Armstrong sat behind his desk at the Holborn Bank, the one with the fountain pen in a stand and Armstrong’s computer system password written on the card taped to the pull-out drawer. Rafe was in the visitor’s chair. Armstrong had handed back his Treasury ID after being suitably impressed, and Rafe had put it back in his jacket pocket. He could see the framed photos arrayed around Armstrong. One was of a young woman, most likely his daughter. Pretty girl.

“A lot of these people have been on the government’s radar for a while,” Rafe said. “Some have been on Treasury’s SDN list for years. That’s ‘Specifically Designated Nationals’. . .”

“I know what it is,” Armstrong said.

“Well, someone here didn’t know. Or didn’t care.” Rafe knew it was in his favor that Armstrong was new in this office. Anything that happened before he got here couldn’t be his fault. Simplest thing for him to do would be to clean house.

Rafe pointed to the list he’d laid on the desk when he arrived. “You’ve got two drug traffickers there, an arms dealer, at least one so-called charity linked to a terrorist organization. All of them with accounts here. You’re not supposed to be dealing with them, facilitating them, conducting any transactions. The SDN list isn’t a secret. It’s published . . .”

“We’re not a US bank,” Armstrong said. Uh-oh, Rafe thought. Institutional loyalty? Armstrong did look like a company man. Time to bring out the guns.

“You have correspondent banks in the US. You settle trades in the US. Would you rather conduct your business—all your business—with banks in China? Russia? Iran? Holborn can be totally blocked from the center of the international banking system. Not very convenient for your customers. I’m sure they’d prefer to bank with institutions that aren’t on the sanctions list.”

Armstrong leaned back in his chair and gave up. “What do you want?” Rafe could hear his accent now. From somewhere down South, almost. “I can close these accounts right now.”

“No,” Rafe said.

“No?”

“Now that we’ve identified them, we want to watch them. We’d like you to keep us informed of their transactions. So we know what these people are up to.”

“So I’d be working for the US government?”

“You’d be helping to fight crime and terrorism. I’m sure you don’t have a problem with that.”

“And what do I tell my headquarters?”

“As little as possible. We have no idea who sanctioned the opening of these accounts.”

“I doubt anyone in London was aware,” Armstrong said. “My predecessor here . . . he didn’t have the best reputation.” And added: “He’s deceased. A sailing accident.”

“Well, that’s convenient then,” Rafe said. “We can meet periodically. My agency has an expense account. Where do you like to eat?”

Armstrong smiled. “So we won’t be meeting in back alleys?”