Double Vision by Fiona Brand Page A

She must have spotted Dana slipping the card under the keyboard.
    She swallowed and blinked. Her nose had begun to run. She couldn’t believe it, she was crying. She hadn’t cried in years. In a convulsive movement she grabbed at a tissue, and in that moment saw an instant replay of Esther Morell doing the same thing. “She spilt some coffee and lifted the keyboard. She saw the card, but only for a second. I grabbed it and slipped it in the drawer. There was no way she could have remembered that many numbers.”
    â€œAre you telling me that you didn’t know Esther Morell had a photographic memory?”
    Dana blew her nose, discarded the tissues and pulled some more, her mind frantic. A photographic memory? If Pratt had thrown a brick at her head she couldn’t have been more stunned. “I didn’t know that,” she said tightly.
    Pratt was silent for a moment. “If you really didn’t know, that might be the only thing that saves you.”
    The door opened. A lean, dark man of average height entered the room. Dana had seen him before on a couple of occasions, but only fleetingly. Alex Lopez usually dealt directly with Pratt.
    Pratt straightened, handed the man the card and left the room, closing the door behind him. Warily, Dana pushed to her feet. Lopez was young, in his early twenties, and expensively dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with a diamond tiepin. He was wearing gloves.
    He stared at the card for a moment, then slid it into his pocket. “Because of you, Esther Morell was able to access my account and remove a substantial sum of money.”
    He mentioned the amount and Dana’s head reeled. Despite working in banking for most of her life, she didn’t know it was possible for any one person to hold that much money in liquid funds. If anyone did have that much legitimate personal wealth, it would usually be split into various forms: property, bonds, shares, blue-chip investments, mortgage funds. If a large amount of capital was available for even a few hours, it went on the overnight money market, or for longer periods on the short-term money market. For Lopez to have that amount in liquid funds meant the rumors in the office that he was involved in organized crime were true.
    The slap came out of left field, snapping her head sideways. The back of her legs hit her office chair and she stumbled off balance, clutching at the desk to stay upright.
    â€œI could break your neck.” His voice was calm, even casual. “But that’s not what I need right now.”
    Half-formed and horrifying visions of what he might possibly need made her feel physically sick. That amount of money could only come from one source: drugs. Despite the bank’s reputation, she hadn’t expected to deal with criminals. People wanting to reduce their tax bill, yes, but not real criminals.
    Something warm trickled down her chin. Dana touched her mouth. Her bottom lip was stinging and she could taste blood. “What, then?”
    His gaze flashed and she realized she’d pushed his buttons with that reply. A shudder worked its way down her spine. He had just assaulted her and threatened her; she could go to the police. She was sorry she had made a mistake, and sorry that he’d lost his money because of it, but hey, she only worked here. There was no reason she had to put up with any of this. She would lose her job, but that wasn’t a problem. She no longer wanted anything to do with RCS.
    â€œWhere is the money?”
    She flinched, expecting another blow. When it didn’t come, she let out a breath. “I don’t understand what makes you think I had anyth—”
    â€œWhere is the money that you and Esther and Xavier le Clerc stole from me?”
    She stared at Lopez. Now she knew he was crazy. She had known Xavier, but years ago. She hadn’t heard anything about him for more than a decade, ever since the tabloids had lost interest in a story and