As they came forward, I went to meet them.
The taller of the two peered suspiciously at me.
‘Is it okay?’ he asked. With a feeling of relief, I was sure they thought I was working for Klaus.
‘The operation is off,’ I said, my finger on the gun’s trigger. ‘The boss told me to come out here, and tell you. You can forget it.’
The man looked at his partner,
‘You mean we don’t handle the truck?’
‘That’s it. The operation is off.’
The shorter of the two demanded aggressively, ‘How about the money?’
‘You keep it. There’s no problem.’
For a long moment they stared at me, then looking at each other, they grinned.
‘Boy! That’s good news! You tell the boss any time he wants us, we’re ready, okay?’
‘I’ll tell him.’
I watched them return to their car and drive away.
I spent the next hour, tramping around the farm. I found no newly dug ground. Defeated and crushed, I returned to the living-room of the house. The time now was 07.00.
I dropped into a chair. For some minutes, I submitted to my grief. Glenda was dead! I mourned for her for more than half an hour, recalling those precious moments we had spent together, then I began to accept the inevitable. Now, I asked myself, what was I going to do?
Going on the run with Glenda would have been an exciting challenge to me, but going on the run on my own was a frightening, lonely thought.
Forcing myself not to think of her, I began to consider my own position. Klaus and his three men were trapped in the vault. There was no escape for them, but there was also little chance of escape for me. Once the police swung into action, they would know I was the only possible suspect who could have broken into the safest bank in the world.
Suddenly, I didn’t care anymore. Being a fugitive, being hunted day and night without Glenda to sustain me, was more than I could face. I came to the decision that I had to talk to Brannigan. I must explain everything to him. He was my only hope, but I couldn’t wait until Tuesday when he was expected back at the bank. Sometime tonight, I must alert Manson that men were in the vault, but before doing this, I must talk to Brannigan. I had to find him, and find him fast.
I knew his home telephone number. Forgetting, in my anxiety, that the time was only 07.50, I dialled Brannigan’s number. There was a long delay, then a woman’s sleepy voice demanded, ‘Who is this for God’s sake?’
I had met Brannigan’s wife several times at cocktail parties: a tall, fifty-year-old, clinging to her youth, jet-black tinted hair, lean and madly interested in her health. I recognized her voice.
‘Mrs. Brannigan, excuse me. This is Larry Lucas. I...’
‘Larry Lucas?’ Her voice shot up a notch. ‘Well, for God’s sake! I haven’t seen you in months! How are you, Larry? Wonderful, I’m sure. God! How I wish I could say the same.’ Once Merle Brannigan got talking, it was impossible to stop her. ‘You wicked man! You woke me up! Now, let me tell you something, Larry. I can’t remember when I’ve had a good night’s sleep. You know what I mean? A good night’s sleep. I get pains in my knees, and there’s Farrell snoring his head off, and I lie awake, hour after hour, with pains in my knees every goddamn night. Isn’t that something? I talked to Dr. Schruder, and he says I walk too much. What a thing to say! I scarcely put one foot before I the other. Walk! That’s a four-letter word to me!’ She gave a trilling laugh. ‘What do you think, Larry? Farrell says I’m hysterical. Just imagine that. Hysterical! Last night, right against my will, and I’ll let you know, Larry, I really have a very strong will, but right against my will, I took three of those Valium — is that what you call them? — anyway, three sleeping pills. And what do you know? Those goddamn pills actually kept me awake! They did absolutely nothing for me, and do you know what I did? The pain was terrible, but in sheer desperation, I got right out of bed, and I went on my knees. God! How I suffered, but I did it, and I talked this problem over with God. Do you believe in God, Larry — of course you do! Well, I talked my problem over with God, and then I got back to bed, and for the first time in months, I went right off to sleep, and now you, you wicked man, have woke me up.’
‘Mrs. Brannigan,’ I said, trying to keep from yelling at her, ‘I’m truly sorry about waking you up, but I must contact Mr. Brannigan. It’s a bank emergency.’
‘You want to speak to Farrell?’
I closed my eyes, feeling sweat running down my face.
‘Yes, Mrs. Brannigan.’
‘Did you say it’s an emergency?’
‘Yes, Mrs. Brannigan. I must contact Mr. Brannigan.’
‘It’s Saturday, isn’t it, Larry? It’s not Monday, is it? God! I’m not awake yet. If it’s Monday, I have a date with my hairdresser at nine. Now, isn’t that a terrible time to have to go to a hairdresser? He’s just so busy...’
‘It is Saturday!’ My voice turned into a shout.
‘Larry, dear, please don’t shout. My nerves are all on edge. If it’s Saturday, how can there be a bank emergency? The bank closes on Saturday... at least, I think it does.’
Somehow, I controlled my voice.
‘I must contact Mr. Brannigan. Can you tell me where I can reach him?’
‘He’s off somewhere, playing golf. You know F.B. When he isn’t making money, he’s playing golf. I remember once, when we were talking to Jerry Ford, Farrell said...’
‘Mrs. Brannigan! I am asking for your help! Have you any idea where I can contact Mr. Brannigan?’
‘He never tells me anything.’ Her voice turned sulky. ‘You know, sometimes Farrell is very inconsiderate, but I guess most husbands, after they’ve been married for twenty-five years, get inconsiderate.’
‘So you don’t know where I can contact him?’
‘Well, if it is an emergency — and I can’t imagine what emergency — you could ask his secretary. She knows more about my husband’s movements than I do. Isn’t that terrible? Some chit of a girl knows more...’
‘Thank you, Mrs. Brannigan,’ and I hung up on her.
I picked up the telephone book, and found Lois Sheldon’s home number. A minute later, I was speaking to her.
‘This is Larry, Lois. It is urgent that I contact F.B. Do you know where he is?’
‘How urgent?’ Lois’s voice was brisk.
‘It’s an emergency to do with the bank. I can’t tell you more than that. F.B. would want this to be kept top secret, Lois. I must speak to him!’
‘I’ll see if I can get him. Give me your telephone number. I’ll call you back.’
‘Can’t you give me his telephone number?’
‘No. I’ll call you back.’
I read off the number on the telephone I was using.
‘You are sure this isn’t something that can be handled on Monday?’ Lois said. ‘F.B. will be wild if I disturb him for nothing.’
‘He’ll be even wilder if you don’t. Hurry it, Lois. I’ll wait,’ and I hung up.
It was while I was sitting at the desk, I remembered the incriminating photos of Marsh and myself. I began searching the desk drawers. One of them was locked. I went fast into the kitchen in search of tools. I found a long screw-driver in one of the kitchen closets. Returning to the living-room, I attacked the drawer, and in a few minutes, had it open.
Lying in the drawer, was the envelope containing the copies of the two tapes and my statement to Brannigan. In yet another envelope were the blackmail photographs showing Marsh and myself fighting, and better yet, the negatives.
I had seen a can of gasoline in the kitchen. I fetched it, then putting the two envelopes into the big fireplace, I soaked them in gasoline, then striking a match, set fire to them.
I stood back, watching the blaze.