Arthur Hailey - The Moneychangers

Because of increasing robberies of all types, most banks used a "no ambush" signal nowadays, its type and location changing frequently.

On entering, Edwina went immediately to a hinged panel in the wall and swung it open. In sight was a bell push which she pressed in code two long, three short, one long. The Central Security operations room over in Headquarters Tower now knew that the door alarm, which Edwina's entry had triggered a moment ago, wou ld be ignored and that an authorized officer was in the bank. The porter, also on entering, would have tapped out his own code.

The ops room, receiving similar signals from other FMA branch banks, would s witch the building's alarm sys tem from "alert" to "stand by."

Had either Edwina, as duty officer, or the porter failed to t ap out their correct code, the o ps room would have alerted police. Minutes later the branch bank would have been surrounded. As with other systems, codes were changed often.

Banks everywhere were finding security in positive signals when all was well, an absence of signals if trouble erupted. That way, a bank employee held hostage could convey a warning by merely doing nothing.

By now other officers and staff were comi ng in, checked by the uniformed porter who had taken command at the side door.

"Good morning, Mrs. D'Orsey." A white-haired bank veteran named Tottenhoe joined Edwina. He was operations officer, in charge of staff and routine running of the branch, and his long, lugubrious face made him seem like an ancient kangaroo. His normal moodiness and pessimism had increased as compulsory retirement neared; he resented his age and seemed to blame others for it. Edwina and Tottenhoe walked together across the bank's main floor, then down a wide, carpeted stairway to the vault. Supervising the vault's opening and closing was the duty officer's responsibility.

While they waited by the vault door for the time lock to switch off, Tottenhoe said gloomily, "There's a rumor that Mr. Rosselli's dying. Is it true?"

"I'm afraid it is." She told him briefly of the meeting yesterday.

Last night at home Edwina had thought of little else, but this morning she was determined to concentrate on bank business. Ben would expect it.

Tottenhoe mumbled something dismal which she didn't catch.

Edwina checked her watch. 8:40. Seconds later, a faint click within the massive chrome steel door announced that the overnight time lock, set before the bank closed the night before, had switched itself off. Now the vault combination locks could be actuated. Until this moment they could not.

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.