Lust, Money & Murder (34 page)

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Authors: Mike Wells

Tags: #thriller, #revenge, #fake dollars, #dollars, #secret service, #anticounterfeiting technology, #international thriller, #secret service training academy, #countefeit, #supernote, #russia, #us currency, #secret service agent, #framed, #fake, #russian mafia, #scam

BOOK: Lust, Money & Murder
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7:30 – 7:45 Slog through rain and snow to Metro station

7:45 – 7:55 Stop and buy shampoo and hand lotion (don’t forget coupons!)

7:55 – 8:30 Stand on packed train between a man who doesn’t bathe and a woman who talks to herself incessantly

8:45 – 9:00 Slog through rain and snow to Treasury Building

9:00 – 12:00 Work

12:00 – 1:00 Grab a sandwich and drop off dry cleaning (don’t forget coupons!)

1:00 – 5:00 Work

5:00 - 5:30 Slog back through rain and snow to Metro station

5:30 – 6:00 Stand on packed train between teenager with bad breath and creepy man who rubs up against young women

5:45 – 6:30 Dash through rain and snow to snag space in walk-in yoga class (don’t forget coupon!)

7:30 – 8:00 Trudge home through rain and snow

8:00 – Eat microwave dinner and collapse in front of TV set

10:00 Drag ass into bed.

 

* * *

A few minutes later, she was swimming a relaxed backstroke in the heated mineral water pool, watching the early morning sunlight filter through the skylights.

Now this is living
, she thought.

The water felt like velvet.

 

 

* * *

When she went to the Great Hall for breakfast, Tony made her a perfect omelet, along with some fresh-squeezed orange juice.

He still seemed upset about the robbery.

As she began to eat the omelet, he said, “Do you think Tony did wrong-a thing last night? I only try to make
Signore
happy. He want me treat all-a guests very well, and that is what Tony always do.”

“I’m sure you didn’t know the man was dangerous,” Elaine said.

“No!” Tony said emphatically. “How could I know this? He old, he walk with a stick, he look ill—how I know he was
bandito
?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tony.”

He looked greatly relieved by this. “Thank you,
signora
. I hope you tell
signore
this—he listen to you, he like you very much.”

“I told him already.”


Grazie!
” Tony gushed. “
Grazie, signora
!”

 

* * *

Just before ten, the chauffeur let her out at the entrance to the DayPrinto main building.

As Elaine got out of the Rolls, she checked herself in the reflection of one of the large lobby windows—she was stunning in the D&G suit.

She went inside the building with a heady feeling, wearing the fancy outfit, with the Gucci satchel over her shoulder. A powerful, international businesswoman. She also felt kind of silly, as there was nothing in the satchel but one piece of paper—her Agenda for the day.

Just as the receptionist greeted her, Luigi appeared.


Buon giorno
,” he said, and gave a polite smile. “Follow me, please.” He led her down a hallway. The facility seemed very different on a weekday—there was a lot of activity in the offices, workers walking up and down the corridors carrying papers. Several glanced curiously at Elaine.

“This is your office,” he said, stopping in front of a door and opening it. Elaine stepped inside. “Before, our production manager work here. Now he work for our shipping company in Trieste.”

The luxurious space was furnished much like Cattoretti’s, with a marble floor and desk made of polished stone, only there were no original masterpieces on the wall, only a framed Monet print.

Elaine set the Gucci satchel down on the sleek desk. “Thank you.”

“Greta come soon,” he said, and left the room. A few seconds later, a woman appeared at the door, rapping formally on the frame. She was dressed in a smart grey business suit, with a heavily starched blouse.

“I am Greta,” she said, with a strict-sounding German accent. “I am your personal assistant.” She gave a formal smile and shook Elaine’s hand, her grip strong and confident. “I trust you had a pleasant drive in this morning?”

“Yes,” Elaine said, a little taken aback. The woman stood as if at attention, her sensible black pumps precisely together, her hands folded in front of her. “Is there anything you need? Coffee, perhaps?”

“Not just now,” Elaine said. She wasn’t used to this. She had never had an administrative assistant before, let alone a PA.

“Very well. Was the work schedule I prepared for you, with Signore Cattoretti’s guidance, satisfactory?”

“Yes, it’s fine, thank you.”


Sehr gut
.” Greta gave a formal nod and motioned to the door. “Signore asked me to escort you down to the production area, if you are ready.”

 

* * *

When Elaine entered the huge room that housed the Giori printing press, all the technicians were so busy that they barely noticed her. There was a new set of enlargements spread out on the floor, and the workers were poring over them.

Cattoretti walked up and kissed both her cheeks, Italian style. “
Buongiorno
!” He admired the D&G business suit and glanced down at her long legs. “
B
ellissima
! You set a new standard of elegance for all businesswomen in Italy!”

Elaine blushed as a few of the workers looked up at her.

“You picked the suit,” she said clumsily. “Anyone would look good in this outfit.”

“What is it with you American women that you cannot take a compliment?”

Elaine felt like a debutante on a date with an older man.

Cattoretti beamed at her. The suspicion he’d shown the night before had completely disappeared. “Shall we get started?”

 

* * *

Elaine spent the entire morning going over new enlargements that had been made since the last version of the fake $100 bill. The technicians had been up all night correcting the mistakes she had found yesterday.

As the morning wore on, the headiness she felt about her new “career change” began to fade. Every now and then a rude voice would surface inside her and say
These people are criminals
and
This is exactly the kind of operation you were trained to hunt down and destroy.

She tried to ignore the voice. But every now and then, she found herself looking at the scar that ran down Cattoretti’s cheek.

 

* * *

At 2 pm, Cattoretti and Elaine went to his office for the scheduled private lunch. The meal was served by the DayPrinto
“dilettante”
himself, on Cattoretti’s conference table, with glimmering Tiffany tableware.

Cattoretti’s high spirits had been boosted even higher by the progress they were making today.

“Your nails look very nice,” he said, as he unfolded his napkin.

“Thank you,” she said. Before lunch, the manicurist had come in from the outside, apparently one that Cattoretti and some of the other DayPrinto executives used.

As they started eating, Cattoretti said, “This dish is called
Cotoletta all orecchio di elefante
. Do you know what that means?”

“No. I hope it doesn’t actually come from an elephant.”

Cattoretti laughed. “I am afraid there are not many elephants in Italy. The name literally means ‘elephant ear cutlet,’ but it is made from pork.”

Whatever the ingredients were, the dish was one of the most delicious Elaine had ever tasted. This was not something she would share with Tony, however.

As they ate, Elaine became more and more uneasy about the agreement she had made with Giorgio Cattoretti. Would he really pay her the eight million Euros he promised, after Lassiter had stolen it?

When she thought it was just the right moment, she said, as casually as she could, “When do you think the passport will be ready?”

“Passport?” Cattoretti said.

“The one you promised yesterday,” she said casually.

“Oh.” He cut a piece of the meat. “Luigi is handling that. These things take time. He promised me he would have it by five o’clock this afternoon.” Cattoretti paused, eying her. “You are not thinking of leaving so soon, are you,
cara
? After we finish these revisions, I hoped you would stay on with me, help me continue to improve my currency when the American government catches on and makes another round of software updates for the verifying machines.”

“I intend to stay on,” Elaine lied. “It’s just that when we’re done with this, I’d like to take a little vacation.”

“A well-deserved one,” Cattoretti said.

The truth was, she was afraid that if she stayed here even a few more days, she would become so addicted to all the luxury and power that she would be unable to make herself leave. The mineral water swims, the massages, the thousand dollar suits, chauffeured Rolls Royce, rubbing elbows with international celebrities...it was all incredibly seductive. She could easily see how honest people could cross over to the other side and stay there.

She also didn’t trust Giorgio Cattoretti.

He cut another piece of the meat and chewed slowly, smiling at her. “At the rate we are progressing, it seems we might finish this revision today. Which means we will be ready to go into full production tomorrow. The Russians are very anxious to get their hands on these new counterfeits. Do you think that’s possible?”

“It’s possible,” Elaine said. She would make certain of it.

 

* * *

They worked nonstop the rest of the afternoon. On the next set of plates, Elaine helped them correct all the errors that were stored and marked in the data key, the errors she had been finding the last 6 months when working for Lassiter.

Just after 6 pm, yet another set of plates was done and she found three more discrepancies, errors she thought Treasury could easily create new verifying machine software to look for. The technicians were exhausted. Many of them hadn’t slept in more than 40 hours.

Elaine’s eyes were bloodshot and her neck ached, but she kept working, determined to get the job finished today.

 

* * *

At 7:30 pm, the computer-controlled engraving machine finished carving out yet another set of plates. Hopefully, the final one.

Elaine checked the new sample bills when they came out of the intaglio press, and spent more than a half hour comparing them to a genuine $100 bill of the latest series. She could not spot a single mistake. Everything had been fixed.

It was eerily quiet in the room. Cattoretti had put on the soundtrack from
Madame Butterfly
, and the sorrowful music drifted through the space. All the worn-out technicians were standing there in their DayPrinto coveralls, watching her, their ink-stained hands in their pockets, waiting.

For what seemed like the 50
th
time today, she kicked off her new Lanvins and slowly walked across the latest set of enlargements, barefoot, reviewing every detail. The tension in the room was almost palpable.

At last, she turned to Cattoretti. “I’ve gone over this with a fine-toothed comb, and I can’t find a single...mistake.” Something caught Elaine’s eye, something on the back side of the bill. She turned her head, peering at the words IN GOD WE TRUST. She silently traced the arc of the engraving line from the corner of the “D” in GOD to the dome at the top of the building.

It was off by one engraving line. On the blowups, it looked like a glaring error, but in reality, it was out of position by only one ten-thousandth of an inch. But it was plenty large enough to be caught by any currency verifying machine, even older models.

“Is something wrong?” Cattoretti said.

Elaine turned back to him and gave a winning smile. “Everything is perfect.”

 

* * *

The men went wild, jumping up and down, slapping each other’s backs. Champagne corks popped. Cattoretti started spraying them all with Dom Perignon. Somebody switched the music to a hard-driving Italian pop song and a few of the younger men started dancing around on the enlargements.

When the ruckus eased a little bit, Cattoretti clapped his hands together until everyone was quiet. In Italian, he said, “We will begin full production tomorrow. But first, let us take a few minutes to print out a million dollars, just to show we can do it!”

There were more cheers, and everyone scrambled to fire up the big Giori press.

 

* * *

Half an hour later, Elaine was sitting alone in Cattoretti’s office, waiting for him to come up from the basement.

She didn’t know why she had chosen to betray him at the 11th hour. It was incredibly risky. No, it was suicidal. As soon as Cattoretti or one of his people tried to change even one of the new bills at a bank or a currency exchange, he would know what she had done.

But she had not been able to go through with it. Some part of herself had held her back, a part that did not want her to help a man like Giorgio Cattoretti.

She had to get away tonight. She didn’t know where she could go, but she would just have to take it one step at a time. The banks and currency exchanges were all closed right now and wouldn’t be open again until tomorrow morning.

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