“Thank God you didn’t have time to catch that train,” Billy wheezed as he led his best deputy marshal into his office. Before he closed the door, he said to Duncan, who had suddenly appeared from behind a bookcase, “Don’t let anyone inside until this meeting is finished. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Vail!”
“Good.” Billy dredged up a smile. “Custis, thanks for coming so quickly.”
“My train is leaving within the hour. I’d still like to be on it.” When Billy didn’t respond, Longarm said, “That is a possibility, is it not?”
“This way,” Billy said as they moved into his office, which was large and afforded a splendid view of the Rocky Mountains. Only now the curtains were drawn and there were three other men waiting.
“Marshal Long,” Billy said, beginning the introductions. “I’m sure you know Governor Ganzel and our executive officer, Mr. Malcomb Hall.”
“I do,” Longarm said to both men, who had not bothered to rise and were studying him closely. “It’s a pleasure.”
“You may not feel that way after this meeting,” the governor warned. “We’re in quite a fix, and Mr. Vail assures both myself and Commissioner Hall that you are his very best deputy marshal. A real problem-solver.”
“A doer, the one man who could handle this job,” Commissioner Hall added. “That’s how Mr. Vail described you, Marshal Long.”
“I am flattered,” Longarm said, expecting that he would soon pay dearly for these compliments. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Have a seat,” Billy said, offering Longarm a Stiff-backed wooden chair while all the rest of them rode fine leather upholstery. “It will take a few minutes to explain the mess we are in and try to acquaint you with all the facts leading up to the predicament.”
“Yes,” Governor Ganzel said, “I’d like to hear them myself. I’m still not sure how this could have happened.”
“There were some serious problems with security, Governor,” Malcomb Hall said.
“And who takes responsibility for that!”
“I do,” the commissioner said, completely unruffled by the governor’s bluntness. “But there is never any sure way to stop someone in a position of trust who goes bad.”
Oh, God, Longarm thought, this is going to be even worse than I’d expected.
“Well,” Billy said, taking a seat behind his desk and steepling his short, stubby fingers. “I suppose I should begin at the beginning.”
“Brevity,” Longarm advised, thinking how his train would be leaving the Denver station in exactly forty minutes and there was still a shred of hope he’d be on it if he could find a way to decline this assignment. “Brevity is always appreciated.”
Billy was a rotund, soft-looking fellow who had once himself been a very effective marshal. He was physically unimpressive, entirely forgettable, but had proven himself to be extremely cunning, courageous, and resourceful. Longarm did not like to take orders from anyone, but he considered Billy a friend and so that made things a good deal easier all the way around. Having himself been in the field, Billy understood the problems of the deputy marshals who worked under his supervision and he would vigorously defend them when they occasionally fouled up.
“Well, Custis,” Billy said, leaning back in his chair. “We have a little problem over at the Denver mint.”
“A little problem?” Longarm challenged.
“Hell, Billy, tell him the truth. We have a big, big problem!” the governor exclaimed. “A million-dollar problem!”
Longarm’s eyebrows shot up. “A million dollars?”
“If we’re lucky,” the governor of Colorado said, looking slightly pale. “You see-“
“Perhaps it would be better if I explained,” Commissioner Hall interrupted. “I have just learned a few more details within the last hour.”
“Of course. You explain,” the governor said.
Hall ran his hand across his eyes, and Longarm guessed that despite the commissioner’s calm demeanor, he was a man under a great deal of pressure. “To begin with,” Hall said, “we had no idea that the old plates had been stolen, much less the paper, ink, and-“
“Whoa!” Longarm said. “What old plates and what paper and ink?”
“I’m sorry,” Hall said. “We received new plates, ink, and instructions from Washington, D.C. to begin printing a slightly different hundred-dollar bill at our Denver mint. The new currency was going to make it even more difficult for counterfeiters. The changes in the new hundred-dollar bills are readily evident only to the trained eye. We studied them carefully and followed the Treasury Department’s instructions—to the letter.”
“I’m sure you did, Commissioner,” the governor said with a perfunctory air, “but how your people could be so lax about the old plates defies all understanding.”
“We weren’t lax!” Commissioner Hall lowered his voice and dragged his handkerchief out to dab at his haggard face. “We weren’t lax. All the standard procedures were taken to insure that the old plates and inks were catalogued and destroyed.”
Governor Ganzel, an immense figure prone to hysterics, jumped to his feet and cried, “But they weren’t, dammit!”
Billy Vail also came to his feet. “Gentlemen, there is no use crying over spilled milk. It is obvious that the plates were not all destroyed and now we have to find out who took them and who is using them.”
“How,” Longarm said, still not sure he understood exactly what the problem was, “do you know that they weren’t all completely destroyed?”
“Very simple,” Billy said, reaching into his desk drawer and drawing out a bundle of crisp new one-hundred-dollar bills. “These were deposited at the Great Northern Bank of Cheyenne four days ago. They are the discontinued currencies using the obsolete plates.”
“How-“
“Without training, the only way you’d know they were illegal are by the serial numbers,” Billy explained. “Their sequence has been discontinued. We have, in effect, someone out there who has taken it upon himself to become a second United States Treasury. His highly mobile mint deals in nothing but hundred-dollar bills.”
“Thank God it wasn’t a plate for thousand-dollar bills,” Governor Ganzel said glumly.
“They would have been far, far too conspicuous,” the commissioner interjected. “We’d have nailed the counterfeiter right away. Thousand and five-hundred-dollar bills attract a lot of attention.”
“That’s probably true,” the governor said. “But hundred-dollar bills are quite common, even among the riffraff and your ordinary gamblers.”
Longarm came to his feet and crossed the room to stand before Billy’s desk. “May I see those bills, please?”
“Sure,” Vail said, handing them over to him. “There are an even hundred in that stack. Ten thousand dollars.”
Longarm whistled softly as he hefted the crisp new bundle. “I’ve never held that much cash all at once.”
“They are supposed to be worthless. Illegal,” Commissioner Hall said with annoyance. “But … unless you know the discontinued serial numbers or have a trained eye, those bills cannot be distinguished from all the millions of dollars in previous hundreds that have already been issued.”
“Then you’d better get a list of serial numbers out right away,” Longarm said, “because I know that I could sure spend this bundle in a hurry.”
“Of course you could,” the commissioner sighed. “And because it was our blunder, anyone accepting that currency would have every reason to expect that it is legitimate. They could, we are quite sure, sue both the federal government and the state of Colorado for damages and reimbursement.”
“It could bankrupt Colorado,” Governor Ganzel whispered.
“It could bankrupt the feds too,” Commissioner Hall assured them. “I can tell you this much—a special secret service courier is being rushed to Washington, D.C., this very moment to advise our President of this mess. And unless I am very much mistaken, he is going to hit the ceiling. When that happens, we must have the thieves and those outdated hundred-dollar plates back in our possession.”