Trouble at the Treasury by Ron Roy Page A

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 theywere 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 themachine. 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.”

2
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 inthe 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