It was hopeless. He couldn't get film scenes of prison out of his mind and, worse, pictures of life without his Linda. He knew the police would surround the bank and the alarm company would already have called Symington. He started to cry. He wasn't a bank robber. He was a nobody.
His mobile was ringing. He hadn't even remembered to turn it off. He fumbled in his jacket pocket, grabbed at the phone. The display lit up. It was Symington. Could it get any worse?
The phone bleeped again. He still hadn't turned the fucking thing off. He listened to the message. Symington sounded as if he was in a pub. 'Where are you Dodds? I've left a message on your home number. There's been some vandalism at the bank. I'm going there now. Call me as soon as you get this.'
The system had swung into action and Kevin could not stop it. Symington would carry out his checks at the bank with a policeman. He would then report to Head Office. The glass people would arrive to patch up the window with plywood and in the morning they would replace the glass. The police would be outside all night, protecting the bank. It was then that Kevin started to tremble. The copy of the key was still in the safe lock!
The alarm fell silent. That meant Symington was in the bank. Kevin just sat and waited for the moment when his boss and the police would burst in and find him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kevin heard muffled voices upstairs. It wouldn't be long now. He wanted to see Linda, to cuddle her on the settee. Police radios were at the top of the stairs now. He racked his brains for what de Niro and Eastwood would do. For a start they wouldn't cry. And they wouldn't give up. Neither would he. Maybe the key wouldn't be noticed for a while. Maybe Symington would wait for him to turn up before he checked Kevin's office? Maybe. Maybe he had a few more minutes.
He wiped his face, switched on his torch, and quietly locked the door. If he was going to get nicked, he might as well get nicked red-handed. Fuck 'em. Kevin went back to the deposit box, reaching inside, he opened up the black box and quickly put its contents into his briefcase. Making sure he had also put the pick in his briefcase, he closed it before re-locking the deposit box. At least now he was a real bank robber.
Footsteps, more than one person, and the chatter of a police radio were coming down the stairs. Kevin gripped his briefcase and leaned back against the wall behind the door. He turned off the torch and held his breath. A key turned. The door swung open, with Kevin behind it. The light came on. Symington's face was inches away from his but on the other side of the door. 'All OK here. Although I'd like to know where my bloody deputy is.'
Just then Kevin's mobile vibrated in his hand.
The light was switched off and the door was locked again. He heard Symington and his escort go back upstairs.
Kevin looked down at the lit display. It was Linda. Shit! It was nearly ten! He kept his voice low. 'Hello?'
She was in the car. 'Where are you? I called home and I just got—'
'I'm at work. A bench has been thrown through the bank's window. I don't know when I'll get home. There's loads to do and—' Kevin could hear her crying. 'What's wrong? Your mum OK?'
'Fine. I've just dropped her off and I wanted to talk to you. I've been worried and when you didn't answer, well I… It's just I thought you'd left me.' She was sobbing now.
'Linda, stop the car, you'll have a crash.' Kevin forgot where he was and why. 'You parked up yet? Linda?'
There was no reply.
'Linda?'
'I thought you'd left, what with you staying up late online, the text last night, and then you not at home.' She was still sobbing. 'I was so worried. I thought you'd met someone else. You even started wearing hair gel.'
'Linda, it's OK. There isn't anyone else. I'll be home soon. Just calm down and take your time getting back. I'll be with you soon. I just have to finish here. OK?'
'I love you, Kevin.'
'I do too, sweetheart. I'll be home soon.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
He turned off the mobile. He needed time to think. There must a way out of this. There had to be. He couldn't be locked away in prison. He had to get home to his wife. He paced up and down in the darkness. He had to bluff his way out. After all, he did have a reason to be there. He was the deputy manager, and his boss had called him in. Kevin was muttering to himself as if he were getting a football team ready to go out on to the pitch. 'Come on now. Get a grip, Kev. You can do it.'
He took a deep breath, turned on the light and opened the door. As he did so, the noise from upstairs poured into the deposit-box room. He could hear glass smashing as the contractors cleared the glass out of the window frame. He had started to walk upstairs when he spotted a policeman at the top, looking down at him.
'Who are you?' the copper asked.
Kevin was too busy to look the man in the eye. He was checking his watch. 'The deputy manager. You know where the manager is?'
The policeman looked a little confused. 'How long have you been down there?'
Kevin walked past him, still without eye-contact. 'Far too long. Got lots more to do. You seen the manager?'
The policeman pointed towards Symington's office. Kevin walked through the bank, his shoes crunching over the glass on the floor. He went into his own office. The safe was still open. Had Symington seen it?
Kevin closed his office door. He dropped the briefcase on to his chair, then put the guard key back into the safe. He locked the safe and tucked the copy key into his jacket pocket. Then he covered his briefcase with his coat and headed for Symington's office. His boss was on the phone, talking to the Head Office duty manager. A theatre programme for Lady Windermere's Fan lay on his desk next to his overcoat. There was a photo of Jessica Drake on the front cover.
'He's here at last! Lucky I got in pretty quickly.'
Symington turned to Kevin. He liked to bollock him while Head Office was listening. 'I'm supposed to be able to contact you all the time, Dodds. Why couldn't I? You're supposed to be a professional.'
'Sorry, Mr Symington. I went straight from work to a friend's nearby and didn't get my messages. I didn't hear your call. I'm sorry. I—'
Symington had put up his hand to silence him. 'Let me get on with my work, Kevin, as you should be. Wait in your office for me to carry out a deposit-box key check.' Then Symington spoke into the phone. 'No, I haven't checked the CCTV tapes yet. Just the vault and deposit boxes. I'll look at them now.'
Kevin went into his office, hardly daring to breathe. All he had to do was keep his cool, and he'd soon be able to get out of there. He switched on his mobile, and tried to keep his voice steady. 'Hello, darling. I'm going to be a couple more hours yet, so don't wait up. And I'm really sorry, but I'll probably have to come into work in the morning. Head Office security visit.'
Kevin could hear banging from the next-door office. Symington was going mad. 'Where are those bloody tapes!'
Even Linda could hear him. 'I understand. Who was that, Kevin?'
'Just Symington doing the usual. I'll see you soon, darling. I can't wait for tomorrow night.'
He switched off the phone. If he'd had one of Clint's cigars right then, he would have lit it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kevin parked the car, then he and Linda crossed the road to Marco's. Linda was still questioning him about last night. Kevin had been forced to spend the best part of the afternoon at the bank, talking to Head Office and filling in forms. 'Will Symington really get the sack for not getting videos of those yobs?'
'They'll make him take early retirement. It's funny, but I feel a bit sorry for him. Anyway, he'll get a big fat pension. The bank needs to keep him happy. They won't want their customers to find out that they let the world's worst bank manger look after their money for so long.'