The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [38]
“Thank you for calling Royal Bank of Antigua,” a digital female voice answers. “For automated account balance and information, press one. To speak to a personal service representative, press two.”
I press two. If someone stole it from us, I want to know where it went.
“This is Ms. Tang. How can I help you today?”
Before I can answer, I spot Charlie trailing a pack of people across the street.
“Hello…?” the woman says.
“Hi, I just wanted to check the balance of my account.” I wave to get Charlie’s attention, but he doesn’t see me.
“And your account number?” the woman asks.
“58943563,” I tell her. When I memorized it, I didn’t think I’d be using it this soon. Directly across, Charlie’s by himself, but he’s practically dancing up the street.
“And who am I speaking with?”
“Martin Duckworth,” I say. “It’s under Sunshine Distributors.”
“Please hold while I check the account.”
The moment the Muzak starts, I cover the receiver. “Charlie!” I scream. He’s already too far past—and with the buzz of rush hour traffic between us… “Charlie!” I shout again. He still doesn’t hear.
Making his way up the block, Charlie steps off the curb and gets his first good look at the bank. As always, his reaction is faster than mine. He spots the unmarked cars and freezes, right there in the middle of the street.
I expect him to run, but he’s smarter than that. Instinctively, he glances around, searching for me. It’s like my mom used to say: she never believed in ESP—but siblings… siblings were connected. Charlie knows I’m here.
“Mr. Duckworth…?” the woman asks on the other line.
“Y-Yeah… right here.” I wave my hand in the air, and this time, Charlie sees it. He looks my way, studying my body language. He wants to know if it’s real, or if I’m just playing Chicken Little. Refusing to wait for the light, he hops into traffic, dodging and weaving through the onslaught of cars. A yellow cab lets loose with its horn, but Charlie shrugs it off, unbothered. Seeing me hit full panic means he doesn’t have to.
“Mr. Duckworth, I’m going to need the password on the account,” the woman from the bank says.
“FroYo,” I say to her.
“What happened?” Charlie asks the instant he hits the curb.
I ignore him, waiting for the bank teller.
“Tell me!” he challenges.
“Now what can I help you with today?” the woman on the other line finally says.
“I’d like the balance, as well as the most recent activity on the account,” I reply.
Right there, Charlie lets out a belly laugh—the same patented little-brother taunt from when he was nine. “I knew it!” he shouts. “I knew you couldn’t help yourself!”
I put a finger in front of my lips to quiet him down, but I don’t have a prayer.
“You couldn’t even hold out twenty-four hours, could you?” he asks, leaning in closer to the booth. “What’d it take? The cars outside? The federal plates? Have you even spoken to anyone or did you just see the cars and wet your pa—?”
“Can you please shut up! I’m not a moron!”
“Mr. Duckworth…?” the original woman returns.
“Y-Yeah… I’m here,” I say, turning back to the phone. “I’m right here.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. I was hoping to get a supervisor on the line to—”
“Just tell me the balance. Is it zero?”
“Zero?” she says with a laugh. “No… not at all.”
I let out a nervous laugh of my own. “Are you sure?”
“Our system’s not perfect, sir, but this one’s pretty clear. According to our records, there’s only one transaction on the whole account—a wire transfer that was received yesterday at 12:21 P.M.”
“So the money’s still there?”
“Absolutely,” the woman says. “I’m looking at it right now. A single transfer via wire—for a total of three hundred and thirteen million dollars.”
11
We’ve got what!?” Charlie shouts.
“I don’t believe this,” I stammer, my twitching hand