“Used some Russian software we haven’t seen in eons. Old, but good.”
“We had to start from scratch, retrieve the—”
“Spare me the details,” said Danni, hand raised. “What did you learn?”
A pause. Isaac looked at Dov, who cleared his throat. “He cleaned them out.”
“Top to bottom. Emptied all the drawers.”
“I’ll need you to be more specific unless, that is, you expect me to tell Mr. Borgia that Rafael de Bourbon stole his underwear.”
“Specific?” Isaac checked the tablet he used for diagnostics. “Let’s see. He stole 2.7 million files, eight hundred thousand emails, and three years of text messages between PetroSaud’s top executives.”
“So that’s who this is about? PetroSaud?”
The engineers nodded.
Danni knew the name. Over the past seventy-two hours she’d versed herself on all of Luca Borgia’s businesses. She had a nose for shady dealings.
“Texts? How did he get those?”
“All digital correspondence conducted on company hardware was copied and saved to a central hard drive.”
Of course it was. They did the same. “Go on, then. What did you learn?”
“You didn’t ask us to read the take,” said Dov.
Danni regarded him from beneath her brow. Maybe she allowed herself a hint of a smile. Please.
Isaac cleared his throat. “PetroSaud is a dirty shop.”
“Smart, but dirty,” added Dov. “And greedy.”
“Essentially, they were helping sovereign wealth funds defraud their investors.”
“Encouraging them, even. Instructing the fund managers how to pull off the thefts. Phony oil leases, shell companies, the whole shebang.”
“How much?” asked Danni.
“Billions,” said Isaac.
“Lots of billions,” said Dov. “And they were taking commissions on each transaction. Big commissions.”
“Mega,” said Isaac.
“Is that right?” Danni tapped a piece of misshapen lead on the table. It was the remnants of a Syrian bullet taken from her leg. “And De Bourbon…I take it he was in on it?”
Isaac shook his head. “Turns out he was the one honest guy. They tried to lure him in. He refused.”
“But that’s not the problem,” said Dov.
“What is?”
“His bonus.”
“Explain.”
“De Bourbon stole the files because PetroSaud balked at paying him a bonus they’d promised him.”
“So this whole thing is just so De Bourbon can get his bonus?” said Danni.
“Five million Swiss francs,” said Dov. “I’d have done the same.”
Danni considered this. De Bourbon’s motivations weren’t her concern, nor were PetroSaud’s crimes. She’d been hired to retrieve information, not to deliberate on the actions of someone she didn’t know. Still, she was bothered.
“There’s more,” said Isaac.
Of course there is, thought Danni.
“Someone else is pulling the strings. Not PetroSaud.”
Danni sensed she was treading on dangerous ground. She tapped the piece of lead faster.
“The fund managers didn’t keep all the money for themselves,” said Isaac. “They wired a percentage of the money they stole to a bank.”
“The Bank of Liechtenstein,” said Dov. “Vaduz branch.”
“How much?” asked Danni.
“In total, six billion dollars.”
Danni swallowed. The numbers were making her dizzy. “Do we know who the account at the Bank of Liechtenstein belongs to?”
“Brick wall,” said Isaac.
“Dead end,” said Dov. Then, with a glint in his eye: “But we can find out.”
“We can find out anything,” added Isaac. “Say the word.”
Danni shook her head. She had a very good idea to whom the account in Liechtenstein belonged. “And the email De Bourbon sent prior to his arrest. Did you get that, too?”
“L dot L-i at F-T dot com.”
“A name, please, boys.”
“London Li. An investigative reporter with the Financial Times.”
Danni spun in her chair, palming the chunk of lead. She remembered the flash of the policeman’s pistol, the sharp stinging in her thigh. On that night in Damascus, she had had something in her possession the Syrians wanted. Something they were willing to kill for.
She didn’t know who London Li was, but she did know the Financial Times. There was no more powerful a news organization. And she knew what any investigative journalist would do if she learned about sovereign wealth funds defrauding investors of billions of dollars. “What did De Bourbon tell her?”
“Not much. No names. No countries. Just a few clues.”
“Is it enough to go on?”
“Yes,” said Isaac, without hesitation.
“Probably,” said Dov. “It would be for me.”
Danni slapped her palms on the desk. Meeting concluded. It was a gesture she’d learned from her father. “Give me everything you have.”
“Sent to your box before we came up,” said Dov.
“You’re good boys.” Danni thanked the engineers and sent them on their way, telling them to get a good night’s sleep and, for God’s sake, to shower before coming back tomorrow.
Danni opened the drawer of the cabinet behind her and removed a bottle of Wyborowa, pouring herself a generous measure of