young man. You must be decisive. You must know what you want and how to get it. Indecision is the kiss of death in this business.”
Logan squinted at him. “What business did you say it was, again?”
“Moneymaking,” Montague said, dropping his keys into his pocket. “Now, come along. You’re my assistant, here to help me carry the load. I do the talking.”
Logan nodded and fell in behind Montague. The man walked with purpose, and the moment they were in the bowling alley, he went directly to an automatic teller machine against the wall. Putting his glasses on the tip of his nose, he punched a few numbers into the machine’s computer, nodded his head at the string of numbers that filled the screen, and turned around as if looking for someone. Logan hung back as Montague cut across to the front desk.
“Hello, sir. My name is Sidney Moore, of the First Federal Bank of Birmingham. We installed this ATM machine late yesterday, but we had several complaints throughout the night on our twenty-four-hour line. I understand it isn’t working properly.”
“Yeah, it took a bunch of people’s cards. Told ‘em they had insufficient funds. One or two I could believe, but I doubt everybody who came in here was in the red. And on a Friday, too, when they just got paid.”
“Hmm,” Montague said, fingering his mustache. “I’m going to have to remove it and take it in for repair. We’ll make every effort to have a replacement here later today.”
“Sure thing,” the manager said. “We got along without it just fine until yesterday.”
“Please tell your customers that their cards will be sent back to them in today’s mail.”
The man nodded and turned to a customer needing bowling shoes. Montague strode back to Logan and the ATM machine. “All right, son, let’s load it up.”
“Load it?” Logan asked. “Load it where?”
“In the back of my van,” he said. “I assure you that it fits.”
“But it must weigh a ton. And isn’t it built into the wall or something?”
Montague winked and slid the machine easily away from the wall. Unplugging it, he said, “It’s no heavier than a small computer. But help me so that it looks heavier.”
Logan lifted his side and found that it didn’t weigh more than twenty pounds. Together, they carried it out to Montague’s van and slid it in. Before closing the back door, Montague leaned in, opened a compartment on the back of the ATM box, and retrieved two dozen or so ATM cards. Then, tearing off a printout at the back of the box, he nodded for Logan to get into the car.
As they slowly pulled out of the parking lot, Montague handed him the cards and the printout. “You see, my boy, having someone else’s ATM card means nothing if you don’t have their PIN numbers.” He reached over the backseat and patted the box affectionately. “But my friend here just took care of that for us. Look for the account numbers and match them to the PIN numbers the people punched in with them. The printout has it all. Then put the cards in order.”
Quietly, Logan did as he was told.
“We’ll have to hurry,” Montague said. “Since it’s Saturday, the banks aren’t open, but we mustn’t take chances.”
Montague pulled into a bank parking lot and idled the car for a moment. Logan watched, astounded, as he donned a big baseball cap, a pair of dark glasses, and a mouthpiece complete with a black mustache and beard. Tossing Logan a wig, he said, “Here, put this on. Just for the camera. We don’t want to be identifiable.”
Logan pulled the wig on, and Montague pulled up to the drive-through ATM machine. “First card,” he told him.
Logan handed him the top card.
“PIN number?” Montague asked.
“Three-two-nine-five,” Logan read.
Montague slid the card into the machine, waited for it to respond, then typed in the number. The computer asked him what amount he’d like to withdraw. Logan followed Montague’s fingers as he punched in two hundred fifty dollars.
Holding his breath, he watched, amazed, as the machine rolled out two hundred fifty dollars. “One more,” his mentor said, reaching for another card.
They repeated the steps and got two hundred fifty dollars more.
That morning, they hit ten more banks and drew two hundred fifty dollars out of twenty different accounts. By the time they were on the highway toward Atlanta, they had five thousand dollars.
Logan was charmed. “Do you do this all the time?”
“Absolutely not,” Montague said with a note of pride.