I slid the cashier’s check and my military ID card across the smooth marble counter.

“I need these funds verified,” I said.

The teller picked up the heavy paper and entered the routing number into her terminal.

Her keys clicked in a quick, practiced rhythm.

“Just a moment, please,” she said.

She lifted a black telephone receiver and dialed a four-digit extension.

I watched her lips moving silently behind the thick bulletproof glass.

She nodded twice, pressed a button, and hung up.