Using another concealed pushbutton, Edwina signaled Central Security ops room that the vault was about to be opened a normal opening, not under duress.
Standing side by side at the door, Edwina and Tottenhoe spun separate combinations. Neither knew the combination setting of the Other; thus neither could open the vault alone.
An assistant operations officer, Miles Eastin, had now arrived. A young, handsome, well-groomed man, he was invariably cheerful in pleasant contrast to Tottenhoe's dependable glumness. Edwina liked Eastin. With him was a senior vault teller who would supervise transference of money in and out of the vault through the remainder of the day. In cash alone, nearly a million dollars in currency and coinage would be under his control through the next six operating hours.
Checks passing through the big branch bank during the same period would represent another twenty million.
As Edwina stood back, the senior teller and Miles Eastin together swung open the huge, precision-engineered vault door. It would remain open until the close of business tonight.
"Just took a phone message," Eastin informed the operations of ricer. "Scratch two more tellers for today." Tottenhoe's look of melancholy deepened. "Is it flu?" Edwina asked.
An epidemic had swept the city for the past ten days, leaving the bank short of staff, especially tellers. "Yes, it is," Miles Eastin answered.
Tottenhoe complained, "If I could just catch it myself, I could go home to bed and leave someone else to worry about manning the counter"." He asked Edwina, "Do you insist we open today?" "It seems to be expected of us."
"Then we'll empty an executive chair or two. You're the first elected," he said to Miles Eastin, "so get a cash box and be ready for the public. Do you remember how to count?"
"Up to twenty," Eastin said. "As long as I can work with my socks off."
Edwina smiled. She had no fears about young Eastin; everything he touched he did well. When Tottenhoe retire d next year, Miles Eastin would almost certainly be her choice as operations officer.
He returned the smile. "Not to worry, Mrs. D'Orsey. I'm a pretty good utility outfielder. Besides, I played handball for three hours last night and managed to keep score." "But did you win?" "When I keep score? Of course."
Edwina was aware, too, of Eastin's other hobby, one which had proved useful to the bank the study and collection of currencies and coin. It was Miles Eastin who gave orientation talks to new employees at the branch, and he liked to toss in historical nuggets such as the fact that paper money and inflation were both invented in China The first recorded instance of inflation, he would explain, was during the thirteenth century when the Mongol emperor, Kublai Khan, was unable to pay his soldiers in coin, so used a wood printing block to produce military money. Unfortunately so much was printed that it quickly became worthless. "Some people," young Eastin would quip, "believe the dollar is being Mongolized right now." Because of his studies, Eastin had also become the resident expert on counterfeit money, and doubtful bills which turned up were referred to him for his opinion.
The three of them E dwina, Eastin, Tottenhoe ascended the stairs from the vault to the main banking area.
Canvas sacks containing cash were being delivered from an armored truck outside, the money accompanied by two armed guards.
Cash arriving in large volume always came early in the morning, having been transferred earlier still from the Federal Reserve to First Mercantile American's own Central Cash Vault. From there it was distributed to branch banks in the FMA system. Reason for the sameday schedule was simple. Excess cash in vaults earned nothing; there were dangers, too, of loss or robbery.
The trick, for any branch bank manager, was never to run short of cash, but not to hold too much. A large branch bank like FMA's downtown kept a workin g cash float of half a million dollars. The money now arriving another quarter million was the difference required on an average banking day.
Tottenhoe grumbled to the delivery guards, "I hope you've brought us some cleaner money than we've been getting lately."
"I told them guys over at Centr al Cash about your beef, Mr. Tot tenhoe," one guard said. He was youngish, with long black hair overflowing his uniform cap and collar. Edwina looked downward, wondering if he were wearing shoes. He was.
'Whey said you'd phoned in, too," the guard added. "Now me, I'll take money clean or dirty."
"Unfortunately," the operations officer said, "some of our customers won't."
New currency, arriving from the Bureau of Printing and Engraving via the Federal Reserv e, was keenly competed for by banks. A surprising number of customers, referred to as "the carriage trade," rejected dirty bills and demanded new, or at least clean notes which bankers called "fit." Fortunately there were others who simply didn't care and tellers had instructions to pass out the worst soiled money where they could get away with it, saving their fresh, crisp bills for those who asked for them.
"Hear there's lots of high-grade counterfeit stuff around. Maybe we could get you a bundle." The second guard winked at his companion.
Edwina told him, 'That kind of help we can do without. We've been getting too much of it."
Only last week the bank had discovered nearly a thousand dollars in counterfeit bills money paid in, though the source was unknown. More than likely it had come through numerous depositors some who had been defrauded themselves and were passing their loss along to the bank; others who had no idea the bills were counterfeit, which was not surprising since the quality was remarkably high.
Agents of the U. S. Secret Sevic e, who had discussed the matter with Edwina and Miles Eastin, were frankly worried. "The counterfeit money we're seeing has never been as good, and there's never been as much in circulation," one of them admitted. A conservative estimate was that thirty million dollars of bogus money had been produced the previous year. "And a lot more never gets detected."
England and Canada were major supply sources of spurious U.S. currency. The agents also reported that an incredible amount was circulating in Europe. "It's not so easily detected there, so warn your friends who go to Europe never to accept American bills. There's a strong chance they could be worthless."
The first armed guard shifted the sacks on his shoulders. "Don't worry, folksl These are genuine greenbacks. All part of the servicer" Both guards went down the stairway to the vault.
E dwina walked to her desk on the platfonn. Th roughout the bank, activity was increasing. The main front doors were open, early customer’s streaming in.
The platform where, by tradition, the senior officers worked, was raised slightly above the main-floor level and carpeted in crimson. Edwina's desk, the largest and most imposing, was flanked-by two flags behind her and to the right the Stars and Stripes, and on her left the state burger. Sometimes, seated there, she felt as if she were on TV, ready to make a solemn announcement while cameras dollied in.
The big downtown branch itself was modern. Rebuilt a year or two ago when FMA's adjoining Headquarters Tower was erected, the structure had had design expertise and a fortune lavished on it. The result, in which crimson and mahogany predominated with an appropriate sprinkling of gold, was a combination of customer convenience, excellent working conditi ons and just plain opulence. Oc casionally, Edwina admitted to herself, the opulence seemed to have an edge.
As she settled down, her tall, lithe figure slipping familiarly into a high-backed swivel chair, she smoothed her short hair needlessly, since as usua l it was impeccably in place,
Edwina reached for a group of files containing loan applications for amounts higher than other officers in the branch had authority to approve.
Her own authorization to lend money extended to a million dollars in any single instance, providing two other officers in the branch concurred. They invariably did. Amounts in excess were referred to the bank's credit policy unit over in Headquarters.
In First Mercantile American, as in any banking system, an acknowledged status symbol was the size of a loan which a bank official had power to sanction. It also determined his or her position on the organization totem pole and was spoken of as "the quality of initial," because an individual's initial put final approval on any loan proposal.
As a manager, the quality of Edwina's initial was unusually high, though it reflected her responsibility in running FMA's important downtown branch. A manager of a lesser branch might approve loans from ten thousand to half a million dollars, depending on the manager's ability an d seniority. It always amused Edwina that quality of initial supported a caste system with attendant perks and privileges. In the Headquar ters credit policy unit, an as sistant loan inspector, whose authority was limited to a mere fifty thousand dollars, worked at an unimpressive desk alongside others in a large open office.. Next in the pecking order, a loan inspector whose initial was good for a quarter million dollars rated a larger desk in a glass - paneled cubicle.