And she was only rescued from the awful conversation with Barnstable by the appearance of Pleski of all people, her day piling up into one enormous tower of shit. But Barnstable had stepped aside when he arrived, because Pleski was a valued client, and Pleski suggested that Catherine leave the office with him to talk about his account over a drink, and she seized that escape, only hoping that Pleski wouldn’t start talking about his sister and taking her to visit the mountains of, where was it, Detroit? But Pleski, settled in a bar with her, actually did want to talk about his account and asked about the mining company investment she had told him about. It was off the table, she said, an issue with Compliance, she had fought it but been overruled.

“By who,” asked Pleski, “that guy you were talking to when I came in?”

“Yes,” she said. “My boss. Mister Barnstable. But I may be leaving the bank and opening my own firm, making my own rules, maybe you could bring your account . . .”

Pleski was already shaking his head. He liked dealing with a big bank, he said. International branches. Lots of prestige. Why would she leave? Because of that guy? What was his name? Barnstable?

“He’s very conservative,” she said. “Very intrusive. Questions everything. My investment choices. My clients.”

She never meant to get into this, and she wouldn’t have ordinarily, not ever. But with Majid being weird and the DAX options about to blow up and the wine at lunch and now martinis with this guy, and . . .

“Your clients?” Pleski said. “What about your clients? Even me?”

She looked at him through her buzz, this ugly man. She’d never asked him. Maybe she should just ask him. About what Rafe had said.

“Some crazy story,” she said. “About Kevin Kemper.”

“Kevin Kemper?”

“The kid in New York. Who got killed in the traffic accident.”

“What about him? What about that?”

“The timing of the accident. How it all worked out, with the deal closing.”

“Who’s talking about this? That guy, Barnstable?”

Pleski looked angry. She didn’t want to mention Rafe. Not to this man. She didn’t want to mention anyone, but she was already down the road. Too late to rewind.

“Just him? Anybody else?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No.”

“Interesting,” Pleski said.

Interesting. Afterward, Catherine remembered that most of all.

Coincidence

COINCIDENCE