"A quarter-million dollars," she
whispered.
"I see," he said, blinking, looking personally offended. "Is
there something wrong with our service?"
She gave a little laugh. "Oh, no. No, no. You're always so kind
and friendly. It's really not that much money - relatively
speaking," she said with a shake of her shoulders, a subtle
reminder of their overall balance.
"From which account will you draw the funds?" he asked, his
fingers working quickly over the keyboard of the computer
terminal beside the desk. "Your personal checking account balance
here doesn't total that amount."
"I know. I'd like you to arrange to collect it from the market
fund account, and then deposit it into this," she said,
indicating the account number in her open checkbook. She unfolded
the small slip of paper Jean-Pierre had given her and showed it
to the manager. "Then I'll write a check, which I'd like wired to
this Swiss account."
"Very well, Mrs. Locke." He opened one of the desk drawers.
"We'll just need to fill out this form," he said, tearing off a
small pink sheet. "Are you and Mr. Locke traveling?" he asked
casually as he transcribed her account number onto the form.
"Nope. Just me. It's to help set up affairs in Europe before I
depart for an extended trip."
He tapped the account number into the computer terminal and a
moment later the account activity unrolled on the display.
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