Daniel Cooper watched Tracy on the television news in his apartment in New York. He was totally indifferent to the fact that she had been released from prison. He clicked off the television set and returned to the file he was working on.
When Joe Romano saw the television news, he laughed aloud. The Whitney girl was a lucky bitch. I’ll bet prison was good for her. She must be really horny by now. Maybe one day we’ll meet again.
Romano was pleased with himself. He had already passed the Renoir to a fence, and it had been purchased by a private collector in Zurich. Five hundred grand from the insurance company, and another two hundred thousand from the fence. Naturally, Romano had split the money with Anthony Orsatti. Romano was very meticulous in his dealings with him, for he had seen examples of what happened to people who were not correct in their transactions with Orsatti.
At noon on Monday Tracy, in her Lureen Hartford persona, returned to the First Merchants Bank of New Orleans. At that hour it was crowded with customers. There were several people in front of Lester Torrance’s window. Tracy joined the line, and when Lester saw her, he beamed and nodded. She was even more goddamned beautiful than he had remembered.
When Tracy finally reached his window, Lester crowed, “Well, it wasn’t easy, but I did it for you, Lureen.”
A warm, appreciative smile lit Lureen’s face. “You’re just too wonderful.”
“Yes, sir, got ‘em right here.” Lester opened a drawer, found the box of checks he had carefully put away, and handed it to her. “There you are. Four hundred blank checks. Will that be enough?”
“Oh, more than enough, unless Mr. Romano goes on a check-writing spree.” She looked into Lester’s eyes and sighed, “You saved my life.”
Lester felt a pleasurable stirring in his groin. “I believe people have to be nice to people, don’t you, Lureen?”
“You’re so right, Lester.”
“You know, you should open your own account here. I’d take real good care of you. Real good.”
“I just know you would,” Tracy said softly.
“Why don’t you and me talk about it over a nice quiet dinner somewhere?”
“I’d surely love that.”
“Where can I call you, Lureen?”
“Oh, I’ll call you, Lester.” She moved away.
“Wait a min—” The next customer stepped up and handed the frustrated Lester a sackful of coins.
In the center of the bank were four tables that held containers of blank deposit and withdrawal slips, and the tables were crowded with people busily filling out forms. Tracy moved away from Lester’s view. As a customer made room at a table, Tracy took her place. The box that Lester had given her contained eight packets of blank checks. But it was not the checks Tracy was interested in: It was the deposit slips at the back of the packets.
She carefully separated the deposit slips from the checks and, in fewer than three minutes, she was holding eighty deposit slips in her hand. Making sure she was unobserved, Tracy put twenty of the slips in the metal container.
She moved on to the next table, where she placed twenty more deposit slips. Within a few minutes, all of them had been left on the various tables. The deposit slips were blank, but each one contained a magnetized code at the bottom, which the computer used to credit the various accounts. No matter who deposited money, because of the magnetic code, the computer would automatically credit Joe Romano’s account with each deposit. From her experience working in a bank, Tracy knew that within two days all the magnetized deposit slips would be used up and that it would take at least five days before the mix-up was noticed. That would give her more than enough time for what she planned to do.
On the way back to her hotel, Tracy threw the blank checks into a trash basket. Mr. Joe Romano would not be needing them.
Tracy’s next stop was at the New Orleans Holiday Travel Agency. The young woman behind the desk asked, “May I help you?”
“I’m Joseph Romano’s secretary. Mr. Romano would like to make a reservation for Rio de Janeiro. He wants to leave this Friday.”