The Chase by Clive Cussler (motivational books for students .txt) 📗

of time trying to talk you into retiring from the robbery business.”

He took her hand and patted it. “A man can’t bear to give up a pursuit in which he excels.”

She sighed in defeat. “All right, where this time?”

“I haven’t decided yet. The first step is to make discreet inquiries in banking circles about payrolls. Then I have to select towns that have railroads and sidings for freight trains. The getaway is the most important part of the operation. Next is a study of the streets and location of the bank. Finally, I have to carefully plan the actual robbery itself, the timing and my disguises.”

Margaret stopped beside the desks and counter. “And this is where you rehearse.”

He nodded. “After our agents obtain a layout of the interior of the bank and I arrange the furnishings accordingly.”

“You have it down to a fine science.”

“I try,” he said loftily.

“Your method of operation is becoming too polished, too sophisticated,” she cautioned him.

He took her by the arm and gently squeezed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

17

BELL CAME TO THE OFFICE DIRECTLY FROM THE TRAIN and found Irvine and Curtis already in the conference room waiting for him. He could tell the news was good because there were no frowns or grim looks on their faces. The jovial mood was enhanced by Irvine smoking a cigar and Curtis pulling a silver cigarette case from his coat pocket. “You two seem to be in good spirits,” said Bell, setting down his suitcase.

“We found some leads,” Curtis said, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing earth-shattering, but a few small pieces to fit in the puzzle.”

“How about you, Isaac, did you turn up anything?” asked Irvine.

Before Bell could answer, Agnes Murphy entered the conference room carrying a tray with three cups and a coffeepot. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said sweetly, “but I thought you gentlemen might like some coffee.”

Bell took the tray from her and set it on the long table. “That’s very kind of you, Agnes.”

She turned and started for the door. “I’ll be right back.” In less than a minute, she returned with a sugar bowl and cream pitcher. “I didn’t forget. I just couldn’t carry it all.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” said Curtis with a broad smile, as he lightly kissed her on the cheek.

Bell and Irvine exchanged glances, smiling. They both knew that Curtis and Agnes were just pals and always teasing each other. Agnes gathered her skirts as she turned, left the conference room, and closed the door.

“Besides the coffee,” said Bell, “it was thoughtful of her to close the door.”

Curtis blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “She knows the score. Agnes has no more respect for Alexander than we do.”

“You were about to say…” Irvine prompted Bell.

“I discovered that, besides a missing finger, he probably has red hair. And rides a motorcycle, which he’s used on more than one robbery.” Bell reached into his pocket and lifted out a small silk sack, opened it, and spilled the cartridge out on the table. “We now know the Butcher Bandit uses a thirty-eight-caliber Colt automatic. This shell casing was found under a carpet. The killer somehow missed it since he hasn’t left any shells at his other bank hits. Sheriff Murphy of Bisbee was a smart man and had the county coroner remove the bullets from the murder victims. They all came from a thirty-eight Colt.”

“We can check sales of all thirty-eight Colt automatics,” said Curtis.

“There couldn’t be more than ten thousand of them,” Irvine replied sarcastically. “It would take ten agents years to check out every gun dealer, salesman, and hardware store owner who sells thirty-eight Colt automatics.”

“Art is right,” Bell said as he stared at the brass cartridge. “It would be a tremendous long shot.”

Curtis grinned like a fox. “Not if we have a lead to where the bandit hides out. Then we can check out dealers in the area.”

“Good thinking,” Bell agreed, not knowing what Curtis was about to reveal. “In the meantime, I’ll send it off to Chicago and see if our agency experts can pull any fingerprints.” He relaxed in a chair and tilted it back on two legs, propping a foot against the table. “Now, let me hear what you two have unearthed.”

Irvine opened a bound ledger and placed the book on the table in front of Bell and Curtis. “I hit pay dirt in Elkhorn, Nevada. They had recorded the serial numbers of the fifty-dollar bills in their vault the day before the robbery.”

“I can understand why,” said Bell. “Fifties are counterfeited more than any other bill. As their bookkeeper itemized the bills, he must have studied each one and made sure they weren’t bogus.”

Irvine tapped the entries in the book with his finger as he looked at Bell. “You can request the Chicago office to put out bulletins to banks around the West to be on the lookout for them. Fifties will be easier to trace than fives, tens, or twenties.”

“And a lot easier than ones,” Curtis added.

“I’ll see to it,” Bell assured Irvine.

“I made a few inquiries on my own and actually came up with two banks in San Francisco where three of the bills showed up.”

“Good work,” said Bell. He then focused on Curtis. “Now, how about you, Arthur? Any luck on your end?”

“Did you find any passenger trains the killer might have escaped on?” Irvine queried.

“No. But freight trains are a different story.”

“Weren’t they searched by the posses?”

Curtis shook his head. “Not the ones that were loaded and locked.”

“So where did you go from there?” inquired Bell.

Curtis broke out into a smile that spread and beamed. “It took many hours of digging in musty old railroad company records, but I did manage to make an interesting discovery. I found three cars that were on the sidings of towns that were robbed. Boxcar serial number 15758 was present in Virginia City and Bisbee during the robberies. In Virginia City, its cargo manifest was listed as fifty bales of