… and of Cecil Hill, a great counterfeiter, standing in the cold, dank room of a printing plant in Russia, saying: Both excrement and garbage have some use. Money is totally fake. All money is fake….
Francis Xavier Flynn was sitting in the White House Office of the President of the United States.
“Somehow,” said Flynn, “I’m surprised to be sitting here, at this moment. Are you trying to tell me, Mister President, that Paul Sankey didn’t commit a crime at all? That he’s some kind of a hero?”
“No. Not at all,” said the President “What he did was insane and criminal. All over the country, all over the world right now, people are huddled, frightened beyond belief. The world, as they know it, has collapsed. They know that the American dollar, as they’ve known it, believed in it, is worthless. They are in real pain. Terror. What’s going to happen to them, to the world, without the unholy buck?”
Flynn said, “I know. But in the morning, you’ll give them something new to believe in. Is that it?”
“Bluebacks. Credit cards. New Dollars, somehow. Be assured, Mister Flynn, the American economy is still incredibly powerful.”
“I’ll tell my wife.”
“It’s just little green pieces of paper that aren’t worth much at the moment.”
“Excrement. Garbage. Tissue paper.”
“And I’m not waiting until morning.” The President glanced at his watch. “I’m going on television in two hours.”
Flynn said, “I thought that was a sparklin’ new shirt you’re wearin’.”
“As soon as I know what all the answers are.”
“Then I don’t see what Paul Sankey did,” said Flynn, “that fills you with such rollicking joy?”
“That’s easy, Mister Flynn.” Looking up from his doodle, the President grinned. “You tell me a little nut over at the Federal Reserve made the sky rain money, right?”
Flynn said nothing.
“So,” said the President of the United States, “one, poor, unfortunate, insane employee at the Fed, acting alone, gets blamed for the immediate, worldwide currency crisis. The entire United States Government does not get blamed. As long as people continue to believe in us—whether we deserve it or not—we’re home free.”
Flynn stared at the President silently.
There was a rap on the office door behind Flynn. He heard the door open.
The President laughed. “Don’t worry, Mister Flynn. This office isn’t bugged.”
From the office door, a voice asked, “Are you ready for us, Mister President?”
“Anytime,” said the President.
He stood up to shake hands as members of the Cabinet, the secretaries of Treasury, State, Defense, etc., trooped into the Oval Office.
The President said to them, “Now let’s see precisely what we’re going to do about this problem.”
The last person with whom he shook hands was Francis Xavier Flynn.
“Good night, Mister President.”
On the pad in front of him the President had sketched a rural scene—a valley with a house, a barn, a pond, a few cows, a horse—a perfectly peaceful scene.
“Good night, Mister Flynn. Always nice doing business with you. Thanks for droppin’ by.”
ALSO BY GREGORY MCDONALD
FLYNN
It might have been an accident that brought down the Boeing 707 over Boston Harbor, virtually in Flynn’s own backyard. But it seems unlikely, with so many potential targets on board: The heavily insured Federal judge; the has-been British actor; the middleweight champ; the Middle Eastern finance minister. The motive could have been greed, murder, revenge, or even terrorism—and it’s up to Boston police inspector Francis Xavier Flynn to get to the bottom of it.
Crime Fiction/0-375-71357-3
FLYNN’S IN
When it comes to crime, Inspector Flynn is no stranger to the bizarre, the perverse, or the ridiculous. But when he is summoned by Police Commissioner D’Esopo to a secret wilderness compound far outside of their jurisdiction, he is a little surprised to find himself the hostage of a secret club of the nation’s most unbelievably powerful and peculiar. Famous for his razor sharp intellect, Flynn is forced to conduct a clandestine murder investigation. But before one murder is even solved, membership at the Rod and Gun Club continues to drop.
Crime Fiction/0-375-71361-1
ALSO AVAILABLE
Carioca Fletch, 0-375-71347-6
Confess, Fletch, 0-375-71348-4
Fletch, 0-375-71354-9
Fletch and the Widow Bradley, 0-375-71351-4
Fletch Won, 0-375-71352-2
Fletch’s Fortune, 0-375-71355-7
Fletch, Too, 0-375-71353-0
VINTAGE CRIME/BLACK LIZARD
Available at your local bookstore, or call toll-free to order:
1-800-793-2665 (credit cards only).
FIRST VINTAGE CRIME/BUCK LIZARD EDITION, MARCH 2004
Copyright © 1981 by Gregory Mcdonald
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in Great Britain by Victor Gollancz Ltd, London, in 1981.
Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage Crime/Black Lizard and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mcdonald, Gregory, 1937-
The buck passes Flynn / by Gregory Mcdonald.
p. cm.
1. Flynn, Francis Xavier (Fictitious character)—Fiction.
2. Police—Massachusetts—Boston—Fiction.
3. Boston (Mass.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3563.A278B8 2004
813’.54—dc22
2003065796
Author photograph © Nancy Crampton
www.vintagebooks.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-51519-3
v3.0
The Buck Passes Flynn Page 19
