Page 21 of Mission: Possible

Charlie activated the phone and called up the photo. "Here it is," he said as he handed the phone over. I half stood, leaning over to get a better view.

"Walk me through what we're looking at."

"I took this photo when I regained consciousness, just before the police reached me. I'll admit being a little disoriented at first but it's a clear photo. This is inside the vault where the theft occurred. We have one beneath the bank with several hundred deposit boxes."

"Is that common knowledge?" I asked.

"It's notuncommonknowledge," said Charlie. "We don't advertise it on literature at the bank or broadcast it, except on our website and, as you can see, we have several hundred boxes so at least that many people know about it."

I factored in partners, family members, friends and anyone they might have told, which easily ran into thousands more. Charlie was right; anyone could know about the vault's presence.

"What's the layout?" asked Solomon.

"All the boxes line the walls on three sides and they vary in sizes. The biggest box can fit a small suitcase. The smallest is a couple of inches in height. I can show you the plans, although I don't have them with me today. There's a table in an adjacent room where clients can open and close their box. It's equipped with two chairs."

"You said it's adjacent to the vault?" prompted Solomon.

"It's within the vault but not part of the deposit box room. I didn't take a photo of it because nothing happened in there."

"Go on."

"I don't know if this is pertinent. There are dozens of smashed boxes and their contents, as you can see."

"It appears only one section of boxes was targeted."

"Yes."

"Were any boxes missing?"

"Yes. One."

"What size?"

"Four inches tall, ten inches long."

"Who would have any knowledge of what was inside the boxes?"

"Only the owner. I don't even know. We don't ask. Once we transfer the box to the client in the client room, any bank employee discreetly withdraws from the room and waits outside. We don't see anything usually although there are some rare occasions when we do. We only return when the client summons us."

"Is there a list of owners of the boxes?"

Charlie reached for the water, unscrewed the cap, and sipped it thoughtfully. "The bank holds an encrypted file within our network, and there's a secure master list at our headquarters. We don't require identification to access the box; only a key and a fingerprint for those boxes that have that facility. Each box has two keys and we keep the other at the bank inside a safe but it's useless without the client’s fingerprint. The key holder can present their key at any time during banking hours for access."

"Has anyone accessed the list recently?"

"I did last week for the file in our network; someone inquired if any of our larger boxes were available. No one else at this bank branch has the password to access that file."

While Solomon and Charlie were talking, I focused more closely on the photo. The scene was a mess. Open and dented boxes, locks that were separated from their casings, and shards of glass that could have come from the fingerprint scanner Charlie mentioned. Interspersed with the boxes were a wide variety of items; cash in various currencies and denominations, jewelry, paperwork and what looked like a stack of passports held together with a rubber band. Some things fared better than others in the explosion. I wondered how Charlie planned to reunite the items with their owners.

"Could anything illegal be stored in the boxes?" asked Solomon.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Given that I don't know the contents of the boxes, I can't say for sure. I hope not."

"Are any of your clients involved in anything illegal?"

"I can't answer that question either."

"Can't? Or won't?"