Trouble at the Treasury
Read Trouble at the Treasury Online
Authors: Ron Roy
To Judy and Ed, Jennifer and John,
little Jack and wee Will
—R.R.
Money, Money Everywhere
“Hurry up, Marsh. It’s almost two-thirty!” KC said.
“They can’t start the tour without us,” Marshall answered, racing after KC. “You’re the president’s stepdaughter!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell them that,” KC said.
It was the week before Christmas. KC Corcoran and her best friend, Marshall Li, had signed up for a tour of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. The BEP is where
paper money is printed in Washington, D.C.
KC had always wanted to see how paper money was made. Marshall agreed to go on the tour with her, but she had to promise to visit the bug museum with him next week.
KC and Marshall ran up the steps of the massive BEP building and tugged open the heavy door.
Inside, a man in a blue uniform was talking with a small group of people. He held a clipboard and wore a name tag around his neck.
“Here they are,” the man said to the group.
Four people turned and looked at KC and Marshall.
KC felt her face blush.
The man glanced at a list on his clipboard. “Are you Katherine Corcoran and Marshall Li?” he asked.
KC and Marshall nodded.
“Great, all seven are here,” the man said. “I’m Vincent. Please hang your coats and bags over there on those hooks. We’ll be going through metal detectors. So if you have any metal, leave it in your coat pockets.”
“Can I take my camera with me?” KC asked.
“No pictures allowed, miss, sorry,” Vincent said. “You can leave your camera with your coat.”
They all walked to a row of brass hooks and left their coats. There were cubbies over the hooks for briefcases, hats, and gloves.
“Just like in school,” KC whispered.
“Gee, I forgot to bring my lunch box,” Marshall cracked.
“
Don’t worry about your personal belongings,” Vincent said. “Jason will watch them.” He pointed to a guard sitting behind a TV screen at a desk. Jason waved to the group.
“Are you ready to see millions of dollars being printed right before your eyes?” Vincent asked.
Everyone smiled and nodded.
“Do we get free samples?” one woman teased.
KC and Marshall laughed.
Vincent led the group through a metal detector. One man set off the alarm, so he had to remove his gold watch. He gave it to Jason, who put it in an envelope and slid it into his desk. “It’ll be here when you come out, sir,” he said.
After the metal detector, the group
went up a flight of stairs. At the top was a hallway with windows on both sides. The windows looked down on long rooms. “Those big pieces of green paper are sheets of money being printed,” Vincent told the group.
Below one window, a huge machine was shooting sheets of green paper along a conveyor belt. Workers stood near the machine. They watched the paper carefully. “We have many machines that print the money,” Vincent said. “Today, that one is printing hundred-dollar bills.”
Vincent pointed to the conveyor belt. “Each of those sheets has thirty-two one-hundred-dollar bills,” he said.
Everyone gawked as the sheets of money sped through the machine.
KC noticed that Marshall was having
fun. “Are you glad you came on the tour?” she asked.
Marshall nodded. “This is almost better than the insect room at the Smithsonian!” he said.
“Where do the sheets go after they’re printed?” a woman asked.
“Look through the other set of windows,” Vincent said.
Everyone turned around. The window looked over a room as long as a school bus. A single machine reached from end to end.
“That blade on the left is extremely sharp and heavy. It cuts the sheets into thirty-two single bills,” Vincent told his group. “Notice that nobody touches the blade or the money. That blade would cut through a finger!”
“Yuck!” Marshall said.
The blade sliced easily through thick piles of money.
Vincent showed them a part of the machine that looked like a robot’s arms and fingers. “The next section of the machine piles the bills into stacks. Each stack holds one thousand bills. Once the stacks are wrapped, they’re called bricks.”
KC did some quick math in her head. “So each brick is worth one hundred thousand dollars!” she said.
“That’s right,” Vincent said.
They all watched the money being cut, counted, stacked, and wrapped.
“Hey! That guy is touching the money!” Marshall said. “Is he counting it?”
At one part of the machine, far away from the blade, a man was taking handfuls of bills off the conveyor belt before they
were stacked and wrapped. He flipped through the bills, then put them back on the belt. He worked fast. His fingers flew over the money so quickly they were a blur.
“No, he’s just checking some of the bills to make sure they are okay before they’re wrapped into bricks,” Vincent explained. “Bills that are bent or torn or have a printing error are destroyed.”
A woman with long red hair entered the room. She wore a dark blue smock to protect her clothing. The woman was pushing a cart that held a large cardboard box half filled with trash. She stopped and emptied a small trash can into the box, then left the room.
“Where do the money bricks go?” a man asked.
Vincent pointed to the right end of the
machine. The conveyor belt ran through a small doorway and out of sight. “The bricks go through there to the vault,” he said. “Eventually, the money will be sent to banks. Then it will find its way into stores and your wallets.”
“No hundred-dollar bill ever finds its way to
my
wallet!” Marshall said.
Everyone laughed.
“How much money is made in a day?” a woman asked.
“Over six hundred million dollars,” Vincent said with a straight face. “Every day.”
No Stealing Allowed
Seven mouths dropped open.
“I know it seems unreal,” Vincent continued, “but the machines print money around the clock. The only days they stop are Christmas and New Year’s.”
“Workers are here even at night?” KC asked.
Vincent nodded. “Yup. There are three shifts. Each shift lasts eight hours.”
Just then a bell went off. “Three o’clock. This shift is over,” Vincent said. Below them the workers left the room. Four more workers entered.
“Does anyone ever steal money?” KC asked.
Vincent laughed. “No. Every room has security cameras,” he said. “They’re never turned off. Our security staff checks the tapes several times a day. It would be impossible for anyone to take money without being seen by other workers or by the cameras.”
The group stood and watched the bricks of money zip along the conveyor belt, then disappear through the small door.
“So where is the vault?” Marshall asked.
Vincent pointed at the floor. “Under the street,” he said. “About twenty feet below where you’re standing.”
“H-how much money is down there?” Marshall whispered.
Vincent smiled. “I don’t know for certain,” he said. “But at least a few billion dollars.
Well, that’s the end of the tour, folks. I’ll take you back to your coats and the exit.”
“A few billion dollars right under our feet!” Marshall said. He and KC walked down the steps in front of the BEP. The sky had gotten darker and it looked like it would snow.
“Want to come back tonight and dig it up?” KC suggested with a sly smile.
“No way, it’s too cold!” Marshall said. He pulled his coat up around his ears. “Can we get some hot chocolate? I’m freezing!”
“Why didn’t you wear a hat?” KC said.
“I don’t like hats,” Marshall said. “They make my hair look dorky.”
“Let’s go in there.” KC pointed across the street to a small restaurant. A sign in
the window said THE VAULT. The door had been painted to look like the front of a giant safe. Fake money was stacked on a ledge inside the window.
They crossed the street and entered. People sat at tables and booths, eating and talking.
“Let’s sit by the window,” Marshall suggested.
“So you can touch that money?” KC asked.
Marshall grinned as he sat down. He ran his fingers over the stacks of money. “All fake,” he moaned.
KC and Marshall took off their coats. A tall kid wearing an apron and a Santa hat came over holding a pad and pencil. “What can I get you?” he asked.
“Do you have hot chocolate?” KC asked.
“You bet. Whipped cream or marshmallows on top?” the waiter asked.
“Whipped cream, please!” KC said.
“I’ll have the
Marsh
mallows,” Marshall said, grinning at KC.
The waiter left, tucking his pad and pencil in a back pocket.
KC pulled her digital camera from her pack. “Hey, Marsh, let me take your picture next to all that money,” she said.
Marshall leaned down so his face was almost buried in green bills.
He made a goofy face and KC snapped his picture. She checked the screen. “Good. Nice face, Marsh. This makes you look like you’re a millionaire!” she said.
While they waited for their hot chocolates, KC glanced around the small room. At one table, a woman with red hair sat by herself. She wore dangly earrings made of
little silver bells. In front of her was a mug with a tea-bag string hanging out of it and an open book.
The woman’s lips were moving. It looked like she was repeating what she was reading. KC glanced at the book cover. It said LEARN ITALIAN FAST.
Every now and then, the woman shook her head, as if she’d gotten something wrong. When she moved her head, the bell earrings jingled.
“Marsh, that woman works in the BEP,” KC whispered. “She emptied the trash during our tour.”
“KC, you notice the weirdest things,” Marshall said.
KC wanted to be a TV news anchor after college. And if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that news reporters paid attention!
The door opened with a blast of cold air. A tall man wearing a cowboy hat and a leather jacket walked in. He looked around, then headed for the table where the woman was studying Italian.
She looked up and beamed. She lowered the book as the man sat down. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
KC leaned forward, hoping to hear what the man would say. But just then the waiter stepped in the way, blocking KC’s view.
“Two hot chocolates!” he announced. He set the steaming drinks down. A candy cane stood in each mug.
KC stirred her chocolate with the candy cane. Marshall took a sip. “Youch, it’s hot!” he gasped.
“It’s
hot
chocolate, Marsh,” KC said. “Duh!”