Kramer said “but” a few times, but it’s not like he could explain the real reason it was a problem. In a serious voice, Markus said, “You’ve placed the whole mission in jeopardy over this stupid invitation. What were you thinking?”
“The response has been overwhelmingly positive,” she said, ignoring the overwhelmingly negative reception. “Orlov already RSVP’d yes with the comment ‘Very funny.’” He’d probably meant that to be sarcastic, but on its face, he just wrote, “Very funny.”
Kramer chewed on that for a minute. Orlov was the whole point of the party. Really, as long as he was showing, nothing had gone too wrong. Still not looking happy, but his anger defused, Kramer dismissed her. “I’ve got enough to worry about. Just go get my coffee and don’t do anything else dumb.”
Her job at eStocks was almost one hundred percent making sure that that man never had to lift a finger. That’s how Kramer compartmentalized. He outsourced everything but the financial analysis and client contact. Pretty much the same as Phil had done.
Markus wasn’t moving on quite as easily. “Gabby, you invited the Mafia to a mob-themed party.” She could hear him trying to keep his voice out of the red zone. “Do you think this is a joke?”
She walked to the bathroom. The man needed some talking down. “Markus, I know it was bad, but Justin had no clue. And there was no harm done. I didn’t lose the job, and the party ishappening.” It might just be a little awkward. Would the mob be offended when Justin got mob culture all wrong, like cheap cultural appropriation, wearing a Pocahontas costume to a traditional powwow? Or maybe it was open season because of the whole criminal element.
“I’m compartmentalizing,” she said, like she knew what she was doing. “You should too.”
“What is this?” He laughed at her advice. “Youare givingmespy lessons now?”
Tension broken, she leaned into the joke of her being in charge. “Markus,” she said in a faux serious voice, “I might not be able to achieve the deep focus necessary for compartmentalization with another human in my ear all day. If I put two sugars in that man’s coffee, I might lose my job.”
“I have faith, Gabby. And it’s different, we’re focusing on the same job together, isolating ourselves in the same virtual room.”
“Sounds romantic now,” she said. He made it sound like they were on a road trip and there was only one queen bed left.
With a laugh, he said, “You wish.”
After grabbing coffee and a donut for Kramer, Gabby knocked on his door out of courtesy. As usual, he didn’t even look up but just kept talking. Money, money, money—she could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. Wealth management made sense. People needed money to exist in the world, but Kramer didn’t make it look good.
“Are you sure you are ready to close out the accounts?” Kramer scrolled through a screen. “The investment still has potential.” He was scrolling too quickly, almost frantically. “Whatever you want, though. You’re in charge.”
The person on the other end of the line must have said they wanted out, because Kramer said, “Okay. That’s no problem. I can wire the money now. I just need the account number.”
Wiring money.
Account numbers.
Ding ding ding!
Gabby held her breath at the buzzwords. Markus’s voice came through the earpiece in a whisper. “This is it, Gabby. Hang out as long as you can. See if you can get any more info. Anything. This is the break we’ve been waiting for.”
Gabby made a split-second decision to spill Kramer’s coffee all over the white rug. Drawing on a lifetime of clumsy mistakes, she made a show of tripping on the edge of the carpet, which really was a hazard. She lurched forward and let the coffee fly.
“Ohmygod. I’m so sorry, Mr. Kramer.” She looked up, horrified for real at the coffee stain on the white rug. “I can fix this. I pro—”
He glared hard and made a “be quiet!” gesture with his hands. His whole demeanor screamed, “Shut the fuck up. I’m busy.”
Gabby mouthed, “I’ll just clean this up.”
Kramer spun his chair in the other direction to hide her from view while she grabbed a napkin and made a show of dabbing at the spilled coffee. Luckily, Kramer wasn’t watching her at all, because the napkin was rapidly disintegrating on the rug. She was making a bigger mess. It was Lucas and the blue paint episode all over again.
Kramer hit the button to fog the transparent glass to his office, which she hadn’t noticed until now. Just like in the movies, he opened the painting on the wall behind his desk to expose a safe.
“That’s offshore, right?”
Gabby, still crouched on the carpet behind his desk, didn’tmove a muscle. Markus wasn’t even breathing into the earpiece, silently waiting for Kramer to hang himself. This had to be big—Gabby didn’t know much about money laundering, but he was hitting all the buzzwords.
Kramer punched the keycode into the safe and pulled out a locked laptop while Gabby peered around the corner of the desk, making sure Markus had a view through her brooch.
Markus barely whispered, “That’s it. That’s gotta be where he makes all of his transfers.”
Gabby stopped scrubbing the carpet and watched him boot up the computer and punch in some numbers.
