Chapter Thirteen
Alastair Pembroke paced the beautiful carpet in his well-appointed study, while he waited for his guests to arrive.
“You’ll wear a path in that, if you don’t sit down for a bit.” Silas Ashcombe relaxed in one of the large leather easy chairs.
“Can’t help it,” the older man answered. “It’s been going round and round in my head like a damned tickerkin carousel.”
“Why not slow it down a little? We’re not going to get any answers if you’ve thought yourself into a dizzy spell...”
Alastair shook his head and chuckled. Then he glanced at the door as the loud clang from the hall told him somebody had arrived.
“At last,” he murmured.
“Lady Verity Turner-Yardley, sir.” Giles, Alastair’s elegant butler-like tickerkin, held the door open for Verity.
“Alastair. How good to see you. You’re looking well...” Her eyes were worried, but her demeanour was as calm as a pond on a cool night.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice. I think you’ll find this morning most enlightening.” He turned a little. “You know Silas Ashcombe, of course?”
“I do.” She nodded and smiled. “How are you, Forge Master?”
Another clang sent Giles from the room, and Verity’s expression sobered. “Trouble, Alastair?”
“‘Fraid so.” He had no chance to say more, as Lucas walked in, glancing at the occupants. “Good morning.”
Verity’s heart jumped, but she held her countenance. “Sir Lucas? Gracious me, I find myself awash in Ashcombes this morning.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?” Giles looked at Alastair.
“Not at the moment. I’ll ring if we need anything. One small note...I am not at home to any other visitors at the moment. I would prefer not to be disturbed as I have matters to discuss with our guests.”
“Understood, sir.” Giles dipped his head courteously and rumbled himself out of the room.
Verity, enormously aware of Lucas standing beside her, lifted her chin. “Well then, gentlemen.” She removed her bonnet and set it on a bureau near the door. “What’s afoot?”
“I called you here because late last night I found something.” Alastair began.
“And I’m here because I found something too,” said Silas, from the depths of his chair. “It might be the same thing, or if we’re really lucky—or unlucky, as the case may be—it will be different.”
“We won’t know until we take a look at it, so...”
“I have something as well,” Verity interrupted. “If all of us have something...” she glanced at Lucas, “this may mean some very serious trouble ahead.”
Alastair nodded. “I think the best way to handle this is for each of us to describe what we’ve found. Let’s get that information out on the table, and take a look at all of it, instead of pieces of it.”
“Agreed.” Silas produced his papers. “I might as well go first. If nobody minds?”
“Of course not,” said Verity, itching to see what the others had discovered.
“Right then.” Silas pulled out a sheet of paper with the Forge watermark engraved on the top.
“Instead of wondering if I was making errors, or some numbers were being entered incorrectly, I have monitored the Forge accounts closely, since this whole thing began. It’s not long, I know, but it’s the sort of thing that can be insidious, creeping around and doing damage before anyone notices. ”
“That’s my concern too,” nodded Lucas.
“Well, here’s my problem, or I should say problems. He tapped his finger on the paper. “This is a copy of the statement I received, and this...” he pulled out one more sheet, “this is the associated note from the supplier.”
Alastair, Lucas, and Verity leaned in, poring over the information.
Silence reigned while they absorbed the information.
“A second request for confirmation of funds...from a supplier to your bank? Is that how it works?” Verity tilted her head to one side as she glanced at Silas.
“Yes and no. Under ordinary circumstances, when a large order is ready for shipment, the supplier will run a routine request for verification of funding. It’s a safeguard for them, and an alert for us that the order will be shipped very soon.
” Silas took a breath. “However, as you’ll see here, the response was not initiated immediately.
This resulted in a delay in the shipment—important materials, actually—which in turn led to the foreman of that project arriving at my office, questioning whether he should approve overtime for his crew, since the materials hadn’t arrived on schedule. ”
“And no reason for the delay?” Lucas’s voice was calm, but Verity could see something in his eyes. Anger, perhaps? Or just intense curiosity? She didn’t know.
“No reason at all,” sighed Silas. “And then, of course, the confirmation was issued, and the shipment came through. It probably would have gone unnoticed, but since we have all been a little rattled lately, it turned on a bright red light for me.”
“As well it should,” offered Alastair. “Verity, let’s hear your concerns...”
She too pulled out a couple of sheets of paper.
“This is the second time for me. The first was a puzzle, and as Silas so accurately pointed out, probably would have gone unnoticed. But the second time? No.” She leaned back in her chair a little and surveyed the three men around the table.
“It’s a similar situation. A deposit was listed as pending, which had never happened before.
On its own? Nothing calamitous, and it cleared shortly after.
But this morning, I received another note from my charity manager—and I trust her completely, by the way—that it had happened again.
A successful and acknowledged deposit, as you can see here.
..” she pointed to a line on the sheet, “but not released into the account until quite some time later, as you can see from the information here.”
“They’re small amounts,” Alastair said, after looking at the numbers.
“And reputable accounts, too, as far as I can tell,” added Silas.
“I’ve never had this happen before, in the five years I’ve been managing the charity accounts. It’s always been correct to the penny, every month.”
Lucas leaned over, and spent a few moments focussing on the numbers in question. Then he glanced up at Verity.
“The timing is very precise,” he said, a slight frown drawing his eyebrows together. “And the amounts are not consistent. This isn’t the Forge account, of course, but these are modest numbers, not errors that could be counted in thousands...”
“I agree,” Verity nodded. “I looked closely at the overall financial activity for the past six months. Our accounts balance, so this can’t be theft? And I refuse to believe that the Arcvale bank and its PBIC system...” she nodded at Lucas, “I can’t imagine it’s at fault.”
“I’m pretty certain it’s not,” he replied calmly. “But you’re correct in your assessment, Verity. It’s not theft. I don’t think it’s incompetence...I’m not sure what it is yet.” He looked across the table. “Let’s take a look at what I have. Add it to the picture we’re painting.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like it when it’s finished,” Verity said.
“I don’t think any of us will,” agreed Lucas. “But first we have to work out what’s happening.” He paused. “And who’s behind it.”
“Oh God,” whispered Verity. “I never thought of that.”
“Let me toss my findings onto the table. Get some more brushstrokes into that picture.”
“Go ahead,” said Alastair. “We need all the information we can get.”
*~~*~~*
Lucas pursed his lips as he added his papers to the growing pile on the table.
Something was gnawing at him, something other than the increasing anger that had him struggling to contain it.
Whatever that ‘something’ was, it was attacking his system.
The PBIC. His accomplishment. And in many ways, his pride. It would not be allowed to continue.
He spared a glance at the three faces watching him. Alastair, sober and thoughtful. He’d not jump to any conclusions, but he’d analyse the hell out of every single number.
Silas, the brother he’d just rediscovered...and what an amazing sensation that was, to be welcomed so warmly and hugged again after so many years.
And Verity. A surprise, a delight, her intelligence unexpected, her appeal beyond what he could have imagined.
Even now, in the midst of what could be a dangerously serious situation, he felt the attraction between himself and Verity vibrating like a low note played quietly on a cello.
And he could smell lilies of the valley.
But he drew upon his need to focus, brushed all that aside.
“How familiar are you all with a mirror-engine?”
“You have one?” Verity almost leaped out of her chair with excitement.
“Yes, I do. Sit.” To his surprise, she did just that.
“I know what it is, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one,” offered Silas.
“And I have a small version of one,” nodded Alastair. “But it’s a bit antiquated by today’s standards.”
“Alright. That makes this easier.” Lucas sorted his papers and removed two, offering them to Silas. “Take a look at these numbers, then pass them around.”
The room was quiet for a moment, then Silas shook his head. “I can make some sense of this, but I’m probably missing something.” He passed the papers to Verity.
She pored over them, her expression one of concentration. Then she raised her head and looked at him. God, those eyes. Grey stars that haunted him.
“Lucas, if I’m reading this correctly, you’re suggesting that these rounding errors are intentional.”
He nodded. “I believe we have amassed enough evidence here to make that assumption.”
Silas reached over and removed the papers from Verity’s hands, spreading them out in front of himself. Within moments, he raised his head and nodded. “She’s right, Lucas. There are too many similarities to dismiss this as some sort of hiccup in the PCIB.”
“Alastair?” Lucas watched as the older man took his turn with the numbers.
Once again, the room fell silent, but this time it was different. Edgier. As well it should be, in his opinion.
“I’m...” Alastair shook his head. “God above. I can’t believe this is happening.
” He placed one paper on the table. “I’ve reviewed old records, archival ledgers.
I’ve even run a few tests on some of the decades-old stress events.
” He closed his eyes for a moment. “The time the machines failed. And that terrible time when we hovered on the edge of war with Fourdain. And I discovered something.”
He paused. The silence was profound.
“It’s happened once before.”
If dropped jaws could make a noise, the room would be deafening.
Before the other three could gather their wits and start asking questions, Alastair held up his hand. “Yes, the exact same kind of things happened, but briefly. Quietly. So quietly that they were dismissed as ‘market noise’. A nice catchall for oddities that cropped up now and again.”
He glanced at Lucas. “This was before the PBIC, lad. Well before. And there are a few differences.”
“Such as?” Lucas spoke quietly, but it was clear he was shocked by this revelation.
“It looks like the same...pattern. I think that’s the best way to describe it. Quiet, unimportant small errors, quickly corrected. But this time? The pattern is more precise. More focussed. And, to my mind, better hidden.”
“How long ago?” Verity’s voice betrayed her shock. “And what happened?”
“It stopped,” answered Alastair tiredly. “It stopped when whoever was causing it vanished—abruptly, and without explanation.”
“So someone is out there, manipulating numbers, and potentially messing up our accounts? My charity accounts?”
“That would in some degree explain what happened to the Forge numbers.” Silas spoke quietly.
“And since the numbers are so small, they are practically unnoticeable.” Lucas squared his shoulders. “It’s a complex pattern, Alastair. Very complex.”
“It depends on so many factors, Lucas,” replied Alastair. “And primarily it depends on when we handle numbers.”
“I don’t understand that, Alastair. Can you break it down for me?” Verity asked.
“Of course.” He folded his hands on the table.
“In spite of all that we’ve found, nothing is ever flagged as ‘missing’.
And this is simply because to reconcile balances, banking systems— including the PBIC, Lucas, a moment of time exists, fractionally, between things like logging deposits, reconciling balances, passing audits, and so on.
An instant, a fraction of a moment, where money exists as potential, not actual capital. ”
“All right, I can understand that.” Verity nodded.
“Let’s use your experience as an example.
A charity deposit of fifty pounds. You get a receipt, the ledgers are updated, and the account shows pending.
A status which should last for the blink of an eye.
” He took a breath. “But suppose we take a close look at that blink. During that blink, a tiny percentage is skimmed.”
He held up a hand, anticipating their outbursts.
“Wait. I’m not finished. All this happens so quickly, that by the time the deposit reaches its destination, the system has made rounding adjustments, interest calculations, and configured timing offsets happening elsewhere.
The result? No account is short, no one sees that miniscule loss, and the books still balance. ”
“How can that be?” Silas frowned.
“No system anywhere, including the PBIC, is infallible. But there are protocols in place to adjust for the inevitable errors. Lost coins, misdated deposits, all the idiot things we do when using the bank.”
“Things have to balance,” said Verity.
“They do,” Lucas answered. “But here, the math balances too well.”