“Which is still a huge number of customers,” Dysart said.
“True, but even they can perform transactions right away. AMS will give them an incorrect balance at first, and then we can adjust the accounts manually as those customers come in to complain. Before long we’ll have most of the affected accounts fixed as well.”
The intercom buzzed. Dysart ignored it.
“You might think you’re making progress,” Dysart said, “but all the stuff you’ve talked about does nothing to solve our real problem, which is customer perception. Either we’ve fixed all the problems — and I mean absolutely all — or we haven’t.”
Kelleher sighed. “You know the answer to that one.”
“Then it doesn’t matter if we can conduct business as usual. We’re still the bank that lost our customers’ money.”
“The only way we’re going to recover all the data is to get the keyword. That means finding whoever’s behind the attack.”
The intercom buzzed again, longer this time.
Dysart jabbed the button. “What?”
“Phone call on line one, Mr. Dysart.”
“Not now Mary.”
“I think you need to take this one, sir.”
Mary had been with him for nine years and he trusted her judgment as much as anyone at the bank. “Fine, I’ll take it,” he said into the intercom.
Dysart looked back at Kelleher. “You still think we need the police, is that it?”
“Yes, I do.”
Dysart shook his head. “Our customers have to see this as a technical problem, nothing more. They’ll panic if they hear their accounts were sabotaged and the police have been called in.”
He picked up the phone and pressed the flashing button. “Stan Dysart speaking.”
“Hi, Uncle Stan.”
Dysart’s brow furrowed at the sound of Lesley’s voice. Why would Mary put through a personal call now, of all times?
“This isn’t a good time,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I know,” Lesley said. “That’s why I’m calling.”
CHAPTER SIX
Lesley sat in one of the leather chairs in her uncle’s office while Shayna waited outside. Dysart stood looking out a nearby window, his hands clasped behind his back. His jaw was set when he turned to face her.
“How is it,” he said, “that you came to be interviewing people outside my bank?”
“I received a tip,” Lesley said.
“You what?”
“A text message, said I should find out why your customers were angry. And they are, believe me.”
Dysart started pacing in agitation. He couldn’t believe it. Who was aware of the bank’s problems and also knew Lesley? The answer was all too obvious. And after Dysart had explained how imperative it was to keep this quiet. He felt like picking up his swivel chair and heaving it through the plate glass window behind his desk.
“Was it Rob?” he asked.
An irritated look flashed across Lesley’s face. “No,” she said, “I could have told if it was Rob’s phone. This number was blocked. I don’t know who it was.”
Dysart snorted and shook his head in disgust.
“Does it really matter how I found out?” Lesley said. “The more important issue is what we’re going to do now.”
“We aren’t going to do anything.” Dysart stopped pacing and turned to face her. “I have to get back to work, and you’re going to forget about this. Pretend you never got the tip.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can. If you start broadcasting stories about problems at First Malden, we could have a run on the bank within hours.”
“It’s not going to take a broadcast to do that. The entire city will know about this before the day is out no matter what I do. Hell, the entire country for that matter.”
“That may be,” Dysart said, “but I don’t need you hastening the process.”
“Whether you like it or not, a bank that loses people’s money is big news.”
“Is that what this is for you? A chance to impress your boss?”
“Of course not.”
“Dammit Lesley, we’re family,” Dysart shouted. “After all I’ve done for you and Rob, I thought you’d look out for me better than this.”
Lesley rose abruptly from her chair, turned her back on Dysart, walked a couple of short steps away and stood with arms crossed trying to control her anger. Her face was flushed when she turned back.
“You should know me better than that,” she said. “You and Aunt Sheila are very important to me and—”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“If you’d let me finish,” Lesley said with a glare, which Dysart returned.
“You should think seriously,” she continued, “about how you want news of this to hit the streets.”
“I already have. As late and as little as possible. Preferably not at all.”
Lesley threw up her hands. “You don’t get it, do you? People are going to know you’re having problems.”
“No,” Dysart said, his voice becoming even louder, “you’re the one who doesn’t get it. You have no idea how much money is at stake here. If our customers hear the wrong message, it could mean the end of the bank.”
“Which is precisely why you need my help,” she said, matching his volume. “Some reporter is sure to break this story soon. Do you think anyone else will be as sympathetic to the bank as I am?”
Dysart just looked at her.
“I can’t be misleading or anything,” she said, “but I can let you tell your side of the story and avoid the sensationalism, which is exactly what any other reporter would play up for all it’s worth.”
“I know, but—”
“In fact,” Lesley said, “I think you should treat this as an opportunity instead of a problem. A chance to reassure your customers.”
Dysart sighed. She had a point. Soon the faces of First Malden customers were likely to start showing up on local shows and in the papers. Even the national news services might pick up the story. And human nature being what it was, the fear of the unknown was almost always worse than knowing the truth. Or in this case, the version of the truth he was willing to tell.
“What do you suggest?” he said.
Lesley’s breathing started to slow down as she looked at him for a few seconds. Finally she said, “The obvious thing would be to do an interview, have you tell the camera what’s happening.”
Dysart considered this. His mental balance sheet tipped quickly in the direction of action over inaction. The spin messages were already forming in his mind.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it. There’s a corporate logo on the wall outside my office that’ll make a good background for an interview.”
“You won’t be sorry,” Lesley said. “I promise.”
They emerged from his office to find Shayna telling a story that Mary seemed to find enormously funny. Shayna stopped when she caught sight of them.
“Mary, I’ll be just outside for a few minutes if anyone’s looking for me,” Dysart said as he swept by her desk.
Once in the hallway it was only a matter of seconds for Lesley to position Dysart and herself, and for Shayna to adjust her equipment for the lower indoor light levels. With a brief nod from Shayna, Lesley began.
“I’m here in the corporate offices of the First Malden Bank with bank President and CEO, Stan Dysart. Mister Dysart, a number of your customers have expressed concern over apparent irregularities in their bank records. Can you explain what is happening?”
Dysart exuded the quiet confidence of someone in complete control of all around him.
“The First Malden Bank prides itself in providing one of the most comprehensive suites of online banking services available. Unfortunately, a computer system component malfunctioned for a short time this afternoon, which caused improper adjustments to be performed on a number of accounts. Our staff are working on the problems as we speak and are taking the time to make sure each account is restored with total accuracy. We understand the dismay some of our customers experienced this afternoon and apologize for any inconvenience caused by the situation. I would also like to personally reassure everyone we are making every possible effort to complete the corrections as quickly as possible. In the meantime, anyone who has questions can call or drop by any of our branches.”