James Twining - The Double Eagle

She slowed the cart as it approached the gate and then accelerated hard again as they were waved through. The sentries saluted Sheppard, their arms juddering to a rigid halt at the side of their head, their hands stiff, thumb tucked in, seemingly unfazed by his clothes and the sight of Jennifer at the wheel of the careering golf cart.

Up close, the building was even more formidable. The sheer mass of its granite walls seemed to weigh down on everything around it – a dark, dense, oppressive energy that compressed and squeezed and stifled. Jennifer found herself strangely conscious of the sound of her own breathing, of the sheer effort of moving, as if underwater.

Surveillance cameras, positioned high on the granite walls like glass eyes on white steel stalks, covered every inch of the building’s walls. Twin floodlights perched atop black poles gazed out at the surrounding compound on all four sides. A huge Stars and Stripes snapped in the wind outside the main entrance. The golden seal of the Treasury Department carved into the lintel glinted like a small sun.

‘Stop here,’ Sheppard shouted. Jennifer immediately threw the cart into a tight skid, the tyres biting the tarmac as it slowed to a stop.

‘Wow,’ Sheppard breathed. ‘I think you just set a new record.’

‘It sure is quick.’ She jumped out and tossed the keys over to him. ‘What did you do? Change the gearing?’

‘Trade secret.’ Sheppard smiled. ‘What d’ya think of the handling?’

‘Slight understeer. You want to tighten up the front left suspension.’

‘I’ll do that.’ He winked at her. ‘Come on. Rigby will be waiting and boy does he hate that.’

Turning on his heel, Sheppard disappeared through the Depository’s massive black doorway into the cold marbled darkness of the building.

10:27am

As Sheppard had predicted, the Officer in Charge, Captain Rigby, was standing in the large entrance atrium ready to greet her. He gave her a brief handshake and what looked to Jennifer like a forced smile as Sheppard introduced them.

He was tall, perhaps six foot four, his uniform immaculate, his hair clipped short, his eyes bristling with well-drilled efficiency. From his snatched glances, Jennifer could tell that he was struggling to reconcile Sheppard’s garish golfing outfit with his well-ordered world. She decided to keep it short and businesslike, sensing that anything else would fail to show up on Rigby’s internal radar.

‘Thank you very much for agreeing to see me today, Captain.’

‘That’s quite all right, Agent Browne,’ he said stiffly. ‘We all have a job to do.’ The way his pale eyes narrowed a fraction over his thin nose and high cut cheekbones suggested what he was really thinking. That he thought this was a waste of time. That he didn’t want her or any other federal pains in the asses anywhere near his facility, asking him questions, disrupting his routine, marking his polished floor with their gumshoes. He just wanted her out, ASAP. That suited her just fine.

‘Have you received the instructions from Washington?’

He nodded.

‘Yes, they came through this morning. As requested we have left the items in situ.’

‘Good. Then before we go down, I wonder whether you could answer a couple of questions.’

‘What sort of questions?’ Rigby’s tone was immediately suspicious.

‘Any questions I choose to ask, Captain,’ Jennifer answered firmly.

‘This is a classified installation,’ Rigby countered forcefully. ‘If you think I’m just going to reveal sensitive intel without specific authorisation, then I suggest you get back on your plane, Agent Browne.’

‘And if you think I’m going to leave here without everything I want, I suggest you take another look at your orders, Captain.’ Jennifer’s voice was hard and her eyes flashed defiance. Normally, she would have preferred to use reason rather than raising her voice, but in Rigby’s case she sensed he had been conditioned not to react to anything else. ‘They specify full and unconditional cooperation with the FBI for the duration of our investigation, including disclosing relevant security procedures. If you’ve got a problem with that, then I suggest we step into your office right now and call your and my superiors in Washington. I think we both know what the answer would be.’

There was an awkward silence, punctured only by the rasping of the studs on Sheppard’s golf shoes against the marble floor as he nervously shifted his weight onto his other foot. Rigby had gone a deep shade of red and he seemed to be rolling something around between his thumb and forefinger, the tips of both fingers white from squeezing so hard. Jennifer, lips pressed together, returned his glare until, eventually, he managed a grimace that she assumed approximated to a smile.

‘Very well,’ he conceded, his voice slightly strangled.

‘I have no intention of prying, Captain,’ Jennifer said, adopting a more conciliatory tone now that she had made her point. ‘Just a bit of background about the installation to go into my report. For instance, is this a military or a Federal installation?’

‘Oh,’ Rigby sounded relieved, although there was still an unmistakeably impatient edge to his voice. ‘A bit of both. The buildings are on an army base so they have some responsibility for the security and defence of the facility. But it is run by the US Treasury and staffed by officers from the Mint Police. There are twenty-six of us in all.’

Jennifer frowned.

‘Buildings? I only see one building.’

‘No.’ Rigby shook his head firmly. ‘It’s two buildings. The one that you see around you now is just a single story outer shell built from granite and lined with concrete. But the vault itself is an entirely separate building on two levels built from steel plates, I-beams and cylinders, all encased in reinforced concrete.’

‘So how do you get in?’

‘Through a twenty-ton steel door.’

Jennifer nodded, satisfied.

‘Okay. Then let’s get started.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

He set off, with Jennifer next to him and Sheppard bringing up the rear. She soon saw what he had meant about the two buildings. The atrium led to a corridor running left and right that encircled the vault with offices and storerooms giving off its outer edge. It was a narrow, constricted space and Jennifer recognised the same ruthless anonymity she had witnessed in other Federal installations, the Bureau included. She was glad when they emerged, having turned right and then followed the corridor round until they were on the other side of the building, into another large space.

Here, the large steel shutters that had been set into the outer granite wall and the loading bays and ramps suggested that this was where bullion and supplies were moved in and out. Opposite the shutter, built into the vault wall, was the gleaming steel bulk of the vault door.

‘No single person has the combination to the vault,’ Rigby continued. ‘Instead three separate combinations are required, each held by different members of my team.’

As he spoke he approached a console to the right of the door. Beyond a plate glass window to the side of them that looked onto the atrium, Jennifer saw another two men step towards similar consoles. Ten seconds later there was a series of loud clunks as the restraining bolts retracted. With a steady mechanical drone the massive door began to swing back towards them, steel pistons gleaming and hissing like a steam train.

‘It’s certainly an impressive set-up.’

At these words, Rigby came as close to smiling as she imagined he had ever done in his life and she sensed that their earlier disagreement had temporarily, at least, vanished from his mind.