"Why not?" Liv snapped indignantly. "That's what it was."

"The memo I gave you didn't mention race."

"Not specifically, but we both know what was really going on there. Low-income areas in this city are populated by blacks and Hispanics. 'Certain' people mean minorities to Bob Dudley. You know it. I know it. You're sounding naive, and I know you aren't. You know the deal."

Liv was right. That was the deal. "Still, I-"

"Look, what are you worried about anyway? It's my neck on the line. No one will ever find out you were the one who gave me the memo."

Angela played with her napkin nervously, regretting what she had done for the first time. Jake Lawrence had scared her. The article Liv had written might make the big New York and West Coast banks think twice about acquiring Sumter. Maybe keep anyone from making a high-priced acquisition offer for the bank. Then Lawrence would lose out on hundreds of millions, maybe even billions, in profits. Maybe evenlose money, which could easily cause his interest in helping her win back Hunter to wane. "I hope not."

"Angela, they could jam toothpicks under my fingernails and I still wouldn't tell them how I got the memo. I'm good for my word."

"I know," Angela said slowly, thinking how so many dollars might actually cause people to resort to torture. Worried Liv's giving her word could come back to haunt her friend.

"It makes me so mad that my article didn't get more attention," Liv continued. "And I'm not talking about personal attention."

"What are you talking about?"

"The fact that Bob Dudley still has his job. He still sits on top of Sumter Bank."

"He denied your accusations. He pointed to all of the charities he's involved with that help minorities."

"Bob Dudley is a racist."

"Maybe, but most of Richmond considers him a pillar of the community. People don't believe he would ever endorse anything like what your article accused the bank of. Other than that incident with you at that business forum, he's never had any problems in public." Angela took a sip of wine. "And from what I read, the spin from the forum was that you were trying to bait him. That you came off as the aggressor."

"A spin crafted by the white contingent of reporters in town who constantly kiss Dudley's a.s.s." Liv shook her head. "Sometimes I want to tear my hair out it makes me so mad. That article should have turned people's heads, but it didn't. How can people not even care? Not even notice?"

"People noticed," Angela murmured. Jake Lawrence might have termed the forty-million-dollar paper loss on his Sumter Bank investment "small," but it had been important enough for him to mention the article, and to mention that theWall Street Journal was thinking about picking up on it. Angela considered telling Liv that but didn't. Once again she couldn't be sure if Lawrence was telling the truth, or trying to manipulate her. "You organized that protest outside the bank's entrance this morning, right?"

Liv grinned. "You figured that out, huh?"

"It wasn't hard." If Liv really got things stirred up, Jake Lawrence probably wouldn't be as calm about the situation next time they talked-if there was a next time.

"If I'm going to bring Bob Dudley down, it's going to have to be with a gra.s.sroots effort. The black community is going to have to rise up against him, with a little help from their friends."

Angela stared across the table at Liv. "Is that what this is all about?" she asked. "Bringing Bob Dudley down?"

"I told you. He's a racist," Liv said angrily. "He'll do whatever he can to keep minorities from making any progress in the world. All the way from keeping me out of his country club to keeping my brother in a hovel on the east side. You know, I'd love to see Dudley hanging from a tree the way my-" Liv held her tongue when the waiter arrived at the table to describe the evening's specials. When he was gone, she pursed her full lips as if she wanted to say something very important. Then she relaxed and shook her head. "Dinner's on me tonight."

"That's all right. We'll-"

"No, no. I invited you, and I'm going to pay," Liv said firmly. "But I am going to make you work for it."

"Work for it?"

"Last time we were together you started to tell me how I could check on Sumter Bank's record of serving the minority community, but you had to leave before we were able to go into detail."

"Oh, right."

Angela and Liv had run into each other at a city chamber of commerce luncheon a few weeks ago, but Angela had had to leave before dessert to make a meeting.

"You were talking about statistical areas or something."

"Metropolitan statistical areas: M.S.A.'s."

"That was it," Liv confirmed, reaching down and pulling a notepad and pen from a large leather pocketbook at her feet. "What are M.S.A.'s?"

"The federal government's Office of Management and Budget-"

"The OMB," Liv cut in.

"Right, the OMB. The OMB has diced the country into M.S.A.'s. The city of Richmond, the town of Crozet, the county of Henrico, and so on are M.S.A.'s. Most banks, especially big ones, operate in lots of M.S.A.'s. And the M.S.A.'s are further broken down into census tracks."

"Go on."

"The OMB segments individuals and households within the M.S.A.'s and the census tracks them by income. Those income categories are broadly defined as low, moderate, middle, and upper."

The waiter returned to take their order, but Liv shooed him away, telling him they hadn't even looked at their menus. "How does...o...b..define those income levels?" she asked when he was gone. "What are the ranges?"

Angela closed her eyes, trying to remember her research. "I think low is below 50 percent of the specific M.S.A.'s median income," she said slowly. "Moderate is like 50 to 75 or 80 percent of median. Middle is 80 to 120 percent, and high is over 120 percent."

Liv crossed her arms over her chest, a puzzled look on her face. "So it's arelative measure."

"That's right."

"The absolute level of median income in one M.S.A. might be different from that in another M.S.A."

"Not might be, probably is."

"But to be able to calculate a median income level for an M.S.A., the OMB has to know what everyone in that M.S.A. is making."

"True."

"How can the OMB possibly know everybody's income?" Liv asked bluntly.

"They could use census information."

"Do you think people are truthful about their incomes on that form?"

Angela shook her head. "No. I think most people don't even fill in that box. I don't."

"Then how-"

"Liv," Angela interrupted, "let's say you could have any resource in the federal government available to you. And let's say you wanted to know what my income was for last year. Where would you go?"

Liv thought for a second, then her eyes widened. "The IRS?"

"Right. Now don't quote me on that. In fact, you can't quote me on anything we discuss tonight. That's my one condition for helping you."

"Fine," Liv agreed as she scribbled on her notepad. "But you're saying that the OMB has access to IRS records?"

"I'm saying it wouldn't surprise me."

"But the OMB isn't part of the Treasury Department," Liv pointed out.

"That's true."

"Isn't that interesting?" Liv muttered to herself. "Government departments sharing information about our income levels." She looked up. "G.o.d, I'm so rude. You must be starving."

Angela smiled. Shewas hungry and the aromas coming from the kitchen were enticing. "I am, but I doubt our waiter will come back to the table unless we beg. You almost bit his head off a few minutes ago."

"I just get so wrapped up in all of this. Let's eat."

When they had both decided what they wanted, Liv waved to the small, mustachioed waiter, who hurried to the table.

As soon as he was gone, Liv started up again. "Okay, so the OMB designates areas and pegs relative income levels within the areas. Then what?"

"Then they can calculate a bank's record in each of the M.S.A.'s in which it operates. So many loans to low-income individuals, so many to moderate-income individuals, and so on. Banks are required to report certain loans they make, and certain loans they don't make, so the government can see what percentage of low-income applications are being approved and what percentage are being denied. Then they can compare that ratio to the ratio for other levels." Angela watched Liv write feverishly. When the pen hesitated, Angela continued. "By the way, it's only the big banks that have to report to the government: banks with more than $250 million in a.s.sets, or bank holding companies with more than a billion. That's about two thousand ent.i.ties in the United States. Banks below those levels don't have to report."

"Why only the big guys?"

"The government claims the small banks don't have enough market share or clout to really make a difference, which is totally wrong. There's ten thousand of them, for G.o.d's sake. The real reason they don't require those ent.i.ties to report is that they simply don't have the manpower to monitor all of them."

Liv nodded. "It all makes sense now. It's against the law for banks to take an individual's race into account when making a loan. They probably can't even collect that kind of information, right? But, of course, you have to know someone's income because you have to try to a.s.sess their ability to repay the loan. That's only fair."

"Which are two very different issues."

Liv looked up. "What do you mean?"

"It's definitely against the law for banks to take race into account when determining whether or not to make a loan. But, in fact, the federal governmentrequires banks to identify the applicant's race when it comes to mortgages."

Liv stared at Angela skeptically. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm dead serious. Go to any bank and ask for a standard mortgage application. You'll see that the applicant's race is one of the last questions on the form. It's the Race/National Origin box." Angela held up her hand. "Now, the applicant doesn'thave to respond."

"Of course not," Liv agreed emphatically. "If you were black, you'd have to be an idiot to check that box."

"Why?" Angela was fairly certain she knew how Liv was going to respond, but she wanted to hear her say it.

"Why?Come on, Angela. Don't be silly."

"I want you to tell me."

"Because then everybody in the bank who's involved in approving your loan knows you're black."

"So?"

"So? So maybe some white person who's involved in the process lives in a nice neighborhood with good schools and safe streets. The same neighborhood the black man applying for the mortgage is trying to move his family to." Liv chuckled grimly. "Just for kicks, let's call our black man LeroyJefferson ," she suggested. "Anyway, that white person in the bank sees from the application that Leroy is black, and that Leroy is about to move in next door. He figures Leroy will have at least fifteen children, throw wild parties, and probably sell heroin and crack as his primary source of income. Maybe even sell those drugs to the white man's kids. So the white man steps in and denies the loan. He keeps the black man out."

"Well, I-"

"With a name like Leroy Jefferson," Liv interrupted, "every white guy out there will a.s.sume the applicant is black. But what if his name is John Smith? That name wouldn't catch anybody's attention. Everybody a.s.sumes John is white, and he slips into the neighborhood. But by identifying himself on the application as black, everybody knows what's going on." She pointed at Angela. "Or maybe it goes even deeper than that at some organizations. Maybe it isn't just one person who happens to see a black man applying for a mortgage on a house in a traditionally white neighborhood and denies the application because he happens to live in that neighborhood. Maybe there's a policy at the bank to deny black people loans in certain sections of cities or in certain M.S.A.'s. Maybe the policy isn't written down anywhere, but everybody knows about it just the same. That kind of thing goes on in the residential real estate business. You read all the time about agents not showing houses in certain highly desirable sections of town to black families. A bank might do the same thing. A bank like Sumter."

Angela shrugged. "So the solution is simple, right? Don't check the box."

"Exactly."

"Just one problem with that."

"What?"

"If the applicant opts not to answer the race question on the form, the bank employee who accepts the application must do it instead. I'll repeat that. That bank employeemust fill in the box if the applicant doesn't. It's required by law."

Liv shook her head in disbelief. "What?"

"Yes. It says that right on the application."

"So they fill in the box just by sight?"

"Or by reviewing the surname if the race isn't clear by looking at the applicant, which, of course, can be a very inaccurate way of gathering data."

"My G.o.d."

Angela nodded. "Shocking, huh? Now that's only for mortgages. When it comes to small business loans or credit cards, the race question isn't on the application. In fact, with respect to small business loans and consumer credit, it's illegal for a lending ent.i.ty to ask what race you are."

"Why would the federal government have banks require blacks to identify themselves on a mortgage application? That bothers me."

"They do it so they can compile information. So they can monitor a bank's performance on minority lending."

Liv raised her eyebrows, then nodded.

"It's actually intended to helpprevent the problem," Angela continued.

They were quiet for a while until Liv finally spoke up. "So what?" she asked bluntly.

"I don't understand."

"So the government compiles all this data. So what? What do they do with it?"

"It really only comes into play when banks want to merge."

"How does it come into play then?"

"The government can disallow a merger of two banks if one of them has a bad record regarding service to low-income individuals in a particular M.S.A., or a bad record of serving minorities." Angela shook her head. "I should emphasize the word 'might.' The government hasn't taken exception very often, despite the fact that some very big banks who have merged in the last few years have had atrocious records when it comes to serving low-income M.S.A.'s."

Liv sneered. "How would we know what a bank's records indicate, anyway? I'm sure the government keeps all that data hidden away where the public can't get at it."