“So how are the transfer orders being sent?” Despite the lantern’s glow, she couldn’t really see Tamara’s eyes, but the tone was overly nonchalant.
Kip had had a lot of experience making cogent presentations.
She took a calming breath, hoping it would save her now. “As you know, a number of our largest clients pay their retainers on a quarterly basis. The financial firms in particular pay by pre-arranged wire. The wires come into several sweep accounts.
Four times a month there are transfers out of those accounts.
Most of the balances are transferred to payroll accounts for the California, New York and Illinois payroll systems. A variety of other payments are made to the overhead accounts at the various offices for premises expenses like rent. Our malpractice insurance premium gets paid that way as well.” Tamara probably knew this, but the background was important.
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Kip absently scratched behind one ear. “Our thief apparently knows all of these details. He or she simply adds another destination account on to the instructions to transfer money to an account we don’t control.”
Tamara had been leaning back in her chair, but now she sat forward, bringing her face into the light. “That’s pretty sophisticated computer work. Not many people could do it.”
“I know.” Kip desperately tried to appear nonchalant, as if she didn’t have a reasonable investigator’s suspicion that the woman across the table from her could be the mastermind. “It’s easy to cover up if you can doctor the bank statements. It’s equally easy for me to discover it. But there’s no paper trail other than the statements.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither did I at first. But I can only come up with one explanation,” Kip said. “If this was being done the usual way, which is falsified paperwork, the paperwork we sent to the bank, with the extra instructions, would be in our files. But our paperwork is fine.”
“So why is the bank processing the extra instructions?”
“I think because computers do what they’re told.”
Tamara took a deep breath. “Someone’s hacking into our instructions before they hit the bank? I did the protection system myself and... Let’s say it’s nearly impossible. Those systems are tight.”
“Tighter than a bank’s own security protocol?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, there’s only two explanations,” Kip said slowly. “If it wasn’t done on SFI’s mainframe, then it was done on the banks’
systems.”
Tamara was shaking her head. “That seems equally impossible.”
“Yes,” Kip said, nodding. “I know. But I checked a few of the SFI mainframe files. It wasn’t that hard to open them for reading only.”
“You didn’t find the originals,” Tamara said confidently.
“Those were copies and meant to be accessible.”
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“Well, if those are valid copies, our ledger files appear intact and unedited. I’m not an expert, though.”
“I’d be able to tell,” Tamara said. “Damn—my day is incredibly busy tomorrow and I won’t get the chance.”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” Kip said sharply.
“You want to call in someone else to do it? I wrote the safeguards myself... Oh. I get it.” Her face was like stone. “Later someone might say I used the opportunity to erase my work.”
Kip could not stop her lips from trembling. She felt like she was riding a seesaw blindfolded, up and down with no ability to predict or control the motion. She believed Tamara and her heart—stupid thing—sang. Then she thought Tamara was guilty and she ached with betrayal. Up and down, up and down, with the ground never under her feet.
Tamara was looking at her questioningly. “Do you think that’s what I meant to do?”
Kip lowered her gaze to the bleak landscape of papers. “We’re looking for someone who can do the impossible on a computer. I don’t think it would look good at all for you to go—”
“Kip.”
She had to look at her. She could not trust her. “We’re looking for someone who can break into a bank computer, find the legitimate transaction entered properly and append an additional line of instructions. Without setting off alarms and without messing up the processing totals.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“No,” she said softly. “I didn’t.”
In the soft lantern light, Tamara’s eyes were oceans deep, unreadable. Kip knew it wasn’t the same with her. She could not find The Stare, could not even blink and look away.
“You’re a good investigator,” Tamara said finally, and she finally broke their intense gaze, leaving Kip feeling as if she had nevertheless disappointed her. “Since I know I’m innocent, however, you’ll have to excuse me if I proceed on that basis.”
Kip didn’t respond to that comment. Instead she said,
“There’s a further complication.”
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Tamara pursed her lips and looked at her through lowered lashes. “How does this get more complicated?”
“So far, I’ve listed thirty-five destination accounts. This is a talented thief, so those accounts are likely already closed, making the traces complex.”
She sighed again. “I can’t believe this is happening at SFI.”
“Even the best of people can be tempted.”
Tamara shook her head. “No, the best people aren’t tempted, and they can’t be bought. If I didn’t believe that, I’d close up shop tomorrow.”
Kip said quietly, “I believe that too. But we have both worked cases where people thought above suspicion gave in to the lure of money. Sometimes for a loved one’s sake. Sometimes for all the best reasons to do a wrong thing.” She wanted to ask Tamara if she had a reason like that, but couldn’t make herself do it.
“For love and country,” Tamara said, her face turned again toward the shadow. “McVeigh truly thought he was saving America when he blew up all those people in Oklahoma City.”
There’s something she’s not telling me, Kip thought. A secret—like so many she’s keeping, apparently. “Patriotism can be played out in the strangest ways, yes.”
“Your grandfather was a patriot.” She seemed almost relieved to shift the topic.
“He was,” she agreed. “Loyal to the office of the President, therefore to the Constitution. Like something out of a Jimmy Stewart movie.”
“Did you know that even a sophisticated data search doesn’t turn up your service file?” Tamara asked the question casually, but the hand on the table was tensed.
Kip bit back a gasp of anger. “You had no right—”
“I hate mysteries,” she said.
“Why I left the Service has nothing to do with working for you.” Kip stood up, clenching and unclenching her fists.
Tamara looked up at her. “I thought you personally had some sort of indiscretion and I got cold feet. So I checked you out on my own this afternoon. I have to know how far I can trust you.”
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Kip’s heart was pounding. “I think that stinks.”
“How many innocent people do you investigate before you find the guilty one?” She was standing now, slowly moving to her side of the table.
“Dozens. And it stinks, too. I don’t like probing into people’s lives when they’ve done nothing wrong. Ted Langhorn and Diane Morales have done nothing to deserve my prying through their financials. Besides, I’m not a suspect being investigated. You were just curious.” Her voice faded away as she considered that she was, once again, not using the wisest tone with her client.