Trouble at the Treasury

by Ron Roy

  “No luck,” he said. He sat down and picked up his napkin. “The tape for today had nothing unusual. It certainly didn’t show some worker hiding a hundred thousand dollars in his lunch box!”

  “Do they ever search the people who work there?” KC asked.

  “I don’t know for sure,” the president said. “But I’ll look into it.”

  “What about the serial numbers on the bills?” Marshall asked. “If the crook tries to spend the money, can’t they catch him that way?”

  The president nodded. “Yes, Marsh,” he said. “Those numbers are already being sent to stores and banks. But if I were the thief, I wouldn’t spend the money right away. I’d hide it for a year or two, and wait.”

  “Well, if I had stolen the money, I’d sneak it into some foreign country,” Lois added, “where it would be very hard to track.”

  KC looked up. Something her parents had just said made a thought pop into her head. But the idea was gone a second later.

  KC’s mom and the president started talking about their trip tomorrow.

  KC leaned over and whispered in Marshall’s ear.

  “Let’s go back to the BEP tomorrow,” she said.

  “Why?” Marshall asked.

  “I want to watch that videotape,” KC said. “Maybe we can get them to pause the tape. We might see that guy stashing some of the money in his clothes.”

  Marshall snorted. “KC, they’ll never let two kids look at that videotape,” he said. “Especially now that they’ve had another robbery!”

  “They’d let the president see it,” KC whispered.

  “He’s going out of town, remember?” Marshall said.

  KC grinned at Marshall. “I know that,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I was thinking of the other president!”

  4

  The Other President

  Marshall stared at her with a blank look on his face. “The other president … oh, you mean Casey Marshall!”

  “Yes!” KC said.

  When KC and Marshall first met President Thornton, some evil scientists had locked him in the White House basement and cloned him. KC and Marshall figured out the plot, and the scientists went to prison.

  But the clone was a nice guy. The president gave him a small apartment in the White House. “Who knows when I might need a body double,” the president had explained.

  KC and Marshall took the elevator to the lower level of the White House. “Casey likes to watch movies down here,” KC said.

  But the presidential movie theater was dark.

  “Shh, I hear something,” Marshall said.

  “It’s water,” KC said. “He must be in the swimming pool!”

  They found Casey Marshall swimming laps in the long blue pool. The kids waited till he came up for air, and KC handed him a towel.

  “Well, hello,” Casey said. “What brings you down here?”

  Casey climbed out of the pool. He looked identical to KC’s stepfather, from his brown eyes to his dark hair. Of course, usually the president didn’t wear a wet bathing suit.

  “How’d you like to go somewhere fun with us tomorrow?” KC asked.

  “Where?” Casey asked. He rubbed his hair with the towel.

  “To the Bureau of Engraving and Printing,” KC said.

  “Why?” he asked. “You two look like you’re up to something.”

  KC and Marshall told Casey about the two thefts. “We think the thief is someone we saw yesterday on our tour,” KC explained. “But we need to watch the videotapes from the hidden cameras to be sure.”

  “I told KC they probably wouldn’t let us,” Marshall went on.

  “So we want you to come with us and pretend to be the president,” KC said. “They’d have to let you see the tapes!”

  Casey wrapped the towel around his neck. “I can’t lie and say I’m the president,” he said.

  “You won’t have to lie,” KC assured the clone. She told him the rest of the plan as they went to his apartment. It was near the White House bowling alley.

  Casey opened his closet. “What should I wear?” he asked.

  “Something my stepdad would wear,” KC said.

  Casey pulled a dark blue suit off a hanger. “How about this?”

  “That’s perfect,” KC said. “The president has three others just like it.”

  Casey grinned. “I know. He gave me this one.”

  They picked out a white shirt, red tie, and black shoes.

  “Okay, Mom and the president are leaving right after breakfast tomorrow,” KC told Casey. “Can you meet me and Marshall in the kitchen at nine-thirty? They should be gone by then.”

  “I sure hope I don’t get in trouble for this,” Casey said.

  “You won’t,” KC said. “In fact, the president will be happy when we tell him you helped us catch the crook!”

  The next morning, Marshall got up early and biked to the White House. He was in time for breakfast, as usual. Yvonne made scrambled eggs and cut up fresh fruit. The president was sitting at the table, wearing a dark blue suit with a red tie. KC caught Marshall’s eye and started to giggle.

  “What’s funny, honey?” the president asked.

  “It’s a secret,” KC said. She was thinking of Casey downstairs wearing an identical suit.

  “Well, we have to go,” the president said, standing up. “What are your plans for the day, kids?”

  “That’s a secret, too,” KC said.

  “Boy, I live in a house filled with secrets!” the president said. He gave them a wave and thanked Yvonne as he walked out the door.

  Three minutes later, the kitchen door opened again and Casey walked in.

  Yvonne stared. “Sir?” she said. “Did you forget something?”

  “I don’t think so,” Casey said. “May I please have some scrambled eggs?”

  “But, Mr. President, you just ate,” Yvonne said. “And when I offered you seconds, you told me you were full.”

  KC and Marshall burst out laughing. “Yvonne, this is Casey Marshall, not the president. He’s going out with us to do something for the president.”

  “Oh, I feel so foolish,” Yvonne said. “I don’t usually see you in a suit, Casey. Let me fix you a plate.”

  After Casey ate breakfast, he, KC, and Marshall all put on coats and left.

  KC had called a taxi. It was waiting right outside. The driver jumped out and opened the rear door with a huge grin on his face. “Good morning, Mr. President!” he chirped.

  “Good morning,” Casey said. He stepped into the taxi. KC and Marshall squeezed in after him.

  Ten minutes later, the kids and Casey entered through the BEP’s front door. A young man in a blue blazer approached them. A name tag hung from a chain around his neck. It said that he was an aide and his name was Peter. Peter opened his mouth, then closed it again when he noticed Casey.

  “Good m-morning, M-Mr. P-Presi-dent,” Peter finally stammered.

  “Good morning, young man,” Casey said.

  “The president has heard about the money that was stolen,” KC said. “We’d like to see yesterday’s videotapes, please.”

  Peter was still staring at Casey. “Um, I need to … um, just a minute, please.” He hurried away.

  “Did I fool him?” Casey whispered.

  “Totally,” Marshall said. “His face was as red as your necktie!”

  The kid came back with a gray-haired man in a dark suit. “Mr. President, how may we help, sir?” he asked.

  “I’d like to see yesterday’s videotapes, please,” Casey said.

  “Ah, yes,” the man said. “Follow me, please.”

  He led them to an elevator. Inside, he pushed a button and KC felt the elevator car going up. When it stopped, they stepped out and walked to a black door. A sign on the door said

  PRIVATE

  DO NOT ENTER

  The door was opened by a woman wearing thick glasses. When she noticed Casey, she said, “Oh my goodness!” and backed away.

  Th
ey entered a large square room. The lighting was dim, and the space was half dark. Nearly every inch of wall held a screen. Some of them were blank, but others showed flickering images.

  A tall man walked over to the group. “I’m Travis Royce, floor manager. Can I help here?” he asked. Then his eyes fell on Casey. “Mr. President! Good morning, sir!”

  Casey nodded at the man. “I’d like to see yesterday’s videotapes,” he said again.

  “Oh, you’re here about the robbery,” Mr. Royce said. “We use compact discs now, sir. I’ve reviewed them several times myself, and I showed them to my boss. They’re still on my desk.”

  As Casey followed Mr. Royce, KC grabbed Marshall’s arm.

  “Recognize him?” she whispered.

  “No, should I?” Marshall asked.

  “The restaurant yesterday,” KC hissed. “He came in and sat with that woman with red hair. The one who works in the room where they cut the money. Then a few minutes later, we saw him near the pet store all lovey-dovey with that blonde!”

  5

  The Man with the Flying Fingers

  Mr. Royce had stopped at one corner of the room. A computer was open on the desk. A group of TV screens hung on the wall. Two of the screens showed people working around the money-printing machines.

  Travis Royce waved at the screens. “What you’re seeing is happening right now, downstairs,” he said.

  KC studied the two screens. It was like watching a movie of what she and Marshall had seen yesterday. At the bottom of each screen was the time and date.

  Mr. Royce picked up three discs from his desk. Each one had “December 19” written on the plastic sleeve. “These are from yesterday’s three shifts, sir,” he said to Casey Marshall. “Would you like to see them all?”

  “Do you know when the money was taken?” KC asked.

  “It went missing during the first shift,” he said. He chose one of the three CDs. “That runs from seven in the morning till three in the afternoon.”

  Marshall groaned. “Watching the whole shift would take eight hours!” he said.

  “We’ve been able to narrow it down,” Mr. Royce said. “We count the bricks several times during each shift. The staff thinks the missing brick of bills was lifted between eleven and twelve, just before lunch.”

  He tapped a few keys on the computer. Suddenly they were looking at the sheets of money being cut, then speeding along the conveyor belt in small piles. “This is yesterday morning at eleven,” Mr. Royce said.

  KC noticed that the woman with red hair was there. She was wiping parts of the machinery with a large cleaning cloth. The time at the bottom showed that it was eleven o’clock, Wednesday, December 19.

  “Excuse me, who is that woman?” KC asked.

  “That’s Polly Fine,” Mr. Royce said. “She’s a good worker. She keeps the rooms clean on her shift.”

  “What about him?” KC asked. She pointed to the man who was grabbing money, checking it for problems, then placing the bills back on the conveyor belt.

  “That’s Eddie Yump,” Mr. Royce said. “We call him ‘Fast Eddie’ because his fingers move so quickly. He’s been here for about five years.”

  They all watched as Eddie snatched, flipped, and replaced money over and over again. His hands were a blur.

  “Can you stop the picture?” KC asked Mr. Royce.

  “Sure.” Mr. Royce pressed a key, and the image on the computer screen froze. Eddie Yump held a fistful of bills close to his eyes. Polly Fine was in the background. One hand was raised to wipe something with her cleaning cloth. Two other workers in the room were also frozen, as if they’d been playing a game of statues.

  “Can you make it bigger?” KC asked. She leaned forward.

  Mr. Royce clicked the mouse. The picture grew larger.

  “Can you make it move again, but real slow?” KC asked.

  Now Polly was wiping in slow motion. Her little reindeer earrings waved back and forth as she moved. Eddie Yump riffled the bills in his hand. This time it was slow enough for KC to see each bill.

  “Does anyone else touch the money?” KC asked.

  “Once the sheets are cut into bills, only Eddie handles them,” Mr. Royce said. He speeded up the disc and they all watched Eddie Yump doing his job.

  “Excuse me, but if you think Eddie is the thief, you’re wrong,” Mr. Royce said. “Trust me, he’s the most honest person I know. Before I hired him, I got an excellent report from his last boss.”

  “Where did he work before he came here?” Marshall asked.

  “He was a card dealer in a casino,” Mr. Royce said.

  KC stared at the man on the screen as he replaced the money on the belt, and took more. “No wonder his hands are so fast!” she said.

  “Can we see the vault?” Marshall asked.

  Mr. Royce shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. It’s off-limits to the public.”

  “Why, I’d love to see that myself!” Casey said.

  “Oh, of course, Mr. President,” Mr. Royce said. “I’ll get the shift manager to take you down there.”

  He picked up a telephone, spoke into it softly, then hung up. “Ms. Slye will be here in a second.”

  While Casey and Mr. Royce shook hands, KC turned to Marshall.

  “Why did you ask to see the vault?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding? This is my only chance to see a kajillion dollars up close!” Marshall said. “It’ll be even better than the tour!”

  The elevator door opened and a tall woman came over to them. She held her hand out to Casey.

  “Mr. President, welcome to the BEP. I’m Gladys Slye. I understand you want to see the cookie jar,” she said.

  Casey gave her a blank look. “Cookie jar?”

  “Oh, that’s what I call the vault,” Ms. Slye explained. “Won’t you join me?”

  She stepped back into the elevator and the others followed.

  “The vault is beneath the street and under this building,” Ms. Slye said as the elevator went down.

  At the bottom, they stepped into a wide hallway. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all built of steel. As they followed Ms. Slye, their footsteps echoed around them.

  Ms. Slye stopped at a closed metal door. She tapped a code into a keypad on the wall, and the door opened. They all stepped through. Right away they saw two guards standing in front of a second door. This door was thick and broad, like on a castle.

  Ms. Slye nodded at the guards. Then she pressed her eye up against a sort of window in the wall next to the door. A small light near the window turned green. “That scans my eyes for a match,” she explained. “We used to use fingerprints, but they can be faked.”

  They all heard a click, and the vault door slowly opened.

  “After you, sir,” Ms. Slye said.

  Casey entered the vault. KC and Marshall followed him into the gigantic space. The room was as large as KC and Marshall’s whole school! Each wall was lined with metal shelves, from the floor to the ceiling. Every shelf held piles and piles of money bricks.

  KC found that she couldn’t speak. Even Marshall was silent. His eyes looked as big as golf balls.

  Ms. Slye picked up a stack and stroked the money the way KC petted her cats. “I know it’s astonishing,” she said. “I come in here several times a day, and I never get used to it.”

  “How much money is there?” Casey asked.

  Ms. Slye returned the money to the shelf. Then she tapped a few keys on a laptop computer. “Right now, the total is nine billion, seven hundred and thirty million, six hundred thousand, five hundred dollars,” she said.

  6

  Three Suspects

  KC, Marshall, and Casey just stared at Ms. Slye.

  “How do you know?” KC managed to ask.

  “Our computers count it for us,” Ms. Slye said. “Each day, the newly printed bills get counted several times. Then they are added to what’s already here in the vault.”

  “Does your computer ever make mistakes?”
Casey asked. “I was told about the missing money….”

  Ms. Slye looked at Casey. “Mr. Presi-dent, we don’t know how to explain what happened to that money,” she said. “But the Treasury Department has its own detectives, and they were on the case minutes after the theft was discovered.”

  “When was the other money taken?” Marshall asked. “You know, the other brick.”

  “That was last week,” Ms. Slye said.

  “Which day and shift?” KC asked. She was glad that Marshall had thought to ask his question.

  “I believe the money was taken at the same time on the same day last week,” Ms. Slye said. “That would have been between eleven in the morning and noon on Wednesday, December 12th.”

  KC thought about that for a moment. “Can anybody besides you get into this vault?” she asked the woman.

  “During the shift when the money disappeared, I am the only one who has access to this vault,” she answered. “Of course, there are different managers for the other shifts, but no money was re-ported missing on those shifts.” Her voice sounded tight.

  “So you were the manager when the money was stolen, on both Wednesdays?” KC asked.

  Ms. Slye nodded. “Yes” was all she said.

  Just then they all heard a quiet chirping noise. Ms. Slye pulled a cell phone from her pocket. She flipped it open, glanced at the screen, and snapped it shut again. “I’m needed upstairs,” she said. “May I take you to the exit?”

  “That will be fine,” Casey said. “And thank you for your time.”

  “The pleasure was mine, Mr. Presi-dent,” Ms. Slye said.

  KC didn’t think Ms. Slye looked pleased at all. Her face had turned red, and she looked embarrassed or angry. Or both.

  They stepped out of the vault. The ten-inch-thick steel door made only a soft swooshing noise as Ms. Slye swung it shut.

  Back at the White House, KC had a lot to think about. She flopped down in a chair. Her cats, Lost and Found, came running. The president’s cat, George, was cleaning his paws by the fireplace. Natasha, the White House dog, was sleeping on the floor.

  “Well, now we know two people who had a chance to steal that money,” KC said. “‘Fast’ Eddie Yump and Ms. Slye.”