gns.batsoutofhell-第14部分

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igh　Value　Packets；　both　labour　and　time　saving。
　　
　　The　bullion…vans　passed　almost　unnoticed　in　the　city　traffic。　Their　weekly　collections　and　deliveries　at　branches　were　noted　with　mild　interest　by　passers…by。　Those　with　more　subversive　motives　attempted　to　discover　their　timetables；　routes；　and　the　amount　of　money　which　the　vans　carried。　Yet　an　air　of　mystique　prevailed。　Security　panies'　vans　were　attacked　frequently。　The　Bank's　went　unscathed；　such　was　their　organisation　and　security；　including　a　number　of　guards　who　remained　on　board　at　all　times　whilst　they　were　in　transit；　even　to　the　extent　of　eating　their　meals　inside　during　all　weathers；　in　stifling　heat　or　freezing　cold。
　　
　　Yet　the　Treasury　itself　was　a　veritable　fortress；　a　basement　stronghold　beneath　a　huge　office　block　where　security　measures　were　such　that　none　could　pass　beyond　the　first　checkpoint　without　proper　authorisation。　The　underground　structure　was　old；　partially　converted　to　meet　modern　requirements　for　the　storing　of　vast　quantities　of　money　into　a　maze　of　tunnels　which　housed　the　many　strong　rooms　and　working　areas　where　money　was　counted　and　sorted　into　denominations。　Large　amounts　of　cash；　the　daily　takings　of　multiple　panies；　was　also　brought　in　here　for　counting　and　checking；　thereby　dispensing　with　lengthy　delays　at　branch　counters。　This　section；　adjacent　to　the　main　strong　room　with　grilled　walls　and　locked　doors；　was　known　as　the　Credit　House。
　　
　　Some　twenty　clerks　were　employed　in　the　Credit　House　alone；　spending　five　days　of　the　week　shut　away　from　the　daylight；　working　laboriously　and　monotonously。　They；　too；　were　subjected　to　several　checks　before　entering　or　leaving　their　place　of　employment；　everything　geared　towards　an　invincible　money　store。
　　
　　The　heat　wave　penetrated　the　depths　of　the　Treasury　right　down　to　the　Credit　House；　the　clerks　sweltering　in　the　heat　that　was　conveyed　underground　by　the　brickwork　in　the　same　way　that　storage　heaters　retain　their　temperature。
　　
　　Joe　Lutton　had　worked　in　the　Credit　House　ever　since　its　formation　a　decade　ago。　Everything　was　a　routine　which　did　not　deviate；　and；　provided　one　obeyed　the　rules　and　systems　laid　down；　there　was　a　substantial　pension　to　be　picked　up　on　retirement。　One　did　not　even　have　to　count　the　notes　by　hand　these　days。　One　simply　inserted　a　bundle　into　a　machine；　pressed　a　button；　checked　the　digits　recorded　on　the　dial；　and　removed　the　notes　from　a　clip　at　the　back　of　the　instrument。　Machine…minding；　in　effect。　Joe　Lutton；　a　small；　dapper；　freckled…faced　clerk　in　his　early　forties　did　not　even　have　to　think　about　the　work　these　days。　His　mind　wandered　to　other　matters　as　he　laboured　with　the　efficiency　of　a　human　robot。
　　
　　Today　he　thought　about　bats。　Everybody　was　thinking　about　bats。　They　were　in　the　headlines　of　the　midday　edition　of　the　Mail　again。　'BATS　HEADING　FOR　THE　CITY？　IS　DEATH　ON　THE　MOVE？'
　　
　　It　was　a　frightening　thought。　Joe　was　glad　that　he　worked　down　here　in　this　nice　safe　place。　The　overall　pensations　outweighed　the　boredom。　Bats　frightened　him。　He　remembered　his　wedding…night　and　the　bat　that　had　somehow　found　its　way　into　the　bridal　chamber。　His　wife　had　nearly　had　hysterics　and　their　marriage　had　not　been　consummated　for　a　further　twenty…four　hours。　In　his　day；　few　people　had　sex　before　marriage；　particularly　within　the　respectability　of　banking　circles。　He　had　waited　a　day　longer　than　most。
　　
　　But　the　bats　couldn't　get　down　here　into　the　Credit　House。　The　Treasury　was　impregnable。
　　
　　The　afternoon　wore　on；　hot　and　stuffy。　Lutton　finished　checking　a　tray　of　￡40；000…worth　of　five…pound　notes；　and　went　and　fetched　another　one　from　the　chief　clerk's　desk。
　　
　　Mondays　were　always　exceptionally　busy。　That　meant　a　late　finish；　but　Joe　Lutton　didn't　mind。　The　overtime　money　would　be　useful。
　　
　　He　had　counted　the　first　bundle　of　fivers　and　re…banded　them；　when　Don　Lucas；　a　young　apprentice…clerk；　gave　a　shout　from　the　other　end　of　the　room　where　he　was　working　at　a　long　trestle　table。
　　
　　'Hey！　What's　this？'
　　
　　Heads　turned。　Something　crouched　on　the　floor；　small　and　furry；　tiny　eyes　glancing　about　it。
　　
　　'It's　a　mouse；'　somebody　said。
　　
　　'Don't　be　stupid。'　Lucas　backed　away。　'Mice　don't　have　wings。　It's　a　bat！1
　　
　　'A　bat！'
　　
　　There　was　a　momentary　shocked　silence。　Clerks　turned　and　stared。　They　couldn't　believe　it。　But　the　proof　was　squatting　there；　and　even　as　they　looked　it　took　off；　flew　up　to　the　ceiling；　and　alighted　upside　down　on　a　supporting　steel　girder。
　　
　　'Oh；　God！'　Lutton　paled。
　　
　　The　Chief　clerk；　a　man　only　a　year　or　two　younger　than　Lutton；　picked　up　the　internal　telephone　and　dialled　a　single　number。
　　
　　'Sorry　to　bother　you；　Mr　Baxterdale。'　His　voice　was　humble；　apologetic；　trying　to　hide　his　fear。　'No；　no　trouble　really。　Only　。　。。　only　there's　。。。　there's　a　bat　in　the　Credit　House！'
　　
　　Lutton　sweated。　He　hated　the　chief　clerk　for　his　cringing　personality。　Sorry　to　bother　you；　Mr　Baxterdale；　he　mimed　his　superior　mutely　to　himself；　there's　only　a　bat　in　the　Credit　House　and　we　could　all　be　bloody　well　dead　by　this　time　tomorrow。　Of　course；　we　don't　want　to　interrupt　the　work；　and　if　you　like　we'll　keep　it　in　here　。。。
　　
　　Baum；　the　Credit　House　chief　clerk　replaced　the　receiver；　cleared　his　throat；　and　looked　round　at　the　others。
　　
　　'Er；。。　Mr　Baxterdale　says　he'll　ring　the　Area　Inspector。　Nothing　to　worry　about。　Just　carry　on。　Don't　anybody　take　any　notice　of　it。'
　　
　　Lutton　sweated　profusely。　This　new　system　of　locking　the　grilles　from　the　outside；　the　keys　being　held　in　the　Treasury　office　by　two　authorised　holders；　had　disturbed　him　right　from　its　implementation。　Suppose　there　was　a　fire　and　the　intersecting　corridors　were　cut　off　by　a　wall　of　flames？　Those　in　the　Credit　House　would　die。　But　this　was　a　thousand　times　worse。　Death　hung　perched　on　that　beam。　It　only　had　to　touch　one　of　them；　so　the　papers　said；　and　that　would　be　that。
　　
　　Lucas　picked　up　something　from　the　table；　moving　slowly。　It　was　an　old　wooden　cylindrical　ruler　that　dated　back　to　the　early　days　of　banking；　as　heavy　and　as　lethal　as　the　truncheons　carried　by　the　bullion　van　crews。　A　Treasury　antique　that　was　still　in　use。
　　
　　All　eyes　were　on　him。　Everybody　knew　exactly　what　he　was　going　to　do；　and　nobody　made　a　move　to　stop　him。
　　
　　The　childish　streak　in　him　had　often　prompted　reprimand　from　Baxterdale。　The　young　clerk　was　always　flicking　rubber…bands　at　his　colleagues；　and　then　immediately　assuming　an　air　of　innocence。　His　aim　was　uncanny。　They　hoped　it　would　be　so　now。
　　
　　Lucas　was　poised　to　strike；　arm　back；　ruler　clenched　firmly。　Those　watching　held　their　breath。　Then　he　struck；　and　it　seemed　impossible　that　he　could　miss。
　　
　　Wood　clanged　on　steel；　the　whole　length　of　the　girder　reverberating。　The　bat　had　moved　at　the　last　second　with　the　speed　of　a　house…fly　accustomed　to　dodging　swats。　It　shot　upwards；　hit　the　ceiling；　dropped　to　the　floor；　and　then　took　off　at　an　angle　of　forty…five　degrees。
　　
　　Clerks　accustomed　to　the　tranquillity　of　life　in　the　Credit　House　panicked。　Money　spilled　on　the　floor　as　they　sought　cover　behind　desks；　but　their　safety　was　as　perilous　as　that　of　the　car　driver　who　is　suddenly　attacked　by　an　irate　wasp　in　his　vehicle。　The　bat　zoomed　crazily　to　and　fro。
　　
　　The　chief　clerk　shouted　in　alarm；　striking　futile　blows　as　the　creature　flew　at　him；　seemed　to　bee　caught　in　the　threads　of　his　shirt　and　then　freed　itself。　Lutton　saw　it　heading　in　his　direction。　It　passed　him　with　a　yard　to　spare；　somersaulted；　turned　in　mid…flight；　and　on　its　return　journey　glanced　off　the　back　of　his　neck。　He　fell　to　his　knees。
　　
　　It　headed　directly　toward　the　steel　grilles。　There　was　a　brief　sigh　of　relief　from　the　clerical　staff。　The　bars　were　four　inches　apart。　Plenty　of　room　for　it　to　pass　through。　It　caught　one　of　its　wings　as　it　did　so；　and　tumbled　to　the　concrete　floor　on　the　other　side；　stunned。
　　
　　'Jesus！'　someone　breathed。
　　
　　They　heard　footsteps　and　voices　echoing　down　the　corridor。　Baxterdale　was　ing　with　the　key　holders　to　release　them　from　this　vault　of　death。
　　
　　'It's　there；　sir！'　Don　Lucas　called　out　shrilly；　pointing　to　the　inert　bat　as　Baxterdale　reached　the　grille　door。　
　　
　　'What？'　Baxterdale　stopped　abruptly；　the　two　men　at　his　heels　bumping　into　him。　'Where？'
　　
　　There！'
　　
　　As　Baxterdale；　a　plump；　bald…headed　man；　finally　saw　the　bat；　it　stirred；　shuffled　forward；　and　took　off　again…back　through　the　bars　and　into　the　Credit　House。
　　
　　Screams　and　confusion　came　from　within　the　enclosed　area。　There　was　no　logic　in　the　creature's　behaviour。　It　flew　madly　back　and　forth；　this　time　seeming　impervious　to　the　obstacles　which　it　struck；　hitting　the　bars　again　but　not　passing　between　them。
　　
　　'Let　us　out！　For　Christ's　sake　let　us　out！'　someone　yelled。
　　
　　But　Baxterdale　and　his　panions　were　retreating　back　up　the　corridor；　glancing　over　their　shoulders　as　they　ran。
　　
　　'Bloody　well　unlock　the　doors！'
　　
　　Baxterdale　reached　his　office；　and　his　flabby　hand　was　trembling　as　he　picked　up　the　receiver　and　dialled　the　Area　Inspector's　number。　The　line　was　engaged。　He　dropped　the　telephone　back　on　to　its　cradle。
　　
　　'Hadn't。。　。hadn't　we　ought　to　go　back　down　there？'　one　of　the　keyholders　asked。
　　
　　'No。'　the　Treasury　Chief　shook　his　head。　'You　know　the　instructions　issued　to　the　public　regarding　these　bats　as　well　as　I　do。　The　stairway　door　is　closed。　The　bat　can't　get　beyond　the　lower…basement　level。　As　soon　as　we　can　get　hold　of　the　Area　Inspector　he'll　report　it　to　the　police。'
　　
　　'Can't　。　。　。　can't　we　ring　the　police？'　the　second　key…holder　gulped。
　　
　　The　Bank's　rules；'　Baxterdale　reminded　him；　glowering。　The　police　are　never　to　be　involved　without　consulting　the　Area　Inspector　first。　You　know　that。'
　　
　　Baxterdale　tried　the　number　again。　It　was　still　engaged。　Somewhere；　far　away　and　muffled；　they　could　hear　the　screams　of　the　trapped　clerks。
　　
　　It　was　the　rush　hour。　People　were　hurrying；　bustling；　jostling