The Increment Read Online Free PDF Page A

Understood?'
'OK,' snapped Abbott, 'play it your way, Browning. You got an office around here? Somewhere we can access the Internet? I want to show you something.'
Matt walked slowly back through the bar. It was filling up now, and he nodded to a couple of the regulars sitting down to dinner. One person said something, but Matt walked straight past. He was in no mood for talk. A feeling was already growing in the pit of his stomach: whatever Abbott had to show him, he wasn't going to like it.
The office was a simple annexe to the main kitchen, at the back of the building. Matt kept a desk, plus a swivel chair and a bunch of files. A Spanish accountant came in once a week to handle the books, and Janey, the manageress, did the rest of the paperwork. The papers spread across the desk were mostly architect's drawings for the new house. The computer Matt mainly used for checking his bank accounts and sending emails. He'd played the stock markets in the past but had given that up now. Like everyone else he knew, he'd lost too much money.
'This thing work?' said Abbott, pointing towards the computer.
Matt nodded.
'Switch it on, old fruit. You'll be wanting to check your bank accounts.'
Matt could feel his blood freezing. He leant across the desk, flicking the power switch on the Toshiba laptop. It took a moment to boot itself into life. Matt could hear Abbott breathing behind him, but he didn't want to look round, nor did he want to catch the man's eyes.
If the bastard's messed with my money, he'll be lucky to get out of here alive. The fish in the ocean could always use some fattening up. There's plenty of spare meat on this guy.
Matt clicked on to the web connection. 'How do you know I bank on the Internet?' he asked, without looking back at Abbott.
'Just open it.'
'You've looked already, haven't you?' Now Matt turned round to face Abbott. 'You've no bloody right.'
'Like I said, open it,' said Abbott carefully. 'You'll discover my position gives me the right to do anything I damn well please.'
The computer was humming into life. On the screen the HSBC logo was displayed. Matt keyed in his details, then the password. The account came on to the screen. Matt pressed on Statement, the command disappearing down the modem. Within seconds, the total was flashed up on the monitor.
Zero.
He pressed Refresh on the web browser. Might as well make sure.
Zero.
Matt drew a deep breath. He clicked on the statement. The last two transactions were the hundred euros he had taken out of the cash machine in town three days ago, and a cheque for £650 he'd sent off three days ago to settle his accountant's bill.
After that, the account just dropped from a balance of £12,287 to nothing. There was no explanation. Just an empty row of noughts.
'Check the other accounts,' said Abbott.
Matt remained silent. He had two other accounts at the bank, both of them accessible online: one was a deposit account where he was keeping some of his spare cash, earning a miserable couple of per cent interest a year. The other was a dealing account, where he'd put the bulk of his money into a series of rock-safe bond funds. It didn't earn much of a return, but at least it was still there. Until now.
'They're empty,' said Matt, not looking away from the screen.
'Empty as the jolly old Gobi Desert on a Sunday afternoon,' said Abbott. Matt could tell he was pleased with the stunt he'd just pulled. Now he was walking round to face Matt, and sitting on the edge of the desk. A small cloud of cigarette smoke was wafting above him.
'Great bunch of boys, al-Qaeda. Ever since the events of September 11, my lot have more power than we know what to do with. Want an account blocked anywhere in the world, you just put in a request and they do it faster than you can say Osama bin Laden. None of that boring old stuff about proving reasonable suspicion.' Abbott leant closer into Matt's face. 'The accounts get frozen, and your bank won't even tell you. Right now, you haven't a penny in