Free Double Vision by Fiona Brand Page A

number of offshore transactions out of South America, including a substantial movement of funds by the Chavez cartel. “And get this. She used to date le Clerc. As in Xavier le Clerc.”
    Dennison’s stomach did an odd little flip-flop. Some agents talked endlessly about their “gut.” They would have a hunch about this, an instinct about that. As far as Dennison was concerned, human desires and sheer greed, along with good information, were a much more reliable map to follow than some airy-fairy premonition, but suddenly the weird feeling he’d had all day that something was wrong made sense.
    Le Clerc’s name wasn’t big here, but it was legendary in Europe. He was a coldly efficient thief who had done the unthinkable: collapsed a Swiss bank that had refused to disclose or release funds allegedly belonging to Jewish families that had survived the Holocaust. Simultaneously, he had engineered a bank heist that had removed certain items from the vault and safe-deposit boxes, all of which were said to have belonged to Nazi political leaders and war criminals.
    Lopez terminated the call, cutting Johnson off in midsentence. He handed the receiver to Vitali. “Check the account.”
    The whiplash command jerked Vitali out of his seat. “There’s no way we’ll get access to her Swiss—”
    â€œNot her account. Mine. ”

Six
    E sther parked her car outside Rina’s school, slotting into a space beneath a shady tree. She slipped dark glasses on the bridge of her nose and strode to the school’s office. The brief flash of her reflection in the glass doors told her that outwardly she looked cool and collected, despite the steamy heat, but ever since Xavier had rung with a bogus message from the school that Rina was unwell—the prearranged code for her to get out of town—she had been a bundle of nerves.
    When she had left the house she had followed Xavier’s instructions to the letter. It seemed ridiculous to place her trust in him, but his precise list of what to do—and what not to do—had helped. As soon as she had hung up, she had informed Carmita that she was driving into town to pick Rina up from school. Xavier’s logic was that it was best to construct a story that allowed her to stay within the bounds of normality, so that if she was being followed her movements wouldn’t be perceived as out of the ordinary until the last moment, when she took the turnoff to San Jose and the airport.
    She had changed into a lightweight linen pantsuit and stepped out of the house, taking with her only the things she normally carried, her handbag and briefcase, nothing that would signal that she was leaving town. The previous evening she had placed a suitcase of clothes and personal items in the trunk. They were due to fly out in just over an hour in a chartered private jet, not a scheduled flight. She had taken the precaution of also booking a regular flight, though, just in case anyone checked the airports.
    The receptionist consulted the school timetable, then found someone to escort her through manicured gardens to Rina’s classroom. After making excuses to Rina’s teacher for removing her from class a few minutes early, Esther hurried Rina out to the car. An internal clock told her that everything was taking too long. The holdup at the office had been longer than she’d anticipated, then Rina’s class had been at the far end of the school grounds, taking more precious time.
    Rina dumped her schoolbag in the backseat and strapped herself in. “What’s wrong?”
    Esther shot her a glance as she pulled out of the school gates and turned in the opposite direction than they usually took, frowning as she noticed the huge bank of clouds that had rolled in off the sea. It was early in the day for fog, but the weather had been extra hot and humid, and cloud had been slowly building all day. “We’re catching a flight