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Old Tom, unaware that he had narrowly avoided disaster, took Henry to a white wall for a quick photo session, then safely escorted him to the bank.
They arrived at First National Bank Alaska—one of the most common and reputable banks in the state. Consistently earning a five-star rating, it was also considered one of the best-performing banks in the entire United States.
Founded in 1922 by Winfield Ervin, the bank had established a solid foundation during Alaska's railway construction boom of the 1920s. Over the years, it had expanded its services and earned a name for reliable operations. The bank manager knew how to treat all kinds of customers—whether old-timers or fresh-faced newcomers.
As Tom led Henry inside, the bank manager, who had been seated in his office, immediately came out to greet them.
"Hi, Mr. Tom! You're still as dashing as ever today," the manager said with a smile, extending his hand warmly.
Tom, however, didn't bother returning the flattery and said dryly, "You might as well say Franklin's still Franklin—unchanged for a hundred years, right?"
"Haha! Franklin is as old as this bank's history. Of course he doesn't change," the manager joked, brushing off the comment. Then he turned to Henry. "And who might this guest be?"
"This is Henry, one of old George's crew. He's here to cash a check."
"Welcome, welcome! Our bank is known for its great reputation and the most convenient services. Do you want to deposit the check into another account, or would you like to open an account here?"
Tom answered on Henry's behalf, "Cash. He wants to withdraw cash directly."
"If it's a cash withdrawal, the standard fee is 0.6%. Normally, it's 0.4%," the manager explained. "However, if you open an account with us, I can reduce the fee to 0.2%. Have you considered opening one?"
"He's got some incomplete documents," Tom said diplomatically. "But if you're willing to be flexible, we might consider other options." Then he turned to Henry. "What do you think?"
Though Tom had given Henry the full picture, including the potential workaround, he left the final decision to him. He also subtly signaled to the bank manager that there might be some non-compliant 'complications' and to be mentally prepared for them.
"I'll just take cash," Henry replied without much thought.
Understanding Tom's hint, the bank manager didn't press further. Doing things "off the books" might bring some personal commission, but now that the customer had made a decision, it was easier for everyone to stick to protocol and avoid trouble.
The bank manager's smile didn't fade. He pushed a polished wooden tray in front of Henry and said, "Please place your check here. I'll process your request immediately."
The speed of the operation surprised Henry. He had expected delays or stalling tactics—especially for such a large cash withdrawal.
Seeing Henry's surprise, Tom didn't even need to ask what he was thinking. He explained directly:
"During crab season, a lot of greenhorns cash out and vanish. So during this period, the bank stocks extra cash. No need to be surprised."
This also explained the presence of numerous armed security guards despite the bank being relatively small in size. Clearly, this wasn't their first rodeo.
Robbing the bank was definitely off the table—Henry wasn't about to risk everything when he had a legitimate path to earn money. So he calmly placed the check signed by old George onto the tray.
The bank manager glanced at the amount and asked, "Sir, you'd like to cash this check for eighty thousand dollars?"
"Yes."
"Very well, please wait a moment," he said and took the tray to begin processing the transaction.
Just then, a tall woman in black stockings entered the office, smiling politely. "Would the two of you like coffee or tea?"
"No third option?" Henry thought, slightly disappointed. Out loud, he said, "Coffee, thank you."
Tom waved off the offer and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bank manager's private liquor cabinet. He turned to Henry and asked, "Kid, are you legal yet?"
"What's the drinking age here?" Henry asked cautiously. Not being sure if the laws in this world matched his own memories, he decided it was better to double-check.
"Twenty-one."
"Ah, then coffee it is. Shame they don't have milk."
"Tsk. You're missing half the joys of life," Tom said, sipping his whiskey and settling back into the leather sofa.
"Alright, kid, spill it. How'd you end up on George's ship?"
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Is this some kind of background check? Who are you, CIA?"
Tom chuckled. "We've got time to kill. Unless you'd rather stare at me or admire this tacky office? I'll tell you right now, the paintings and decor in here aren't worth more than a hundred bucks combined."
Choosing not to argue about the office's taste level, Henry replied.
"I met the Polack at Old John's bar in the north. He introduced me to the ship. You know the place?"
"Old John? That grumpy WWII relic? Yeah, I know him. Comes from a family of patriots. He's the last one standing."
Henry decided to let that one go.
Tom pressed on. "George doesn't usually take an interest in greenhorns. What else happened?"
"There was a small incident on the ship. I helped solve it. Maybe George saw potential in me. I learn fast and work hard. The rest... well, you'd have to ask George himself."
"A little incident, huh," Tom murmured, not probing further.
Their conversation paused as the bank manager returned—this time with a larger tray piled high with cash. He placed it on the desk in front of Henry.
"After deducting the $480 handling fee, you're left with $79,520. Each bundle contains 100 hundred-dollar bills—there are seven full bundles. The rest I exchanged into smaller bills for convenience. Please confirm."
As he spoke, the receptionist returned with a banknote counting machine and a calculator. She ran all the bills through the machine, confirmed the total, and showed it to Henry.
Once she was done, Henry did a quick scan himself but didn't bother recounting everything by hand. He picked up a few bundles and flipped through them, feeling oddly indifferent about the whole thing.
Noticing Henry's dull reaction, the bank manager asked someone to bring a small bag.
"This bag is complimentary," he said with a warm smile, handing it over to help carry the money.
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