“That means passing counterfeit money, doesn’t it? All I know is what’s in the TriD crime shows.” “I can see you’re going to be a lot of help. Have you got anywhere at all on the possibility that the stuff might be coming from abroad?” “Nothing positive,” Larry said. “Are you people accomplishing anything?” “We’re just getting underway. There’s something off-trail about this deal, Woolford. It doesn’t fit into routine.” Larry Woolford said, “I wouldn’t think so if the stuff is so good not even a bank clerk can tell the difference.” “That’s not what I’m talking about now. Let me give you a run down on standard counterfeiting.” The Secret Service agent pushed back in his swivel chair, lit a cigarette, and propped his feet onto the edge of a partly open desk drawer. “Briefly, it goes like this. Some smart lad gets himself a set of plates and a platen press and—” Larry interrupted, “Where does he get the plates?” “That doesn’t matter now,” Steve said. “Various ways. Maybe he makes them himself, sometimes he buys them from a crooked engraver. But I’m talking about pushing green goods once it’s printed. Anyway, our friend runs off, say, a million dollars worth of fives. But he doesn’t try to pass them himself. He wholesales them around netting, say, fifty thousand dollars. In other words, he sells twenty dollars in counterfeit for one good dollar.” Larry pursed his lips. “Quite a discount.” “Um-m-m. But that’s safest from his angle. The half dozen or so distributors he sold it to don’t try to pass it either. They also are playing it carefully. They peddle it, at say ten to one, to the next rung down the ladder.” “And these are the fellows that pass it, eh?” “Not even then, usually. These small timers take it and pass it on at five to one to the suckers in the trade, who take the biggest risks. Most of these are professional pushers of the queer, as the term goes. Some, however, are comparative amateurs. Sailors for instance, who buy with the idea of passing it in some foreign port where seamen’s money flows fast.” Larry Woolford shifted in his chair. “So what are you building up to?” Steve Hackett rubbed the end of his pug nose with a forefinger in quick irritation. “Like I say, that’s standard counterfeit procedure. We’re all set up to meet it, and do a pretty good job. Where we have our difficulties is with amateurs.” Woolford scowled at him. Hackett said, “Some guy who makes and passes it himself, for instance. He’s unknown to the stool pigeons, has no criminal record, does up comparatively small amounts and dribbles his product onto the market over a period of time. We had one old devil up in New York once who actually _drew_ one dollar bills. He was a tremendous artist. It took us years to get him.” Larry Woolford said, “Well, why go into all this? We’re hardly dealing with amateurs now.” Steve looked at him. “That’s the trouble. We are.” “Are you batty? Not even your own experts can tell this product from real money.”