"Because I need to speak with your compliance director."
The receptionist rolled her eyes.
"Of course you do."
She glanced toward the security guard positioned near the glass entrance.
Then turned back.
"Do you know how many people come in here pretending they have some emergency just to get access to our private banking officers?"
The Black woman remained calm.
"I have an emergency involving an account held at this institution."
The receptionist looked at her dress.
Then at the silver handbag.
Her mouth curved into a mocking smile.
"An account?"
"Yes."
"Your account?"
"The account belongs to a charitable foundation I chair."
The receptionist laughed loudly.
A wealthy man seated nearby lowered his newspaper.
An older woman wearing a cream-colored designer coat looked toward the counter with obvious discomfort.
The Black woman continued.
"I need you to notify the compliance department that an unauthorized transfer has been scheduled."
The receptionist tilted her head.
"Ma'am, we're not interested in whatever story you're trying to sell."
The woman's expression hardened slightly.
Then her phone vibrated.
She glanced at the screen.
A new security alert appeared.
HARBORLIGHT CHILDREN'S FOUNDATION
HIGH-VALUE TRANSFER — FINAL RELEASE PENDING
AMOUNT: $86,000,000
STATUS: AUTHORIZATION EXCEPTION
For half a second, something flashed behind her eyes.
Not panic.
Recognition.
The very transaction she had come to stop was moving toward its next approval stage.
She lifted her phone toward the receptionist.
"Then explain why eighty-six million dollars is scheduled to leave my children's hospital foundation."
The receptionist's smile disappeared.
For a moment, she stared at the screen.
Then she recovered.
"That could be a fake notification."
The Black woman lowered her phone.
"Call your compliance director."
The receptionist shook her head.
"I'm calling security."
Before she could reach for the desk phone, a man's voice rang out from the glass corridor behind the counter.
"FREEZE THAT TRANSFER!"
Everyone turned.
A silver-haired bank executive in an immaculate navy suit was hurrying across the marble floor with a tablet in one hand and his phone in the other.
His expression was pale.
"DO NOT RELEASE THE WIRE!"
The receptionist jumped.
The Black woman turned toward him.
The executive stopped several feet away.
He stared at her.
Then looked toward the documents scattered across the floor.
For a fraction of a second, his face tightened.
"Ma'am, are you the foundation's authorized chair?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
He turned toward the receptionist.
"Where's the branch manager?"
The young employee swallowed.
"In his office."
The executive looked down at his tablet.