Unauthorized Access (7 page)

Dysart looked back at Kelleher. “You still think we need the police, is that it?”

“Yes, I do.”

Dysart shook his head. “Our customers have to see this as a technical problem, nothing more. They’ll panic if they hear their accounts were sabotaged and the police have been called in.”

He picked up the phone and pressed the flashing button. “Stan Dysart speaking.”

“Hi, Uncle Stan.”

Dysart’s brow furrowed at the sound of Lesley’s voice. Why would Mary put through a personal call now, of all times?

“This isn’t a good time,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“I know,” Lesley said. “That’s why I’m calling.”

C
HAPTER
S
IX

LESLEY SAT IN one of the leather chairs in her uncle’s office while Shayna waited outside. Dysart stood looking out a nearby window, his hands clasped behind his back. His jaw was set when he turned to face her.

“How is it,” he said, “that you came to be interviewing people outside my bank?”

“I received a tip,” Lesley said.

“You what?”

“A text message, said I should find out why your customers were angry. And they are, believe me.”

Dysart started pacing in agitation. He couldn’t believe it. Who was aware of the bank’s problems and also knew Lesley? The answer was all too obvious. And after Dysart had explained how imperative it was to keep this quiet. He felt like picking up his swivel chair and heaving it through the plate glass window behind his desk.

“Was it Rob?” he asked.

An irritated look flashed across Lesley’s face. “No,” she said, “I could have told if it was Rob’s phone. This number was blocked. I don’t know who it was.”

Dysart snorted and shook his head in disgust.

“Does it really matter how I found out?” Lesley said. “The more important issue is what we’re going to do now.”

“
We
aren’t going to do anything.” Dysart stopped pacing and turned to face her. “I have to get back to work, and you’re going to forget about this. Pretend you never got the tip.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. If you start broadcasting stories about problems at First Malden, we could have a run on the bank within hours.”

“It’s not going to take a broadcast to do that. The entire city will know about this before the day is out no matter what I do. Hell, the entire country for that matter.”

“That may be,” Dysart said, “but I don’t need you hastening the process.”

“Whether you like it or not, a bank that loses people’s money is big news.”

“Is that what this is for you? A chance to impress your boss?”

“Of course not.”

“Dammit Lesley, we’re family,” Dysart shouted. “After all I’ve done for you and Rob, I thought you’d look out for me better than this.”

Lesley rose abruptly from her chair, turned her back on Dysart, walked a couple of short steps away and stood with arms crossed trying to control her anger. Her face was flushed when she turned back.

“You should know me better than that,” she said. “You and Aunt Sheila are very important to me and—”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Lesley said with a glare, which Dysart returned.

“You should think seriously,” she continued, “about how you want news of this to hit the streets.”

“I already have. As late and as little as possible. Preferably not at all.”

Lesley threw up her hands. “You don’t get it, do you? People are going to know you’re having problems.”

“No,” Dysart said, his voice becoming even louder, “you’re the one who doesn’t get it. You have no idea how much money is at stake here. If our customers hear the wrong message, it could mean the end of the bank.”

“Which is precisely why you need my help,” she said, matching his volume. “Some reporter is sure to break this story soon. Do you think anyone else will be as sympathetic to the bank as I am?”

Dysart just looked at her.

“I can’t be misleading or anything,” she said, “but I can let you tell your side of the story and avoid the sensationalism, which is exactly what any other reporter would play up for all it’s worth.”

“I know, but—”

“In fact,” Lesley said, “I think you should treat this as an opportunity instead of a problem. A chance to reassure your customers.”

Dysart sighed. She had a point. Soon the faces of First Malden customers were likely to start showing up on local shows and in the papers. Even the national news services might pick up the story. And human nature being what it was, the fear of the unknown was almost always worse than knowing the truth. Or in this case, the version of the truth he was willing to tell.

“What do you suggest?” he said.

Lesley’s breathing started to slow down as she looked at him for a few seconds. Finally she said, “The obvious thing would be to do an interview, have you tell the camera what’s happening.”

Dysart considered this. His mental balance sheet tipped quickly in the direction of action over inaction. The spin messages were already forming in his mind.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it. There’s a corporate logo on the wall outside my office that’ll make a good background for an interview.”

“You won’t be sorry,” Lesley said. “I promise.”

They emerged from his office to find Shayna telling a story that Mary seemed to find enormously funny. Shayna stopped when she caught sight of them.

“Mary, I’ll be just outside for a few minutes if anyone’s looking for me,” Dysart said as he swept by her desk.

Once in the hallway it was only a matter of seconds for Lesley to position Dysart and herself, and for Shayna to adjust her equipment for the lower indoor light levels. With a brief nod from Shayna, Lesley began.

“I’m here in the corporate offices of the First Malden Bank with bank President and CEO, Stan Dysart. Mister Dysart, a number of your customers have expressed concern over apparent irregularities in their bank records. Can you explain what is happening?”

Dysart exuded the quiet confidence of someone in complete control of all around him.

“The First Malden Bank prides itself in providing one of the most comprehensive suites of online banking services available. Unfortunately, a computer system component malfunctioned for a short time this afternoon, which caused improper adjustments to be performed on a number of accounts. Our staff are working on the problems as we speak and are taking the time to make sure each account is restored with total accuracy. We understand the dismay some of our customers experienced this afternoon and apologize for any inconvenience caused by the situation. I would also like to personally reassure everyone we are making every possible effort to complete the corrections as quickly as possible. In the meantime, anyone who has questions can call or drop by any of our branches.”

“How long will it be before all accounts are restored?” Lesley asked.

“I can’t give you a definite timeframe, but we certainly hope to complete the minor adjustments that remain very soon.”

“Is there any danger that customers will lose money as a result of these difficulties?”

Dysart registered an appropriate look of surprise. “Goodness no, of course not. Like I said, everything will be back to normal soon.”

“Okay, thanks,” Lesley said, and then nodded to Shayna, who lowered the camera.

Dysart felt like he had just stuck his finger in a dike—one that was sure to collapse if the truth ever became public.

* * *

Rob could barely see into Paul Dees’ office through the small crowd gathered around the doorway. Dees and Anthony Finnamore sat in front of Dees’ computer terminal entering the instructions to replace the AMS executable. Several AMS team members watched anxiously, including John Kelleher just inside the office doorway.

“Rob, I need to talk to you.”

Rob turned to find a furious-looking Stan Dysart behind him. Dysart led the way to Kelleher’s nearby office and closed the door after Rob followed him inside.

Dysart immediately planted himself inches from Rob’s face.

“Did I, or did I not explain to you,” the older man said, his eyes narrowed, “how important it was not to tell anyone about our problems?”

Rob’s exhausted brain reeled in search of a reason for this unexpected barrage.

“Well … of course,” he managed to stammer.

“Then explain to me how Lesley shows up here today asking questions.”

Rob blinked.

“I didn’t know she was here,” he said.

“Of all the reporters in this city,” Dysart said, “not one of them knows anything about what’s going on here … except your girlfriend.”

Rob’s mind leapt to the correction—fiancée, not girlfriend—but now was not the time.

“Tell me how that could be,” Dysart said. He thrust out his chin and waited for Rob to reply.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you! What did you expect her to do, keep it to herself? She’s a reporter for Christ’s sake. Of all the people to talk to when what we need is time to fix it before our customers panic. Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Like I said, I didn’t tell her.”

“Someone texted her with a tip,” Dysart said.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Who else would have contacted her but you?”

“How would I know? Everyone I work with knows her.”

Dysart shook his head in disgust. “I thought you had management potential, but obviously you don’t think the interests of the bank are important enough to protect.”

“But—”

“I suppose you told her about the merger, too.”

Rob hoped his hesitation wasn’t noticeable.

“No, of course not.”

He made a mental note to remind Lesley how important it was to keep that little secret.

“I’m going to have to think seriously about your role here at the bank.”

Rob could feel the fury and frustration building. How could this night just keep getting worse?

“This is crazy! I haven’t told anyone about the attacks.”

Dysart glared back at him.

“From now on you better keep your mouth shut.”

Dysart pulled open the office door and walked out.

Rob stood there for a few moments with his chest heaving and his head buzzing from the combination of exhaustion and adrenaline. He slammed his open hand against the solid wooden door and sent it crashing back against the doorstop.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

ROB LET THE front door close behind him as he mounted the few stairs that took him from sidewalk level up into Champions Sports Bar. The place was packed with a dinnertime crowd. He stood for a few moments to let his tired, scratchy eyes adjust to the relative gloom, then he looked around for Lesley and Shayna. He wanted desperately to head home to bed, but Lesley’s news story was important to her and he wanted to help her celebrate.

Tall stools fronted the bar to his left. Framed photographs of sports notables covered the walls. A profusion of TVs hung near the ceiling, providing patrons with several channels worth of distractions at once.

Rob found Lesley and Shayna sitting at a square table in the middle section of the bar, next to a wall of Red Sox memorabilia.

“You made it,” Lesley said with a big smile on her face. “Our story should be on soon.”

Rob sat down and looked up at the TV that hung in a nearby corner. “How’d you get them to turn it to your station?” he said. “I’ve never seen anything but sports on the TVs here.”

Shayna pointed toward the bar. “I worked my magic on that studly bartender over there.”

Rob shot a look of astonishment at Lesley. “How could you do that?” he said. “Turn her loose on a poor, unsuspecting guy like that.”

“By the way,” Shayna said to Rob, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Lesley looked down at the rock on her finger.

Rob smiled and said, “Thanks.”

“Does this mean I should give up waiting for you?” Shayna said.

“Hey, if Lesley ever dumps me, you’re absolutely the first in line.”

“Shh.” Lesley pointed up at the TV. “This is it.”

The three of them watched as news anchor Steve Hewitt kicked off the six o’clock news.