The Grey Man

He would open the safe in his office and take the guard key for the deposit box.

He would go down to the basement and open the guard lock on the deposit box and leave the key in place while he picked the client lock and took the contents of the black box.

He'd lock everything up again, then go home so that he was there before Linda got back from bingo at around ten thirty.

There were still two problems to be solved. First, he had to open the office safe without Symington's key. That was where the compact and B&Q came in. Second, he had to pick the client lock, and that was where the Dutch kit would come in. The website had told Kevin it would be with him in two days.

Out of the window, Kevin could see the morning traffic battling into work. It felt good not to be a commuter today — or, at least, not for a while. Right now he was a real bank robber. He felt a rush of excitement. Sitting around him, office workers were reading their papers and listening to their ipods, but he wasn't. He was on his way to buy stuff to make a key just like Symington's.

He reached the stop near B&Q and ran across the car park. Even at that time of the morning it was busy with builders loading up for the day. A quick whiz round the aisles and he'd be done.

Kevin was more than fifteen minutes late for work. He had had to fill the compact with the modelling clay he'd just bought before he got the bus. Then the traffic was bad on the way into the city. Out of breath, he raced into the bank. He had run all the way from the bus stop. His briefcase was full of the stuff he had bought from B&Q and he hid it all in his desk drawers. As he was putting away the clay-filled compact, Symington burst in. This is a place of work, Dodds! You can't just come and go as you please.'

Kevin was standing behind his desk. The drawer was open, crammed with B&Q bags. 'I'm sorry, Mr Symington. The traffic was—'

Symington turned and walked out. 'You have work to do. Get on with it.'

Kevin closed the drawer and left his office to help Gary prepare the counter for the public.

Gary nodded towards Symington's office. 'I see he's in a good mood again.'

'Yeah, nothing changes.' Kevin tried to sound casual, because for him of course, everything had changed.

Symington was sitting at his desk with the Daily Telegraph spread out before him. He didn't look up as Kevin walked behind him to get to the cupboard with the video recorders. He replaced the three tapes and took a deep breath. Then he turned to make his first attempt at getting his hands on his boss's safe key. His mouth was dry.

'If you're busy, Mr Symington, I can open the safe for you.'

Symington closed the paper to reveal a bunch of keys beneath it. The safe key was on the keyring, just inches away from him. Kevin needed it for just a few seconds.

'What did you say?'

'I'll open the safe for you. I'm going back to my office now.'

Symington waved him away with one hand and the other slipped the keys into his desk drawer. 'I'll be along in a minute. You've got your own work to do.'

Kevin worked through the lunch-hour and Gary brought him a sandwich. All morning he'd been waiting for a chance to get to Symington's key. Symington had gone for lunch but must have taken his keys with him. Kevin had checked the man's office after he had left.

Now it was early afternoon. He started to panic. What if he never got them? If he did, what if he was caught making the copy? He was starting to have second thoughts about the whole idea. Planning the job was one thing, but doing it was something else.

Symington came back from lunch and headed for his office. Ten minutes later, Kevin saw him come out and go downstairs to the toilets. Now was his chance. He grabbed the compact from his drawer and walked quickly, but not too quickly, into Symington's office.

The keys were where he'd thought they would be. He took them out of the drawer and, with trembling hands, opened the compact. He pressed the safe key into the clay, exactly in the centre. He squeezed the two halves of the compact together, slowly but firmly, just as the website had said.

'Gary! Your tie is loose.' Symington's voice was getting louder. He was heading for his office. Kevin's hands shook harder. The compact and the keys clattered on to the carpet. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

'Yes, a lovely day, Mrs Wright.' The office door burst open. 'What are you doing in here?'

Kevin stood by the desk and kicked the compact and keys under it. 'I–I — well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being late this morning. It won't happen again.'

'Well, make sure of it. Now leave me to get on with my work. There's a lot to do.'

Kevin went to the door.

'Dodds, get me a coffee, would you?'

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kevin went to make the coffee. He could feel the blood pumping in his neck. His chest felt tight. It was hard to breathe. Cold sweat had broken out all over his body.

He could hardly control his shaking hands as he held the kettle under the tap. He didn't know what to do. He was terrified. He paced up and down the small kitchen while he waited for the water to boil. Any minute now Symington would be screaming his name when he found what lay under his desk. 'Shit, shit, shit'

Alice came in to hang up her coat after lunch. 'You OK, Kev?' The kettle clicked off. 'You don't look too good. He giving you a hard time again?'

Kevin made Symington's coffee. 'I'm just a bit tired. Got a lot on my mind.'

Alice nodded as she left him. 'Know the feeling.'

He had to stop panicking, and work out how to get the compact back before Symington spotted it.

Symington was on the far side of his office when Kevin went in with the coffee. He was delving into his filing cabinet. Kevin went towards him. 'Here you are, Mr Symington. I hope it's strong enough for you — whoa!' He tripped over the bin again.

The coffee splashed down the back of the bank manager's jacket. 'You damned fool! What's wrong with you?' Symington tore it off as Kevin dropped to his knees to pick up the mug, which had rolled across the floor. 'I'm so sorry — I didn't see the bin again. So sorry Mr Symington. Are you OK? I'll pay for the cleaning.'

'You should open an account at the dry-cleaners.'

Kevin reached over to the box of tissues on Symington's desk and pulled out a wad. 'Here, let me help you.'

Symington snatched it from him, and started to dab at his jacket. Kevin grabbed another handful of tissues and began to mop the carpet, the desktop and drawers. 'I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. I'll clear it all up for you.'

'Get out of my sight. Send Alice in. She'll make a better job of it.'

'Yes, sir.' Kevin stuffed the tissues into his pocket and left the room.

Gary and Alice had heard the whole thing. Alice smiled at Kevin as he mouthed, 'Sorry.' She went into Symington's office. Gary swivelled on his stool at the counter and gave Kevin a thumbs-up. Kevin shrugged and went back into his office.

He closed the door and leaned against it. Then he allowed himself a slight smile. It had worked. He took the tissues out of his pocket, then put his hand back in and pulled out the compact. Separating the bunch of keys from the compact and putting them back into the desk drawer had been a nightmare. Maybe it was because his hands were trembling so much. He opened it and saw a perfect print of the key. His smile became broader. This was it. He'd copied the safe key. He was going to rob the bank!

That evening was much like the last one. Linda tried to talk to him, but Kevin was barely speaking. He had told her he had to stay up late again as he had more to do on the computer.

'Don't be too long,' she said, as she went up to bed.

When she'd gone, Kevin turned on the oven and placed the closed compact on the top shelf. It would take