“We keep two armed guards stationed on it,” Cartwright said, gesturing at the two men standing by the open vault door. “But, yes. It would be quite unwieldy to have to open up this complex apparatus every time tellers needed to refill their cash drawers or a client wanted to access a safe-deposit box.” I examined the vault door. It was nearly two feet thick. I stepped through it and looked at it from the inside. Then I stepped out. I peered at the locking mechanism. I didn’t know anything about vaults, but I figured cracking one open would involve drilling holes in it or something. The vault door did not appear to have any holes drilled in it. It didn’t seem as if anyone had worked on it with acid or blowtorches or sledgehammers. As best I could tell, this door had not been tampered with. “Could the guards have been in on it?” One of the guards frowned at me. “The men who guard our vaults each have at least fifteen years of professional experience, and an established record of trustworthiness,”
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