Page 132 of Perfect Strangers

‘Oh, it wouldn’t be in real money,’ said Sayer. ‘He could have converted it into diamonds, gold or bearer bonds and hidden them away in some anonymous vault somewhere.’

‘Not in a bank?’ asked Sophie.

‘Could be in an offshore account, yes, although most traditional tax havens like Switzerland and Liechtenstein are cooperating with the authorities these days.’

‘Can’t you trace all the transactions that Asner made over the years?’

Sayer laughed. ‘Don’t you think the authorities have tried that? No, the money went into Asner’s account, then was probably withdrawn as cash – and simply disappeared. Our best guess is that he was using a second player to hide the money for him.’

Sophie felt her scalp prickle.

‘But you don’t know who?’

‘We’ve checked his phone records, emails, diary logs, financial statements, but it’s a tiny needle in a very big haystack. Unless we have a name, we have no idea where to start. But we have to find a way. Asner was a sociopath. His scam was like a game to him, but he was playing with countless lives with his little scheme. Some of his investors were public funds; that means public amenities lost their funding – community centres, day care, outreach programmes – and thousands of people will lose their pensions. And that’s the tip of the iceberg. No, Miss Ellis, believe me when I say I’m motivated to find that money and get it back to the right people.’

Sophie looked at her, feeling torn. Andrea Sayer was one of the good guys, she could feel it, and if she told the lawyer the truth, then maybe she could help. But Josh was right too. Once they gave the authorities everything they had, they were vulnerable, dispensable. Sophie found herself at the crossroads – and she had to choose a path. ‘Does the name Benedict Grear mean anything to you?’ she said suddenly

‘No. Should it?’ replied Sayer, her clever eyes piercing.

‘I don’t know,’ stuttered Sophie. ‘Maybe someone connected to the Asner scheme? A lawyer he used, or an investor?’

Sayer shook her head. ‘What is this about?’

Sophie knew she had to word this carefully.

‘When my father lost his – our – money, he came to the same conclusion as you: that he’d be at the back of the queue, so he decided to do some of his own investigating.’

‘Good for him,’ said Sayer. ‘So why’s he not here?’

‘He’s dead, Miss Sayer.’

‘Oh I’m sorry. And call me Andrea.’

‘After he died, we found that name written down in a file he’d collected on Asner. We wondered if it might be something he’d discovered during his research.’

Sophie hoped her expression hadn’t betrayed her lies.

The attorney looked at her; her face said she was unconvinced by what Sophie was saying. After a pause, however, she turned to her computer and rattled at the keyboard.

‘We have interviewed everyone in Asner’s inner circle,’ she said. ‘We’ve built up a pretty big database about the scheme – we managed to get the SEC to pool their resources too.’

She clicked away.

‘No . . . nothing on Benedict Grear. But then we don’t have the time or resources to speak to everyone Asner ever met.’

She sat back in her chair.

‘Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything, Ms Ellis?’

‘Because we . . .’ Josh began to speak, but Sophie put her hand on his knee. He had been right in the lift; she needed to start taking control. This was her problem, her life, and it was about time she grabbed the steering wheel.

‘You say you want to find Asner’s hidden booty. Well so do I. We were British investors, Miss Sayer. You think your clients are at the bottom of a very long list for compensation; believe me, my family is bumping along the seabed. I want to help. My dad and Michael Asner were old friends. Perhaps someone they both knew knows something, anything that might help us find the truth.’

Andrea looked thoughtful.

‘You could talk to Tyler Connor.’

‘Who’s he?’ asked Josh.