Making Money

Teemer & Spools had gone up in the world because of the big stamp contract. They’d always done the best printing work in any case, but now they had the men and muscle to bid for all the big contracts. And you could trust them. Moist always felt rather guilty when he went into the place; Teemer & Spools seemed to represent everything that he only pretended to be.

There were plenty of lights on when he went in. And Mr Spools was in his office, writing in a ledger. He looked up and when he saw Moist smiled the smile you save for your very best customer.

‘Mr Lipwig! What can I do for you? Do take a seat! We don’t see so much of you these days!’

Moist sat and chatted, because Mr Spools liked to chat.

Things were difficult. Things are always difficult. There were a lot more presses around these days. T&S were staying ahead of the game by staying on top of it. Regrettably, said Mr Spools, with a straight face, their ‘friendly’ rivals, the wizards at Unseen University Press, had come a cropper with their talking books—

‘Talking books? That sounds a good idea,’ said Moist.

‘Quite possibly,’ said Spools with a sniff. ‘But these weren’t meant to, and certainly not to complain about the quality of their glue and the hamfistedness of the typesetter. And of course now the university can’t pulp them.’

‘Why not?’

‘Think of the screaming! No, I pride myself that we are still riding the wave. Er … was there something special you wanted?’

‘What can you do with this?’ said Moist, putting one of the new dollars on the table.

Spools picked it up and read it carefully. Then, in a faraway voice, he said: ‘I did hear something. Does Vetinari know you’re planning this?’

‘Mr Spools, I’ll bet he knows my shoe size and what I had for breakfast.’

The printer put down the bill as if it was ticking. ‘I can see what you’re doing. Such a small thing, and yet so dangerous.’

‘Can you print them?’ said Moist. ‘Oh, not that one. I made up a batch just to test the idea. I mean high-quality banknotes, if I can find an artist to draw them.’

‘Oh, yes. We are a byword for quality. We’re building a new press to keep pace with demand. But what about security?’

‘What, in here? No one has ever bothered you so far, have they?’

‘No, they haven’t. But up until now we haven’t had lots of money lying around, if you see what I mean.’

Spools held up the note and let it go. It wafted gently from side to side until it landed on the desk. ‘So light, too,’ he went on. ‘A few thousand dollars would be no problem to carry.’

‘But kind of hard to melt down. Look, build the new press in the Mint. There’s a lot of space. End of problem,’ said Moist.

‘Well, yes, that would make sense. But a press is a big thing to move, you know. It’ll take days to shift it. Are you in a hurry? Of course you are.’

‘Hire some golems. Four golems will lift anything. Print me dollars by the day after tomorrow and the first thousand you print are a bonus.’

‘Why are you always in such a hurry, Mr Lipwig?’

‘Because people don’t like change. But make the change happen fast enough and you go from one type of normal to another.’

‘Well, we could hire some golems, I suppose,’ said the printer. ‘But I fear there are other difficulties less easy to overcome. Do you realize that if you start printing money then you will get forgeries. It’s not worth the trouble, maybe, for a twenty-pence stamp, but if you want, say, a ten-dollar note …?’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘Probably, yes. Problems?’

‘Big ones, my friend. Oh, we can help. Decent linen paper with a pattern of raised threads, watermarks, a good spirit ink, change the plates often to keep it sharp, little tricks with the design … and make it complex, too. That’s important. Yes, we could do it for you. They will be expensive. I strongly suggest you find an engraver as good as this …’ Mr Spools unlocked one of the lower drawers of his desk and tossed a sheet of 50p Green ‘Tower of Art’ stamps on to the blotter. Then he handed Moist a large magnifying glass.

‘That’s top-quality paper, of course,’ the printer said as Moist stared.

‘You’re getting very good. I can see every detail,’ Moist breathed, poring over the sheet.

‘No,’ said Spools, with some satisfaction. ‘In fact, you cannot. You might, though, with this.’ He unlocked a cupboard and handed Moist a heavy brass microscope.

‘He’s put in more detail than we did,’ he said, as Moist focused. ‘It’s at the very limit of what metal and paper can be persuaded to do. It is, I declare, a work of genius. He would be your salvation.’

‘Amazing,’ said Moist. ‘Well, we’ve got to have him! Who does he work for now?’

‘No one, Mr Lipwig. He is in prison, awaiting the noose.’

‘Owlswick Jenkins?’

‘You testified against him, Mr Lipwig,’ said Spools mildly.

‘Well, yes, but only to confirm that they were our stamps he was copying, and how much we might be losing! I didn’t expect he’d be hanged!’