Counterfeit
Chapter 9
They spoke very little on the hour's drive out to the mansion where the Boss evidently lived. Dillon noticed that as they entered the gates, several guards watched their progress. They seemed to know Mendoza and gave him very little argument when he said he was going to the house, and that this man – he indicated Dillon – had an appointment with the big man himself.
The estate around the house was as big as some ranches he had seen out west. There were no cattle here though, just neatly trimmed lawns and shrubs and several large trees. The gravel path wound through several areas of the grounds before they stopped in front of what looked like a palace. Several men came down the steps from the house to open the carriage doors and Dillon noticed that even though they acted in a polite and welcoming manner, they all carried guns. Mendoza could see that his companion had noticed that.
"The Boss has to be careful you know. Too many people want to put a stop to his business."
They were directed into the house through two big wooden doors and when Dillon stepped inside he could see that this place was equally as grand as the hotel he had just left. One of the guards acting as house staff took his bag, telling him he would take it to his room for him, Dillon would not part with the small case with the money though. He was shown into a comfortable living room where three other men were engaged in a conversation.
The tallest of them, a man with grey thinning hair broke away from the group and came to greet him.
"My dear Mr. Weeks, it is a pleasure to have you in my house. Josiah Colter at your service. Please let me pour you a drink, these gentlemen are just leaving." So saying he went to a highly decorated liquor cabinet and poured a double shot of whisky into glass and brought it to him.
He had a few more words with the remaining two men then ushered them to the door, which he closed firmly. When he turned back to Dillon his manner changed from the fine host to the hard nosed business man.
"Mr. Weeks, it is good of you to come here to Virginia – all the way from Missouri."
"Colorado," corrected Dillon
"Oh yes, my mistake. Of course we did have to check up a little on your activities. It seems you have a stake in several different lines of business, from, railroads to dealing in cattle and some –well some sensitive people might call unethical trading of er servants and house staff, shall we say, and some for the er entertainment business," he almost chuckled at his own words.
Dillon said nothing. He hated to be even thought to associate with any such miserable parasites on society.
"It seems you have done your homework," was all he replied while he took only slow deliberate sips from the whisky he had been given.
"Mendoza tells me you want to purchase a rather large quantity of our goods."
"If the price is right and the quality is good."
"Do you have any payment with you?'
Dillon picked up the small leather brief case and took a small key from his vest pocket to unlock the catch. He lifted the lid to show stacks of twenty dollar bills, flicking through the top layers of some of them.
"There is about twenty thousand dollars in here and I have letters of credit on four other banks in town where I can raise another two hundred thousand or so, if the goods are available."
He closed the lid before Colter could start to inspect the money more closely. In fact although two of the stacks were genuine all the way through, the others just had genuine bills on top, those underneath were hastily produced fakes.
"Certainly, certainly. Tell me how did you hear of me."
"Just a coincidence Mr. Colter," he went on to tell the story Quartermaine had given him in one of their training sessions. He sat back in the arm chair and waved his hands as he spoke, hoping to imitate what they had told him about Weeks.
"I receive a stack of bills from my bank in Denver, about once a month. I always get enough to satisfy the payroll at my ranch back there, you understand. I noticed that two of the bills were not quite right, very good but not quite right. I had one of my men investigate further and that lead me to Mr. Mendoza. But I don't deal with men like him. I always go straight to the top."
They shared a forced laugh.
"Very wise Mr. Weeks. We won't talk business now I have some other things to take care of. I will have you shown to your room then please feel free to stroll in the gardens or take a rest after your journey here. We will eat dinner at six and after that we will talk again."
Colter picked up a small bell and rang it. A man appeared at the door Matt couldn't tell if he was a bodyguard or house staff, but presumed the former.
"Show Mr. Weeks to his room," Colter ordered, then got up from the chair he was sitting in. "We will meet again later."
Dillon sat in his room for a while. So far it had been relatively easy. He had found 'the boss' and hopefully should be able to find the printing press and plates. Then all he had to do was to wire Quartermaine and his job was done. Finding the printing press and plates should not be difficult. The main problem was getting word to Quartermaine. Right now he knew he had travelled about 15 miles east of the hotel in Richmond, but had no other way to tell the agent where this place was. Furthermore he knew that if Colter did not want him to leave there was no way he was going to get a message out.
He looked over at the bed. His few spare clothes had all been laid out there for him, and somehow he knew they had been searched. Quartermaine certainly knew what this business was about.
The two other men he had seen earlier were present at dinner, as was a young girl that Colter introduced as his niece. Her name was Jennifer and she looked to be about fourteen. Her hair was dark and hung down over her shoulders in cascading curls. She was quiet and Dillon could not understand why Colter insisted that she come eat with all these men, one of them in particular eyed the young girl in a such a way that Dillon could have punched him out right there. The girl was certainly uncomfortable, especially when Colter sat her next to the man in question. He couldn't help but watch the young girl – ready to step in if anything was done to hurt her.
Later that evening Matt sat talking with Colter and the other two men – introduced as Smith and Brown. Apparently these two gentlemen wanted some of the currency Colter was printing. They seemed quite willing to pay seventy five cents on the dollar, but the quantity they were buying was much less. Dillon pointed this out and added that he did not have time to wait around for his order.
The men sat around drinking whisky and smoking fine cigars for several hours. Matt managed to sip on a glass and make it last a long time and he declined the cigars.
After what seemed an age Colter encouraged the two other men to leave telling them their order would be ready in two days and to come back then.
After they had left Colter spoke to Dillon.
"I don't have enough paper to print the amount of currency you want. I can get a delivery in about a week and you are welcome to stay here for while you wait. I can assure you will be well taken care of. Maybe you'd like to do a little fishing or follow some other pursuit. I will arrange a little, shall we say entertainment for you, to make your stay more pleasurable."
The way Colter said that made Dillon want to back hand him into the next room, he knew what the man was insinuating, he had read about some of Weeks's pastimes and they made him sick to think about.
"I don't have a lot of time to waste Colter, but I'll stay a while." He was hoping the extra time would give him the opportunity to find the printing press and the plates.
TBC
