$8,000 in hundreds from the desk drawer in her apartment …
And next the solitary hundred-dollar bill Struthers had placed on the counter at S&L Liquors in payment for his various alcohol purchases.
“You have to understand,” Antonia said, as she delicately leafed through the money, “that for every man, woman, and child in the United States, there are six or seven hundred-dollar bills in circulation. That means for every person in the work force, there are more than adozen hundred-dollar bills out there. That comes to something like a billion and a half dollars.”
It had begun snowing again. The snow was fierce. Tiny little needle-like crystals blown by a bitter wind. The snow and the wind lashed the long windows of the bank where they sat around Antonia’s desk covered with hundred-dollar bills.
“Now who do you think is in possession ofmost of those bills?” she asked, and smiled at Struthers.
“Who?” he asked.
“Vicious criminals, drug dealers, and tax cheats,” Antonia said.
“I’m not any one of those,” Struthers explained to the detectives.
They did not appear impressed.
“The Secret Service gave me a clean bill of health,” he explained to Antonia. She seemed more impressed than the detectives. She raised her eyebrows appreciatively, gave him an approving little nod.
“You may not know,” she said, “that the United States Secret Service is part of the Treasury Department.”
“Yes, Idid know that, in fact,” Struthers said. “It was explained to me.”
“They don’t merely protect the life of the President of the United States. Actually, themajor part of their job is the detection and prevention of currency counterfeiting. Not many people know that,” she said.
“ThatI didn’t know till this very minute,” Struthers said—kissing ass, Parker thought.
“I’m happy you came to me today,” Antonia said. “I’ve had occasion to work with the Secret Service before, you see, on cases regarding counterfeit United States currency.” She was carefully turning over the stack of hundreds on her desk, bill by bill, checking for whatever. “Though at first glance, I must say these bills do not strike me as being super-bills. Or super-dollars, whichever terminology you gentlemen prefer. Or even super- notes. Whichdo you prefer, Lieutenant?”
Struthers realized she was addressing him.
“I never heard any of those terms in my life,” he said.
“The Arabic writing on the face of some of these bills is suspect, of course,” Antonia said, “but not all bills passing through the Middle East are fake. In fact, sixty percent ofall United States currency is in circulation abroad. You probably didn’t know that, either.”
“I certainly didn’t,” Struthers said.
“In fact, the hundred-dollar bill is the most widely held paper currency in the world. Which is what makes it such an attractive target for counterfeiters,” Antonia said. “What I’m trying to tell you, however, is that the signature of a money-changer—on this bill, for example, the handwriting means ‘Son of Ahmad’—in itself does not indicate a fake bill. As a matter of pride, a money-changer will sign or put some other personal mark on a stack of bills. It’s like an author signing his book at Barnes & Noble.”
Struthers thought a money-changer was some guy who cashed checks on Lambert Av, up in Diamondback. And he didn’t know any authors who signed books.
“In the Arab world,” Antonia said, “money-changers are financial middlemen. They’ve been around since well before Jesus. You need to buy commodities in the West? Simple. You just take your cash to a second-story office in the old quarter of Damascus. The money-changer will arrange for the transfer. I’ve seen these money- changers’ signatures many times before,” she said, exhibiting another of the bills. “They don’t necessarily indicate a bill is counterfeit. We see entirefamilies of counterfeit bills …”
Families, Struthers thought.
“… with the same serial numbers on them,” Antonia said. “But none of this larger stack of bills belongs to any of those families.”
“Then they’re genuine,” Carella said.
“They’re not counterfeit, that’s right,” Antonia said, and shoved the stack of bills to one side of her desk, summarily dismissing $104,000 as beneath further scrutiny. “But let’s look more closely at this lone hundred-dollar bill here,” she said, and picked up the bill Struthers had used in the liquor store. “Henry Loo,” she said, staring at the face of the bill.
The man on the bill looked like Benjamin Franklin to Struthers, but he didn’t say anything.
“The manager of Ban Hin Lee,” she said. “The bank I worked for in Singapore, many years ago. On Robinson Road.”
“I know Robinson Road,” Struthers said.
“You do?”
“I was in Singapore many years ago, too,” Struthers said.
“What’s Henry Loo got to do with this bill?” Carella asked.
“He was the first person who showed me a super-bill,” Antonia said. “Or a super-dollar, if you prefer. Or a super-note.”
Struthers was trying to figure what the rap might be for passing a phony hundred-dollar bill he hadn’t known was phony to begin with.
