10 September 2021
Friday. The bank is open. I wore the good waistcoat and stood by the front door all morning to greet our first customers. None of them used the front door.
They came up through the floor. Through a tunnel. A tunnel which I did not approve, which does not appear on any plan, and which, I am pleased to report, fell in behind them almost at once. Serves them right. One should always use the door.
That left them in my vault with nowhere to go but out through Beatrice, and Beatrice does not open for just anybody. I went back to my desk, poured a cup of tea and waited for the sirens to do their work. Sirens are very reliable. They come in exactly one hour, every time.
The first crew did not make it. The second crew did, and took a quantity of gold that I am still too upset to write down. On their way out, one of them shook my hand and said it was a lovely bank. It is a lovely bank. That is not the point.
Clive, the night watchman, says opening days are always like this. Clive has worked one opening day, and it was this one.
— The Manager
