“Federal agent,” Oshiro answered. “I need to speak to—”
“Me, I suspect,” another woman interrupted, coming up from behind the waitress. Dark-skinned with exotic features, she was dressed in an elegant black silk pantsuit that somehow managed to appear more sexy than any of the skimpy cocktail waitresses’ dresses. “I’m Samra. Happy to help in any way I can. But we do not permit weapons in the public lounge.”
“Deputy US Marshal Timothy Oshiro, ma’am. I’m here—”
Samra raised a hand. “I’m sure you’re here with the best of intentions, Deputy Oshiro. But, as I said, we do not allow weapons in our common space.” She gestured to the outlaw bikers who had all turned to gawk at the commotion, murmuring to each other with scowls etched into their faces. “I’m sure you can understand why, given our clientele.”
Oshiro met her fake, unyielding smile with one of his own. “And I’m sure you understand why, given your clientele, I’ll be keeping my weapons.”
“What is this place?” Jenna asked, unable to restrain her curiosity any further. “A bar? Bank? Brothel?”
Samra made a chagrined frown at the last. “Come with me. You can keep your weapons while we speak in my private office.”
She led them past the coat check area and a polished walnut counter that seemed to serve both as a bar and a teller’s desk to a room with dark paneling and elegant antique furniture. A man stood outside, obviously a guard, but he did not carry any weapons that Jenna could see. Samra waved them to luxurious leather chairs, while she settled herself behind her desk and steepled her fingers in thought. Jenna took a seat, smoothing her fingers across the baby soft fine leather, while Oshiro stood behind her.
“I’m sure you can appreciate that your presence here is quite unsettling to my clients. This is neutral ground, no matter which side of the law you’re on. As long as you abide by the rules, all are welcome.” She nodded to Oshiro. “Even a US Marshal. But we have rules for a reason. Mainly the safety of my people. I apologize if it offends, but I must insist that you relinquish your weapons for the duration of your visit.”
The steely set of Oshiro’s jaws told Jenna how unlikely that was. But she was no longer law enforcement; she was free to do what she wanted. Who cared, if it got her the answers she needed? She might even use Oshiro’s recalcitrance to her advantage.
“You’re Switzerland,” she blurted out, the pieces falling into place. “Totally neutral. Providing a service to all.”
“An essential service,” Samra agreed. “We not only pride ourselves on attending to our customers’ financial needs, we protect their privacy. Secure and confidential. That is the Crossroads way.”
“I’m after Clinton Caine,” Oshiro finally spoke. “He’s a client of yours.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
“You’re not actually in Switzerland,” he reminded her. “We have federal statutes that regulate banks. I’m sure your customers would not appreciate it if I got a warrant to examine all of your records and open every safe deposit box.”
Samra merely smiled. “You can try. But it won’t be easy. We are a private equity corporation, not bound by the FDIC regulations.”
“How does it work?” Jenna asked. “Let’s say I wanted to open an account. Could you or one of your people give me a tour, show me what that would entail?”
“Of course, Ms. Galloway.” Again Jenna was a bit freaked that they knew her name—but she refused to rise to the bait and ask how; it would be seen as a sign of weakness. Oshiro edged a glance her way, obviously wondering if she’d led him into some kind of trap. But so far, he seemed content to follow her lead.
Samra continued, “Someone of your background would definitely fit our client profile.” Okay…so Samra knew more than Jenna’s name, she knew who Jenna really was—more than what was reported in the newspapers. The banker had access to top-notch researchers. Or Morgan had told her. “But again, no weapons allowed in the public areas. Or the vault.”
“Your associate out front, she said you were expecting me. How?”
“Another client suggested that you might be arriving sometime in the next few days.”
“Another client? Clinton Caine? Or maybe his daughter, Morgan Ames?”
Samra didn’t take the bait, merely smiled. “We’ve built our business on referrals. If you choose to utilize our services, you’ll be afforded the same discretion.”
Jenna stood. Oshiro straightened but didn’t stop her. “All right. Show me how it all works.” She unholstered her SIG from her belt then also retrieved her backup from its ankle holster and set them both on Samra’s desk.
Samra arched an eyebrow. “The knife as well, please.”