The Chase Clive Cussler (read more books TXT) 📖

They ate in silence for a few moments. Then Bell said, “Everything is delicious. You’ll make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day.”

The words came like a warm breeze across the nape of her neck and a flush of blood flowed across her breasts, hardening the nipples. Deep down, she hoped his feelings were moving in that direction, but she was also afraid that his affection might cool and he would walk off into the dark some evening, never to return.

Bell read Marion’s confusion and became afraid to go there. He changed the course of the conversation. “How long did Cromwell remain in the bank today?”

Her emotion quickly turned to anger. She was mad at herself for responding with the proper words instead of calmly expressing her feelings toward him. “Most of the time he spent in the office, he seemed very secretive. He also made three trips downstairs to the vault.”

“Do you have any idea of what he was about?”

She shook her head. “It seemed very mysterious.” Then she lifted her head and a small smile parted her lips. “But when he was in the vault, I sneaked into his office and glanced at the paperwork he had spread across his desk.”

He waited expectantly as she took a few moments to let him twist in the wind, as if getting even with him for ignoring her feelings for him. “He was filling out bank drafts and money transfers.”

“It figures. Our guess is that he and Margaret are going to skip out of the country and move the bank’s funds to their destination. There’s no way Cromwell will stay in town and fight us in federal court.”

“It would look that way,” said Marion quietly, wishing they could keep their time together more close and personal.

“Could you tell where he was sending the bank’s funds?”

She shook her head. “Only the amounts were filled in, not the banks that were to receive them.”

“What do you think he was doing in the vault?”

“My best guess is he was packing the bank’s cash reserves in crates in preparation to ship them to a bank in whatever city they’re going to.”

“You’re a very astute lady,” he said, smiling. “And if you were Jacob and Margaret, where would you go?”

“They wouldn’t be safe anywhere in Europe,” Marion answered without hesitation. “The banks on the Continent work with the U.S. government in freezing illegal funds. There are too many other countries where they could hide their money and begin building their empire again.”

“How about Mexico?” Bell asked, impressed with Marion’s intuition.

She shook her head. “Margaret could never live in Mexico. The land is too primitive for her tastes. Buenos Aires in Argentina is a possibility. The city is very cosmopolitan, but neither of them speaks a word of Spanish.”

“Singapore, Hong Kong, Shanghai,” suggested Bell. “Any of those cities hold any interest?”

“Australia or New Zealand, perhaps,” she said thoughtfully. “But I’ve learned over the years in his employ that Jacob doesn’t think like most men.”

“My experience with the man has led me to the same conclusion,” Bell said.

Marion went quiet as she passed him more helpings of the pot roast, potatoes, and vegetables. “Why don’t you give your brain a rest and enjoy the fruits of my labors?” she said, smiling.

“Forgive me,” he said honestly. “I’ve been a bore as a dinner companion.”

“I hope you like lemon meringue pie for dessert.”

He laughed. “I adore lemon meringue pie.”

“You’d better. I baked enough for a small army.”

They finished the main course and Isaac stood up to help clear the table. She pushed him back down in his chair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

He looked like a young boy startled by his mother. “I wanted to help.”

“Sit down and finish your wine,” Marion said smartly. “Guests don’t work in my house, especially male guests.”

He looked at her slyly. “And if I wasn’t a guest?”

She turned away from him for fear her inner emotions might show. “Then I’d make you fix a plumbing leak, a squeaky door hinge, and a broken table leg.”

“I could do that,” he said staunchly. “I happen to be very handy.”

She looked at him disbelieving. “A banker’s son who is handy?”

He feigned a hurt look. “I didn’t always work in my father’s bank. I ran away from home when I was fourteen and joined the Barnum and Bailey Circus. I helped put up and take down the tents, fed the elephants, and made repairs on the circus train.” He paused and a sad expression came across his face. “After eight months, my father found me, hauled me home, and sent me back to school.”

“So you’re a college man.”

“Harvard. Phi Beta Kappa, in economics.”

“And smart,” she added, properly impressed.

“And you?” he probed. “Where did you go to school?”

“I was in the first graduating class of Stanford University. My degree was in law, but I soon found that law firms were not in the habit of hiring women lawyers, so I went into banking.”

“Now it’s my turn to be impressed,” said Bell honestly. “It seems I’ve met my match.”

Suddenly, Marion went silent and a strange look came over her face. Bell thought something was wrong. He rushed to her side and slid his arm around her.

“Are you ill?”

She looked up at him from her coral green eyes. They seemed dark in thought. Then she gasped. “Montreal!”

He leaned toward her. “What did you say?”

“Montreal…Jacob and Margaret are going to make a run across the Canadian border to Montreal, where he can open another bank.”

“How do you know that?” asked Bell, bewildered at Marion’s strange attitude.

“I just remembered seeing the city Montreal scrawled on a notepad beside his telephone,” she explained. “I didn’t think it meant anything of importance and dismissed it from my mind. Now it all makes sense. The last place authorities would look for the Cromwells is in Canada. They can easily take on new identities and buy off the right people to become upstanding citizens who start up a solvent financial institution.”

The look of confusion