The 16mm Caper

Chapter 1

The last show finished, and the final customer filed out of the theatre into the damp night, leaving just echoes of the pleasure the evening's film had provided. Gary folded up the sidewalk sign and brought it inside to the lobby, saluted the last of the filmgoers straggling out, then locked the front doors before flipping the switch that shut out the marquee lights.

Inside, the manager, Wendel Johnson, a self-imagined replica of his idol, Jack Nicholson, captured solely by the fact that he wore sunglasses indoors, was totalling the receipts from the confection counter, and slipping the money into a canvas bag that he would place in the office safe upstairs.

Peter Rabb, his assistant manager, was doing a quick scan of the auditorium for lost or forgotten articles and giving a final check to the fire escape doors. Behind the screen he tapped the faulty freezer light, and counted the remaining sacks of popcorn, ice cream bars, and the jugs of syrup for the drink dispenser. Then he scouted around for any items that some of the less mature customers chose to peg at the screen during the running of the film.

Wendel met him as he came up the aisle and sucked his teeth when he saw the bagful of candy wrappers and paper cups.

"Is there no decorum left in society? No respect for the comfort or consideration of others?" It was a complaint he issued after every performance.

"Only way to break a bad habit is to replace it with another one?" Peter responded with a Nicholson quote, and constrained amusement. Wendel tilted his head and gave Rabb a strange look. That Wendel could even see through his Serengeti's in a dark theatre, amazed Peter.

"I seem to have broken the metal clamp on the money bag," Wendel announced, changing the subject. "Would you check the storage cupboard in the basement and see if we have a spare. I'm sure we must . . . somewhere down there."

Peter nodded and deposited his garbage in the lobby bin then headed for the door to the basement. The old theatre was a product of the industry it embraced - all flash and glitter on the outside, while behind the facade, below ground it was dirty, dark and in this case, a haven for rats. He hated going down there.

Other than providing a foundation for the ageing structure the only need for the basement was to house the furnace and the meters for the water and hydro - and the storage cupboard. He stamped loudly down the stairs as he switched on the dim light, hoping to shoo away any of the hairy residents, and made his way across to the cupboard.

The door was of panelled wood, peeling and splitting from the dampness, and it swung open on a tilt because of the bent hinge from when, years ago, Wendel wrenched it open in a fit of rage. He hadn't been back down since and nobody knew what had caused his anger.

Peter jerked open the door and shone his light inside on the shelves looking for the spare bag. He pulled a medium-sized carton out and dropped it to the floor at his feet. The lid was grimy with dust, and he raised the flaps gingerly for a peek inside.

There was the spare bag, rigid in its shape after being folded for who knew how long. The canvas was like wood. He took it out and tried to open it up but it adamantly refused to surrender. It was then he spied another bag underneath; this one was neatly folded and bound with a leather thong.

He grunted at the quantity of grey dust that marked the shape of the money bag; it must have lain there for years. Peter lifted out the bundle that was about twelve inches wide and eighteen inches long and set it on the floor. Squatting down as comfortably as possible, he carefully undid the thong and peeled back the heavy cloth cover, exposing a shoebox styled container with no markings. Opening the lid, the contents caused him to gasp.

Quickly covering and fastening the box, he picked it and the spare moneybag up and left the basement. Wendel was dismayed at the news of the spare bag, and was still complaining loudly when everyone bade him goodnight and left quickly, in case he had another request to make.