'Sorry, Danny. I had orders.' Miles weighed what he would say next, then took the plunge. 'Besides, if I used those twenties of yours, I could get arrested.'
It was as if he had fired a gun. Danny shot upright, alarm and suspicion on his face. 'Who said you could…' He stopped with a moan and grimace, putting a hand to his head in pain. 'Someone had to count the money. So I did it.' The old man said weakly, 'Those are good twenties.'
'Sure are,' Miles agreed. 'Some of the best I've seen. Almost as good as the U. S. Bureau of Engraving.'
Danny raised his eyes. Interest competed with suspicion. 'How come you know so much?' 'Before I went to prison I worked for a bank.'
A silence. Then the old man asked, 'What were you in the can for?' 'Embezzlement. I'm on parole now.'
Danny visibly relaxed. 'I guess you're okay. Or you wouldn't be working for Tony Bear and the Russian.'
'That's right,' Miles said. 'I'm okay. The next thing is to get you the same way. Right now we're going to the steam room.'
'It ain't steam I need. It's a short snort. Just one, son,' Danny pleaded. 'I swear that's all. You wouldn't deny an old man that small favor.'
'We'll sweat some out you already drank. Then you can lick your fingers.' The old man groaned. 'Heartless! Heartless'
In a way it was like taking care of a child. Overcoming token protests Miles wrapped Danny in a robe and shepherded him downstairs, then escorted him naked through successive steam rooms, toweled him, and finally eased him onto a masseur's table where Miles himself gave a creditable pummeling and rubdown. This early, the gym and steam rooms were deserted and few of the club staff had arrived. No one else was in sight when Miles escorted the old man back upstairs.
Miles remade the bed with dean sheets, and Danny, by now quietened and obedient, climbed in. Almost at once he was asleep, though unlike last night, he appeared tranquil, even angelic. Strangely, without really knowing him, Miles already liked the old man. Carefully, while he slept, Miles put a towel under his head and shaved him.
In late morning, while reading in his room across the hall, Miles drifted off to sleep.
'Hey, Milesy! Baby, stir ass' The rasping voice was Jules LaRocca's.
Startled, Miles jerked awake to see the familiar potbellied figure standing in the doorway. Miles's hand
reached out, seeking the key of the cubicle across the hall. Reassuringly, it was where he had left it.
'Gotsum threads for the old lush,' LaRocca said. He was carrying a fiberboard suitcase. 'Ominsky said ta deliver 'em ta you.' LaRocca, the ubiquitous messenger.
'Okay.' Miles stretched, and went to a sink where he splashed cold water on his face. Then, followed by LaRocca, he opened the door across the hall. As the two came in, Danny eased up gingerly in bed. Though still drawn and pale, he appeared better than at any time since his arrival. He had put his teeth in and had his glasses on.
'Ya useless old bum' LaRocca said. 'Ya always givin' everybody a lotta trouble.'
Danny sat up straighter, regarding his accuser with distaste. 'I'm far from useless. As you and others know. As for the sauce, every man has his little weakness.' He motioned to the suitcase. 'If you brought my clothes, do what you were sent for and hang them up.'
Unperturbed, LaRocca grinned. 'Sounds like ya bouncin' back, ye old fart. Guess Milesy done a job.'
'Jules,' Miles said, 'win you stay here while I go down and get a sunlamp? I think it'd do Danny good.' 'Sure.'
'I'd like to speak to you first.' Miles motioned with his head and LaRocca followed him outside.
Keeping his voice low, Miles asked, 'Jules, what's this all about? Who is he?'
'Just an old Beeper. Once in a while he slips away, goes on a bender. Then somebody has to find him, dry the old barfly out.' 'Why? And where does he slip away from?'
LaRocca stopped, his eyes suspicious, as they had been a week ago. 'Ya askin' questions again, kid. Whadid Tony Bear and Ominsky tell ye?' 'Nothing, except the old man's name is Danny.' 'If 'n they wanna tell ya more, they'll tell ye. Not me.'
When LaRocca had gone, Miles set up a sunlamp in the cubicle and sat Danny under it for half an hour. Through the remainder of the day, the old man lay quietly awake or dozed. In the early evening Miles brought dinner from downstairs, most of which Danny ate his first full meal since arrival twenty-four hours ago.
Next morning Wednesday Miles repeated the steam room and sunlamp treatments and later the two of them played chess. The old man had a quick, astute mind and they were evenly matched. By now, Danny was friendly and relaxed, making clear that he liked Miles's company and attentions.
During the second afternoon the old man wanted to talk. 'Yesterday,' he said, 'that creep LaRocca said you know a lot about money.'
'He tells everybody that.' Miles explained about his hobby and the interest it aroused in prison.
Danny asked more questions, then announced, 'If you don't mind, I'd like my own money now.' 'I'll get it for you. But I’ll have to lock you in again..
'If you're worrying about the booze, forget it. I'm over it for this time. A break like this does the trick. Could be months before I'll take a drink again.'
'Glad to hear that.' Miles locked the door, just the same.
When he had his money, Danny spread it on the bed, then divided it into two piles. The new twenties were in one, the remaining, mostly soiled, assorted bills in another. Prom the second grouping, Danny selected three ten dollar bills and handed them to Miles. 'That's for thinking of some little things, son like taking care of my teeth, the shave, the sunlamp. I appreciate what you did.' 'Listen, you don't have to.'
'Take it. And by the way, it's real stuff. Now tell me something.' 'If I can, I will.'
'How did you spot that those twenties were homegrown?'
'I didn't to begin with. But if you use a magnifier, some of the lines on Andrew Jackson's portrait show up blurred. '
Danny nodded sagely. 'That's the difference between a steel engraving, which the government uses, and a photo offset plate. Though a top offset man can come awful close.'
'In this case he did,' Milesisaid. 'Other parts of the bills are close to perfect.'
There was a faint smile on the old man's face. 'How about the paper?'
'It fooled me. Usually you can tell a bad bill with your fingers. But not these.'
Danny said softly, 'Twenty-four-pound coupon bond. Hundred percent cotton fiber. People think you can't get the right paper. Isn't true. Not if you shop around.'
'If you're all that interested,' Miles said, 'I have some books about money across the hall. There's one I'm thinking of, published by the U. S. Secret Service.'
'You mean Know Your Money?' As Miles looked surprised, the old man chuckled. 'That's the forgers handbook. Says what to look for to detect a bad bill. Lists all the mistakes that counterfeiters make. Even shows pictures!' 'Yes,' Miles said. 'I know.'
Danny continued chortling. 'And the government gives it away! You can write to Washington they'll mail it to you. There was a hot-shot counterfeiter named Mike Landress who wrote a book. In it he said Know Your Money is something no counterfeiter should be without.' 'Landress got caught,' Miles pointed out.
'That was because he worked with fools. They had no organization.' 'You seem to know a lot about it.'
'A little.' Danny stopped, picked up one of the good bills, one of the counterfeits, and compared them. What he saw pleased him; he grinned. 'Did you know, son, that U.S. money is the world's easiest to copy and to print? Fact is, it was designed so that engravers in the last century couldn't reproduce it with the tools they had. But since those days we've had multilith machines and high resolution photo-offset, so that nowadays, with good equipment, patience, and some wastage, a skilled man can do a job that only experts can detect.'
'I'd heard some of that,' Miles said. 'But how much of it goes on?'
'Let me tell you.' Danny seemed to be enjoying himself, obviously launched on a favorite theme. 'No one really knows how much queer gets printed every year and goes undetected, but it's a bundle. The government says thirty million dollars, with a tenth of that getting into circulation. But those are government figures, and the only thing you can be sure of with any government figure is that it's set high or low, depending on what the government
