Free The Art of Making Money by Jason Kersten Page A

raised images of all the components of a hundred-dollar bill.
    The plates took the better part of two days, and Art was steadily awed by da Vinci’s precision and attention to detail. He emphasized precise measurements and timing, warning Art that if he burned the plates too long the bills would come out too dark; burn them too briefly and they’d come out light. He explained the reason behind everything he did.
    However formidable da Vinci’s skill at platemaking was, it was nothing compared with what Art witnessed over the next four days, as da Vinci schooled him in the art of mixing inks and running the press. “The difference between a bill that passes and one that draws attention can sometimes come down to drops of ink,” he told Art. “Unless you constantly watch your colors, a whole print run can be ruined.”
    Williams observed as da Vinci mixed gray for the bill front, then armed the paper intake of his four-color press with a pale green, linen-based paper. Art would later learn that the paper had come from one of Chicago’s many printing houses, and that da Vinci had bought it straight from a connection at the loading dock, no questions asked. Like the paper genuine currency is printed on, it was thin and durable, and another feature that made it distinct was that it contained tiny fibers that simulated the red and blue silk security threads that have been woven into U.S. currency since 1869.
    Once da Vinci had the paper ready, he attached the plate to the offset’s cylinder and fired up the press. As the machine rumbled to life, Pete poured his ink into the trough, engaged his cylinders, and let the press roll. Once he had finished with the bill fronts, they cleaned the press, switched the plates, and mixed their next colors: mint green for the back, and stoplight green for the seal and serial numbers. In this way they “built up” the bills, adding different visual elements with each print run.
    “The smell of the ink became addictive,” remembers Art. “Watching him take the ink out and throw it on the palette, it was amazing how quick he was. Just like that, he’d snap it on and mix it.” Counterfeiters say that the act of creating money can evoke an intensely pleasurable, almost sexual, rush. Williams felt its full force for the first time watching the finished sheets spill from the press. “Orgasm is a good comparison, but there really aren’t any words for the feeling,” he says. “And it never went away from me. Every time was as powerful as that first time.”
    On the final print run, sheets of mint-condition hundred-dollar bills emerged from da Vinci’s press, like Christmas cookies from an oven. In all, Art and Pete’s first run together came to about a hundred thousand dollars in counterfeit. As Art cut the bills and stacked them in neat ten-thousand-dollar piles, he felt an overwhelming urge to take some. There are always extra bills after a print run, so when Pete wasn’t looking he slipped a few into his pocket, despite the promise he had made to his mentor.
    Later the same day, he visited a local gas station, where he asked the cashier for a pack of Kools and handed him one of da Vinci’s notes. Instinctively, he apologized for not having a smaller bill, and half expected security gates and sirens to activate the moment the attendant took the bill.
    Nothing happened.
    The cashier gave him back ninety-six dollars in real money, and he left the gas station as free as he had entered. But every bit as real as the change in his pocket was the buzzing through his brain as he made his way back to the projects.
    “When I saw him take the money and give me back the change, I felt a huge sense of power, more power than I had ever felt in my life,” he recalls. “As a young kid from the South Side, that wasn’t something I was used to. I was used to the opposite feeling. And I was instantly addicted.”
     
     
     
    DA VINCI NEVER CAUGHT ON that Williams had pocketed some of the bogus