Chapter 7

“Money gleams with gold. It draws in everyone lost in the fog of poverty.”

“They may never grasp enough to shine themselves, but even a little can change their lives.”

Those were William’s words. In just a few days, every boss in Sabine knew there was a man who could turn loose change into larger sums, quickly, and profitably.

Coins flowed into William’s hands, rolling and compounding into bills. It was not just the bosses. Newsstands and retail shops had begun doing the same.

A three percent margin. No effort. No risk. To many, that sounded like a trivial gain, just three cents on the dollar.

But once the principal grew large enough, it became something else entirely. A hundred dollars, a thousand dollars, all one had to do was hand the money to William and take back more. That simple.

Under Federal Reserve labor laws and local regulations, an ordinary worker in Sabine City earned around two to three hundred dollars a month.

Dangerous work paid a bit more, but those jobs were rare. For most, that was the range.

Ten dollars meant a full day’s labor. But with William, no labor was required. Hand over the money, receive more in return.

Some people scoffed. More did not.

Loose change began to converge, then appeared, orderly and steady, inside Mr. Fox’s laundromat.

One week later, as William pushed a handcart into one of Fox’s shops, two men stepped into his path.

They wore black wool overcoats, tailored suits beneath, waistcoats and crisp white shirts.

And in that instant, William understood why Fox had said he did not look like someone from the Federal Executive Departments. He lacked the uniform, the unmistakable look, and more importantly, the arrogance worn openly on their faces, the kind that made sure everyone knew exactly who they were.

“William?”

The man blocking the cart called his name casually, then pulled open his coat to reveal a leather badge holder.