"What do you mean?"
Russell frowned.
"Didn't Mr. Tommy give you advance notice about us?"
"Mr. Tommy?" A flicker of confusion crossed the guard's face. He then exchanged a glance with the colleague beside him before shaking his head.
"My apologies, sir, but we have no director here by the name of Tommy."
At these words, Russell and Charlotte were both taken aback at the same instant.
"You don't?" Charlotte knit her brows, an ominous premonition welling up in her heart.
She stepped forward, just about to say something, when Russell caught hold of her.
"In that case, let me make a little change," he said with a smile, then picked up the pen, crossed out the original purpose he'd written on the registration form, and wrote a new word in its place.
"I'm here to make a deposit—is that all right?"
"A deposit…" The guard frowned. "Forgive me for being blunt, but did you bring cash?"
"Of course." Russell answered noncommittally, then drew an envelope from his pocket and held it up for display.
Inside was a thick wad of banknotes.
It was the money he'd earned last time selling advance-notice letters on Fleet Street, which he hadn't yet had the chance to deposit.
Since he was coming to Lloyds Bank today anyway, he'd figured he might as well dig this sum out and bring it along too.
A simple matter of convenience.
At the sight of that thick wad of banknotes, the expression on the guard's face visibly softened a few degrees.
He exchanged a glance with his colleague, and in the end stepped aside to clear the way.
"Of course you may, sir. This way, please."
Russell tucked the envelope away, shot Charlotte a meaningful look, and the two of them walked into the bank's main hall, one after the other.
"You actually carry that much cash around on you?" Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at Russell.
"I had to make the trip anyway, so I might as well deposit it." Russell shrugged. "Let Moriarty steal it if he can."
As he spoke, he walked over to the counter where deposits were handled.
On the other side, Charlotte paid Russell no mind, intending instead to go find Tommy and get a clear answer.
"Hello, I'm looking for your director."
Charlotte walked up to one of the counters and held out the credentials in her hand.
The person took one look at the credentials stamped with the seal of Scotland Yard and nodded at once.
"One moment, please, madam."
The receptionist said, then picked up the telephone at hand and dialed a number.
"Mr. George, there's a lady here to see you… No, it's not about business. She says she's a consultant from Scotland Yard… All right, understood."
The receptionist nodded, then hung up the telephone and looked up at Charlotte.
"Mr. George asks that you go up to see him. His office is the first room on the left-hand side of the second floor; there's a nameplate on the door, madam."
"Understood."
Charlotte nodded, then turned and came over to Russell's side.
"Finished?"
"Mm." Russell put away his deposit receipt. "Where to next?"
"To the director's office." Charlotte gestured toward the second floor with her chin, then asked in passing, "When you came last time, what was the name of Lloyds Bank's director?"
"Tommy."
"Tommy what?"
"No idea." Russell shook his head. "What's the matter?"
"I've got a rather bad feeling about this." Charlotte said, then strode off toward the staircase leading up to the second floor.
Seeing this, Russell immediately followed.
The two reached the second floor and quickly found the room with the director's office sign hanging on it.
The office door was left ajar. Charlotte didn't knock; she pushed it open and walked straight in.
Russell followed close behind.
At that moment, a middle-aged man in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit, his hair combed without a single strand out of place, was seated behind a broad desk, dealing with the documents at hand.
Hearing the commotion, he lifted his head, and those gray eyes—carrying a touch of shrewdness and arrogance—swept across Charlotte and Russell.
"So you two are the consultants from Scotland Yard?" he asked, his gaze still resting on the documents in his hands.
"I am Charlotte Holmes, and this is my assistant, Russell Watson." Charlotte said.
George nodded and motioned for the two of them to sit in the chairs across from him.
"Please, have a seat."
Charlotte didn't stand on ceremony; she pulled out a chair and sat down directly, and Russell took the seat beside her as well.
"What brings the two of you here representing Scotland Yard today?"
"We've come because we need to go down to Lloyds Bank's underground storage room, Section A-3—there are a few things that need to be confirmed."
Russell said.
"Inspector Lestrade already gave advance notice."
"Advance notice?" George raised an eyebrow and looked up at Russell. "To whom?"
"The director."
Which director?
"Director Tommy."
At these words, a professional smile appeared on George's face.
"My apologies, both of you, but Lloyds Bank has no director called Tommy.
There is only one director here, and that is me—George Adler."
"That's impossible. When I came last time it was still that fellow called Tommy." Russell said.
"Last night, Lestrade also told me he'd squared things away with that fellow called Tommy." Charlotte chimed in.
"Here is how it is, both of you." George set down the documents in his hands, interlaced his ten fingers, and rested them on the desk as he looked at the two of them.
"Last night, the board of directors impeached and dismissed Mr. Tommy.
So, no matter what agreement he may have made beforehand with Scotland Yard or anyone else, it has now all been rendered void."
"Dismissed—why?"
"Does that even need asking?" George gave a slight smile.
"It was, of course, on account of that appalling robbery the other time."
He said, his tone carrying an undisguised contempt.
"Not only did he fail to spot the forged identity badge and let Moriarty waltz right into the underground storage room, he also failed to discover that there was an inside accomplice among the security team working for the other criminals.
What's more, in the aftermath of the incident, the first thing that came to his mind was not to compensate and apologize to the clients, but rather to collude with the newspapers to conceal the facts, deceive the citizens, and damage this bank's reputation."
He paused, then looked up at the two of them.
"If the two of you were on the board of directors, would you go on letting a man like that serve as director?"
"Moriarty has even broken into Buckingham Palace itself. I don't think it's Mr. Tommy's fault that he couldn't guard against him."
Russell countered.
"Who could ever have anticipated such a thing?"
"This is not a question of anticipating it or not, sir. It is a question of accomplishing it or not."
George said, looking at Russell.
"As the bank's director, ensuring the safety of the clients' property is his foremost duty.
He was derelict in that duty, so bearing the consequences is only to be expected."
Charlotte said nothing; she merely gazed quietly at the man before her, and in those gray-blue eyes not a trace of emotion could be discerned.
"And so," George set down his coffee cup and picked the documents up off the desk again.
"No matter what agreement Inspector Lestrade reached with Tommy, it has now all been rendered void.
Until I have obtained a formal letter of authorization from the board of directors or from a higher authority, I will not permit anyone to enter the underground storage room."
"We have authorization from Scotland Yard." Charlotte finally spoke, her voice calm and unruffled.
"It's of no use, madam."
George said.
"As I just said, unless you have a formal letter of authorization from the board of directors or from a higher authority, it won't work no matter who comes."
"Not even Scotland Yard?" Russell asked.
"A higher authority, sir." George looked at Russell.
"I fully understand and respect Scotland Yard's duty to maintain public order, but Lloyds Bank is no roadside grocer's shop.
Our underground vault carries the absolute trust of tens of thousands of clients—many of them illustrious families who are the very cornerstones of the realm.
This trust is built upon a system that transcends any single individual, even the authorization of a single police station.
Do you have any idea how much effort we have expended to safeguard this trust?
To open that door, what I need to see is a court order signed by a magistrate, setting forth the specific scope of the investigation and its legal basis.
Or else, a special permit countersigned by more than half the members of this bank's board of directors.
What the two of you have brought is plainly neither of those."
He paused, then continued:
"And what's more, even if we step back ten thousand paces and grant that Scotland Yard's authorization were genuinely valid—
how am I to confirm that the authorization in your hands is real?"
"What do you mean—are you doubting us?" Russell knit his brows.
"This is merely reasonable suspicion and conjecture, sir.
After all, didn't Mr. Tommy once suffer a loss in precisely this regard, causing Lloyds Bank to incur enormous damages?"
George looked at Russell and asked, word by deliberate word:
"So, how am I to know that the authorization in your hands isn't a forgery made by Moriarty?"
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