Kip beamed at her. “Thanks! That will save me some writing.
I’ll need to see the originals, though.”
Under the account officer’s watchful eye, she verified that the copies made by the account officer were indeed accurate, and that she had all the copies she needed to take with her. Each card had the signatures she expected them to have—no surprises. It took a great deal less time than writing everything down. Within a half hour she was at the next bank.
As noon approached and the branches became more crowded, she spent more time writing information out because the officers were busy. Some of them even left her alone with the cards. She could have replaced them with a set she’d signed herself. It was exactly that kind of laxity that she was confirming hadn’t already happened.
The task at hand occupied only part of her attention, so the rest of her mind turned over the question of how the money was being moved out of the accounts. An embezzler just didn’t cash a check for fifty thousand dollars these days. Instead, the banks were electronically transferring money from SFI accounts to other banks where SFI had no accounts. Those instructions could be presented two ways: as signed authorizations such as a letter or bank-specific form, or as a computer instruction that successfully presented itself as authorized to the bank’s software.
The first took chutzpah, the second took varying degrees of a hacker’s mindset and skill.
As soon as she finished eliminating the obvious, Kip knew she would be hip deep in investigating the receiving accounts and who had set them up, another way to triangulate in on the culprit. Normally, she’d be working with a team and someone else would already be doing that work. And they’d have a warrant to make it even easier, but as soon as the money went offshore, more subtle methods would be necessary. There was a time and place for law enforcement. Calling them too early might have a zealous investigator, whose priorities didn’t include recovering 50
the stolen money, taking important evidence out of Kip’s hands.
Law enforcement also tended to move loudly, and their very activity on the case could tip off the thief that the embezzlement had been noticed.
The local FBI agents assigned to federal statute fraud and embezzlement were no real exception. She had no doubt that they were as committed as she was to finding the truth and turning suspects over for appropriate justice. However, she’d worked with them briefly about six months ago and was pretty certain that her diplomatic skills hadn’t been at their best when they’d attempted to bump her out of the investigative loop. She’d gone over their heads and their boss had overruled them. She hadn’t made friends by being the one who held all the codes and keys when their forensic hacker had asked.
She and the computer nerd had gotten on just fine, leaving the tall men in the well-filled out blue suits and dark glasses to stare at each other. She had no reason to think they wouldn’t make her go over their heads again, so she would wait until as late as possible before involving them. A clever thief who realized their crime had been noticed would immediately send the money off to harder-to-reach places or convert it to non-cash, like bearer bonds, and then fall off the grid, beyond her reach.
If she could discover how, it would help figure out who, and figuring out who would help discern how. She still didn’t even have enough information to know if this case would be simple or complex.
As overwhelmed as she felt by the extra work, she was thrilled to be actually doing what she was best at: gathering evidence and looking for the clues that uncovered a crime. She wished it weren’t for SFI, though. Her own reputation would be compromised at trial if SFI became embroiled in a scandal. If Tamara Sterling was involved they were all compromised.
She felt a chill. Tamara Sterling had been a computer hacker for the FBI, and she’d been brilliant at it. She had all the means and opportunity to be the embezzler, and the brains to confuse and mislead an investigator like her.
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Surely, Kip thought, there was someone else at SFI with the same skills. She just didn’t want to believe it was Tamara. Last night, in her kitchen, she had seemed too genuine to be a thief.
Well, first thing she was going to do when she got home was the ETO.
As if her thoughts had conjured her up, Tamara Sterling walked into the bank, was greeted by the branch manager and disappeared into an inner office. Kip blinked. It had been her, with that unmistakable height and bearing. She swore colorfully under her breath. What was she trying to do? After last night, she’d have thought Sterling wouldn’t get within a mile of her.
She wrapped up what she was doing in record time, thanked the account officer, then hurried outside the branch. She waited at the best vantage point to watch both doors in what felt like a subzero wind tunnel. By the time Tamara Sterling appeared she was thoroughly chilled and almost mad enough to unleash her right hook.
“May I speak with you, ma’am?” Kip seized Sterling’s elbow and guided her into the lee of a building. Her nose began to thaw, but her temper didn’t diminish. “What do you think you’re doing? Have you any idea what the bank might do if we both asked for account records on the same day? They might call SFI to verify me and they might tip off the very person we’re trying to catch. You put me in charge of this investigation and I don’t need any help. And I don’t need anyone checking up on me!”
Sterling jerked her elbow out of Kip’s grasp. “Are you through?”
Kip’s temper began to abate. “Yes. I’m through.”
“For your information, I was there on routine SFI business having nothing to do with your investigation.”
Kip swallowed as the gray eyes favored her with a gaze colder than the wind. “Such as?”
“Discussing the possibility of financing for construction of our own building.”
The unmistakable bruising along her cheekbone and jaw further unsettled Kip. Nice job, slug the boss, then yell at her in 52
the street. She took a deep breath as her inner voices gibbered with embarrassment. “Maybe I jumped to a conclusion. If you were me—”
“I’d have asked my client before I accused—”
Furiously, she admitted, “You tried it once already. And you’re my boss. It’s making me a little hypersensitive.”
One eyebrow lifted. “A little?”
“Okay, a lot.” Kip tried to summon her best Secret Service stare to cover her discomfiture, but she knew she wasn’t having much luck. Damn Sterling for making her feel short, inexperienced—flustered. She should have never let her into her kitchen. “I apologize,” she snapped.
“Apology accepted.” Tamara wasn’t having any trouble maintaining her Mount Rushmore facade. “Since we’re having this meeting, how is it going?”
Kip flushed hard enough that she could only hope it didn’t show through cheeks already reddened by the sharp wind. “Fine.
I could have a status report on what I’ve ruled out late tonight.”
“I won’t be home. Call me tomorrow—no, that won’t work either. And I do want to give you some room to work. Let’s make it Wednesday evening for a full preliminary report.”
“Yes ma’am. I think that will give me enough time.” Kip struggled to choose the right words and she set aside any thoughts about what her boss was doing with her evenings that made her unavailable. That is so inappropriate, Barrett, she told herself.
“I’m sorry I jumped to a conclusion. I usually don’t. Maybe it was guilt. I’ve been telling little lies all day and then when you came in I was sure I’d be caught, even though you have every reason not to impede me.”