"Brian Lumley - E-Branch 1 - Defilers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

 file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley%20-%20E-Branch%201%20-%20Defilers.txt

a few details-like all deposits and withdrawals for the last five years-and get out again."
"A criminal act," Trask told her bleakly. "But more especially so if it served no purpose except
to get me in trouble!" "But it did serve a purpose." "What did you get?"
"We got that someone had transferred a large sum-namely three quarters of a million dollars US-
from one of Manchester's accounts just twenty-four hours after he died."
"You're forgiven!" Trask said, suddenly excited. "If these were numbered, personal accounts, no
one but Manchester himself-or a 'partner'-could touch them. And we had made sure that news of the
'tragic accident' at his retreat wouldn't break until after our Australian friends had sanitized
the mess on that island. So even Haggard, Haggard and Heyt wouldn't have had any reason to be
interested in those numbered accounts just twenty-four hours after Manchester died. And even if
they had it's unlikely they'd have the authority to move large sums of his ill-gotten gains around
... is it?" "No, it isn't."
"So, I think you're probably right and this was Malinari's work. And-" "But it didn't have to be,"
she cut in.
Trask's face fell. But then he looked at her suspiciously, frowningly, and said, "Go on."
"Well, it could have been a payment to one of Manchester's beneficiaries, I mean, one of the many
charities he gave to."
"What, after he was dead?"
"A standing order, maybe?" she answered. "I mean, it could have been in the computer, waiting to
automatically click in on a certain date."
Trask shook his head. "Millie," he said, "you're a devious female creature. What you just said
wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth, either. It was a 'what if?' Now, I know you wouldn't pick
me up just to drop me again, so for whatever reason you've got to be teasing me. Well, believe me
this is neither the time nor the place. So without more ado, let's have the rest of it-or is this
perhaps one of your stumbling blocks?"
"It could have been," she answered. "For you see, the transfer was made to a charity."
Trask's face fell further yet. "Say again?"
'To charity number nineteen, of nineteen numbered charities," she nodded. "No name or names?"
"Er, no," Millie shook her head. "Not of the charity. Just numbers. It was the fifth semiannual
payment to a charity that Manchester had been supporting for two years."

'So what's our interest in it?" Trask knew the punch line was coming. He read it in her face: that
indeed she'd got something. But what?
"I've got the big one!" Millie had read his mind, literally. "That's what I've
"Do I have to say please?" he said.
She shook her head again. "No, but there are still stumbling blocks. So what do you want first,
the good news or the bad news?"
"The good," he said.
'The previous payments to charity number nineteen were all in the sum of a quarter million
dollars, all of them authorized by telephone by Manchester using his PIN and various
authentication codes. Ah, but this transfer tripled that amount, and of course it wasn't
Manchester's PIN but his partner's. It's dated the day after Manchester died-and the name of the
partner is on Jimmy Harvey's printout."
All of this time she had been clasping a roll of printout. Now she stepped around Trask's desk to
stand beside him, leaned over him and opened up the roll, and weighted it top and bottom with desk
bric-a-brac. Trask saw that it was page fifteen, torn from a far larger printout. But then his
eyes skipped to a serial that had been highlighted in yellow.
The details of date, time, and amount, were all as Millie had reported them, but Trask scarcely