business?”
“Not enough, I guess,” she said. “This product, did you sell it all?”
“I did.”
“Did you get paid?”
He paused. She could almost see his mind whirring away, calculating just how big a lie he could safely tell. “For most of it,” he said.
“How much did you get paid?”
His head rolled back as if she were holding a knife to his throat. “About three million,” he said, squeezing the words out.
“When did you plan to send it back to Andrew Tam?”
“When things settled. I haven’t had time; we just got paid.”
“But you do plan to send it back to Andrew?”
“Of course, of course.”
“Seto Sun Kai,” Ava said gently, “you are a thief and a liar.”
She reached into her kitbag and removed the stiletto, flicked it open, and pressed its point into his thigh. It pierced his pants and then his skin. It was a prick, not much more. Still, he jumped, startled. His leg twitched. “Don’t,” he said.
She moved the knife up his leg and stuck the point into his genitals. He flinched and strained to move back.
The knife tracked up his chest and onto his face. Ava rested the tip in the soft flesh just above his eye. Sweat from his brow trickled down his nose and both sides of his face. She was about to say something about the knife but realized it wasn’t necessary. Seto understood well enough without the theatrics.
“Seto Sun Kai,” she said calmly, “let me tell you what I know and then let me tell you what I need to know. I know why you had a problem with the shrimp. I know the games you and George Antonelli played with it. I know how the shrimp were moved, who repackaged them, and where they were sold. I know how much you got for them. I know about the little bank in Texas where the money was sent. I know that the little bank wired the money to an account in the British Virgin Islands. I have copies of the transfers, so I know to which bank they were sent and I know the account in which they were deposited. I know you are the sole signing authority on that account. Now, there are two things I don’t know. Do you want to guess?”
He shook his head, sweat dripping onto her hand and the knife.
“I don’t know the password to your computer upstairs, and I don’t know the password for your BVI bank account.”
Seto grimaced and said nothing.
She waited. A minute passed, maybe more.
“Seto Sun Kai, I’m waiting.”
“It isn’t that easy,” he said.
She felt her first flush of irritation. “I really don’t want to hurt you, or the woman upstairs,” she said, increasing the pressure on the knife tip.
“The password for the computer is ‘waterrat,’” he said in a rush.
“Your zodiac sign?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And for the bank account?”
“Eighty-eight, sixty-six, eighty-eight, sixty-six.”
“Thank you.”
“It won’t do you any good,” he said.
She noticed that he was beginning to sweat again and his voice had tightened. This wasn’t where she had thought they were going. “And why not?”
“There’s a limit to the amount of money I can take out of the account electronically.”
“You can access the account through the Internet, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You can transfer money out of the account, yes?”
“Yes, but like I said, it’s restricted.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can only withdraw up to $25,000 per day.”
She saw his left foot begin to shake. He was scared, and she began to think he might be telling her the truth. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s how we set it up. We never had that much in the account until last year, so it was never a problem.”
Ava picked up the Barrett’s file from the kitchen table. She leafed through it, taking out the monthly statements and the attachments, and read them more closely than she had upstairs. Patrick watched her, confused about what had just transpired.
After ten minutes she said, “There was a withdrawal eighteen months ago of $335,000, and then another ten months ago of $200,000, and then a third just three months ago of another $400,000.”
“How many are there for $25,000 or less?” he said.
“Admittedly, a hell of a lot more.”
“Anything under $25,000 I did electronically. I was sending money to George’s accounts in Atlanta and Bangkok and to my account in Seattle. Those other three withdrawals I did in person.”
“What do you mean?”
“I went to the BVI. I went to the bank. I presented a written request for a certified cheque along with my American passport and one other form of photo ID, usually my driver’s licence. They drew up a release form and I signed it. They photocopied my passport and driver’s licence and dated the copies, and I signed those too. Then they gave me the cheque.”
“Who does that anymore?” she said.
“The account was opened before Internet banking took off,” he said. “And Barrett’s is a conservative bank. They’re paranoid about money laundering and gave me a hard enough time just opening an account.”
“What if you dropped dead?”
“George has the power of attorney, and that is recorded at the bank. He would need to show up and go through the same shit I did.”
“Can’t you request a change in the amounts?”
“Only by doing it in person.”
Seto was telling her the truth. She knew he was — there was no reason for him to lie. But that didn’t help quell her anger: anger about making too many assumptions, about thinking the deal was closed, about having dared google Tommy Ordonez. She had jinxed herself. She had broken one of her own rules and now she was paying for it. The only mistake she hadn’t made was to tell Andrew Tam his money was on the way.
“Patrick, look after him for me,” she said abruptly. “I have to go upstairs for a minute.”
He looked at her questioningly but she was already halfway out of the kitchen.
She went upstairs and checked in on Anna on her way to Seto’s office. She was curled on the bed, crying softly to herself. Ava closed the bedroom door so she wouldn’t have to listen.
The computer was still on. Ava typed WATERRAT and the screen opened up. Then she tried to access the Internet and was told it wasn’t currently available. She waited. On the fourth attempt she finally got online.
She went to the Barrett’s Bank’s home page and clicked on ACCOUNTS. She input the account number and then the password. The S amp;A bank account came to life. She checked the balance: $7,237,188.22. There was a list of options for her to pursue, and one of them was WIRE TRANSFER. She clicked on RECIPIENT DETAILS. She was going to type in Andrew Tam’s bank information until she realized she had left her notebook downstairs, so she typed in her own bank data. Under amount to be sent she requested $50,000. Then she hit the send button. The request was immediately flagged.
Ava appeared calm and focused when she walked back into the kitchen.
“What the hell happened to you?” Patrick asked.
“I have a problem,” she said.
