CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We followed a young woman into a large vault and walked down a long row of numbered boxes. I was surprised at the size of the vault. It was long, relatively narrow, and brightly lit. Thick carpet at our feet acted like sound deadening material as we walked. Behind us a door made of hardened steel bars was open with a second savings and loan clerk standing by it holding a set of keys in her hands. I could feel her eyes boring into the backs of our heads as we moved deeper into the vault. She was an iron-haired old matron dressed in a severe looking gray suit and a matching frown to go with it. We got the impression she didn’t like cops. Especially cops with search warrants in their hands.
Blomberg & Goldman took very seriously the idea of security. It would take a hel
