Anthony Horowitz - South by South East

Tim had disappeared into the bank. I plunged in after him, off the street and into the white marble banking hall. It was cool inside, out of the summer heat. The marble was like ice and even the potted plants seemed to be shivering in the air-conditioning. My eyes swept past the cashiers, the plush leather furniture, the tinkling chandeliers. I saw Tim just as he walked through a door at the far left corner. That had to be Mrs Meyer’s office. Gritting my teeth, I prepared to follow him. Somehow I had to get him out of there. Already it might be too late.

I’d taken just one step before a hand clamped down on my shoulder and I was twisted round to face the biggest security guard I’d ever seen.

“What do you want then?” he demanded.

“I want to open an account,” I said. It was the first thing to come into my head. He smiled mirthlessly. “Oh yes? I suppose you think this is some sort of piggy-bank?”

“Well they certainly seem to employ a few piggies.”

Five seconds later I found myself back out on the street with a neck that felt as though it had been through a mangle. I wondered if the Canadian security guard had ever worked as a lumberjack. He would have only had to smile at a tree to knock it down.

Maybe it was the sun, but the sweat was beginning to trickle down my neck as I walked round behind the bank. It was on a corner, separated from the pavement by a narrow line of flower-beds. Slowly, I tiptoed through the tulips peering in through the ground floor windows. Fortunately, they were fairly low down and because of the hot weather some of them were partly open. I heard snippets of conversation, the jangle of coins, telephones ringing. At the sixth window I heard Tim’s voice. He was already being interviewed by Louise Meyer.

“Tell me, Mr Diamond,” the manager asked. “Do you have any experience of security?”

“Not exactly security, Lucy,” Tim replied. He paused. “Do you mind if I call you Lucy?”

“I prefer to be more formal.”

“That’s OK, Lucy. You can call me Mr Diamond.”

Another tulip snapped underneath my feet as I shifted closer to the window. I reached up to the window-sill, then pulled myself up and looked through the glass.

I could see Tim sitting right in front of me, facing the window. Louise Meyer was opposite him, behind her desk. She was a tough, no-nonsense businesswoman. She was wearing a dark blue suit cut so sharply she could have opened a letter with her sleeve.

“I don’t have much experience of security, Lucy,” Tim went on. “But I do have the security of experience.”

I looked round the office. It was a big room, dominated by the desk, with a few chairs, a cocktail cabinet, a map of Canada and a heavy filing cabinet. There was a sort of alcove just outside the office, a miniature reception area, and I could make out an old-fashioned iron safe jutting out from the wall. Tim had forgotten to bring his case into the office. He had left it on top of the safe.

“So you’ve never worked in a bank,” Louise Meyer said.

“You could say that,” Tim replied.

“Well — have you?”

“No.”

I waved. Tim was staring right at me but he was so wrapped up in himself that he didn’t notice anything. I thought of tapping on the glass but I didn’t want Meyer to hear. I just wanted Tim out of there and the attache case with him.

“But let’s talk about your bank, Lou,” Tim went on. “Frankly, I’d feel safer leaving my money in a paper bag at a public swimming pool.”

“You would?” Mrs Meyer was astonished.

“You’ve got more holes here than a fishing net. If you ask me, a robber could crack this place in about fifteen seconds flat.”

“You think so?”

“I know it.” Tim slumped into his chair. He was obviously enjoying himself.

I waved harder, jumped up and down and whistled. Tim ignored me. “Have you checked who I am, Lulu?” he asked the manager. “I could be a crook myself.”

“Well…” I saw Mrs Meyer’s hand reaching out for the alarm button under her desk.

“I could have a gun on me right now.”

“Wait a minute, Mr Diamond.” Mrs Meyer was getting nervous and anyone except Tim would have seen it.

“I could have a partner waiting outside…”

“Could you?” Louise Meyer turned in her seat to look out of the window. That was when she saw me. I was frozen with one hand in the air like I was about to punch my way through the glass. I opened my mouth to explain.

“And I could have a bomb,” Tim added.

And that, of course, was when the bomb went off.

I didn’t even realize what had happened at first. There was a flash of red light and the window seemed to curve out towards me. I must have been off-balance from the start because my legs jackknifed under me and I was thrown back onto the flower-bed. This was just as well. A torrent of burning air and jagged glass missed my head by a fraction as half the office was blown out into the street.

Somehow I managed to get back to my feet. I was glad they were still at the end of my legs. I gave myself a quick examination. There was blood on my shirt and it looked like my colour but otherwise I seemed to be in one piece. It was raining. I blinked. The rain was made of paper. I looked closer and realized what was happening. It was raining money, Canadian dollars and English pounds blown out of the manager’s personal safe. As I staggered round to the front door, I snatched a few notes and put them in my pocket. I had a feeling I was going to need them.

Inside, the calm of the bank had been shattered. So had the marble floor. The cashiers were in hysterics, the alarm-bells jangling, the air thick with dust. I couldn’t see the security guard, which was probably just as well.

Then I saw Tim. He had walked back into the main banking hall as if he were in a daze, which, in fact, he probably was. His clothes were in rags, his face was black, and he seemed half-stunned. But like me, he was still in one piece.

Then the security guard staggered towards him. At the same time Louise Meyer appeared in the shattered doorway. Her two-piece suit was now a four-piece suit. Her make-up had been blown off. And she was completely covered in dust. Now, with the security guard only millimetres away from Tim, she shouted out, “Don’t go near him! He’s got a gun!”

“No I haven’t,” Tim protested.

Suddenly I knew there was only one way out of this. “Yes you have!” I shouted.

“Have I?” Tim saw me. And he understood. “Yes I have!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got a gun!”

It worked. The cashiers began screaming again and the security guard backed away. For a moment the way out was clear but already I could hear the first police sirens slicing their way through the London traffic. It was time to go.

“Tim!” I shouted. He saw me and ambled over to the door. “Let’s get out of here!”

We went. Nobody tried to stop us. As far as they were concerned, we were dangerous criminals. I didn’t know where we were going or what we were going to do. I was just glad to be out of there. But as we passed through the front door, Tim stopped and turned round.

“Wait a minute, Nick,” he said. “I still haven’t heard if I’ve got the job.”

A police car turned the corner. I grabbed Tim and ran.

One hour after the bank blast, Tim was a wanted man. Suddenly his picture was in the papers and on TV. Identikit pictures had appeared so fast you’d think the police had had them printed in advance just in case they needed them. Once again we were Public Enemies — but all we’d managed to take from the bank was two hundred dollars and some travellers’ cheques. I changed the dollars and used some of the money to buy Tim a new shirt. That hardly left enough to get us a room for the night.