End of the World

by D Thomas Jewett

  Tim was well-adapted to the jungle of New York City, and despite his soft features – his round chin and thin lips – he had a hard edge to him. The way he carried himself, the way he moved with his quick strides, his steel blue eyes – Tim was a survivor.

  He strode up to his desk.

  “Hey Tim!”

  Tim glanced over to the next desk. Lori Fellows was there, wrinkling her nose and smiling back at him.

  “Hey, Squirt. What's up?” He replied in his New York accent. Gawd how I love her hair. If only she would lose some weight!

  “Don’t call me that!”

  Tim laughed. “You know I’m just joking, don’t you?”

  “Oh. Well, sure silly – I know you’re joking.” She paused and then continued. “But I still don’t like that name.”

  “Okay.” He smiled at her and then continued. “So how are you doing today, Lori?”

  “Fine,” she said with a coy expression. And then she turned to her workstation and tapped on the keyboard. “But the market's not doing so hot.”

  “Oh? How bad?”

  “Futures[11] are down about 250,” she replied. She snapped her head, flicking her fiery red hair out of her eyes.

  “Hmmm,” Tim mumbled as he frowned. This market is getting to be more and more of a roller coaster. “Well. If the futures are any guide (and they often are!), we'll see a down day in the stock market.” He paused and then asked, “Is there any particular stock in trouble?”

  “Yeah. “Bear Stearns is not doing well.” And then she turned to face Tim. “Again.”

  “What's the news with them?”

  “Well, the news is just the same old stuff. You know – problems with sub prime[12] mortgages and all of that.” And then she leaned over and began to whisper, “but rumor has it they're having trouble raising enough cash for their next day operations. I heard it was grim last night. Very, very grim,” she looked knowingly at Tim.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She was still whispering. “There's also a rumor that Jorday is gonna buy 'em!”

  “Holy shit!” Tim was speechless. He knew that Bear Stearns was in trouble. But he didn't think their decline would move this fast. Especially since no buyer had had enough time to inspect Bear's books.

  Tim ran his hand through his straight brown hair. He whispered, “where did you hear about the AB Jorday piece?”

  “I got all of this from Sylvia. But she told me not to tell anyone.” And then she looked at Tim, her red eyelashes blinking over her green eyes. “You're not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

  “Naw. You know me better than that, don't you?”

  Lori rubbed her hands together. “I know you won't tell; but I had to ask.”

  Lori turned back to her keyboard and began her day's work.

  * * * * *

  The Chairman was busy at his desk when the intercom buzzed. He pressed a button on the device. “Yes Carol?”

  “Excuse me, sir. But Mr. Turin is on the telephone and wants to speak with you.”

  “Thanks, Carol. Please put him through.”

  With that, his telephone rang – he put it on speaker phone.

  “Hey Tom. How are you doing?”

  “Fine, Ethan. Fine.” And then he continued in his soft voice. “Ethan, something's come up that we need to talk.”

  “Oh? What's that?”

  “It's Bear Stearns. You know – Jorday's two dollar per share offer?”

  “Yes – what about it?”

  “Well – Jorday is getting a lot of push back on it – it seems that Bear's shareholders are up in arms, and –”

  Just then, the intercom buzzed.

  “Excuse me, Tom. Can you hang on a bit?” Then Ethan spoke into the intercom. “Carol?”

  “Pardon me sir. I would not normally bother you when you're on the telephone. But Secretary Simmons is here for your two-o'clock.”

  “That's okay Carol. Please send him in.”

  “Ethan spoke into the speakerphone. “If you can hang on a bit, Pete is coming in for our two-o'clock. All three of us can talk about it.”

  “Okay.”

  A moment later, the Secretary walked through the Chairman's door. “Hi Pete. How goes it?”

  “Fine. Just fine.” The Secretary moved toward the bar.

  “I've got Tom on the telephone. We're talking about Bear.” Ethan said.

  “Oh?” Pete's eyebrows raised. And then he spoke into the speakerphone. “Hi Tom. How goes it?”

  “Good, Pete. And you?”

  “Oh,” Pete sighed as he poured a drink from the bar, “we have our days.” He paused and then continued. “So what do we have here?”

  Tom replied. “Well – Jorday is getting a lot of push back on the two-dollars per share offer. It – it seems that Bear's shareholders are up in arms – and – hell, it's all over the media that Jorday is trying to rape 'em with a low-ball offer.”

  “Well, it's nice to see the media telling the truth for once.” Ethan paused and sighed. “So, what do you want to do?”

  “Screw 'em!” Pete's features hardened as he took a swig of his drink. “I think these bastards need to pay for the problems they've created. Not just for their balance sheet problems – but also for not stepping up to bail out LTCM. Hell. Some of us lost a lot of money in that deal!”

  “I agree,” Ethan raised his glass, “they need to be taught a lesson about capitalism[13]. If they're not willing to stand with us when times get tough, then we'll eat 'em – alive.”

  The three continued talking for some time and came to an agreement to push the two-dollar per share deal. Then after Tom dropped off the line, Pete and Ethan continued their discussion ...

  “So, what do you want to do about gold and silver prices?” Pete asked.

  Ethan turned and looked at Pete as he sipped his drink. “Don't worry. We're doing everything we can. We'll just have to make it work.”

  * * *

  Whew! That's the last of the pending orders, Tim thought. Time for some coffee. His shoulders stiff and tight, he picked up his coffee cup and made his way through the chaos to the break room. Damn! I hate this noise. I wish they'd stop yelling!

  Lori was in the break room when he walked in. He poured some coffee as he said, “Hey Lori. What's the word?”

  Lori's eyes lit up as she turned and crinkled her nose. “Hey Tim.” And then she paused, looking at his trousers. “What happened to you?”

  “Aw, I spilt some coffee.” He took a sip of his coffee and looked down. “Shit. I don't know if this stain will ever come out!”

  “I hear the world's coming to an end tonight,” Lori said.

  “Really?” Tim replied. “Oh – you're not serious – too bad!”

  Tim relaxed and looked over at her smiling face. I just love her face. She's hot. And I think she likes me!

  “So what's the word?” Tim asked as he continued wiping. “Hear any more about Bear?”

  Lori sipped on her coffee, her full lips leaving a blush-colored lipstick mark on the rim. “I hear that AB Jorday is offering two bucks a share – but that's just rumor.”

  “Two bucks?” Tim was still brushing his trousers. “What a slap in the face to the shareholders.”

  “Yeah. I know,” Lori seemed subdued. “My Dad – he's into Bear's stock at ninety a share.”

  “Oh my God!” Tim was at a loss for words.

  Lori continued. “He was counting on it to help fund their retirement. Of course, they hold other stocks as well – but this makes it tougher on them.”

  “Didn't you tell 'em to get out of it? To get out of all the financial stocks?”

  “Yeah. But you know how parents are. They don't listen to me.”

  “Is he getting out now?”

  “He told me he was getting out as fast as he can.”

  “Oh man! I hope he can get out of the Bear stock with some skin left.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” Lori's eyes were sad as she looked into Tim's. “Me too ...”
/>
  * * * * *

  Chairman Cohan's intercom buzzed. The Chairman pressed a button on the device. “Yes, Carol?”

  “Excuse me sir. But you have a 3:30 telephone conference with Mr. Turin and Mr. Simmons. I've already dialed you into the conference bridge.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Ethan hit a button on his speakerphone. “Gentlemen! How goes it?”

  They exchanged greetings. And then the Chairman led the conversation, “So, where do we stand with Bear?”

  Thomas Turin's soft voice came on the line. “Jorday screwed it up and Bear’s CEO gave them an ultimatum – not less than ten bucks a share.”

  Pete's hard voice came on the line. “Thomas – how'd they screw up?”

  Thomas' soft voice said, “Jorday pledged to finance Bear Stearns' trades for a year – even if Bear's shareholders reject the deal.”

  Pete's voice came on. “Aw shit!”

  Silence.

  Ethan broke the silence. “So what does Bear want?”

  Thomas answered. “The word is that Bear will not accept less than ten a share.”

  Pete's voice shouted out of the speaker. “Damn it! We're gonna look like we're bailing out the shareholders!”

  The Chairman could feel Pete stew at the other end of the line. He interrupted the tension. “Thomas – what do you recommend?”

  Thomas' soft voice came back on. “I suggest we structure the deal at ten.”

  “Pete. What do you want to do?” The Chairman asked.

  “Aw shit! I don't like it. This is gonna look bad!” Pete replied.

  “Pete? What do you want to do?” The Chairman asked again.

  “Okay. Let's do it at ten. But we’ll have to get some funding from the ESF – Exchange Stabilization Fund.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s just a slush fund – so we can finance the deal.”

  “Okay. Then ten it is,” the Chairman chimed into the speaker. “And gentlemen. Congratulations on a very well executed takedown.”

  Interlude

  The chamber walls extended beyond the reach of the subdued lighting, making the chamber an indeterminate size. There was a wall more visible than the others – built of logs stacked one upon another, as though part of a log cabin. And embedded in the log wall, there was a massive stone fireplace. With fire blazing and heat emanating outward, the fire's warmth engulfed five plush leather chairs, all arranged in a semicircle and facing into the fire.

  But what of illumination? Ahhh ... a glance through the windows revealed only the darkness of night. And so if one looked upward, one could make out only shadows floating above the chamber. Weaved from wispy strands of smoke and illuminated by the dancing flames, the shadows obscured what ‘might be’ a vaulted ceiling above.

  In each of the five chairs was seated a man. And each man was dressed in the casual attire of a woodsman. But the attire belied their physical appearance, for each man was old, soft, and wrinkled. And several were fat! But each man nonetheless leaned back in his chair, enjoying a fine cigar and a snifter of very old, very rare brandy. And the cigar smoke rose, wafting into the air, merging with its brethren to create still more wispy strands of smoky shadows.

  The leader, an older man among older men – a wizened face of keen intellect and with graying hair, was joyful and expansive in his celebration. He drew on his cigar and exhaled into the air. And then, his cold gray eyes sought out each man in turn. “Ah, gentlemen – gentlemen!” He smiled broadly. “Our plan is on track. My dear colleagues, this is a truly fine piece of work.”

  With a smile on his face, each man emitted a glow of satisfaction.

  Lord Basil, their leader, continued. “I propose a toast – le’chaim – to all of us.”

  “Le’chaim” the chorus replied in unison, as they lifted their glasses in salute, and then to their lips.

  “Now, gentlemen,” the Lord resumed speaking in his deep, raspy voice, “it is time to assess our status on the final phase of our plan – our plan for undisputed control of the world.”

  Lord Basil then pushed a button on the intercom next to him. Speaking into it, he said, “Daniel, please come in.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  The door at the far end of the room opened. In walked a tall, dark, lanky man with graying hair. The man walked up to the circle, and bowed to the gathering of men.

  His hard-set jaw seemed barely to move as he said, “Hello gentlemen.”

  The men returned his nod, even as Lord Basil's eyes met Daniel’s squinted gaze. “Thank you for coming over to talk with us, Daniel.”

  “I serve at your convenience, My Lord.” Daniel Elsbach nodded again.

  “First,” Lord Basil continued, “what say you about gold?”

  “Well sir. We have attacked the gold price on two fronts.” Daniel took a deep breath and then continued. “First, we have enlisted Joshua Lindt, a specialist in commodities trading, and placed him at AB Jorday. As you know, Jorday is one of our major players in commodities manipulation. And without question, he has succeeded in driving the price of gold lower – and he’s kept it low over a very long period of time.”

  “Splendid. Splendid,” Lord Basil replied. “And the other front?”

  “We have manufactured 1.3 million gold plated tungsten bars and sold them into the market. With most of the bars being placed in GLD[14]. This, My Lord, has further driven down the price of gold with no one being any the wiser.”

  “Wonderful. Simply wonderful,” Lord Basil pulled on his cigar, sending a stream of smoke into the air.

  Daniel continued speaking. “As you know, my Lord, this has allowed us to print vast sums of paper money and other financial instruments – much of it for the purpose of waging war, buying the votes of politicians, and ensuring a continuing stream of wealth for the world-wide banking sector.

  “Is there any other information you seek, My Lord?”

  “No, Daniel,” Lord Basil replied. “But at this time the Council recognizes that all of the preconditions are in place for the planned economic crisis. The Council now requests that you fully engage the process of economic crisis and decline. Please do so immediately.”

  “Your request is my command,” Daniel bowed.

  “You may go, Daniel.”

  Daniel Elsbach’s long strides took him quickly out of the chamber. The door closed behind him.

  Julius leaned forward in his chair and began speaking. “We are clearly enjoying great success with our manipulation of the money, Lord Basil. By keeping the price of gold depressed, we are able to print ever larger amounts of money to fund our wars and our foreign policy – Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan. And soon, Libya, Iran ... These are the only central banks that stand against us – but we shall have control of them all!”

  Lord Basil chortled and then began speaking. “Yes, my friend Julius. Soon, we shall destroy the world economy. Entire populations shall die from starvation, from disease, from pestilence and war. And with their suffering, the unwashed rabble will beg us – BEG US, mind you – for a one-world order. And in the fulfillment of their wish, the borders of nations shall disappear – and we shall stand as undisputed rulers of the world!”

  Lord Basil raised his glass and pronounced, “le’chaim!”

  And the chorus responded, “le’chaim!”

  Chapter 3 – March, 2008

  The Chairman of the Federal Reserve held the telephone handset up to his ear.

  “Yes sir,” he said. “Absolutely.”

  And then there was a pause as he listened.

  “Of course, sir. We already have begun the process under that premise – that it will require a few years before the full effects of the crisis are felt.”

  He paused again, listening.

  “Yes, Mr. Elsbach, I will attend to it right away.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Ethan replaced the handset on its cradle. Leaning back in his chair, the Chairman inhaled deeply from his cigar. He watched the cigar smo
ke as it flowed out his lungs and into the air. I think I'll have a drink. He went over to the bar and smiled as he poured a double of his twenty-five year old scotch. Power does have its perks, he reflected.

  The intercom buzzed, waking the Chairman from his self-reflection.

  “Mr. Chairman?”

  “Yes Carol.”

  “I have Mr. Turin on the line.”

  “I'll pick it up. Thanks Carol.”

  The Chairman pressed a button on his speakerphone.

  “Tom.”

  “Hey, Ethan. What's goin' on?”

  “Not much, just thinking about what's coming down and how we can make ourselves look like heroes. What's up?”

  “Well, I got the ball rolling this morning. Our traders figure the problems will become more and more apparent during the next few months. Pretty much they are all synchronized to fall about the same time.”

  “Lehman? Merrill? AIG? WaMu? Wachovia?”

  “Yup. They're all on the table – ready to be carved up.”

  “Great! Keep me posted.”

  “Oh, I'll keep you posted all right. But if everything goes off as planned, you'll be watching it on TV.”

  “Okay, Tom. Thanks.”

  The Chairman took a long sip on his glass, letting the taste and texture of the smooth old scotch settle on his palette. He swallowed.

  * * * * *

  Tall and willowy, Sheryl Barclay was born and raised in the Seattle, Washington area – a bastion of liberalism. And as a graduate of the University of Washington, she put her Communications degree to good use, advancing the cause of liberalism through her support for the more left-leaning politicians. She believed in the justices – social justice, environmental justice. And she felt it was important to promote her beliefs, which is why she worked in Washington D.C. as a staff member for the ultra-liberal Senator Bannister.