Free Double Vision by Fiona Brand Page B

out.”
    She frowned. Already a fine gauze of mist was filtering out sunlight. It was just as well they were flying out of San Jose; San Francisco and Oakland airports would be closed within the hour.
    Rina’s gaze was sharp. “Is Dad coming?”
    â€œNot right now. Maybe later. Don’t worry,” she said quickly.
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Are the police going to arrest Alex Lopez?”
    The accuracy of Rina’s observation and the mention of Lopez’s name made Esther’s fingers tighten on the wheel, sending the Saab over the centerline. A truck swerved, its horn blaring. Heart pounding, she corrected her course and forced herself to slow down. She had to remain calm and take care not to draw any attention. She couldn’t afford the delay an accident or a traffic ticket would entail. With jerky sentences she explained what had gone wrong and why they had to leave town. “The police will arrest Lopez, after we’re gone.”
    An intersection loomed. Esther braked, jaw clamped, fingers tapping on the wheel as she studied the thickening fog while she waited for the lights to turn green. A car nosed close behind and she frowned, trying to remember if she had noticed the charcoal-gray sedan before she’d stopped off at the school. In the murky light, colors could be deceptive. Seconds later, she accelerated smoothly across the intersection.
    When she got to the airport she would ring Cesar and tell him to get out, but she wouldn’t do that until just before they boarded the flight. She couldn’t risk being stopped, or found. Despite the danger he was in, Cesar had forfeited any right to her loyalty. Rina was her priority.
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    Vitali’s face was oddly blank as he handed the receiver to Lopez. “It’s gone. The account’s empty.”
    Dennison’s gaze sharpened as he listened to Lopez’s clipped conversation and the replies, which were audible on speakerphone. Paperwork authorizing the transaction had been received via special courier just after two that afternoon. The signature matched the sample they had on file.
    Lopez’s expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes looked strange, the pupils fully dilated, blacking out the irises. “Who rang to clear the transaction?”
    â€œYou did, sir. We followed the instructions.” There was a pause. “I spoke to you myself, just a few minutes ago.”
    â€œI haven’t called you. I didn’t authorize the movement of any funds and I haven’t received a phone call.”
    â€œThe call was made.” He cleared his throat. “We have it on tape. I’ll play it back for you.”
    Dennison listened, studying the taped conversation. The sound quality wasn’t great, but whoever it was, he was good. The voice was almost indistinguishable from Lopez’s own; close enough to match the sample tape the bank had been instructed to keep as a check.
    With cold precision, Lopez ended the call, disengaged the speakerphone and made a number of calls in quick succession.
    Dennison retreated a step, on the pretext of propping himself on the edge of the desk. He had never viewed Lopez, who was lean and slight and had an aversion to physical contact, as physically dangerous, but he was revising his opinion. The change in Lopez’s eyes had literally made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
    Dennison wasn’t normally privy to Lopez’s financial arrangements—that was Vitali’s area—but what had happened was now clear. Approximately thirty minutes ago, someone with the expertise and knowledge to access Lopez’s bank account and security details had stolen an amount so huge that when he’d heard the figure, Dennison had broken out in an instant sweat.
    The scam was multilayered and complex. Given the bank’s dual controls and the extra security measures Lopez had put in place, it shouldn’t have succeeded—and wouldn’t