The caterers from Wild Ginger had usurped both the galley kitchen and a small conference room across from it, down a hall near the stairs that Liz had climbed only minutes before. Asian odors of pickled ginger and plum and cinnamon thickened with her approach. It took her a minute to locate the woman in charge, a woman with whom she’d had dealings. Their meeting in person was cordial and businesslike. Liz asked that the cake be brought out earlier than originally planned, and the caterer saw no problem with that, asking for five to ten minutes to clear the hors d’oeuvres and to orchestrate the change. Liz said Charlotte would dim the lights when signaled, knowing full well there was no dimming the overhead fluorescents. The entire floor would be briefly dark, the guests’ attention fixed on the candles and the cake. This would be the moment Liz needed.
Halfway back down the hall, she stepped into an empty office and pulled out her cell phone. Lou answered right away.
“I’m in. Watch for the lights. Five minutes, maybe ten.”
“They’re searching the theater. Riz is going to have this figured out soon if he doesn’t already. They’ll think you were pressured into this, but they’ll still expect one of those two passwords from you.” Miles6. Sarah4. She didn’t intend to use either; there would be no alerting Pahwan Riz to the actual transfer. “I’ve got Bobbie inside as a waitress,” Lou continued. “When you’re done in there, you need to call me.”
He’d stressed this need to call him about a dozen times and it annoyed her that he’d repeat it yet again. “I got that, Lou.” She regretted the tone, not knowing herself, hoping that whatever woman she’d become over the past few weeks would not stick.
“Okay.” Boldt ended the call.
Liz slipped the mobile phone back into Daphne’s purse and spun in the chair, preparing to leave.
“I thought that was you.” A deep male voice she recognized before looking up. Danny Foreman blocked the doorway.
“Wouldn’t miss my own party,” she said.
“Who were you talking to just now?” he asked. “Lou?”
How much did he hear? She couldn’t remember what she’d said on her end of the conversation. The manila envelope that contained a disk remained inside the purse. How much does he know? “I don’t remember your name being on the invitation list,” she said.
“Half of Special Ops is looking for you in a movie theater at this very moment.”
“Not you.”
“Not me. I wanted to make sure we still had our understanding. Protect the state’s investment in this investigation.”
If the money went anywhere but the Svengrad account, her children weren’t safe. She thought that by now Danny Foreman probably understood this as well. She said, “I wonder what Pahwan Riz would think of your being up here. Lou, for that matter. Couldn’t just your presence here blow this?”
“I’m here to make sure you get out safely.”
That gave her chills. Lou had warned her no one would want her remembering the account numbers. Her thoughts poured out of her before she could stop her mouth. “It’s not a government account, is it, Danny? Never was. This is about Darlene for you. Injustice. This is something between you and David and this guy Svengrad.”
“You’re at serious risk once this transfer is made.”
“From whom? What’s your plan, Danny? How safe am I?”
“You’re mistaken, Liz. Horribly mistaken. It is a government account. I told you before: We need that money as evidence if we’re going to get a conviction. It’s as simple as that.”
“Simple?” she asked. “Can you actually say that?” She didn’t know how to read him. Half in shadow, Danny Foreman wore an intractable expression. “Should I call Lou or Special Ops and thank them for sending you? Should I ask security to call someone to let them know you’re here at the reception? How do you want to play this?” She felt the seconds passing by, and her chance to sneak inside the AS/ 400 room escaping along with it.
“I’m going in with you,” he said. “I’ll input the account number myself. We wouldn’t want your nerves causing you to mistype a number.”
This was completely unplanned for. “Wiring the funds requires an account number, an ABA routing number, and a name for the account. It’s foolproof, Danny. I won’t mistype it.”
“I’m going in with you. Look at it this way: In the event of a trial it will protect us all if I witness your actions.”
“I’ll be lucky to get in there myself, alone. Two of us? No offense, Danny, you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.” Of the guests assembled in the room not twenty feet away, half wore tuxedos. Foreman looked as if he’d slept in his clothes for the past week.
“I’m going in there with you.”
She looked for some way to circumvent him. It dawned on her then-a possible way to lose Foreman, but she would need a head start. She would also need an alternate plan, the answer to which lay with Lou-Lou, and Bobbie Gaynes, a wild card whose presence here remained unknown to Foreman because it remained unknown to Special Ops as well. “Okay,” she said, “you win.”
Foreman first looked surprised, then satisfied with himself, until she spoke again.
“Do you know how to tie a bow tie, Danny?”
He frowned, then caught on to the suggestion.
“We’ve got to get you looking right,” she said. “Let me see what I can work out with the caterer. I’m the one who hired her in the first place.” She had him cornered and they both knew it.
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
She wanted to object but didn’t feel confident lying to him, fearing he’d see through the lie. She nodded acceptance, her mind working to see a way out of this, Danny Foreman an albatross she could ill afford.
Thinking more clearly than she, he said, “I’ll take your cell phone.”
She reached into her purse and took hold of the phone, offering it but not yet passing it to him. “Will you? And what will you say to Svengrad when he calls? You need his wire information or you don’t have a case against him. Isn’t that right?”
“You must have that information by now.”
“I do not,” she told him, wondering as his face tightened further if she’d given him too much information. This was Lou’s world, Danny Foreman’s world, not hers. She started her phone back toward her purse but Foreman took it from her.
“All the more reason you need me,” he said, pocketing it.
She needed the phone. Special Ops would be watching all calls from and to the bank’s phones; she didn’t want to be “caught” dialing Lou’s cell phone number. She also still expected the call from Svengrad. Not to mention Lou.
“There are security cameras inside this room with the servers,” Foreman said. “Riz has cameras aimed at both keyboards in case the key-tracking software fails.”
Liz realized he was just talking this through. He was right; she’d been briefed on the locations of these cameras as well.
“Lou worked it out, didn’t he?” She waited to see what he was getting at.
“LaRossa gave Hayes a way to monitor your security cameras,” he said, theorizing. “Svengrad hasn’t called you because he knows you’re not in the restricted room yet. He’s waiting for your move.” He paused. “You did or did not use your own ID when you entered tonight?”
Liz had thought her use of Tony LaRossa’s ID had been to hide her from Special Ops, not from Svengrad. Only now did she sense that Lou had this second motive in mind as well. She clutched her purse, as Foreman reached for it. She felt an urgent need to protect Lou’s plan, whatever it was. “There is a security camera in this hall. I do know that. You’ll be on camera if you come with me. This may take me a minute.” She tore herself free from Foreman’s grip.