THE MAN JUST sort of appears, at a back corner of the vault. He turns and reaches into a closed lock box and withdraws a book, apparently moving through solid steel. The actual process of the man reaching into the closed lock box is just a blur.
The man then turns and sort of walks out of the back corner of the vault.
The security cameras catch the whole event. Unfortunately, the man is wearing an overcoat, a broad-brimmed hat and, probably, a flesh-colored mask.
Perhaps the most puzzling thing about the theft is that the vault is solid, steel-reinforced concrete with a massive steel door. The vault also has a complete alarm system, in case someone tries to blast his way in from outside. The inside security camera system is really intended only to monitor those who have gained access through the door. Also, the lockbox, that contained the book, inside the vault, is a heavy steel container with its own lock, independent of the vault lock.
The police called in and they are baffled.
The FBI joins the search and is also baffled but very interested in the matter.
John Palmer Reeves, Esq. eyes the man who sits across the table from him. The man sitting across from the lawyer is average-looking, although a couple of inches taller than normal and perhaps a bit thinner than average, for his height. However, there’s really nothing that would allow one to pick the man out of a crowd. In addition, the man is wearing a theatrical mask of some sort, that presents the appearance of a man of perhaps 60 years of age.
The lawyer taps the book that sits between the two men. He asks in a puzzled tone of voice, “How in the world did you get inside the house of Mr. Ibrahim, to retrieve this item?”
The man who sits across the table stares back at the lawyer and then says, “I hope you don’t think that I’m going to answer that question.”
John sighs and says, “I suppose not.”
John then extracts a key from the little pocket in his vest and unlocks a duffel bag that sits on his side of the table. He extracts bundles of $100 bills and a receipt. He says, “Please count the money and sign the receipt.”
The tall, thin man counts out a few bundles at random and then makes a count of the bundles. The man says, “Just as we agreed, $100,000.” The man then signs the receipt and hands it across the table.
John examines the receipt and then says, “That should take care of the matter. My client will be happy to get his antique book back! Do you have any idea how much the book is worth?”
The tall, thin man says, “No, old books aren’t a specialty of mine.”
The two men briefly shake hands and then the tall, thin man puts on a gray overcoat and leaves.
A few days later, John Palmer Reeves, Esq. sits across his table from two men in suits.
One of the men in suits says, “We are from the FBI, Mr. Reeves. We know that you do business with a man who obtained a book from the house of a Mr. Mahmoud Ibrahim, a couple of days ago. We want you to tell us the name and address of the man.”
The lawyer side of John Palmer Reeves, Esq. takes over. He says, “Well gentlemen, I don’t know if I do business with a man who obtains books or not. It may be a matter of client confidentiality.”
The same FBI man who first spoke looks hard at the lawyer. He snarls, “Well we have a little room downtown where you can think on the matter of the man who obtains books. If you remember the name and address of the man, just tell the guard when and if he comes with your next meal.”
John Palmer Reeves, Esq. draws himself up. He asks the FBI man, “And just what will I be charged with?”
The FBI man smiles a nasty little smile. He sneers, “I really can’t tell you that Mr. Reeves, it’s a matter of national security.”
The lawyer mulls over the situation for a few moments. He finally says, “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much. There’s a man who uses the name f.i.n.D.e.r.s.k.e.e.p.e.r.s, on the Internet, all of the letters are lowercase, save the D. I learned of him from another lawyer. The man, finDerskeepers, runs a recovery service. If I have a client who wants something and knows where that something is, finDerskeepers goes and gets the item. How he does it, I haven’t the slightest idea. If he takes the job, apparently he never fails. He does good work. He doesn’t work cheap.”
The FBI man digests the information the lawyer has just given him. “Exactly how do you contact Mr. FinDerskeepers?”
The lawyer says, “I use a chat room. Mr. FinDerskeepers is usually on-line, at specific times. Once I contact him, with no details, he e-mails me. Each time he e-mails me, it’s with a different name and a different service. After we complete our transaction, the e-mail name he uses is no longer good and Mr. FinDerskeepers has vanished. If anything goes wrong with the business dealings, at all, Mr. FinDerskeepers stays vanished. Another lawyer had some sort of problem with Mr. FinDerskeepers and that was the last time he ever was able to deal with the man. I would think that Mr. FinDerskeepers earns enough from a few clients that he can live quite well. He does offer a unique service.”
The FBI man tells the lawyer that the FBI wants to contact Mr. FinDerskeepers.
The lawyer points out that it’s extremely unlikely that Mr. FinDerskeepers will want to talk to the FBI.
The meeting ends on a note of hostility.
