The Body of David Hayes

“Charlotte.” Liz smiled at the attractive young woman behind the welcome desk.

“There you are!” Charlotte bent over and reached below the table. She handed Liz a name tag that bore a small blue ribbon, a touch that Liz didn’t care for but something Phillip had insisted upon. The ribbon identified Liz as “co- hostess” and made her feel cheap, as if she were throwing a Pampered Chef party instead of a reception for a multibillion-dollar merger. “This came for you.”

Charlotte gave her a plain manila envelope. A plain white label bore her name and nothing more. It was the right size and shape and thickness for a computer disk.

“How’d you get this?”

“It was messengered to the lobby desk. Dilly sent it up.”

“When was this?”

Charlotte heard the concern in Liz’s voice and reflected it. “Just before we got going. A few minutes before eight. Why?”

Liz backpedaled, sorry she’d suggested there was any problem. “Oh, no reason.” She forced her face to soften. “It’s just in time. Thanks.” She glanced to her right, where the end of the room was sectioned off by polished steel beams and thick, unbreakable glass, and looked right at one of the twin AS/400s, a black, solid block of computer the size of a washing machine. Behind the server and out of view was a small desk holding a large flat-panel screen and a keyboard. The placement of this workstation intentionally screened the operator in order to prevent any eavesdropping or spying from without. The machine’s twin sister sat to the right in a small office of its own. This more private room was where most of the heavy lifting was done by programmers and maintenance. This was Liz’s destination. To reach it, she would have to pass through a palm-scanner, as well as an ID reader. She would be under the glare of the overhead lighting, visible to all. She would stick out, given that there was no activity at that far end of the large room. Her entrance to the space would alert security and, in turn, the surveillance team.

The cake had been Lou’s idea, his solution to part of this dilemma, and only then did she think to follow up with it, asking Charlotte about its readiness.

“It’s here,” Charlotte replied. “But we’re saving it for after the switchover, right?”

That had been Liz’s original instruction, but now that had to change for the sake of timing. She could feel Special Ops close on her heels. “The switchover is actually just ceremonial. Phillip… Mr. Crenshaw, will throw a switch, yes. But the final exchange of data won’t occur until after midnight. Then our servers are off-line for good.”

“Right… ” Charlotte clearly wondered why Liz would explain what she already knew.

“So what can it possibly matter when we serve the cake? The point being that once the switch is thrown, the party peaks, and maybe folks don’t stick around for the cake.”

“Just admit it, Mrs. Boldt,” Charlotte said, nearly stopping Liz’s heart. “I know your real reason for changing plans.”

Liz felt the color drain out of her face and her hands go cold.

“Choc-o-holic, anyone?” Charlotte cracked up. “Confess your sins, Mrs. Boldt!”

Liz felt nervous laughter escape from her throat. “Caught!” she said, her knees weak and actually trembling. “Me and chocolate! You got me. Let them eat cake.”

“How soon?”

“Let’s give the hors d’oeuvres another few minutes, and then surprise everyone.” Liz kept one eye on the end of the room, and the brightly lit secure office. “And don’t forget the candles and the room lights. Phillip wants this to be dramatic.”

Charlotte beamed. “I’ll tell the caterers.”

“I’ll do it,” Liz said, wanting both the excuse and the opportunity to avoid circulating as much as possible. “If anybody’s getting an advance taste of that cake, it’s me.”

Charlotte grinned, and Liz left before her mouth got her in real trouble. She’d never been a good liar, even through the months of the affair with David. Had Lou not been so consumed at the time, he would have caught on sooner.

The caterers from Wild Ginger had usurped both the galley kitchen and a small conference room across from it, down a hall near the stairs that Liz had climbed only minutes before. Asian odors of pickled ginger and plum and cinnamon thickened with her approach. It took her a minute to locate the woman in charge, a woman with whom she’d had dealings. Their meeting in person was cordial and businesslike. Liz asked that the cake be brought out earlier than originally planned, and the caterer saw no problem with that, asking for five to ten minutes to clear the hors d’oeuvres and to orchestrate the change. Liz said Charlotte would dim the lights when signaled, knowing full well there was no dimming the overhead fluorescents. The entire floor would be briefly dark, the guests’ attention fixed on the candles and the cake. This would be the moment Liz needed.

Halfway back down the hall, she stepped into an empty office and pulled out her cell phone. Lou answered right away.

“I’m in. Watch for the lights. Five minutes, maybe ten.”

“They’re searching the theater. Riz is going to have this figured out soon if he doesn’t already. They’ll think you were pressured into this, but they’ll still expect one of those two passwords from you.” Miles6. Sarah4. She didn’t intend to use either; there would be no alerting Pahwan Riz to the actual transfer. “I’ve got Bobbie inside as a waitress,” Lou continued. “When you’re done in there, you need to call me.”

He’d stressed this need to call him about a dozen times and it annoyed her that he’d repeat it yet again. “I got that, Lou.” She regretted the tone, not knowing herself, hoping that whatever woman she’d become over the past few weeks would not stick.

“Okay.” Boldt ended the call.

Liz slipped the mobile phone back into Daphne’s purse and spun in the chair, preparing to leave.

“I thought that was you.” A deep male voice she recognized before looking up. Danny Foreman blocked the doorway.

“Wouldn’t miss my own party,” she said.

“Who were you talking to just now?” he asked. “Lou?”

How much did he hear? She couldn’t remember what she’d said on her end of the conversation. The manila envelope that contained a disk remained inside the purse. How much does he know? “I don’t remember your name being on the invitation list,” she said.

“Half of Special Ops is looking for you in a movie theater at this very moment.”

“Not you.”

“Not me. I wanted to make sure we still had our understanding. Protect the state’s investment in this investigation.”

If the money went anywhere but the Svengrad account, her children weren’t safe. She thought that by now Danny Foreman probably understood this as well. She said, “I wonder what Pahwan Riz would think of your being up here. Lou, for that matter. Couldn’t just your presence here blow this?”

“I’m here to make sure you get out safely.”

That gave her chills. Lou had warned her no one would want her remembering the account numbers. Her thoughts poured out of her before she could stop her mouth. “It’s not a government account, is it, Danny? Never was. This is about Darlene for you. Injustice. This is something between you and David and this guy Svengrad.”

“You’re at serious risk once this transfer is made.”

“From whom? What’s your plan, Danny? How safe am I?”

“You’re mistaken, Liz. Horribly mistaken. It is a government account. I told you before: We need that money as evidence if we’re going to get a conviction. It’s as simple as that.”

“Simple?” she asked. “Can you actually say that?” She didn’t know how to read him. Half in shadow, Danny Foreman wore an intractable expression. “Should I call Lou or Special Ops and thank them for sending you? Should I ask security to call someone to let them know you’re here at the reception? How do you want to play this?” She felt the seconds passing by, and her chance to sneak inside the AS/ 400 room escaping along with it.

“I’m going in with you,” he said. “I’ll input the account number myself. We wouldn’t want your nerves causing you to mistype a number.”

This was completely unplanned for. “Wiring the funds requires an account number, an ABA routing number, and