“Did you get the job?” Angelina asked, always interested in her son’s career.

“Not quite. He liked my new banking expertise so much that he made me manager instead.”

“My son the bank manager!” Angelina said and smiled.

“Then that is something else we can celebrate tonight,” I said just as a phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket, listened, then hung up.

“Anything important?”

He nodded, a little grimly I thought.

“That was the night manager of the bank on the line. It seems that, just a few minutes ago, the bank was robbed.”

“I must get back to the bank,” Bolivar said, starting towards the door.

“I must go with you,” I said, hopping about on one foot while I tried to pull my dress trousers off.

“We must all stop and think first,” Angelina said, most practically. “The bank has been robbed. By this time security men and the police will have sealed off the crime scene. So there is no need for us to rush about in circles flapping our wings.”

Bolivar had his hand on the doorknob-but did not open it. “Good thinking,” he said. He let go of the knob, turned and sat down.

“You are the bright torch of wisdom in the dark night of stupidity,” I said. Sitting down and taking off my shoes; which made the process of removing my trousers that much easier. “While I change out of my show clothes, perhaps Bolivar would be kind enough to book us a room at the nearest and most elegant hotel, with transportation provided therewith. We came here too late to do it ourselves.”

“Good as done.” He tapped into his phone. “Done. The Royal Suite at the Waldorf-Castoria awaits you and the Imo is waiting.”

“Tell them that I’ll need an hour to change and pack,” Angelina said, slipping behind the screen. “And make sure that there is first-class accommodation for Gloriana. I’m sure that she is tired after tonight’s performance.” A petite porcine snore from the direction of her basket underlined the assumption.

Intelligence was beginning to slip back into my overexcited cerebellum. I pointed at the leather suitcase. “We’ll take the supercomputer with us. It might come up with an answer or two.”

“You will call me and let me know what happened at the bank?” Angelina said.

“As soon as we know ourselves,” I said and blew her a kiss as we left.

Since the night’s performance had not yet ended, there were plenty of floatcabs in the rank outside. We climbed into the first one, Bolivar gave the driver instructions, then turned on the machine that was built into the partition before us.

“What is that?” I asked. He pointed to the label.

SURVEILLANCE DETECTOR UNIT

“Industrial espionage is big business on this planet. This thing monitors for bugs in the cab, generates white noise to stop detection from outside.”

“How do you know that it is not bugged itself?”

“Because I test it with this.” He unclipped a small device from his belt and held it out. It bleeped and flashed a green light. “A surveillance detector. The bank issues them and tests them daily with…”

“I know-a surveillance detector. Continuing down this road leads only to madness. Because every morning, before it is used, the banks surveillance detector must be tested by …”

“Best not to think about that kind of thing Dad. Better to think about what we should do about this robbery.”

Bolivar leaned over and pressed the actuator on the cab’s detector. It instantly flashed a red light and spoke in a metallically reedy voice.

“Eavesdropping device under seat cushion to the left. “

Bolivar dug down behind the cushion and pulled out a few coins.

“False alarm?” I asked.

“I doubt it.”

He looked at them quizzically—then opened the window and threw them out. The detector buzzed once, flashed a green light, then turned itself off. “One of those coins had to be a transmitter.”

“Why should someone want to plant that thing to spy on us?”

“Probably not after us at all. Whoever they are, they may have wanted to observe someone who was attending the performance. So they bugged every cab there.”

“Expensive way to work.”

“Plenty of money available for that sort of thing. So-now that we have privacy-isn’t it time to think about what action we should take about this robbery? We need a game plan.”

“You are absolutely right,” I said with great authority. Then slumped into the seat. “Only we don’t have one.”

“We do. For the first time since the thefts began we are on the spot when the robbery occurred. We gather all the evidence-and I mean all, then feed it into your supercomputer and see what it comes up with.”

I patted the thing’s leathery hide. “Good as done.”

Only it wasn’t. There were plenty of flashing lights ahead, ranks of policemen, great lengths of tape bearing the legend POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. Our cab slowed and stopped at the barrier. As we emerged a burly minion of the law strode up.

“Leave. No one permitted.”

“Stay,” Bolivar said, producing his wallet. “I am manager of that bank and I am going in.”

The policeman frowned down at the ornate jewel-encrusted badge and reached for his phone. His superior was of little help so we clanked up the chain of command until we reached a gold-braided copper with enough authority to let us by.

“Who are you?” he snarled at Bolivar.

“I am Bolivar diGriz, the manager of this bank. And you are?…”

Gold-braid glared first. “Captain Kidonda of the Serious Crime Squad. They called me at the theater. I tell you, I don’t like my evening ruined like this.”

“I couldn’t agree more. It is not doing much for my evening either.”

We stopped in front of the bank and stared at the great hole in the outer wall. Someone other than a widow or an orphan had made a massive withdrawal.

“Impressive,” Bolivar said, looking at the opening. “There used to be a cash machine there.”

Gold-braid nodded. “Eyewitnesses say they pulled it out with a skyhook. One tug and it was up and away. Every policeman on duty is looking for it now.”

“What about the bank?” Bolivar asked.

“No alarms went off-other than the ones on the cash machine.”

The captain’s phone beeped and he snarled into it. “What?” He listened, then nodded. “Yes, do that. The lab technicians as well.” He hung up and turned to us.

“The cash machine had been found, abandoned. And empty. Do you know how much cash was in it?”

“The records will be in the bank. Let us go and see.” Bolivar leaned over and looked into the glowing eye of a retinascope. It beeped twice. When he put his palm on a metal plate beside the front entrance it burred slightly and unlocked the door. The three of us went in.

Low night-lights illuminated the interior; security cameras moved in slow arcs. Street light poured in through the immense hole in the bank’s wall; chunks of debris fanned out across the floor.

Our presence was detected and gentle music began to play.

Serious financial music with an arpeggio of profit, while a compound-interest melody played in counterpoint we crossed to the massive bank vault and Bolivar leaned over to look at the indicators.

“At least we have no problems with the vault here. This is sealed tight. It has a time lock that cannot be altered from the outside. It will only open in the morning after the staff arrives.”

Was the vault waiting to hear these words? As soon as he had spoken the ceiling lights came on and the big wheel in the center of the door began to turn.

“Good morning, customers,” the vault said. The wheel clicked to a stop, then the thick steel locking bars withdrew from their sockets.

“You said it couldn’t be opened?” Captain Kidonda was not pleased.

Before Bolivar could answer him the massive portal swung wide and we could clearly see inside through the barred gate.