Statements redirected to an address our father never saw.

Passwords changed.

And, at the center of it, a junior employee at the bank who had been persuaded, over friendly lunches and a great deal of Leon’s easy charm, to approve transfers on the grounds that the ailing old man was simply too unwell to come in and sign for himself.

I am not going to lay out the mechanics of any of it more precisely than that, because the mechanics are not the point and never were.

The point is that it was patient, and deliberate, and it took real work — months of it — and that my brother did all that work while standing at the foot of a hospital bed twice, being moving, for whoever was watching.

Chapter 10 — The Recorded Calls