“How long will it be before all accounts are restored?” Lesley asked.
“I can’t give you a definite timeframe, but we certainly hope to complete the minor adjustments that remain very soon.”
“Is there any danger that customers will lose money as a result of these difficulties?”
Dysart registered an appropriate look of surprise. “Goodness no, of course not. Like I said, everything will be back to normal soon.”
“Okay, thanks,” Lesley said, and then nodded to Shayna, who lowered the camera.
Dysart felt like he had just stuck his finger in a dike — one that was sure to collapse if the truth ever became public.
Rob could barely see into Paul Dees’ office through the small crowd gathered around the doorway. Dees and Anthony Finnamore sat in front of Dees’ computer terminal entering the instructions to replace the AMS executable. Several AMS team members watched anxiously, including John Kelleher just inside the office doorway.
“Rob, I need to talk to you.”
Rob turned to find a furious-looking Stan Dysart behind him. Dysart led the way to Kelleher’s nearby office and closed the door after Rob followed him inside.
Dysart immediately planted himself inches from Rob’s face.
“Did I, or did I not explain to you,” the older man said, his eyes narrowed, “how important it was not to tell anyone about our problems?”
Rob’s exhausted brain reeled in search of a reason for this unexpected barrage.
“Well … of course,” he managed to stammer.
“Then explain to me how Lesley shows up here today asking questions.”
Rob blinked.
“I didn’t know she was here,” he said.
“Of all the reporters in this city,” Dysart said, “not one of them knows anything about what’s going on here … except your girlfriend.”
Rob’s mind leapt to the correction — fiancée, not girlfriend — but now was not the time.
“Tell me how that could be,” Dysart said. He thrust out his chin and waited for Rob to reply.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t believe you! What did you expect her to do, keep it to herself? She’s a reporter for Christ’s sake. Of all the people to talk to when what we need is time to fix it before our customers panic. Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Like I said, I didn’t tell her.”
“Someone texted her with a tip,” Dysart said.
“It wasn’t me.”
“Who else would have contacted her but you?”
“How would I know? Everyone I work with knows her.”
Dysart shook his head in disgust. “I thought you had management potential, but obviously you don’t think the interests of the bank are important enough to protect.”
“But—”
“I suppose you told her about the merger, too.”
Rob hoped his hesitation wasn’t noticeable.
“No, of course not.”
He made a mental note to remind Lesley how important it was to keep that little secret.
“I’m going to have to think seriously about your role here at the bank.”
Rob could feel the fury and frustration building. How could this night just keep getting worse?
“This is crazy! I haven’t told anyone about the attacks.”
Dysart glared back at him.
“From now on you better keep your mouth shut.”
Dysart pulled open the office door and walked out.
Rob stood there for a few moments with his chest heaving and his head buzzing from the combination of exhaustion and adrenaline. He slammed his open hand against the solid wooden door and sent it crashing back against the doorstop.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rob let the front door close behind him as he mounted the few stairs that took him from sidewalk level up into Champions Sports Bar. The place was packed with a dinnertime crowd. He stood for a few moments to let his tired, scratchy eyes adjust to the relative gloom, then he looked around for Lesley and Shayna. He wanted desperately to head home to bed, but Lesley’s news story was important to her and he wanted to help her celebrate.
Tall stools fronted the bar to his left. Framed photographs of sports notables covered the walls. A profusion of TVs hung near the ceiling, providing patrons with several channels worth of distractions at once.
Rob found Lesley and Shayna sitting at a square table in the middle section of the bar, next to a wall of Red Sox memorabilia.
“You made it,” Lesley said with a big smile on her face. “Our story should be on soon.”
Rob sat down and looked up at the TV that hung in a nearby corner. “How’d you get them to turn it to your station?” he said. “I’ve never seen anything but sports on the TVs here.”
Shayna pointed toward the bar. “I worked my magic on that studly bartender over there.”
Rob shot a look of astonishment at Lesley. “How could you do that?” he said. “Turn her loose on a poor, unsuspecting guy like that.”
“By the way,” Shayna said to Rob, “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Lesley looked down at the rock on her finger.
Rob smiled and said, “Thanks.”
“Does this mean I should give up waiting for you?” Shayna said.
“Hey, if Lesley ever dumps me, you’re absolutely the first in line.”
“Shh.” Lesley pointed up at the TV. “This is it.”
The three of them watched as news anchor Steve Hewitt kicked off the six o’clock news.
“We begin tonight with local news,” Hewitt said. “Customers of the First Malden Bank received a rude shock today when they found money apparently missing from their accounts. Bank officials are calling the incident a temporary computer problem. For exclusive coverage, we go downtown to Lesley McGrath.”
Lesley appeared on the screen, WNWB-TV microphone in hand. This was the intro footage they had shot outside the bank after interviewing Dysart. The timing had been tight, but they had managed to rush back to the station, get the editing underway and make the case for the story with their producer, Arthur Pearce.
“I’m standing outside the Tremont Street branch of the First Malden Bank,” Lesley’s TV image said, “where bank customers have quite a story to tell.”
Three different customers filled the screen in succession, each spilling out their tale of financial confusion. The last to appear was the young man with the earring.
“Are you thinking of switching banks?” Lesley’s voice said from the TV.
“It’s possible,” Hennebury said. “I’ll wait and see how things pan out.”
“For an explanation of what is behind these problems,” Lesley said, alone on the screen now, “I spoke with Stan Dysart, President of the First Malden Bank.”
Dysart’s confident face appeared with the First Malden logo in the background. Rob listened with confusion and then dismay as his boss talked about malfunctions and minor adjustments. Was this the same Stan Dysart who had been so stressed out all day?
“… everything will be back to normal soon,” Dysart finished.
Lesley appeared for the wrap-up.
“At this hour there is no definitive timeframe for when all of the problems will be resolved but, as we heard, the bank hopes this will be accomplished very soon. In downtown Boston, this is Lesley McGrath.”