“I thought your business was making keys, Tommy?”
“It is, within limits. I can’t go into a bank vault and make keys to open every safety deposit box—”
“Only one box.”
Tommy suddenly looked sharply at Trent. “Your box?”
“Don’t be a fool. I’ve got a key for my box.”
“Maybe I’m dumb,” Tommy said slowly, “but this great scheme you’ve been talking about — is it that I go into a bank somewhere, make a key for a certain safety deposit box, which you will then empty?”
“That’s the general idea, Tommy.” Trent beamed again. “And you get five thousand dollars for that little job. Five thousand cold, wet smackers, just for making one little key.” He coughed. “I mean, two keys. You’ll have to make the bank’s key, too.”
Tommy exhaled heavily. “Of all the screwball ideas I’ve ever heard this takes the cake!”
Faraday, who had been holding himself in, exploded. “I told you the idea was no good, Trent!”
“Now, just a minute, fellows,” Trent said grimly. “I never knew a caper yet that didn’t have bugs in it. All right, maybe this one’s got some bugs. Let’s look at it. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the idea; you fellows haven’t. Earl, have you got a safety deposit box?”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to know where it is — or what you keep in it. I just want to know if you’ve got a box.”
“For the sake of argument, say I’ve got one. Why?”
“All right, you’ve got a box. And you’ve got a key for it. Now, exactly what happens when you go to the bank and want to put something into this box — or take it out?”
Faraday shrugged. “Nothing happens. The girl gets her key and unlocks her — the bank’s lock — and I unlock mine. That’s all there’s to it.”
Trent shook his head. “That’s what I meant, Earl; you haven’t given this any thought. Or you, Tommy. I went to my bank this morning. Now, listen carefully.” He reached into his pocket and produced a long, flat key. “Here’s my key. I hold it in my hand and I step up to the safety deposit window. They’ve got a pad of blanks there. I fill one out, the date, the number of my box and my name. The girl takes the slip, looks up a card that’s got my signature on it. She compares my signature and finds it’s okay. So she writes her initials on the slip and puts the thing into one of those stamping machines, that stamps the time of the day. Then she takes out the bank’s key, presses a buzzer that opens a gate that lets me behind the counter. She leads the way into the safety deposit room, takes my key and puts it in the lock of my box — Number 263. She turns the key, then she puts the bank’s key into the other lock, turns that and opens the door. She pulls my box out, part way, takes out the bank’s key and mine and hands my key to me. Then she steps out of the room. I take out my box and go to a table. I fool around with my box and after a minute put it away. I close the door, which locks itself automatically, and I leave the room. The girl nods — she’s kept her eye on the door of the room, all the time I’m in there — on me, too.” He stopped. “Am I right, Earl?”
“I suppose so. I never paid much attention.”
“Well, I did and that’s what happens when you go to open a safety deposit box.”
“I don’t have a safety deposit box,” Tommy Dancer said, “but I’ve opened a few — when people lost their keys.”
“Ah,” said Trent, “now it comes out. You have opened boxes.”
“I’ve drilled them open,” Tommy said bluntly. “People lose their keys and when people lose safety deposit box keys, banks don’t keep those same locks. We drill out the whole tumbler and put in a new one. They charge people $3.00 when they lose their keys, which is just about what we charge them for a new lock.”
“Have you ever done any work for the Highland-Hollywood Bank?”
“No. As a matter of fact, my shop doesn’t do any bank work, at the present time.”
“Do they know you at the Highland-Hollywood Bank?”
“I went in to cash a check once.”
“Did they cash it?”
“It was a government check and I had identification.”
“Government check?”
“Terminal leave pay.”
“You were in the service?”
“I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve got two arms, two legs and two eyes. How could I miss?”
“How long were you in?”
“Four years.”
“For the love of Mike, Trent,” exclaimed Faraday. “Get on with it. Save the personal stuff for Old Home Week.”
Trent ignored Faraday for the moment and concentrated his attention on Tommy. “I’ve told you what goes on in the bank, Tommy. Now you tell me what’s wrong with the scheme — from the viewpoint of a locksmith.”
“There’s a hell of a lot wrong with it. First of all, they wouldn’t let a stranger into their safety deposit box room...”
“Who said anything about a stranger going in? I told you before Faraday showed up that you were to go and rent a box for yourself.”
“What would I put in it?”
“Newspapers, for all anyone cares. The idea’s to get access into the vault — legitimate access. Give you a chance to study the locks.”
Tommy’s eyes suddenly narrowed in thought. “Actually,” he said, slowly, “if I had a key of my own, there wouldn’t have to be much study. Those keys come in sets. I can make the blank from my key.”
“See!” Trent cried, exultantly. “That’s what I mean about taking care of the bugs. You’ve got your blank now, see. All you have to do is smoke it up with a match and—”
“While the girl in the bank is watching me?”
Trent smiled indulgently. “Tommy, you don’t give me credit for anything, do you? I told you, I’ve got a box at this bank. What do you think I’m doing while you’re in the vault?”
“Waiting outside with the getaway car.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no getaway car in this. Uh-uh, while you’re in the vault, I’m out in the bank, filling out a little slip and giving it to the girl. I’m taking my time about it and she’s watching me — not you. It’s a matter of timing. I keep her eyes on me for thirty seconds — maybe more. You’re taking your impressions. Naturally, you’re not doing any filing in there. You do that at home. We don’t pull this job in one trip, you know. The stuff is there all the time, if it takes us a week, or a month.”
“Which reminds me,” Tommy said. “What stuff?”
Trent and Faraday exchanged quick glances, then Trent said softly. “You don’t have to worry about that, Tommy. You get your five grand, hot or cold.”
“Five thousand,” Tommy said quietly, “for doing all the work. What does Faraday do?”
Faraday began to swear, but Trent held up a warning hand. “Faraday gets us the number of the box that we’re after.”
“Oh, it’s one particular box, is it?”
“Do you think we’re crazy? The average safety deposit box is full of insurance policies and locks of hair from Junior’s first haircut. We know what’s in this particular box.”
“What?”
Trent hesitated. “Cash. The long green.”
“How much of it?”
“Enough to give you five g’s.”
Tommy got to his feet. “As Faraday said, there are a million locksmiths...”
Trent said softly: “If you think you can back out of this now, Tommy, guess again.” He rose from his chair, reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and produced a snub-nosed revolver. “You’ve been in the army, Tommy, you’ve seen lots of guns. Big guns. But you know what? This little gun kills people just as dead as a big gun.”
Across the room Earl Faraday grinned cheerfully for the first time since entering Trent’s apartment. “That’s just a sample, sonny boy.”