you still singing that old song! There hasn't been a sign of him since we moved up town. Anyway, we can hardly see where we're going, so how's he gonna follow us?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'm just a little spooked."

"You could say that," grumbled Heyes. "C'mon Kid. I want to be in and out of that vault before the bank gets busy."

Having not long opened its doors for business the bank was virtually empty, making the inside of the building feel almost as eerie as the street outside. All they could hear as they crossed the marble floor was the sound of their own footsteps; that, and the rustle of banknotes as the line of tellers busily checked and re-checked the cash in their drawers.

Heyes startled one such teller from his counting with a sharp tap on the counter. "We have a number of documents to place in our safe box," he told him. "Please advise whoever has the master key that we wish to access the vault."

"That would be our Assistant Manager. I'll inform him right away."

As soon as the young man had gone Heyes leaned his back against the counter, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm, smell all those lovely greenbacks," he murmured.

"Don't go breathing in too deep, Heyes," Curry warned. "Remember how dizzy you felt faced with all that money back in Porterville."

Less than a minute later a voice pulled Heyes back from his moment of bliss. "Please come with me."

The young teller escorted them to the rear of the banking floor where a tall, middle-aged man in a dark suit, waited beside a large steel door. A heavy-set, shotgun-toting security guard stood next to him.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I am Oren Bennett, Assistant Manager. May I see your signed contract and key, Mister...?"

"Rembacker. Rembacker and Hotchkiss. I must say it's very gratifying to see you have so many security procedures in place," Heyes remarked with a forced smile as he extracted the requested paperwork along with the key from his inside pocket. He eyed the guard uneasily, praying that he was not going to accompany them down to the vault.

Once he was satisfied that everything was in order Bennett unlocked the door and led the way down a steep flight of steps lit by small lamps suspended at regular intervals along one wall. The steps terminated deep underneath the bank at a second metal door. Having unlocked it with a second key he pushed the door open, declaring proudly, "May I present the Pierce and Hamilton 1883 — the very latest vault."

Although relieved that the guard had remained above ground, upon stepping into the vault the two former bank robbers momentarily exchanged a disappointed look. They had always been of the opinion that breaking into an underground vault would be the ultimate heist, but today brought the realization that unless they changed their minds about the amnesty, or the Governor welched on the deal, that particular goal would never be achieved. This was as close as they were going to get.

Bennett strode over to the appropriate section, pulled a steel box from a slot in the wall and placed it on the table in the centre of the room. "Box 711."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you." Heyes mentally shook himself. While he didn't have to pretend to be impressed at the sight of row upon row of numbered metal plates covering all four walls, what he did have to do, however, was stop himself from speculating as to the nature, and the total worth, of the valuables stashed in these boxes. He needed to concentrate on the reason they were there.

"Now Mister Rembacker, if you would kindly insert your key in the top lock and turn it anti-clockwise."

While Heyes did as instructed Bennett pulled a thin chain from his pocket to which was attached a small plain key, and inserted it into the second keyhole. There was a loud click and, as if he had pulled off some feat of magic, he pulled the drawer from its steel container with a flourish.

Contrary to what they had expected, Bennett didn't immediately volunteer to leave, nor did he step away from the table. Surely they wouldn't be expected to conduct their private business in the presence of a bank official?

Still keeping to the plan, Heyes produced a slim document folder from another pocket. He waved it casually. "My associate and I would like a little privacy in which to secure our documents, if you don't mind."

Following Heyes' lead Curry added, "Before we do that, Joshua, I really would like to take another look at paragraph seven. The fate of the Union could depend on—"

"Of course, of course." Heyes cut him off as if he was about to give away a national secret. He nodded sagely. "I quite understand. If we could have a few moments Mister Bennett?"

At first Oren Bennett seemed undecided about this, but eventually he replied, "Of course. I will be at my desk if you need anything. The door above will be closed, for security reasons you understand, but it can be opened quite simply from the inside."

Heyes smiled. "We will be as quick as we can; you can be sure of that."

The very moment they heard Bennett close the heavy door at the top of the stairs the two men sprang into action.

"Find 98," Heyes ordered, closing up their still empty box and locking it with his key. He then removed his right shoe, and having pulled up the insole took out a small fold of fabric containing a variety of lock picks.

"You sure you can open this?" Curry enquired, placing box 98 on the table.

"Sounds like you're losing faith in me, Kid."

"Well, it's not like you do this regular these days. Chances are you're a mite rusty."

"I am not rusty!" declared Heyes, huffily. "Got the padlock off that strongbox on the Brimstone train quick enough, didn't I? Go watch the door, will ya?"

With his blue eyes firmly fixed on the stairs, Curry stood guarding the door while Heyes took Ashdown's key from the inner band of his homburg and placed it in the first lock, smiling to himself when it turned. He had been right about the key number.

Selecting what he deemed to be an appropriate pick he angled it in the master lock and 'jiggled it a bit' (Curry's description of the intricate business of lock-picking, not his). When nothing happened, he changed picks and tried again. Still nothing.

"Dammit," he muttered almost imperceptibly, but Curry's sharp ears heard it. He threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Not rusty, huh?"

"Shut up. You know I've gotta find the right pick."

"Well you'd better get a move on. Bennett could be back any minute."

This time, the retired safe-cracker chose two of his most intricate picks. He inserted them into the lock at the same time but from different angles, listening carefully as he tinkered with the mechanism.

Curry cast another anxious look his way, and was about to insist that they forget it and try another day, when there was the faintest of clicks. Abandoning his post in favour of the sight of their prize, he rushed over to the table.

"Better shade your eyes, Kid," said Heyes, a beaming smile forming between two deep dimples. "'Cause you're about to be dazzled by two million dollars in diamonds."

He pulled the drawer open and both men eagerly stared inside. Their mouths dropped open in astonishment. Ashdown's box was empty.

"What the...?" Heyes gasped, but the sudden sound of the door being unlocked at the top of the stairs brought both men back to their senses.

Heyes grabbed the box and slid it back into its numbered slot while Curry snatched the fold of fabric containing the lock picks from the tabletop. There was barely enough time to stuff it into his pocket before Oren Bennett stepped through the door to the vault.

"You have impeccable timing, sir!" Heyes was desperately trying to calm his racing heart and surreptitiously wriggle his foot back into his shoe at the same time. "We have, this very minute, concluded our business," he added, not untruthfully.

Outside the bank the fog still lingered.

"I mighta known that box'd be empty," Kid Curry grumbled after they had walked for a few blocks in stunned silence. "Like I keep tellin' ya, Heyes, God don't mean for us to be rich."

"Hmmm."

"Well, don't it seem that way to you? 'Cause is sure does to me."

Hannibal Heyes wasn't listening to what his partner was saying. He was having trouble coming to terms with what they had found, or rather not found, in the vault. He had been so certain the diamonds would be there, and the feeling that he had allowed himself to be led on a fool's errand by a dead man was proving hard to swallow. He shook his head in bewilderment.

"I can't understand it, Kid. It was empty! No diamonds. Not one single stone. Not even a tiny chip. And no cash. I-I was so sure they'd be there. I was..." he trailed off, then took a steadying breath before continuing a little more coherently. "Finney's theory sure has a lot more merit to it now; those stones have gotta be in Hong Kong or Australia, or-or... somewhere."

"Somewhere sounds about right to me, Heyes — somewhere else!"

"But Ashdown still had the key. Why? There must be a good reason why he kept it. He was a smart fellow, a jewel thief; he would have considered all the angles. He—"

"He couldha just forgot to give it back," interrupted Curry with his own style of logic.

Heyes stared at him in dismay.