Above Temptation

by Karin Kallmaker

  Obsessing about her clothes was better than thinking how she’d measure Tam’s inner thigh with her tongue. She discovered, too, that a cold shower was the biggest old wives’ tale ever. It made not one bit of difference.

  Tam had never arrived in Nassau by ship, and she found it far more pleasant than by air. The cruise lines had taken great care to make the dock area welcoming, and the moment they stepped from the gangplank to the shore the smell of the island filled her head. Music from the not-too-distant straw market drifted on the wind toward them. The sun was hot and it felt wonderful on her face. Buildings and awnings in sharp white stood out against the blue skies and green, mounded hills.

  Kip in dark glasses, a crisp short sleeve button-up shirt and cargo shorts was easy on the eyes. Tam also recognized Kip’s natural tendency to draw herself up to an almost regal stance when she was working. In spite of her height, her bearing and the impenetrable sunglasses were more than a little intimidating.

  “We walk through the market and then we’ll find Robert Manna. If he hasn’t changed his habits, he’s having coffee at a local place near his bank. There won’t really be any place for him to hole up and call security. If he’s uncooperative, we can bring in the higher-ups at the bank, hopefully before he has a chance to get to the paperwork first.”

  “Got it.”

  She was so adorable, so… Tam made herself stop thinking about Kip that way. Not right now, she told herself. Right now she had to think of Kip as the kick-ass investigator she’d hired to get to the bottom of theft at SFI.

  She led the way through the cacophonous, crowded pier market and onto Bay Street. They passed kitschy T-shirt shops and then more refined jewelry emporiums, interspersed with banks from all over the world. Like the rest, the Bank of Zurich’s doors were still shuttered. After several blocks of ducking around shoppers, they turned onto a quieter, less traveled side street.

  The Balcony House Cafe was a few steps up uneven rock stairs. The entry was crowded with bougainvillea which had attracted its share of bees, and Tam guided Kip around them. In the U.S. the stairs would have been leveled, the plants trimmed back and the bees exterminated. But here such things were regarded as part of the atmosphere, and anyone who couldn’t cope was welcome to leave paradise for a sanitized city any time they liked.

  There were times, like now, when island life definitely appealed to her.

  The cafe’s dining room had a distinct tilt, and she spotted Robert Manna almost immediately, ensconced in a sunny corner, tea brewing in front of him as he scanned the morning paper. At first glance, he was the picture of a European expatriate, snow white hair, a thin mustache, meticulous white tailored slacks and shirt. His figure was more trim than most. She knew that he was well over six feet, though the last time she’d seen him he’d adopted a silver-tipped cane to give him “a spot of steadiness for the old knees.” She called up what she could remember about him. Had served in the Swiss Army, was married, children and grandchildren. Had served the bank all over Europe until settling here, where he had declared he intended to end his days, even if he was frustrated by the illegalities that were commonplace. That he had helped their embezzler didn’t fit his profile, but given the temptations that crossed his desk every week, maybe it wasn’t a surprise that he had finally succumbed.

  Her heart pounding, she approached as casually as possible, letting her shadow fall on his newspaper. When she didn’t move on he looked up.

  “Tamara Sterling!” He leapt to his feet to seize and enthusiastically shake her hand. “I was half expecting you.”

  “You were?” It was not the response she had expected. There was no sign of dismay in his face.

  “Yes, I was thinking about you just last week. We’ll talk business at the bank. Let me get you some breakfast.”

  “Tea is fine,” Tam said. She introduced Kip, and Robert gave a casual wave at the waiter, who promptly retreated to the kitchen. Once they were seated, she said, “I’m afraid I can’t wait for the bank. My business is quite urgent.”

  “I was hoping you were on holiday.” His gaze flicked to Kip, mildly speculative.

  “No, on business I’m afraid. It’s about the account SFI opened about six weeks ago.”

  “That was why I was thinking of you. We had so many transactions pass through, and last week it was such a flurry that our internal monitors tagged it. I authorized them, of course, but it was odd I hadn’t heard from you directly.”

  Tam was nonplussed. Robert sounded as if he hadn’t a clue that Tam had known nothing about the account.

  Kip, her face like steel, asked, “Who did you hear from?”

  “Ted of course.”

  Tam tried to breathe in. She was glad her hands were under the table so no one could see them shaking.

  If Kip was surprised, it didn’t show. “Ted Langhorn? He set up the account? How?”

  “What’s wrong?” Robert’s brows came together. “Ted brought me the paperwork himself. I explained it wasn’t necessary, but he assured me that you felt that we did so much work by computer contact that it was time to see the whites of someone’s eyes again. Plus, that pretty wife of his was wanting a vacation, and why not put the two together.”

  Tam was dazed, and incredibly grateful to have Kip with her. This was why she’d hired a professional.

  Following the playbook of always asking questions and never giving answers, Kip continued, “Did he indicate why the account was necessary?”

  “Some inside job you were worried about, but the account was for recovery not outbound. Though I’ve only seen outbound.” He paused while the waiter delivered two pots of hot water, delicate teacups on saucers, and a selection of British teas.

  Once the waiter departed, he said in a low voice, “I thought about calling you, Tamara. Not that it didn’t seem all spot on, it was just unusual. We had a system and it wasn’t like anyone at SFI to divert from it.”

  Tam finally found her voice. “I knew nothing about the account. That’s why I’m here. I need the application preserved, fingerprints and all. I had no idea Ted… Kip has been tracking an internal embezzler. That much was true. Apparently, Ted is the one.”

  Kip shook her head. “No, not him. It can’t be. He travels too much. He simply isn’t in Seattle often enough to be doing the work there.” She turned her attention to Robert again. “Did you talk to anyone else about this account?”

  Clearly perturbed, Robert shook his head. “No. I used the usual procedure.”

  “I’m not suggesting you didn’t,” Kip said quickly. “But could you tell me what that procedure is?”

  “I established the account with the contact information provided on the application. Had there not been an application, I’d have used the contact e-mails that I always used. But since this was supposed to be an internal matter, it made sense that a different e-mail was being used.”

  Tam couldn’t help a noise of self-disgust. “The e-mail account. I never thought of backending the email account on the application copy we already have. It would have probably traced back to their contract hacker, eventually.”

  “What is this all about?” Robert lowered his voice further. “Ted Langhorn is embezzling?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tam said, in spite of Kip’s warning gesture. She was not following investigation protocol, but she trusted Robert more than ever. “He’s helping someone who is. It’s not about money. It’s about me.”

  * * *

  Robert Manna gave every appearance of being honest and trustworthy, but Kip remained vigilant as Tam and Robert talked, their tea forgotten. Tam was too involved to keep her distance, but Kip listened closely for equivocation and any sign of rehearsed answers. She heard none, though. Adding to that was Robert’s completely unalarmed—almost delight—in seeing Tam again. If he’d been complicit some dismay ought to have shown.

  “It’s highly unusual,” Robert was saying as he got to his feet, “but not unheard of. Our largest clients are sometimes given access
before and after hours, for the sake of discretion. We’d best be going.”

  Kip followed Tam and Robert back through the increasingly crowded streets of Nassau. The Bank of Zurich was still closed, and Robert took them around to a side door which he opened with a key. They were all inside when a guard challenged them, but Robert explained and signed them in. Once inside, the security was more stringent, requiring a key card and numeric input to open doors.

  Without customers there was a regal hush over the marble floors and heavily draped walls and windows. The air was cool and still. Kip saw that there were a few employees at their stations already, though it was still twenty minutes until the bank opened.

  “Please have a seat.” Robert opened the blinds of his neatly appointed office situated just off the top of mezzanine stairs. Rich blue carpet and drapes whispered of old and new money, and the heavy antique desk was clearly of European import. Behind him, photographs of family and dignitaries were clustered on shelves, adding warmth to the room.

  “I have a copy of the transactions in question, with the routing numbers,” Tam said. She put the sheet of paper on Robert’s desk, turned toward him. “I’d like to try reversing them. At least see if the money is still at the destinations, just as we’ve done before on SFI cases.”

  Robert nodded. “As soon as the manager is in I’ll ask for the four of us to go and remove the application and secure it…”

  Kip saw him frown as he studied something on his desk. “What is it?”

  “I have an urgent request. It must have arrived after I left on Friday evening. I had a Governor’s tea… Friday afternoon your embassy conveyed, with gratitude for prompt response, a request from U.S. authorities for information related to recent dealings with Sterling Fraud International, a corporation of United States registration, details provided below… Oh dear. I’m in a bit of a pickle. I can’t ignore this.” He gave Tam a look of concern.

  “If part of what they would get is your statement that I didn’t open this account, and the original application for their own testing, then please respond,” Tam said quickly. “My priority is that they know I’m not involved and preserving Ted Langhorn’s fingerprints on that application. If they take me in, we’ll never get the money back. That’s why I took the risk to travel here, yes, under an assumed name.”

  Kip interjected, “I want to know the original still exists. That it’s here.” She wasn’t sure how far Robert would bend, but she played her hand anyway. “I’m the official investigator into this matter from SFI. I won’t interfere with law enforcement requests, but I have a need to see evidence with my own eyes whenever possible. That’s why I’m here in person. And I also used a false name to get here undetected. After that, by all means, accommodate law enforcement. I assure you, the real culprits would rather you didn’t do that.”

  Robert scratched his neatly trimmed mustache as he sat down in his desk chair. “This is all really most irregular, but I understand your needs, Miss Barrett. However, under the Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty I am required to respond in an urgent manner and attest as to who and how this account was opened, plus supply copies of our transaction records.” He picked up the phone before Kip could say anything more.

  “Dahlia, yes, it’s Robert at Bank of Zurich. Martin, is it? Is he in yet? What luck.” He gave Tam a droll look. “Martin, I’ve got the request here, will do right away. I was out Friday afternoon. There is?” He swiveled around, putting his back to them. “I just saw her this morning. Yes, I met Miss Barrett as well. There is? No, Sterling didn’t open this account. I haven’t had any contact in about three months before this morning. If I see her again, I’ll tell her to visit you promptly.”

  Kip’s nervous energy wouldn’t let her sit still any longer. She went to the window, wishing they were getting that piece of paper right now. She listened to Robert explain who had opened the account while she studied the crowded street below her. Everyday tourists looking hot in the morning sun mixed with local police in their unmistakable white uniforms. Strange to glance down the marquees and see Dicky Mo’s and Conch Bakery next to Burger King.

  “Sterling told me that she was being falsely implicated, and Miss Barrett, as the SFI investigator, was most interested in seeing that application for herself. This is all a proper mess. What a way to start a Monday. So indeed, yes, this account was opened by Theodore Langhorn, and not by usual protocol. No, I’ve not seen him since. He could be anywhere.”

  Kip blinked. She knew where he was. She was staring right at him. He appeared to be making a beeline for the bank.

  * * *

  Tam’s focus on Robert’s one-sided conversation was broken by an urgent gesture from Kip. She crossed to the window and followed Kip’s pointing finger.

  Son of a bitch. And that was Nadia with him. She was willing to bet that Ted—Ted of all people—had assured Hank and Diane that he’d get to the bottom of things in Nassau while they held down the fort. But Ted didn’t know where Robert took his morning tea, and that had made all the difference. How could Ted do this? What possible gain could be worth the risk of prison and loss of his personal honor?

  She scrawled the news on Robert’s notepad and waved it to get his attention. She knew he’d been trying to evade telling the embassy that he was actually in her presence, but there was no time.

  Robert peered at the note, then put on his glasses and peered again. “Martin—you know, I think all in all, it would be wise for you to dispatch some representatives quickly.” He sighed and gave Tam an apologetic look. “Yes, Sterling and Barrett are here. And so, apparently, is Langhorn. It would be most efficient if you were prompt and discreet. Our doors open in fifteen minutes.”

  He hung up the phone and got to his feet. “Miss Barrett, come with me. Tamara, I am quite sorry about all this, but you’ll have to stay here.”

  Just like that, Tam was alone in Robert’s office. It was disconcerting, but not unexpected, to hear a key turn in the office door lock.

  All this way, all that worry, and she was caught. She suspected the windows wouldn’t open and the high transoms that let the island air circulate were too small for her to climb through. Besides, she wasn’t going to go leaping about rooftops and swinging through trees. It wasn’t necessary and would only make things worse.

  Ted, of all people, and Nadia helping? She thought over the past week. Maybe Ted hadn’t had the flu and they were covering preparations to run? Maybe Nadia didn’t know anything about it, actually. She had no proof… With a sinking heart she realized that it had to have been Nadia who guided their hacker to Tam’s passport and background information, who had to have been the one who explained what to remove. She had deliberately exposed both of them to the scrutiny of curious and hostile eyes. Everything she’d told Kip she’d have to tell again, and not to anyone she thought had any damn right to know. After their years of unspoken support for each other, behaving somewhat like the sisters they might have grown up to be, this betrayal was wounded in a place she was only just realizing might have never fully healed.

  She sank into a chair to put her head in her hands. Vernon Markoff, a fraud and embezzler, had hired Ted and Nadia, or both, to derail her. They had really put their heart and souls into it, and found insidious ways to wound and distract her. She was wondering now if Ted was the hacker she’d been stalking online. He’d been so good at software design in school—had an aptitude that matched her own. But he never pursued it seriously, saying it was too much hard work. Life was easier if you were handsome and glib. But if he’d kept up, knew or bought the right access, he could probably figure out how to carry off the entire scheme. He could do that anywhere he traveled, and Nadia would be available when necessary to doctor the statements.

  She’d been a fool. It had been right under her nose, the whole time. She’d distracted Kip with bad information; otherwise, Kip might have seen it.

  Through her shock she chafed at the inactivity. Robert’s office was excessively quiet. She couldn’t hear
anything but a low whir. She paced once around, then paused to listen again. Clicking, whirring, clicking… She opened a door to what she had assumed was a closet and discovered Robert’s computer desk. It looked like they were using UNIX, or an equivalent.

  She trailed a finger across the keyboard. UNIX. It had been awhile. She went back to Robert’s desk for the list of transactions she was hoping to reverse. She might as well make use of the time.

  Robert’s employee login had security nine ways from Sunday. It would take her too long to crack. But like most people, he had a personal login for access to basic, nonsecured things. And really, he ought to know better than to use his wife’s name as a password. Once past the sign in she looked for the programmer’s backdoor exploit.

  * * *

  Kip tried not to dance with worry as Robert conferred with the bank manager. He, too, looked like a Swiss expatriate, but didn’t appear to have started his day quite yet. Robert repeated himself and then, after an elaborate search for the right keys which had allowed time for the delivery of spiced coffee, they proceeded in due haste to the file rooms in the basement. It was more damp than Kip liked down there, but the manager explained that records were only temporarily domiciled on site. In another week, the paper in question would have been transferred to a secure storage facility.

  With the two bank officers slowly thumbing through the cabinet in question, conferring in low tones, she had no choice but to wait.

  “Here we are.” Robert pulled out a folder. “Miss Barrett?”

  She stepped closer to the lamp as he opened the folder. Using a pencil, he separated the pages. “Is this what you’re interested in?”

  “Yes, it looks exactly like the copy I was given as a valid digital duplicate. May I add a mark to the page?”

  “I’d rather we all did, then I will put it in the sleeve for your embassy people. They have to sign for it.”

  Kip was glad her hand wasn’t shaking as she initialed the two sheets. Robert and the manager added their own initials and she watched it transferred to the document sleeve, which the manager sealed with a strip of tamperproof tape. Her heart rate slowed. If Robert was telling the truth—and why wouldn’t he be?—Ted Langhorn’s fingerprints were all over it. Tam’s contention that she had known nothing about it was far more believable. They might, just might, be able to walk away from the whole issue and let law enforcement focus on Langhorn.