“She is trying to shield the money before the federal courts freeze the corporate accounts,” I said.

“What do we do?” Sarah asked.

“Callum is in a holding cell at the federal courthouse,” I said. “He does not know she has done this.”

“It will look like he authorized it,” Sarah said.

“It will,” I said. “And that is exactly what we need.”

I handed the tablet back to her and walked toward the elevators.

The rain was still streaking the glass windows of the lobby when I reached the street.

I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address in Cicero.

The tires splashed through heavy puddles as we drove away from the downtown skyscrapers.

The neighborhood was quiet, lined with low brick buildings and rusted chain-link fences.

The dry-cleaning shop had a faded blue sign that swung slowly in the wind.

Inside, the air was warm and smelled of steam and chemical solvents.

An elderly man in a gray wool coat sat on a wooden bench near the counter.

It was Arthur Vance.

He looked much older than he had in the photographs on my mother’s desk.