“I don't know.”
“You haven't opened it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He said not to open it until the bank found the account.”
Martin rubbed his forehead.
“What exactly do you want from us?”
Ethan looked him directly in the eyes.
“I want you to type the number.”
“I already did.”
“You typed my dad's name.”
Martin stopped.
“Type the number.”
A woman waiting near the business counter whispered to her husband.
Martin heard her.
He disliked becoming entertainment.
“All right.”
He motioned to a teller.
“Ms. Price.”
Natalie Price, twenty-nine, approached.
She had been watching from station four.
“Run this as a legacy account inquiry.”
Martin handed her the paper.
Natalie sat at a terminal.
Ethan watched.
She entered the twelve digits.
Nothing happened.
Then a message appeared.
Natalie's fingers stopped.
Martin noticed.
“What?”
She leaned closer.
“That's strange.”
“What?”
“It isn't rejecting it.”
“So?”
“It's redirecting.”
“To where?”
Natalie clicked.
The screen went blank.
Then a Crown Harbor internal security page appeared.
AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
Martin's annoyance vanished.
“What did you enter?”
“The number.”
“Do it again.”
She did.
Same result.
Martin stepped behind her.
“This isn't retail.”
“No.”
“What system is it?”
“I don't know.”
Martin entered his manager credentials.
The computer processed them.
Then:
ACCESS LEVEL INSUFFICIENT.
Martin stared.
Natalie looked at him.
“I've never seen that.”
Martin tried again.
Same message.
The guard stepped closer.
“Problem?”
“No.”
Martin's answer was too quick.
Ethan looked from face to face.
“My dad said you'd have to call someone.”
Martin turned.
“Your father told you this?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“He said the computer would tell you.”
Martin stared at him.
The screen changed.
A telephone number appeared.
No name.
No department.
Just a Washington, D.C. area code.
Underneath:
VERBAL AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED. DO NOT TERMINATE SESSION.
Martin's mouth went dry.
Natalie whispered:
“What is this?”
Martin picked up the desk phone.
He dialed.
A recorded voice answered.
“Crown Harbor Institutional Custody. Enter employee identification.”
Martin did.
“Enter branch authorization.”
He did.
A pause.
“Authorization insufficient. Please hold for executive verification.”
Martin looked around.
People were openly watching now.
He lowered his voice.
“Everyone return to your business.”
Nobody really did.
After twenty seconds, a man answered.
“Executive custody.”
“This is Martin Keane, branch manager, Newport Avenue location.”
“Reference?”
Martin read the account number.
Silence.
“Repeat.”
He did.
Another silence.
Then:
“Who presented that number?”
Martin looked at Ethan.
“A minor.”
“Name?”
“Ethan Cole.”
The man on the phone stopped speaking.
Martin waited.
“Hello?”