require more signatures. “Can you do it?”
“At a cost.”
Esther went still inside. He couldn’t have any idea of the enormity of the sum Lopez had in the bank. Then again, if he already had a contact in RCS, maybe he did. The thought was sobering. Despite the fact that Xavier was a thief, she hadn’t expected his motivation to be greed. “What kind of guarantee do I have that you won’t steal it all?”
“You don’t have any.”
Her ace in the hole was that she didn’t care if he did take the money. Esther had no interest in it other than removing it from Lopez in order to break his hold over Cesar and shatter his power base. Once she and Rina were safely in hiding, she intended handing the money over to the authorities.
“Relax,” he said smoothly. “It’s information I want, not the money.”
She frowned. “About Lopez?”
“And some of the interesting people he and his father do business with.”
Her fingers tightened on the receiver. “Whatever you’re up to, it can’t impact on this. I have a daughter to protect.”
“Don’t worry, my interest in Lopez is a separate issue. We steal the money, you and your daughter get to safety. Then I get what I want.”
The flatness of the statement sent a small shiver down her spine. He made it sound cut and dried, as if the theft itself was just a detail, when the mere thought of what they had to do made her break out in a cold sweat.
“If we’re going to succeed, I’m going to need you to use that remarkable talent of yours.”
Xavier required information. However, obtaining computer passwords and access codes to Lopez’s accounts was as likely to land her in jail as stealing the money.
Redan Capey Securities wasn’t a bank she had ever worked for, but she knew of it. RCS traded in what she liked to call “the banking twilight zone.” Their rates were cutthroat and they weren’t too choosy about their clientele. Based in the Cayman Islands, they ignored the regulatory procedures in place in Europe and the United States and made their own rules, practicing a policy of nondisclosure, which made them a big favorite with clients who had something to hide.
When she checked with a contact in the business, she discovered that over the last decade RCS had expanded, taking on a more respectable facade. They had branches in London, New York, Florida and, surprise, surprise, San Francisco. Although, the fact that RCS had a branch in San Francisco shouldn’t have been unexpected. It made sense that Lopez would choose a bank—and a banker—that was physically within reach.
The increasing respectability of RCS created difficulties, because that meant stiffer controls, but there was one ray of hope. An ex-colleague worked there. As advantages went, it wasn’t much, because Esther had never been particularly friendly with Dana Jones, but it was going to have to be enough.
The next morning, she dropped Rina off at school, drove home and dressed with care, applying makeup to minimize the split in her lip. Half an hour later, she parked her car just off California Street in the financial district and walked the block to the RCS building.
The bank itself was surprisingly spacious, with a large reception area for clients. The receptionist rang through to Dana’s office, then indicated that Esther take a seat.
What she had to do made her mouth go dry. If RCS practiced conventional banking routines, the passwords and access codes would be changed regularly, perhaps even daily. As efficient as Dana had been when they had worked together in Bern, she had never been able to keep track of the numbers. It was an illegal practice, but Dana used to write the codes down on the back of a business card and slip the card under her keyboard for easy reference.
Her plan was almost ridiculously simple—get into Dana’s office and get a look at the codes—but the number of things that could go wrong were legion. First off, Dana might direct her to an anonymous interview room instead of her office. Secondly, even if she got into Dana’s office, it had been twelve years since they had worked at Bessel Holt. It was a long shot by anyone’s standards that Dana still carried out the same bad practice and hid the access codes beneath her keyboard.
The gleam of a coffee machine in the corner of the reception area released some of her tension. There was a coffee machine. If there hadn’t been coffee, she would have faked a dizzy spell and requested water.
Making a beeline for the machine, Esther half filled a foam cup, not bothering with either sugar or milk, and strolled to the nearest couch.
A woman exited an office, pausing to engage the security lock before she continued on to reception. Esther recognized her almost immediately. Dana was a small, elegant blonde, forty if she was a day, but she looked closer to thirty. When she’d worked with Esther, she had been an established banker, with a solid, although unremarkable, track record. Despite twelve years, she hadn’t progressed in the banking world, slipping sideways and, in Esther’s opinion, down. RCS had always been known as an “untidy” offshore center. They had moved up a few notches, but the preliminary research she had done into their client base had informed her that, respectable facade or not, RCS was still trading on the fringes.
When Dana saw Esther, her expression was surprised but pleased. She had never shown any particular warmth toward Esther in Bern, but Esther was hoping that Dana was still ambitious enough that the carrot of snaring a chunk of Morell investment capital would smooth over the past.
Her own smile felt tight and forced as she rose and shook Dana’s hand. She kept the chat light, and in the vein that she was researching short-term investment opportunities and since she’d heard Dana was with RCS, she’d decided to start here.
Dana’s gaze followed Esther’s hand as she lifted the coffee to her mouth and sipped, or more correctly, she followed the flash of her ring. Esther had worn it for effect. It was a rare pink diamond that matched her Chanel suit, a totally off-the-wall gift Cesar had given her when Rina was born. The ring was four carats and usually resided in a deposit box in the bank, but it was perfect for this. No banker in their right mind would have a discussion in a reception area with a client whose clothing and jewelry alone totaled seven figures. Dana’s career may have flatlined, but she had been trained by the best, and Esther knew that she loved jewelry. If the status value of the ring didn’t get her into Dana’s office, she didn’t know what would.
Dana gave her a direct look. “We can’t talk out here. I don’t have any appointments scheduled in the next half hour. How about we adjourn to my office and I can take you through some options.”
Seconds later, Dana pressed the security code for her door. Automatically, Esther watched her fingers, but they moved too rapidly for her to get all of the code. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous notion that even if she got the door code she would be in a position to do anything about it, she followed Dana into her office. A little spying was her limit, not B and E. If they had to physically break into the bank to get the codes, then that was in Xavier’s ballpark, not hers.
Esther preceded Dana into the room. The office was small but nicely appointed, with an original painting of the Bay area on the wall and a glossy plant occupying one corner. A large L-shaped desk took up most of the space, with two comfortably padded chairs positioned near the desk. The bad news was that even if one of the chairs was pulled up as close as possible to the computer, the keyboard was still inaccessible. To reach it, Esther would have to lean diagonally across the desk, and there was no way she could
