and I’ve never seen this account in Mr. Bertone’s records. When I tried to do some fundamental due diligence, Andre and Elena both told me where the money came from was none of my business.”
Foley sighed and shook his head. “Most of our wealthy clients just don’t understand our obligations under the Patriot Act. I assume you explained everything to him.”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“He went postal,” Kayla said.
“I don’t understand.”
“First, he tried what amounted to blackmail. Very cleverly done, but still blackmail.”
Foley’s mouth opened. He shook his head sharply, then picked up his desk pen. “Explain.”
“Remember that land I own out toward Wickenburg?”
“Sure do. Did you decide to sell it like I advised?”
Kayla told herself that Foley didn’t mean to sound patronizing. And if she repeated it often enough, she might believe it. “The deal just closed this morning.”
“Good. Small ranches are sentimental holes in all but the wealthiest purses. You don’t have a big one. What’d you get for it?”
“Twenty-five thousand an acre.”
“Yowsa,” Foley said, fiddling with the pen. “That’s a great price. Did you go with Charlotte Welmann?”
Kayla nodded. She’d taken Foley’s recommendation because she didn’t know any local Realtors and hadn’t wanted the hassle of selling Dry Valley by herself. “Charlotte started with a high price because she wasn’t sure what the market would be.” Kayla grimaced. “The place sold in a day.”
“Huh. Guess you should have asked more.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Who bought it?”
“Charlotte told me the buyer was an out-of-town investor who was quietly buying up ground for a large development. I was required to sign a confidentiality agreement, promising not to reveal the sale. The buyer’s agent said his client was worried that other landowners would hear about my sale and start jacking up their prices.”
Foley nodded. “That’s pretty standard. So what does all this have to do with your, ah, blackmail problem?”
“About an hour after I signed the agreement and picked up the escrow check, I learned the identity of the buyer. Andre Bertone.”
Foley’s blond eyebrows lifted. “Well, that’s a little weird, but I don’t see—”
Kayla cut across his words. “Bertone told me if I didn’t deposit his twenty-two-million-dollar check without questions, he’d see that I got in trouble with the bank and the federal government over the Dry Valley sale.”
Reaching into her valise, she pulled out the check and shovedit across the desk to her boss. Then she rubbed her fingers over her skirt, trying to remove even the feel of the transaction.
Foley picked up the check and looked at it silently. It appeared to be just what she’d said it was.
Twenty-two million bucks.
“Okay, let me get this straight,” he said finally. “You think that one of our best clients spent a quarter of a million dollars on a scheme to compromise you, and potentially the bank as well.”
She nodded. Foley might be a pretty boy, but he was a damned shrewd banker.
He looked at the check again. “Have you verified that the funds are present in the account?”
Kayla shook her head. “I didn’t want to do anything that looked like I was agreeing to Bertone’s demands. That seemed to me like a one-way ticket to federal prison.”
Thoughtfully Foley slid the check in small circles on the polished surface of the desk. Then he pushed the check back to her. “If this all happened the way you say it did, you’ve done nothing wrong. The bank will back you two hundred percent.”
She let out a long breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”
“Be serious, Kayla.” He leaned forward and grinned. “I always take care of the people who take care of me.”
The remark made her uneasy, but she let it pass. She didn’t like a lot of what Foley said. “So what do we
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