Arthur checked the signature against his card file, then took a heavy brass master key out of a locked wooden drawer behind his desk.

He led me down the carpeted stairs into the basement vault, where thick stainless steel walls reflected the fluorescent lights overhead.

The room was cool, heavy, and silent.

Arthur put his key into the upper lock of box thirty-two, then stepped back two full paces, his hands folded at his waist.

“Insert your key into the lower cylinder, Mrs.

Reed,” he said, following standard bank procedure.

I turned my key to the left and heard the heavy latch spring open inside the wall.