The Towering Possibility

by Evan Cohen

As Victor approached the newspaper vender at the corner he could feel the warmth of the springtime sun on his back. He wore a trench jacket, and a wide brimmed hat that he could never be seen without. His right hand clenched a device hidden in his front pocket; it had made him enough money that he was able to purchase two lavish apartments, one in New York and one in France.

“Un papier s’il vous plait,” he said to the vender, gesturing to the paper in a small stack.

The vender muttered something, accepting the money Victor offered him.

Victor walked on, tucking the newspaper under his arm. His mind drifted back to his latest sea voyage. It had been winter then, he had spent days observing he fellow passengers, searching for a mark. He had settled upon a short American sporting a Rolex. The man seemed to be made of money, and was quite the fool. A perfect mark. Victor had approached him on the last few hours of the voyage.

“Young man,” He had said straightening up. “I have something remarkable to show you.” He then produced the box. It was a simple thing he had built. An inexpensive watch motor and two crisp $100 bills was all it took. “This here is a money-printing machine, capable of printing a $100 bill every six hours.” Victor leaned towards the man, “You are an intelligent young man, if I told you I would sell you this machine for $40,000 how long would it take for it to pay for itself?”

The short American hastened his mind working. “Around 10 days--”

“Exactly 10 days my boy!” He yelped.

“But I don’t see how that is possible.” The man said slowly.

Victor leaned closer still, “It’s science” he said, almost believing it himself. “Every six hours, it prints $100 dollars. See for yourself,” he said producing a wad of $100 bills from his pocket. The American’s eyes went wide. At this point Victor knew he had him, people are greedy, and exploiting this greed is easier than one would think.

It was not long before Victor had received the $40,000. He had made sure others had seen him selling the device, and he sold three more before they reached the harbor. $160,000 was all in a day’s work for Victor. He exited the ship, and was out of site within seconds. It would be another couple hours before his buyers knew they had been swindled, and he never planned to be there when they found out.

It’s not about the money, he thought to himself coming back to his senses, It’s about the thrill of exploitation. He sat down on a nearby bench and unfolded the newspaper, scanning the headlines. An article discussed the problems the city was having maintaining the Eiffel Tower popped out at him, even keeping it painted was an expensive chore, and the tower was becoming somewhat run down. At first he thought nothing of it; he finished his paper and continued on his morning walk.

But he could not ignore the article. He saw a story behind this article. Maybe the city would decide the Eiffel Tower was not worth saving any longer. Victor outlined the possibilities going over them in his head. The idea festered in his mind, until he could not bear it anymore. He knew that he could exploit this situation, but he did not yet know how. Instead of going home he took a longer route to a close friend’s office, if you could call it that. In reality it was a dimly lit basement, with an old oak desk in the middle of the room in which the American sat. Hundreds of fragments of paper littered the floor and skittered about form the draft of the door as Victor entered the room.

“Henri, my friend, I have something I need you to make me, and it’s not my special box”

“And what would that be, my good friend?” Henri said inquisitively.

Victor proceeded to explain his plan, he would need Henri to forge government papers. “You will make me the deputy director-general of the Ministry of Posts and Telegraphs,” Victor decided.

The two worked tirelessly on Victor’s character. They selected the Hotel de Crillon, one of the most prestigious of the old Paris hotels, was a meeting place for diplomats and a perfect cover. They foraged 6 invitations each to a scrap metal dealers an invitation to attend a confidential meeting to discuss a possible business deal. The letters were vague, but remained convincing.

The day finally arrived; Victor sat at a long table in the lobby of the hotel. Slowly the scrap metal dealers arrived, until all six were present. They sat down at the table, Victor stood raised his hand to calm the chatter around the table.

“As you may know I am the deputy director-general of the Ministry of Posts and Telegraphs. You have been selected on the basis of your good reputations as honest businessmen, and I hope that by the end of the day we will have come to some agreement.” Victor then went on to describe to the group that the upkeep on the Eiffel Tower was so outrageous that the city could not maintain it any longer, and wanted to sell it for scrap.

“Due to the certain public outcry,” he continued, “the matter is to be kept secret until all the details are thought out. I have been given the responsibility to select the dealer to carry out the task.”

The men seemed to be buying it, of course they did, Victor gave them no reason not to. He didn’t even give them a chance.

“Now, if you will follow me, we have a tour to take.” Victor said gesturing for the men to follow him.

They followed Victor to the front of the hotel where a limousine stood waiting. The driver opened the door revealing a polished oak interior, and while form the outside it looked cramped, there was ample space for the seven of them.

As the limo started Victor continued his speech, “now I will take you on an inspection tour. So you can see for yourself the quality of the material you are buying. The tower is made of 15,000 prefabricated parts, many of which are highly ornamental, which is fantastic for resale.”

His impressive knowledge of the tower only fueled their enthusiasm, and over the next hour Victor showed them around the tower. This time gave him an idea who was the most enthusiastic and gullible. He knew how to be attentive and agreeable, and let people talk until they told him everything he wanted to know.

As they returned to ground level Victor asked them for bids to be submitted the next day, “And remember,” he went on, “this matter is a state secret.” The truth was, regardless of the highest bidder, he would only accept one, a man by the name of Blaise. Victor knew Blaise was insecure, feeling he was not in the inner circles of the Parisian business community, and that he thought that obtaining the Eiffel Tower deal would put him in the big league.

Victor knew he was treading on thin ice. Fraud was bad enough, but the authorities would be very displeased at his having put over the fraud while impersonating a high government official. Worse than that after he informed Blaise that he was the highest bidder Blaise confessed that he had talked with his wife about the deal, and she felt uneasy. She had asked questions.

Who was this official, why was everything so secret, and why was everything being done so quickly?

Victor had no choice but to offer a second meeting with Blaise and his wife to win them over. The meeting was scheduled at the hotel again, but this time for dinner. He sat patiently at the reserved table going over what he had to say in his head. Blaise and his wife arrive right on time. The moment Victor saw his wife’s face he knew things had just evolved into a whole other level of complexity. His high school sweetheart stood linking arms with Blaise.

“Victor,” Exclaimed Blaise with gusto, “I would like you to meet my wife, Camille.”

Their eyes locked as Victor took her hand, “Very nice to meet you mademoiselle.” He said kissing the back of her hand.

“I will hope that you will excuse me,” Blaise said, “I must use the restroom.”

Victor sat smiling while Camille attempted to avoid eye contact. They remained this way, in silence, only to be interrupted when the wator asked them if they wanted anything to drink.

“I know you Victor. I know what you are up to, and it won’t work.” She said finally breaking the silence. “I remember high school, always trying to con people for some extra money,” she said distastefully.

“That was a long time ago, Camille.” He responded, smiling all the while, “People change. I got into government work just after getting out of the university.” They sat in silence for a moment, “Ok. I confess, as a government minister I don’t make enough money to pursue the lifestyle I have always wanted, and I need to find ways to supplement my income.”

She seemed convinced, and the rest of the lunch went well. Victor reiterated his situation to Blaise when he returned. Blaise thought he was dealing with another corrupt government official who wanted a bribe, which put his mind at rest immediately, since he was familiar with the type and had no problems dealing with such people.

Blaise agreed to pay in cash despite the warnings of his wife. It was arranged for the payment to be exchanged under the tower mid day the following afternoon. So Victor was not only received the funds for the Eiffel Tower, but he was also getting a bribe on top of that. He hurried back to his apartment and hurriedly packed his belongings, and then proceeded to Henri’s workshop to finalize his plans. They would leave for Vienna as soon as the money was exchanged.

Victor and Henri shared a cab to the tower, “Wait here, we won’t be long,” Victor told the driver.

They approached the tower, both trying to remain calm, but excited by the prospect of what they were about to pull off. The hand off was simple. Blaise arrived with a suitcase that contained the money, and exchanged it for Victors’ foraged receipt.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Blaise.” Victor said.

“Likewise,” Blaise replied.

With that Victor and Henri turned and walked away, leaving Blaise standing awkwardly by himself. They continued to the cab knowing that the instant that Blaise called the government ministries to ask for further information that the whole fraud would be revealed and the law would intervene. Victor and Henri boarded the train to Vienna with the briefcase. Victor felt no regret; he never did, not when the people he exploited remain greedy. Not while he can teach them a lesson.