The word ‘competitors’ had a visibly stimulating effect on Mr. Thomas. As soon as Simon and Warlock, as Messrs. Dubray and Challons, had rested their case, he hastened to assure them that Hermetico had no competitors.
“There’s no other place in the world like this one, gentlemen, as you’ll see for yourselves. Of course we’re delighted for prospective customers to look over the premises.” Thomas reached inside his jacket and produced two red plastic cards the size of ordinary playing cards. “Each of you put one of these in the slot there on the gate control station, then come right in.”
The Saint and Warlock in turn inserted their cards in the thin mouth of the concrete kiosk, which flashed a pair of green eyes and whistled. The whistle, as printed instructions on the device explained, signalled the opening of the pedestrian gate for one person only. Automatic sensing devices would sound an alarm if two or more persons per whistle attempted to enter.
“No human guards?” Warlock asked when he and Simon had joined Thomas on the inner side of the gate. “Ezz eet poh-ssible?”
Warlock was attempting a kind of amateur play-actor’s stage French accent which affected the Saint’s sensitive ear like a chorus of laryngitic parrots singing in Japanese. He was amazed that Mr. Thomas did not immediately cry ‘fake’ and conjure up a troupe of police officers.
“It’s quite possible,” Thomas replied to Warlock’s question, once he had made out the words. “Automated electronic devices can’t be bribed, never sleep, never drink, and can’t make mistakes. We’re a thousand times safer here with our automated security system than we’d ever be surrounded by guards with machine guns. For example, I must warn you immediately not to leave this concrete path that runs from the gate to the building... Not that you’d very likely be tempted to hurdle the fence anyway.”
Thomas was referring to a waist-high barrier of aluminium rails which lined the concrete walk on either side. The walk was like the single bridge crossing the moat between a fortress’s outer defensive walls and its central structure. The moat in Hermetico’s case was a thirty-foot-deep band of grass surrounding the building. The moat of grass was heavily decorated with red-lettered signs shouting Danger! Do Not Leave Paved Lanes! The only paved lane Simon could see in addition to the one on which he was walking seemed to make a circuit of the Hermetico building directly outside the building’s walls. That circular walk, forming the inner limit of the grass moat, was also separated from the grass by a waist-high fence of aluminium rails.
“That must be a very high quality of grass you have,” Simon said, indicating the heavily protected green strip. (His own faked accent was considerably more subtle than Warlock’s.) “I have never seen such zeal for preventing people to walk on the lawn.”
Thomas chuckled as he led them to the building.
“The zeal isn’t to protect the grass,” he said. “It’s to protect the people who might walk on it.”
“Wot ezz hoppen?” said Warlock.
Thomas looked puzzled.
“My associate is not gifted in languages,” the Saint said apologetically. “He means to ask what takes place if one walks on the grass?”
Thomas, smiling slyly, shook his head.
“I’m afraid that has to be our secret,” he said. “If you knew, however, you’d agree already that our vaults are absolutely theft-proof. Come inside, please.”
A small plainly furnished antechamber was the first stop inside the building. There was a second use of red plastic cards, and then Thomas took his guests down a corridor to an elevator. Beside it was a guardroom with a glass observation window on the corridor.
“Lister,” Thomas said to the uniformed man inside, “I’m taking these gentlemen down.”
“Yes, sir,” came Lister’s voice through a grating. “Come in, please.”
Lister unlocked the guardroom door from the inside and Thomas stepped forward to enter it. Warlock started to follow, but Thomas shook his head and pointed to a sign.
“Only I go in here,” he explained. His voice continued to come to them through the grating after he was in the guardroom and the door was locked behind him. “It’s one of our precautions. Once I’m in here, you see, I’m protected from the hall by bullet-proof glass. If by some chance you should have forced yourselves in here and been secretly holding me at gun point — as happens in so many films — you would have been found out by the guard now, since he’s not allowed to release the elevator until I’ve had this chance to prove my freedom... and your innocence.”
A moment later Thomas, joined by two uniformed guards whom he referred to as ‘Duty Key Men’, emerged from the guardroom and took Simon and Warlock down the elevator.
“This is the only shaft,” Thomas explained as they travelled downwards. “All the others have been filled in. This is the only means of getting below — three hundred feet beneath the surface. Now, gentlemen, would you please slip these badges on to your lapels. They’ll prevent alarms from sounding. Without the badges, an intruder would never get four feet without detection. Immediately on leaving the elevator I’ll have to ask you to submit to a search. If you object, all I can do is give you a look through a grille.”
“Oh, no objection,” Simon said quickly. “Your precautions are most impressive.”
Thank you. We’re very proud of them.”
Warlock merely grunted.
“This will be a brief stop, and you’ll soon see the vaults,” said Thomas.
The elevator’s doors slid open, revealing a narrow chamber whose only other exit was a six-foot-high grille of heavy bars.
“Before we can leave here, the search,” Thomas said apologetically.
The two guards carried out the frisking with tact and thoroughness. Messrs. Dubray and Challons accepted the operation with good-natured and innocent calm. Having expected such a search, they had carried nothing with them that could arouse any suspicion — with one significant exception. The Saint, before leaving S.W.O.R.D. headquarters — as he had come to think of Warlock’s house — had written a short note which, if read by Hermetico’s personnel, would not only have aroused suspicion but would have given Warlock’s whole scheme away. The note was concealed under the lining inside Simon’s Homburg. He hoped to find a means of leaving the message behind, in Hermetico, but in such a way that it would not be read until he and Warlock were outside the gates. For Amity’s sake, Simon could not do anything which would result in his and Warlock’s detention. He would have to leave the note, if possible, as he was going out of the building. He was not terribly optimistic, for that matter, that he would find a means of leaving it at all.
“Now,” said Thomas, when the search was completed, “we can have a look at the vaults.”
The two Duty Key Men brought chains from their pockets on which were fastened several elaborately shaped pieces of metal that only distantly resembled orthodox keys. One of the guards inserted his key at the top of the grille while the other inserted his at the bottom.
“Two keys have to be used simultaneously,” Thomas said. “That way, no one man can ever get through a single door.”
The grille swung open and the party went through. To the left was a metal door with a small square of glass in the centre.
“That’s the master security control room,” Thomas explained. “There are sensing devices and alarms all over Hermetico. They’re co-ordinated here. So are the defensive devices. For example, gas can be pumped through the ventilating system, knocking out intruders in a few seconds. The vault itself can be completely flooded.”
“Fantastique,” Warlock said gravely.