That explains it, Grangier thought triumphantly. That is why the bills look so good. His excitement grew. “How much money can that press turn out in a day?”
“Only one bill an hour. Each side of the paper has to be processed and—”
He interrupted. “Isn’t there a larger press?”
“Yes, he has one that will turn out fifty bills every eight hours—five thousand dollars a day—but he wants half a million dollars for it.”
“Buy it,” Grangier said.
“I don’t have five hundred thousand dollars.”
“I do. How soon can you get hold of the press?”
She said reluctantly, “Now, I suppose, but I don’t—”
Grangier picked up the telephone and spoke into it. “Louis, I want five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of French francs. Take what we have from the safe and get the rest from the banks. Bring it to my office. Vite!”
Tracy stood up nervously. “I’d better go and—”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I really should—”
“Just sit there and keep quiet. I’m thinking.”
He had business associates who would expect to be cut in on this deal, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them, Grangier decided. He would buy the large press for himself and replace what he borrowed from the casino’s bank account with money he would print. After that, he would tell Bruno Vicente to handle the woman. She did not like partners.
Well, neither did Armand Grangier.
Two hours later the money arrived in a large sack. Grangier said to Tracy, “You’re checking out of the Palais. I have a house up in the hills that’s very private. You will stay there until we set up the operation.” He pushed the phone toward her. “Now, call your friend in Switzerland and tell him you’re buying the big press.”
“I have his phone number at the hotel. I’ll call from there. Give me the address of your house, and I’ll tell him to ship the press there and—”
“Non!” Grangier snapped. “I don’t want to leave a trail. I’ll have it picked up at the airport. We will talk about it at dinner tonight. I’ll see you at eight o’clock.”
It was a dismissal. Tracy rose to her feet.
Grangier nodded toward the sack. “Be careful with the money. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it—or to you.”
“Nothing will,” Tracy assured him.
He smiled lazily. “I know. Professor Zuckerman is going to escort you to your hotel.”
The two of them rode in the limousine in silence, the money bag between them, each busy with his own thoughts. Zuckerman was not exactly sure what was happening, but he sensed it was going to be very good for him. The woman was the key. Grangier had ordered him to keep an eye on her, and Zuckerman intended to do that.
Armand Grangier was in a euphoric mood that evening. By now, the large printing press would have been arranged for. The Whitney woman had said it would print $5,000 a day, but Grangier had a better plan. He intended to work the press on twenty-four hour shifts. That would bring it to $15,000 a day, more than $100,000 a week, $1 million every ten weeks. And that was just the beginning. Tonight he would learn who the engraver was and make a deal with him for more machines. There was no limit to the fortune it would make him.
At precisely 8:00, Grangier’s limousine pulled into the sweeping curve of the driveway of the Hôtel du Palais, and Grangier stepped out of the car. As he walked into the lobby, he noticed with satisfaction that Zuckerman was seated near the entrance, keeping a watchful eye on the doors.
Grangier walked over to the desk. “Jules, tell the Baroness de Chantilly I am here. Have her come down to the lobby.”
The concierge looked up and said, “But the baroness has checked out, Monsieur Grangier.”
“You’re mistaken. Call her.”
Jules Bergerac was distressed. It was unhealthy to contradict Armand Grangier. “I checked her out myself.”
Impossible. “When?”
“Shortly after she returned to the hotel. She asked me to bring her bill to her suite so she could settle it in cash—”
Armand Grangier’s mind was racing. “In cash? French francs?”