The Devil's Banker

Chapter 45

The satchel contained fifty packets of one hundred dollar bills still bound by the bank’s pink and white bands. Each packet was worth ten thousand dollars. Five hundred thousand dollars in all. Marc Gabriel set the satchel on his bed and removed the trim bundles, laying them side by side on the naked mattress. He derived a tactile satisfaction from handling the money. He brought a packet to his nose and fanned the bills with his thumb. The notes smelled clean and useful. He shook his head. It was a pity to destroy so much cash.

Once the satchel was empty, Gabriel placed both hands inside it and removed the false bottom. He had a space six inches wide and twenty-two inches long to work with. Carefully, he laid five rectangular bricks of Semtex across the bottom. Each brick weighed two hundred and fifty grams. It had taken less than half that amount to bring down Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. The plastic explosive fit neatly, as if it had been measured and manufactured expressly for the task. A wad of tissue paper at either end ensured a snug fit.

Stepping away from the bed, he rolled up his sleeves and made sure to take a breath. He had not come to bomb-making easily. He was not by nature mechanically oriented. His hands were clumsy. His inclination to hurry posed a constant hazard. In truth, explosives made him uncommonly nervous. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Irritated, he wiped it away. Handling Semtex posed no problem at all. The stuff was as safe as modeling clay. You could step on it, drop it, even shoot it without risking its detonation. Attaching a Skoda detonator was another thing entirely, and could pose a very large, very loud, and very messy problem if not done correctly.

Wiping his palms on the seat of his pants, he picked up the detonator and affixed the pressure plate to the false bottom he’d removed earlier. Using a small screwdriver, he calibrated the device to deliver its electrical charge if the weight upon it varied by more than five hundred grams, the equivalent of two bundles of notes. Uncrimping the red and green wires that led from the pressure plate to the det cord, he inserted the slim firing baton into the last slab of Semtex, which he then taped to the false bottom. Finally, he activated the device and replaced the false bottom into the satchel.

Then, one by one, he laid the packets inside the satchel, until the mattress was bare and the satchel nearly full.

When the device was armed, he closed the satchel and left its combination at “000.”

In the bathroom, he wiped his forehead with a washcloth. His shirt was soaked through. He would have to change it.

Just then, the house shuddered, as somewhere below him a piece of furniture collided with a wall. Rushing to the doorway, he sought the satchel. It stood on the bed, rocking slightly.

Gabriel ran down the stairs. He had a thing or two to say to the movers.