I hang up the receiver.
"Hey, Shep," Charlie sings, putting on his happiest face for the head of Security.
-Everything's fine? Shep asks, moving toward us.
"Yeah," Charlie says. "Perfectly," I add.
"What could go wrong?"
Charlie bites his lip as soon as the question has left his lips.
"How can I help you today, Shep?" -I ask.
"Actually, I was hoping I could help you," Shep says, using his kindest tone.
-Forgiveness? -say.
"I just wanted to talk to you about that wire transfer you sent to Tanner Drew…
Charlie's shoulders slump in sudden terror. He is not good at confrontations.
"It was a perfectly legal transfer," I say defiantly.
"Listen," Shep interrupts. You can save that tone. Sensing that he's caught our eye, Shep adds, "I've already spoken to Lapidus. He's delighted by the balls you gave him taking charge of the matter. Tanner Drew is happy; everything is fine. But as far as I'm concerned... well, I don't like watching forty million bucks whiz by... especially when you use someone else's password.
How do you know that we...
"Do you think they hired me because of my pretty face?" Shep asks, laughing. With thirteen trillion dollars exposed to a ton of risk, we have the best security money can buy.
"Well, if you need any help, I've got a pretty good bike lock," Charlie says, trying to keep the situation from getting out of hand.
Shep turns directly to him.
"Hey man, you'll love this, Charlie. Have you ever heard of the Investigator program?
Charlie shakes his head. The jokes are over.
"It's a program that lets you control keyboards," Shep adds, and now all his attention is on me. Which means when you're sitting at your computer, I can see every word you type. Emails, letters, passwords... as soon as you press the key, it appears on my screen.
"Are you sure that's legal?" -I ask.
"Are you kidding me?" Today it is the most normal thing in the world. Exxon, Delta Airlines, even suspicious fucking wives who want to see what their husbands write in chat rooms, they all use it. I mean, why do you think the bank has all its computers connected to a single network? So you can send internal emails? Big Brother is not coming... he's been here for years.
I look at Charlie, who is staring at the computer screen. Oh no, the fake letter...
"It's really amazing stuff," Shep continues. You can program it as an alarm, so if someone is using Mary's password, and the security system says she's not in the building anymore...she'll jump up on our screen and tell you what's going on.
"Listen, I'm sorry I had to...
"There we have the Brooklyn accent again. Shep smiles. What happens, it only comes out when you're nervous? When you forget to hide it?
"No, it's just that… under the circumstances I didn't know what…"
"You don't have to worry," Shep says, drawling himself in the best old-town accent. Like I said, Lapidus doesn't give a damn. When it comes to technology matters, he doesn't care if I can see someone typing in Mary's name or his…" Shep looks over my shoulder and says more slowly, "…or even if I can see that someone uses a bank computer to write a fraudulent letter.
Charlie stiffens in his chair, and suddenly I'm not the only one with a constipated look on my face.
"I'll tell you, they didn't have that when I was on the service," Shep continues, taking a few steps toward us and rolling up his shirtsleeves. He scratches his forearms, first the right, then the left, and for the first time I see its effectiveness. These days…with computers…you can find out anything…" he adds, the old neighborhood accent gone from his voice, "…a forty million dollar wire transfer to Tanner Drew. .. or three million transferred to Marty Duckworth...
Motherfucker.
I am paralyzed. I can not move.
"It's all over, son. We know what you're up to.
Charlie jumps out of his seat and tinges his voice with a small laugh.
"Ha ha ha, Shep, easy on that club, you don't think we'd..."
Shep walks past him and points a finger directly at my face.
"Do you think I'm blind, Oliver?" I stare at the ground and don't answer. I have asked you a question son; Do you really think I'm that stupid? I knew from the moment you sent the first fax, it was only a matter of time before you made a mistake.
"The first fax?" Charlie asks. The one they sent from Kinko's? Do you think it was us? He places a hand on Shep's shoulder, hoping to gain a second or two. I promise you, man, we never sent that... in fact, when we got here this morning... we were... we were trying to catch that thief... right, Ollie? We were doing the same as you!
I remain motionless in my chair, pale as a ghost. Charlie knows I'm lost. He looks at me. Damn it, Ollie...come on! Please.
"Knock, knock...is anyone home?" a shrill voice asks as my office door is flung open. Shep turns and discovers the source of the voice, the middle-aged, potbellied but still impeccably dressed man now approaching my desk. Francis A. Quincy, the firm's principal financial partner. Behind him stands the boss himself. Henry Lapidus.
I manage to compose an absolutely fake smile, but underneath my toes dig into the carpet.
"Look who's there... the forty million dollar man!" croons Lapidus, as he approaches me. Believe it or not, I'm listening to Tanner Drew save you a place in his will.
As he speaks, he runs his hand over his almost completely bald head; it is a gesture that is part of his permanent state of movement. Despite his almost two meter height, Lapidus is like a hummingbird in human form... flap, flap, flap all day long. I used to think that it was an energy that could not be contained. Charlie used to say it was a clear case of hemorrhoids. They always appear in the butts.
"And guess who we brought you," Lapidus says. He steps aside to make way for a shy, tortoise-faced boy in an overpriced Italian suit. He is our age and he looks familiar to me, but I...
"Kenny?" Charlie exclaims.
Kenny Owens. My roommate during my freshman year at NYU.