Pleski leaned forward confidentially. “You know what? I don’t think you do.”

What was this? Catherine looked at him. There was a mole on his right cheek that he really should have checked out. Although it wouldn’t break her heart if he didn’t.

“We don’t?”

“You don’t,” he said. “You’re on the inside there. You know how things work. I’m sure you could sidestep some of the formalities. I mean, you know the right people. Maybe you’ve got some special relationships . . .” He gave a knowing smile, almost a leer. What did he think, that she was fucking her way through the executive ranks? She tried to maintain a neutral expression—she always tried with Pleski—but he must have seen something that made him back off.

“Or maybe you don’t,” he said. “I don’t know. But you’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can find a way to make this happen. This is Switzerland. They used to make millions of dollars disappear all the time. And then reappear. All kinds of magic tricks with money.”

She couldn’t deny that. “But that was before,” she said. “There are new rules.” Not to mention the bank’s own internal security measures. No disc drives or thumb drive ports on the computers, an AI program scanning attachments to employee emails for suspicious content, mainly designed to prevent the theft of proprietary information or client data (although she certainly wished someone would steal this client).

“Rules?” said Pleski. “Made to be broken.” He drained his glass and signaled the waiter for a refill. “I need this done. And right away. Six hundred seventy-five thousand US. That’s not even big money in this town. A rounding error. I’ll give you the cash and—”

“No,” she said. “That’s not how things work.”

“How things work?” Pleski’s tone changed. Now he was laying out facts, simple and plain. “You’ve been handling my money for a year. Handling it happily. You and your bank. Taking your fees, taking your commissions, taking your salary and bonuses and skiing at Zermatt and vacations in the south of France. How closely did you ever look at my sources of funds? Ever?”

“You always presented documentation.”

“Sure,” he said. “You want documentation for this batch, too?” He picked up a napkin. “I can write something on this. You can put it in a file.”

“That’s hardly the same thing.”

“Maybe it is.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. But starting to think so. Oh shit.