Chapter 45

   Finding the bank was easy.

   Access was completely another matter.

   Nic had spent all morning going from bank to bank. He first tried all of the most well-known names without any success. Then he had set upon some of the local bank branches, knowing full well that the name-brand banks would not have been chosen if the documents, or whatever it was, he was seeking were as damaging as he imagined them to be. Finally, a bit after noon, he entered Valley Trust, a one-building bank with no other listed branches.

   The inside had a feeling of stiffness, no friendly customer service smiles awaiting him. In fact, Nic felt as though he were an intruder. The inside was an ugly light green, like it had been built in the 1970s. There was no large teller row, simply a set of scattered flat desks all around the room, about half of them occupied by a name plate, yet only two employees. A tall crew-cut guard stood near the door, eyeing everything at once, it seemed. Nic guessed he was an ex-Marine looking for a new war. Why he chose what seemed to be a rather dead business was beyond him.

   He turned to the guard. “Where would I find someone who can help me with a safe deposit box?”

   The man pointed straight ahead. “Mr. Weston can help you.”

   Nic nodded, and went ahead, seeing that the guard was probably not apt to exchange witty banter. He walked up to Weston, a bald man in his mid to late 50s, not quite the soldier the guard was. “Hello.”

   Weston looked up and smiled politely. “Yes?”

   Nic held up the key. “I need to know something about this key.”

   Weston nodded and took it, examining it carefully. He nodded again. “It belongs to us.”

  “You mean it will open a box here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how would one gain access to this box, given that I am not an account-holder here?”

  “This was not given to you from this bank?”

   Nic smiled and gently took it from Weston, sensing a growing sense of ownership from the man. “No, its previous owner let me have it.”

  “How did this come about?”

  “After he died, I was invited to a reading of the will. He gave all his worldly possessions to his sister, and left the key to me, along with his Penthouse collection.”

   Weston scowled. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Me too, he said he’d take the magazines to his grave.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Nic Viernes.”

  “Mr. Viernes, as you can see, this is not a bank most people deposit in.”

  “I see that. How do you survive?”

  “An older clientele, for the most part, and we are very private. Nobody walks in here simply to open a paltry $100 savings account, we will not allow it.”

  “Wow, so much for my 3 $50 savings bonds.”

  “I want that key.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Need I call the police?”

  “Sure. When you do, you’ll eventually discover that the original holder of this key is a posthumous murder suspect who got his come-uppance recently.”

   Weston’s eyes narrowed. “Are you the police?”

  “At one time.”

  “What was the man’s name?”

  “I will give you 2 names. The man who gave this to me was named Roman Wells. The man he got it from was named Oscar DeBartolo, previously christened as Damien Tyler.”

   Weston turned around and opened a file cabinet drawer, looked, closed then opened another drawer, then found a card. “Yes, we have Mr. DeBartolo’s card.”

  “And there’s a match with the key?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he deposit money here, too?”

   Weston scowled again. “That is a confidential matter.”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind, he’s dead, and I don’t think he had a next-of-kin.”

   Weston examined the card. “He deposited no money, simply wanted a box.”

  “So you don’t allow small-time depositors, but you allow for a simple asset-holding in a deposit box?”

  “For a healthy fee.”

  “He won’t be paying any longer.”

  “He won’t,” Weston almost smiled at Nic as if to gloat. “But his next-of-kin keeps up payments.”

   Nic’s eyebrows raised. “Really. Well, the man or woman may want the key back.”

  “Exactly. We will make sure they get it.”

  “How about if I pay my respects personally? I did get justice for the dearly departed, after all.”

   Weston rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands, and looked squarely at Nic. “Is your purpose to find the key’s owner, or look in the box?”

   Nic smiled. “Originally, it was to simply look inside. Now, I also want to meet the key’s new owner.”

  “Very well. First you must get permission from the new owner.”

  “I see. The name?”

  “A Mr. Ted Clayton is the owner.”

   Nic’s smile remained frozen. “Really? And where might I find him?”

  “No address was given.”

  “So even if I gave you the key, you wouldn’t know where to look, right?”

  “We can find people.”

   “So can I.” Nic thought for a moment. He wanted to see the contents inside the box as badly as ever, but for the moment decided that they were safer inside the bank. “I will return once I have Mr. Clayton’s blessing. I will also keep the key.”

  “I would rather that you hand it over.”

  “No. It has come to my attention that what is inside the box could mean trouble for some people. I have heard of Ted Clayton, and none of it is good so far. I think the key is safer with me, and the box is safer with you, for now.”

   Weston snapped at the guard. “Craig, please take the key and escort Mr. Viernes out.”

   Nic pulled out his Glock and aimed it right at Craig. “Don’t get yourself killed over trivial matters, my friend. You look tough, and probably are, but my finger is on the trigger and the safety is off.”

   Craig stood still while Nic backed out toward the door. As he opened it, Nic said, “Tell Teddy I want a meeting on top of the Stratosphere at 5:00 this afternoon.”

   Weston shrugged. No words. Craig stood looking helpless, and slightly humiliated. Nic smiled and left. Once outside, he almost slapped himself. The meeting idea had been rash, but he did put it out there. What happened next, he had no idea.