Chapter 12

“Do you have Michael’s family information?”

After wandering outside for a while and making sure no one was following him, William came to Mr. Fox’s basement office.

There was a trace of pity for the weak on his face. This was the greatest tragedy of men like Mr. Fox in this era.

They had money, not on the level of major capitalists perhaps, but more than enough compared to ordinary small businessmen. Yet they could not even rent a proper office.

They could not stand in the light. Neither their business nor their wealth was protected by law. Instead, both attracted its scrutiny. So they were forced to work underground, in damp rooms thick with mildew.

The mold stains in the corners and the yellowed decorative panels almost made William laugh. If he had this kind of money and resources, he would have taken off long ago.

His “business” with Mr. Fox was still in its honeymoon phase. Supplying tens of thousands in loose change every day had made William the man Fox paid the most attention to.

At first, Fox had not believed he could do it. But as time passed, William’s pace only increased. Now he could deliver three to four batches of coins a day.

Fewer transactions than the first day’s dozen or so, but the volume of each batch was growing. It was helping Fox convert his money into bankable funds at an increasingly efficient rate.

Before closing each day, Fox would proactively report his income, letting IRS personnel watch as the coins were emptied from each washing machine, counted, then deposited directly into the bank.

Large deposits required tax documentation. Proof that the money was legitimate before the bank would accept it.