“Because it’s not allowed,” Jonah said. “There are strict restrictions on taking money out of the GP subaccounts intended to protect the Houses.”
When we all looked at him, he shrugged. “We had to learn the rules when they firebombed the House. We got money from the Chicago subaccount to get into the new building and start the renovations on the old one.”
“So what are the restrictions?” I asked.
“Wire transfer is fine for any money going from the subaccounts to the Houses, because they consider it their money. But you can’t transfer money to any other recipient electronically; they’ll only issue it by cashier’s check.”
“Which means somebody has to be here to pick up the check,” I said.
“Yep. The accounts are large enough, and Darius is wealthy enough, that he probably doesn’t even have to go to the bank to do it.”
I thought of the man with the leather portfolio. “So the banker comes to him, even after hours.”
“Exactly.”
“And where’s the rest of the GP? How is no one else noticing this?”
“Because the primary accounts look fine on the surface,” Matthew pointed out.
“The local accounts work like escrow—holding the Houses’ tithes until they’re periodically moved into other accounts.”
Jonah stood up again. “Darius could have told them he was coming here to prepare a response to the challenge,” he said. “He’s head of the GP. He’s allowed to visit the cities that hold his Houses.”
True enough, but still odd. And completely out of character. Since when did Darius, who was essentially the king of North American and Western European vampires, sneak around with finances, or anything else? For that matter, since when did he show up in Chicago and make nice with Ethan?
My phone vibrated, and I looked down at it. “Boston,” I said. “Darius was in Boston.”
“Three cities, three transfers,” Matthew said.
“The Swiss accounts,” I said. “What can you tell us about them?”
“Pretty much nothing,” Matthew said. “What little identifying information the bank collects is encrypted beyond even our capabilities—which is the point of having a Swiss account.”
I nodded. And I didn’t doubt Matthew’s or the RG’s capabilities, but I had a family member with lots of money and lots of financial connections.
“Can I get the account numbers? The transaction numbers?”
Matthew glanced back at me. “You got friends in Switzerland?”
“Not exactly. But I may have someone who knows someone in Switzerland.”
“Worth a shot,” Horace said, nodding as I took photographs of the numbers to send to my source later.
“Thank you.”
Horace crossed his arms, looked at me. “What will Ethan do now?”
“When I tell him Darius has stolen nearly seven million dollars from the Houses? What do you think he’ll do?”
Horace smiled, but there was no joy in it. “I imagine Ethan Sullivan will do what Ethan Sullivan does best: He’ll go to war.”
I couldn’t decide whether I found that flattering or not.
Chapter Eight
THE SEVEN-MILLION-DOLLAR MAN
“Nearly seven million dollars,” Ethan said. He sat at the end of the conference table in his office.
Although we’d normally plan an op in the aptly named Ops Room, this particular topic was sensitive enough that we’d convened in Ethan’s office and gotten Victor Cabot on the phone.
“Your thoughts?” Victor asked.
“As you noted, we found his behavior abnormal. I’ve known Darius a long time. There’s no love lost between us, not that you’d know it today, as he seems to have dissociated completely.”
“He was shaken by Michael Donovan’s attack,” Luc said. “We’ve known that haunts him. Maybe it’s vampiric post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“That could be part of it¸” Victor said. “But I don’t think that’s enough.”
“‘Dazed’ was the word you used,” Ethan reminded him. “What are you thinking?”
“Drugged? Magicked? Frankly, I don’t know.” He sighed, audible even across the distance. “The theft suggests a motive, if indeed someone is directing his behavior. My fear, of course, is what happens when the thief is done with Darius, either because he’s caught or because he has no further need for him.”
“If the perpetrator has stolen millions of dollars he doesn’t want anyone to know about, then Darius becomes a risk,” I said.
“Precisely,” Victor darkly said. “How did you learn about the transfers?”
“Our Sentinel has connections. She wishes to protect her source, but we have no doubt the information is reliable.”
“None?” Victor asked.
“None,” Ethan replied. “It also explains what we saw in the hotel: Darius was visited by a man in a suit who apparently had papers.”
“And we don’t know to whom the money is being transferred?”
“We do not,” Ethan said. “Only that it’s going to two Swiss accounts—a primary account and what appears to be a smaller, secondary account.”
That reminded me that I hadn’t yet done my due diligence. I grabbed my phone, sent the photographs of the accounts to my father, requested any information he could obtain about the individuals who’d opened them.
“Where is the rest of the GP while all this is going down?” Malik asked. “While the transfers are being made?”
“I understand the transfers would be difficult to see on the surface,” I said. “The House accounts are subaccounts, so you’d have to go down a level to even look.”
“And they could be in on it,” Luc said. “The members of the GP have the most knowledge about the GP accounts. If they think Darius is on the way out, they may have seen this as their best opportunity for financial gain.”
Luc frowned. “And none of them have noticed Darius is missing?”
“Technically, he’s not missing,” Malik put in. “He’s visiting cities in which there are GP Houses. And he’s in Chicago, where he’s been challenged. Not unusual that he’d do any of those things.”
Ethan nodded. “I suspect that’s precisely what they’d think. They’d give him space to act as he feels appropriate for the GP, especially considering the current turmoil.”