Free The Chase by Clive Cussler Page B

speculated that something of value must be inside. His thought soon faded when another guest showed up to register.
    Eight minutes later, Ruskin stepped from the cab, paid the driver, and entered the Salt Lake Bank & Trust lobby. He walked to the security guard who was seated in a chair near the door.
    â€œI have an appointment with Mr. Cardoza.”
    The guard rose to his feet and motioned toward a frosted-glass door. “You’ll find Mr. Cardoza in there.”
    There had been no reason for Ruskin to ask the guard where to go. He could just as easily have seen the bank manager’s office door. The guard did not notice that Ruskin had observed him closely, how he moved, his age, and how he placed the holster, containing a new .45 caliber Model 1905 Colt Browning automatic pistol, at his hip. The brief study also revealed the guard was not particularly alert and watchful. Day after day of seeing customers come and go without the slightest disturbance had made him listless and indifferent. He didn’t appear to find anything unusual about Ruskin’s big case.
    The bank had two tellers behind the counter in their cages. The only other employees except for the guard were Cardoza and his secretary. Ruskin studied the big steel door to the vault that was open to the lobby to impress the customers and suggest that their savings were in solid, protective hands.
    He approached the secretary. “Hello, my name is Eliah Ruskin. I have a two-thirty appointment with Mr. Cardoza.”
    An older woman in her fifties with graying hair smiled and stood up without speaking. She walked to a door with ALBERT CARDOZA, MANAGER painted on the upper part of the frosted-glass pane, knocked, and leaned in. “A Mr. Eliah Ruskin to see you.”
    Cardoza quickly came to his feet and rushed around his desk. He shoved out a hand and shook Ruskin’s palm and fingers vigorously. “A pleasure, sir. I’ve looked forward to your arrival. It’s not every day we greet a representative from a New York bank that is making such a substantial deposit.”
    Ruskin lifted the suitcase onto Cardoza’s desk, unlocked the catches, and opened the lid. “Here you are, half a million dollars in cash to be deposited, until such time we decide to withdraw it.”
    Cardoza reverently stared at the neatly packed and bundled fifty-dollar gold certificate bills as though they were his passport to a banker’s promised land. Then he looked up in growing surprise. “I don’t understand. Why not carry a cashier’s check instead of five hundred thousand dollars in currency?”
    â€œThe directors of the Hudson River Bank of New York prefer to deal in cash. As you know from our correspondence, we are going to open branch banks throughout the West in towns that we think have potential for growth. We feel it is expedient to have currency on hand when we open our doors.”
    Cardoza looked at Ruskin somberly. “I hope your directors do not intend to open a competing bank in Salt Lake City.”
    Ruskin grinned and shook his head. “Phoenix, Arizona, and Reno, Nevada, are the first of the Hudson River branch banks to open in the West.”
    Cardoza looked relieved. “Phoenix and Reno are certainly booming.”
    â€œEver have a bank robbery in Salt Lake?” Ruskin asked casually while looking at the vault.
    Cardoza looked at him quizzically. “Not in this city. The citizens would not allow it. Salt Lake is one of the most crime-free cities in the country. The Latter-Day Saints are upstanding and religious people. Trust me, Mr. Ruskin, no bandit would dare to attempt a robbery of this bank. Your money will be absolutely and one hundred percent safe once it’s locked up in our vault.”
    â€œI’ve read of some fellow called the Butcher Bandit who robs and murders throughout the western states.”
    â€œNot to worry, he only strikes in small mining towns and robs payrolls. He