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Part 5: COUNTING
A hand placed the coin down, balanced on its edge, and almost carelessly an errant finger flicked it into a lazy spin. As it began to spin faster, and the mobile above it in turn, the Umbrella Man looked around the room.
The lab was in disarray. Sparks leapt from machines, showering the Umbrella Man’s coat; tool racks stood empty, their contents still cooling in the dead embers of the forge; and on the workbench in the far corner, there was a definite lack of something in the specially-made clamps that now stood empty.
The Umbrella Man wore tinted glasses which obscured his eyes, and so his thoughts were indecipherable. But it was perhaps visible in the slight tension of his jaw, a deeper line to the downturn of his lips; he was chasing a desperate man.
A desperate man who did not think. The Umbrella Man had rifled the drawers of the workbench and come up with some documents his quarry had missed. Nothing of vital importance, but then… perhaps it would be enough. He turned to the phone – the criminal had not even tried to disconnect it – and picked it up. He dialled a short number. After a moment of uncertainty, a tinny voice answered.
‘Central. It’s Gore. He’s taken flight. Send a runner, have agents watching the docks and the bank. Detain, do not kill; I need to talk to this one.’
He put the phone down without waiting for an answer, and returned to the doorway. His umbrella rested against the wall and he picked it up.
At the top of the stairs, a dozen guards moved suddenly from “at-ease” to “attention”, backs suddenly straightening as though they hadn’t been leaning against the wall just a moment ago. Gore looked through them all, glasses reflecting the quaint light on this level. Everything was a cosy pink, from the delicate glass lightshades to the flower-embossed walls. Gore moved purposefully through rooms until he reached the living room, where a quiet lady with greying hair was sitting in handcuffs. A guard lieutenant in official dress had a notebook open and was waiting, pen poised.
‘Once again ma’am,’ the lieutenant was saying, ‘we just need to know if he gave you any indication of what he was doing…’
‘I’ve told you, I didn’t know anything!’ the lady wailed. ‘I let out the room to him and I didn’t pay much attention, so long as he kept quiet and paid on time! He was very punctual! And, well at a certain time of life you get to like the idea of having a man your age in the same house, and-’
‘That’s quite enough,’ Gore said. The lieutenant started, almost dropping his pen. Gore’s stare bored into him, even through the glasses. ‘You can release her, lieutenant; she doesn’t have any part in this.’
The lieutenant looked ready to argue; he shook his head and scoffed, but the unyielding stare gave him pause. There were stories of what happened to people the Umbrella Men took a special interest in, and Gore was paying him a lot of attention.
The lieutenant swallowed, and suddenly found his voice to say, ‘sorry to have troubled you, ma’am.’ He fumbled with the handcuff key, and there was the quiet click as the cuffs were removed.
Gore nodded minutely, and then turned away. He strode through the front door and out into the city.
The bank conveyed opulence, even as the queues stretched across the floors and threatened to envelop each other. Imperial red walls with gold filigree detailing, marble-tiled floors which were impeccably polished – except today, when there was no space to polish that was not underfoot – and desks of fine mahogany behind the security glass for the tellers. They were all custom-built to order, with integrated inkwells and secure cash drawers built in.
Medicine Leaf had done well for itself. It was the eponymous town of the pharmaceutical company, and the temperate forests splayed out below survived despite a lack of sunlight – after all, what use for sunlight for those who worked amongst nature?
For Professor Vaunt, who had treasured staying out of the light, the siren-call of Medicine Leaf had been irresistible. A life of work procuring new medicines from forest herbs and pine needles! As a man of science, and a man who saw his destiny as helping the people, there seemed no better place.
‘Professor, do you really need me here?’ his granddaughter asked. Wilde Vaunt, her hair living up to her name as she picked at the sleeves of her jumper and shuffled her feet in her too-big boots. Her eyes darted to and fro, sizing up the people around her, to whom she merited little but a disinterested side-eye. As her hands rose up and she shivered involuntarily, sending a spasm of movement to her wrists, the professor gripped her arms and forced them down to her sides again.
‘I know it’s tough!’ he hissed. ‘But we’ll be just a few more minutes. And I need you here because I need your eye, dear granddaughter. I promise, it won’t be long now.’
‘I don’t like all these people,’ Wilde murmured. ‘Professor Vaunt, I want to get out of here.’
‘So do I, Wilde,’ Professor Vaunt sighed. ‘But this is a pressing business matter. We will be just a few minutes – look, we’re four people away from the front, we won’t be more than ten minutes! Can you wait ten minutes, Wilde?’
‘I think so, grandf- professor,’ Wilde whispered. She lowered her gaze, looking at her shoes, hoping her hair hid her from the people all around her. Even this view was crowded with other people, their smart shoes in contrast with her mud-covered boots. In vain she tried to find anything to counteract her growing panic – any order within the chaos – but she felt the bile begin to rise in her throat…
‘Count with me, Wilde, count with me!’ She felt a sharp presence on her arm; the professor’s hand clutching her tightly. She nodded, waiting patiently for the cue.
‘Now tell me Wilde, how many… tellers?’ Her eyes shot up and she took a glance along the rows.
‘Eight tellers, professor,’ she said. She could feel her chest cooling, the breathing getting easier.
‘Good, very good! Now, how many… columns along the walls of this room?’
She lifted her head and glanced around – even at nineteen she was taller than almost everyone else in the room – and then shrunk back down to say, ‘twenty-eight, professor: six on the back wall, nine on each side, and four on the front wall.’
‘So quick, so smart! If you were born any other time they would’ve paid to educate you!’ Wilde smiled shyly as the professor chuckled, and the line moved forward one.
‘Now tell me,’ he said. ‘How many… security cameras?’
Wilde looked straight ahead, and then glanced from side to side. She turned her head as though scanning for someone, and then ducked back down.
‘I count five, professor: one looking at the tellers, one over the front door, one for the front of the queues, and two looking over the room.’
‘That’s my girl! Keep it up and there’ll be a nice, shiny coin in it for you when we’re out.’
The line shuffled forward two, as one got to the window and the one in front of them decided the wait was no longer worth it. Now that they were close, Wilde could hear some of the conversations with the tellers. They all seemed very similar.
‘Where’s my money?’ the man at the front of their queue demanded. ‘I’ve got a wife and kids to feed, and Medicine Leaf has kept my savings with you! Now I want access, damn it!’
As the teller tried to calm the man, Wilde felt a pull on her sleeve as the professor murmured, ‘one more round in the game, my child. Tell me, how many… guards?’
She looked around. Behind the tellers were two guards that she could make out through the glass. Maybe more, at this angle it was hard to tell. And then – she turned to look around, enjoying the hunt as she tried to discern points of authority through the throng – two by the side doors each, for a total of four. There was one stationed by the queue entrance, or where the queue was supposed to start anyway, today there were too many people so he was trying to corral them into some semblance of order before it, and then there were – the doors opened – there were…
‘Grandfather,’ she whispered, ducking down again. ‘I have a question.’
‘I’ve told you to call me Professor Vaunt! How many guards, girl?’
‘Well that’s the thing. Grand- professor, do Umbrella Men count? They just walked in through the door.’
Professor Vaunt’s claw-like hand gripped so tight Wilde had to fight to stop herself crying out. His breathing had quickened and sweat stood out on his brow. Wilde tried to pull away.
‘Professor, you’re hurting me-’
‘Quiet, girl!’ Vaunt hissed, pulling her close. ‘Stay close, stay still. We mustn’t let them see us yet; another few minutes, can you do that for me?’
Wilde wanted to shake her head. She wanted to pull away and get out. The tightness in her chest was returning and she longed to be somewhere, anywhere, other than this loud, crowded building. The person ahead of them in the queue pushed roughly past a woman at the nearest desk and started yelling at the clerk. Wilde took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded.
‘Good girl, good!’ Vaunt whispered. ‘Just… poke your head up. Can you see the Umbrella Men?’
Wilde stood up straight and scanned the room. The Umbrella Men were striding through the crowd, grasping the shoulders of any likely candidate and looking them up and down. There were a lot of old professors here today, so it was taking some time.
‘Yes, Professor.’
‘How many guards? Including those Umbrella Men.’
‘Nine, including the Umbrella Men, Professor.’
‘The Umbrella Men, are they close?’
‘No Professor, they’re still towards the rear of the queue. They’re looking at people, I don’t know why.’
Two of the security guards had detached themselves from the doors and convened at the teller’s desk in front of them. They were manhandling the angry customer around the edge of the room, trying to get him to the main doors. One of them yelled at the Umbrella Men for some assistance – they ignored him.
‘Nearly there, Wilde – we’re going into the vault, where it’ll be nice and quiet.’
‘Yes, Professor.’
The harried teller straightened his hair, shot an irritated glance towards the man being ejected, and then pressed a button on his desk. The number above his position lit up, and Professor Vaunt strolled forward, Wilde trailing behind. He spoke in casual tones to the teller, thanking him for his service and showing his ID; Wilde wondered why he took his time here when he’d seemed so impatient in line.
‘I need access to box 193, please,’ he said, and the teller nodded and pressed another button. One of the security guards behind the tellers approached, and the teller conveyed the instructions. The guard nodded, then signalled to the Professor and pointed to the end of the row – away from where the man was still loudly protesting his expulsion. The Umbrella Men looking one way, Vaunt took Wilde’s hand and meandered the other.
The guard met them at the end of the row and led them through the door on the left-hand wall, flashing his pass at the security stationed there. This led to a smaller room, where men in cheap suits were talking to the richer clients, assuring them that their money was safe.
‘Your… daughter should stay here, sir,’ the guard said, as they approached another door. There were two guards on this one too. Vaunt shook his head and chuckled.
‘I’m flattered,’ he said. ‘She’s actually my granddaughter! And I must insist she comes with me.’ He gestured to his glasses. ‘Bad eyesight, see? I need her to see the numbers.’
‘I can do that for you,’ the guard insisted, and Vaunt sighed.
‘Must I speak to the manager, son?’ he asked. ‘I trust my granddaughter, and I require her with me. She has my permission to accompany me to the boxes, and I need her assistance.’
The guard gave a sigh that indicated he was not being paid enough to litigate these issues, and he waved his pass at the guards on the door. They opened the doors, and Wilde followed at her grandfather’s heels as they entered the vault.