“Whoopee for you!” Leo shot back.

Annabelle held up one of the checks. “This is the Federal Reserve routing number,” she said, pointing to the first two digits in a string of numbers on the bottom of the check. “That tells the bank the check was deposited at the clearinghouse the check’s supposed to go to. The New York clearinghouse number is zero–two. San Fran’s is twelve. A New York–based company using checks issued by a New York bank usually has New York’s routing number on its checks, for example. Since we’ll be passing the checks here, Freddy will switch the routing numbers on all the checks to New York. That way it takes longer for the company to get the paper back and realize it’s a bad check.”

Annabelle added, “And more importantly, these are all big companies that keep their accounts payable books by zero cash management methods. So the odds are very good that even with a bad check in the mix they won’t turn up a relatively insignificant transaction until they get their end–of–the–month statements. Today’s the fifth; that means we have about a month before they discover anything wrong. By then we’re long gone.”

“But what if the bank teller looks at the check and sees that the routing number is wrong?” Tony asked.

“I guess you never saw that TV program, did you?” Leo asked. “The one where investigative reporters zip into a bank with a check that had written across it, ‘Don’t cash me, I’m a forged check, you effing moron.’ And the effing moron still cashed it.”

Annabelle added, “I’ve never heard of a clerk spotting the wrong routing number on a check. Unless you give the teller a reason to suspect you, they won’t spot it.”

After the checks had dried out, Freddy scanned them onto his laptop. Six hours later he stacked eighty checks on the table totaling $2.1 million.

Annabelle ran her finger down the perforated edge of one of the checks, a usual indicator that the check itself was legit, even if the amounts and payee on it weren’t. She glanced at the others. “Now comes the human side of the con. Passing the bad paper.”

“My favorite part,” Leo said eagerly as he finished a ham sandwich and washed it down with a large swallow of beer.

Chapter 10

They’d decided that Annabelle and Leo would pass the first series of altered checks while Tony watched Leo to see how it was done for real. Annabelle, Leo and Tony each had a series of complete ID packs that Freddy had made for them. These packs either matched the individual payee on the check or contained credentials showing they worked for the company the check was made out to. Annabelle had instructed Leo and Tony to only carry one set of ID at a time. In case they were stopped, it would be difficult to talk their way out of a jam if they had eight aliases in their pockets.

A number of the checks were made out to individuals, none for over $10,000, since that would require IRS notification. Because of that limit, they would have to move far too many personal checks to reach the $2.1 million mark to be practicable. Thus, the rest of the payees on the checks were businesses that Annabelle had set up accounts for at various banks. Company checks could be made out for over $10,000 without triggering interest from the IRS. But the hitch was no bank will cash a company check. The full amount has to be deposited. For that reason, over a period of months Annabelle had been depositing funds into and out of these accounts, to establish a track record. She well knew that banks tended to get antsy when freshly minted accounts all of a sudden started to throw off lots of cash — that just screamed money laundering.

Over a two–day period Annabelle and Leo had grilled Tony on every conceivable obstacle he would face when passing the bad checks. They took turns playing the roles of tellers, managers, security guards and bank customers. Tony was a fast learner, and at the end of the two days they pronounced him ready to take his baby steps as a bad–check passer after he had watched Leo perform a few times for real.

The first ten passes went very smoothly. Annabelle was a redhead at one, a blonde at another and a brunet at a third. The back of the van had been set up as a changing area with a small makeup table and mirror. After several passes she and Leo would hop in the van and alter their look on the way to the next bank. At some places she wore glasses, at another a scarf around her head, at another pants, sweatshirt and a ball cap. With the right makeup, clothing, padding and hair she could significantly change her appearance and age. She wore only flats, since her five–foot–nine–inch height was less noteworthy than one of six feet with heels on. And while she never looked at it, Annabelle was always conscious of the bank surveillance camera taking her glossy.

Leo was, in turn, a businessman, a company gofer, a retiree and a lawyer, among others.

Annabelle’s practiced delivery with the tellers was smooth, without a trace of apprehension. She immediately put the clerk at ease, talking about the person’s clothes or hair or how much she loved the beautiful city by the Bay, even with the gloomy weather.

With the eleventh teller she confided, “I’ve had this consulting business for four years, and this is the biggest payment I’ve ever gotten. I worked my butt off for it.”

“Congratulations,” the female clerk said as she worked on the transaction. “Forty thousand dollars is a big payment.” The woman seemed to be scrutinizing the check and Annabelle’s perfectly forged identification and corporate papers a bit too much.

Annabelle noted the woman wasn’t wearing a wedding band but had worn one recently, because the skin was lighter where the ring would’ve been.

“My ex left me for a younger woman and cleaned out our accounts,” Annabelle said bitterly. “I’ve had to build my whole life back. It hasn’t been easy. But I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction, you know? I’ll take the damn alimony because I earned that. But he’s not controlling my life.”

The woman’s demeanor changed, and she said in a low whisper, “I know exactly what you mean,” she said as she completed the deposit. “Twelve years of marriage, and my ex decides to trade me in for a new model too.”

“I wish we could just give them a pill that would train them right, you know?”

“Oh, I want to give my ex a pill, all right. A cyanide pill,” the clerk said.

Annabelle glanced at the docs on the counter and said casually, “I suppose there’ll be a hold on the funds, won’t there? It’s just that I have some vendors to pay. I wish I could get to keep the whole amount, but my profit margins are only about ten percent, if I’m lucky.”

The clerk hesitated. “Well, normally, there would be with a check this size.” She looked at Annabelle, smiled and eyed her computer. “But the account the check’s drawn on has plenty of money to cover it. And there have been no problems in your company account. So I’ll make the funds immediately available.”

“That’s great, I really appreciate it.”

“We girls have to stick together.”

“Yes, we do,” Annabelle said as she turned and walked out with her deposit slip showing her “company” to be $40,000 richer.

• • •

Meanwhile, Leo raced through his group of checks, usually not spending more than ten minutes at each bank. Speed was the key here, he knew. Speed without sloppiness, however. His method was typically to crack a joke, usually at his own expense, to break the ice with the teller.

“I wish that money was going into my personal account,” he told one clerk in his guise as a company gofer. “Then I could make my rent payment. Is there anyplace in this damn town that doesn’t want your firstborn for a security deposit on a one–bedroom?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” the teller answered sympathetically.