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"We can't," Sokoll said, fearing for his life. "Once the money is gone, it is gone. There is no way to trace it. Swiss banking laws--"
"Shut up, you fool," Ivanov yelled. "I am well aware of Swiss banking laws, and I don't give a shit. You'd better find a way around them or you are going to be either dead or looking for a job."
Sokoll bowed and left without saying another word.
The vodka was on the sidebar. It was always on the sidebar. Five different kinds. Ivanov could barely see, his head hurt so much, and he really didn't care which bottle he was grabbing, vodka was vodka at this point. He poured four fingers into a tall glass, sloshing a bit over the side. He took a huge gulp, clenched his teeth, and let the clean, clear liquid slide down his throat. No one was supposed to know about those accounts, let alone have the ability to drain them of their funds. This could seriously jeopardize his standing within not just the Security Service but the entire government as well. It could potentially destroy all of his investments. Without the power that came with his office, he would be worthless to his partners. The long list of enemies that he'd made over the years would think nothing of coming after him. His hand started to shake.
Shvets finally asked, "How much money?"
Ivanov had to take another drink to gain the courage to speak the number. "Twenty-six million dollars ... roughly."
"And it belonged to ..."
It took Ivanov a moment to answer. "Our friends in Beirut."
Shvets thought of the different militant terrorist groups. "Their money or ours?"
"Both..."
"Both?"
"Yes! Think of it as a joint venture."
"We invested money with those zealots?" Shvets asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.
"It's control, you idiot. I don't even know why I bother explaining sometimes. We put in money so we would have a say in how it was used. Think of it as foreign aid." It was more complicated than that, but Ivanov didn't have the time or clarity of mind to explain the complicated arrangement this morning. Or the fact that approximately ten million of it was KGB money that had been siphoned off over the years.
"Foreign aid to terrorists? Lovely."
"Stop with your judgments. You know nothing. They put money in the accounts as well. In fact, most of it was theirs." Ivanov had helped them find new revenue streams by peddling black market items such as drugs, guns, and porn. The drugs and guns were shipped all over the Middle East and North Africa and the porn was smuggled into Saudi Arabia.
"If the majority of the money was theirs, why did we have control of it?"
Ivanov gave an exasperated sigh as it occurred to him that he would have to go upstairs and tell the director. He tolerated these side business deals, but only to a point. This he would not like very much. In fact, there would be a great deal of suspicion that Ivanov had stolen the money for himself, if for no other reason than that they could all imagine themselves doing it.
Shvets repeated his question, and Ivanov said, "It was part of the deal. If they wanted our help, we wanted to know what they were doing with it, and we wanted them to put their own funds in as well." It was only a half truth, but Ivanov did not feel the need to go into details with one of his deputies.
"I'm assuming the twenty-six represents the bulk of their assets."
"Yes." Ivanov took another gulp. The vodka was starting to lubricate the gears in his brain. He began to make a list in his head of who he would need to talk to.
"Who had access to the account information and pass codes?"
"They did and I did. Any withdrawal of more than twenty-five thousand had to be authorized by each of us separately."
"So you had one pass code and they had the other?"
"Yes." Shvets was asking too many questions.
"Who had access to both sets of pass codes?"
"No one." The headache was starting to come back, although this time it was in his neck. He began rubbing the muscles with his left hand while he took another drink of vodka. "It was intentionally set up so that neither party would have both pass codes."
Shvets considered that for a moment and then said, "Someone had to have both codes. Someone at the bank. How else could the codes be verified and the money moved?"
Ivanov stopped rubbing his neck. Why hadn't he come to the same conclusion sooner? "Dorfman."
"Who?"
