Page 44 of Generation Lost

“Sir, I can’t fix this. These bills are counterfeit. All of them.” The young man pushed off the side of the vault door, staring at the teller and down at the cash.

“That’s not possible. Look at them again.”

“Sir, I’ve looked at them, and so has the machine. They are all counterfeit. Every single bill in these four bags. The checks are a problem as well.”

“How the fuck are the checks a problem? They’re bank drafts, money orders. They’re not a problem!”

“They are,” she said, holding one up. “This one is made out to Mickey Mouse. This one is from The Hulk. This one is from Joseph Stalin.”

“What the fuck is happening?” growled the manager.

“I don’t know. Hold on,” he said, stepping aside. He dialed the number and waited, then stared at the stacks of counterfeit money. How could this happen?

“We have a problem. The cash is all counterfeit. The checks are just kids’ paper money. It’s all fake. All of it.”

“How?”

“How the hell do I know? It’s fake!”

He picked up the paper, looking at it against the light. It was painfully obvious that it was all fake, the paper quality so thin it was amusing. The checks had cartoon characters on them and looked as though they’d been signed by children with crayons.

“You’re wrong. That’s not possible.”

“I’m standing right here looking at this shit. It’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. Someone stole the entire shipment, and this is what we got.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“My apologies, General, but the POTUS is on the secure line demanding to speak with you. Something about finding these men and arresting them.”

“Stay right here, boys. I want him to see that you’re here,” said the General. “Mr. President, I’m in a meeting. How can I help you?”

“You tell those son-of-a-bitches they’re dead!” he screamed. The general gave a smirk to the three men as they stared at the screen.

“Mr. President, we get that you don’t like us much, but what have we done now other than being in your city?” asked Nine.

“You know what you did. You did this! I know you did this, and I want to know where it is. Where is the money? Where are the checks?”

“Sir, we really don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Gaspar. They could hear people shuffling in the background, doors opening and closing. The president placed the call on silent, his lips moving quickly.

“Everyone remember how to read lips?” smirked the general.

“Yes, sir. Damn sure do.”

“We need you here,” he said, coming back live to the screen.

“What do you mean? We are in Washington. You know that,” said Nine.

“No. I need you here! We’ve got terrorists attempting to break the gates of the White House. I need extra security, now!”

“Sir, you’re the fucking POTUS. You’ve got more security than the three of us could manage. Call your Secret Service, call the Army, call whoever you need to. They’ll come and get you.”

“I hate you! I hate you all!”

The general raised a brow at the black screen and looked at the three men.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“You might want a beer for this one, general,” smiled Ian.

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