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out a name. Declan Smythe.
    Something else happened too, Arthur could even feel it, but Pan was clearly sensing something strongly. Somewhere in that labyrinthian computer system alarms started going off.
    “Let’s get out of here.”
    They disappeared. There should not have been any evidence they were there; they were careful to pick a location without cameras, yet as soon as that name was returned, something deep within the computers picked it off.
    Arthur decided to see how deep that ran. The two of them went to a phone company terminal in Manhattan and decided to look up Declan Smythe. This time, no alarm. Okay, so the little systems they had set up appeared to only affect the government systems. This guy was pretty well protected.
    Next, the bank. Who made deposits into his account?
    It took Arthur an hour to find his account, flitting from bank to bank, betting that it would be one of the big ones in Manhattan, and he was right. So who was paying him?
    Not the government. Finally progress! Deposits were made by a numbered company, that was easy enough to trace, but by God did they bury it deeply. They could see there were logging systems in place to track who had accessed certain records, so unlike the phone company they scanned for intruders here. No matter, the logs appeared to be check daily, so they were safe for a few hours.
    Pan said he had an idea and disappeared.
    The funds that ended up in Declan’s bank account originated ten companies up, eight of them numbered companies who’s apparently sole purpose was the redistribution of funds. One advantage to these global banking systems was that at this level he was able to track the transactions from one terminal. He was thankful for the small mercy.
    But it was the last company on that list that was important: Gaston Holdings, PLC.
    Holy. Shite. That could not be a coincidence, since it was Johann Gaston that had tried to kill Pan not once, but twice.
    Pan returned with Jack in tow, and Arthur understood what he was doing. Arthur showed them the name. Pan merely grimaced.
    Arthur gave up his seat to Jack, and for seventeen minutes they watched him track down the logs of their transactions and delete them. Damned handy having a programmer on the team.
    Twice they were interrupted by security guards, but Pan was literally able to make them appear invisible. All they had to do was stop making noise for a few moments while the guard did his business.
    Then it was time to leave.
    Pan took Jack back to the apartment, but Arthur decided to go somewhere nice and anonymous and start digging into Gaston Holdings.
    He liked working in coffee shops on warm, sunny days, probably like just about anyone, and this time he picked a small Kafenion in southern Greece. Sometimes it was a challenge finding one with Internet access, but thankfully it was becoming more common.
    He looked out into the morning sun splashing off the Mediterranean. He’d lost track of the days, but judging by the fishing boats firing up he’d guess it wasn’t the weekend. Arthur liked Greece, too. It was warm, the locals enjoyed their disgusting Uzo as much as he enjoyed his bitter, and he’d always found it easy to make friends here.
    In some ways it reminded him of a simpler time, though he was well aware of the danger of viewing the past with the proverbial rose colored glasses.
    His Greek was a little rusty, but he managed to get a coffee ordered without making a total ass of himself. Then it was down to business. Arthur opened his laptop.
    They were big. Almost nobody knew about them, but their holdings were immense. They could single handedly wipe out the debt of several small nations, or large ones for that matter. Or collapse the economy of those same nations.
    Arthur suspected the latter had been employed a time or two.
    Based in Bern, Switzerland. Great. That meant more secrecy, and he suspected that the Swiss had much greater control of their records.
    It was time to start pulling on more