Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues #11)(50)

“Good call,” Fiske said.

Within seconds, the door opened, and a tall, gray-haired man nodded at them. He, too, seemed fashioned of metal. Silver hair, silver glasses, steel-gray eyes.

“What is it, Bruno?” he asked testily.

The blond man in the glasses gestured at them and shrugged, as if to say he wasn’t responsible for the three crazy Americans in front of him.

“They have a story about a bank heist, like an American film.” He gave a disdainful smile.

“It’s not a story,” Dan said furiously.

Herr Duber frowned. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

It took another few minutes for them to spill out the story to Herr Duber. He immediately called security. He frowned as he listened, then said something in German and replaced the receiver. “There are no armed intruders in the bank.”

Fiske looked at Dan and Amy. “But we heard a siren!” Amy cried.

“We don’t have a siren,” Herr Duber said. “We have a silent alarm.”

“He must have pressed something against the door,” Amy murmured.

“And that flashing red light?” Dan wondered. “He could have stuck it up there and activated it with a remote.”

“Something’s going on,” Fiske said. “I’d think you’d want to get to the bottom of it.”

“I agree, Mr. Cahill. Please come with me,” Herr Duber said.

He led them down the corridor. It opened into another corridor, with no gray carpet, no art on the walls. Herr Duber swiped a card outside the first door to the left and ushered them inside.

Several guards sat glued to banks of monitors, not even turning to greet them.

They waited while Herr Duber spoke briefly to a man in a dark suit, gesturing at them. They felt the man’s hard gaze on them. He turned and spoke to one of the men at the monitors. Then he leaned in, watching carefully.

Fiske, Amy, and Dan walked over. They looked at the grainy gray image of an elevator.

“You see the timer there?” Herr Duber said, pointing. “You said you took the service elevator, the one to the garage? It’s been empty for an hour.”

“That isn’t possible,” Amy murmured.

“What about the security officer?” Fiske asked.

“His shift ended ten minutes ago,” the man in the dark suit said. “He punched out and left.”

“This is Herr Moser, chief of security,” Herr Duber explained.

“The guard tricked us,” Dan said. “And you. Can’t you see? He tampered with the cameras!”

“So you say,” Moser said.

“You have the items in your safe-deposit box, correct?” Herr Duber broke in. “So nothing is missing. We have checked the entire area. We don’t allow surveillance cameras in the viewing room, of course,” he added. “For complete privacy.”

“It doesn’t matter that nothing is missing,” Fiske said. “There was a security breach. If I were you, I’d call the police.”

“But nothing has been stolen.” Moser’s mouth was a thin line. “We prefer to handle this internally.”

“What about the security officer?” Fiske asked.

“I assure you, all employees undergo background checks —”

“Can we see the surveillance tape from outside the safe-deposit area?”

The guard hit a few keys on the computer. They saw the timer running along the bottom of the image. There was the security guard, standing. Standing. Standing.

“That’s Bachmann,” Moser said. “He’s new. Impeccable resume.”

“Yeah, except for the criminal activity part,” Dan said. “Look at the running clock. We were leaving the area less than ten minutes ago and the corridor is empty. This is bogus!”

“This word I don’t know — bogus.” Moser shot him a glance that clearly said he thought he was dealing with The Family Crazypants.

“If I were you,” Dan said, “I’d double-check the backgrounds of every single employee in this bank. This guy Bachmann couldn’t have done this on his own.”

The security chief looked at him, and the mask of politeness slipped. “I am not accustomed to taking advice from little boys.”

Dan was ready to kick him, but Fiske put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude,” he said. “It’s time to start.”

They left the bank by the side entrance and quickly jumped into a taxi. Fiske told the driver to take a scenic ride around the lake.

“They could be tailing us right now,” Amy said with a shiver.

“I don’t think so,” Fiske said. He’d been checking behind them since they’d gotten into the car.

“I say we get the jump on them,” Dan said.

“How?” Amy asked.

Dan reached into the pocket of his parka. He held out a nylon wallet on his palm. “I picked the guard’s pocket before we left the elevator. Just call me Lightfinger Dan.”

“The guy was unconscious,” Amy said.

“Yeah, but my moves were soooo smooth,” Dan said.

They leaned forward expectantly as Dan emptied the wallet, but all it held was a few crumpled Swiss francs and an ID for Maxwell Bachmann.

Dan tossed the ID aside in disappointment. “Definitely a fake. This doesn’t tell us anything.”