WAKING THE MAJORITY (Anonymous Justice Book 4)

by Boyd Craven Jr

  Anonymous Justice 4

  Waking

  The

  Majority

  Boyd Craven Jr

  Boyd Craven III

  The characters and circumstances in this story are a product of the authors’ imaginations, and represent no real person, living or dead. Any real public places or names are used only to build atmosphere for the reader’s mind.

  Copyright © 2016

  Boyd Craven, Jr.

  Boyd Craven, III

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this story may be reproduced in any way without prior written consent of the authors.

  Chapter 1

  TH Donald

  New York City

  Monday, June 15th, 2015

  “I have to do it this time, Victoria,” he told her as he re-tied the knot in his tie. He never seemed to get it right the first time. He hated that. It was one of the few things in his life that he hadn’t learned to get right on the first try. “These idiots running the show right now are driving this country straight to hell. Four more years of this and there may be no coming back from it! The world doesn’t look at America as the greatest country on Earth anymore. They don’t respect us. They don’t even like us; they just like our money that we throw at them. Money we don’t even have. It’s ridiculous!

  “The way I see it, 10 billion dollars is more than enough to last our whole family forever. Cripes, even 1 billion would. I know for sure that the kids can run the business without me while we’re out of the picture, and no doubt make even more. Besides, wouldn’t you like to be the First Lady of the United States? Think of it. You’d bring some serious class to the White House!” TH said as he lifted her chin ever so slightly. He stared into her eyes and saw acceptance, and then total support as she began to smile.

  “What would you do, my husband, to even begin to straighten out this mess?”

  Victoria’s Swedish accent had a way of making him smile every time he heard it. He loved that, and everything else about her. They’d been married just over ten years now, and TH had loved every day of it.

  “Ha! You didn’t think I had an absolute rock-solid plan for that before I ever seriously considered this? I’m hurt! Very deeply hurt,” he teased. “It’s incredibly detailed, and I’ve spent a great deal of time and money on it already. You know I spare no expense to surround myself with the smartest people in the world whenever I work on something. The whole theme of my campaign will be I’ll Make America Great Again!” He stretched out his arms, palms up, and lifted them as he said that. It created the impression that there was patriotic music playing in the background, and grand fireworks shooting.

  “You have this all written down, yes? Let me have a copy of this, so I know what my dearest husband is getting us into. This will be a very big job. Bigger than even you have done before, I think.”

  “Of course. I’ll print you a highlights version right now. The detailed version would take you a month to read. Basically, I’ll bring my leadership abilities, my business experience, and a whole bunch of common sense to the table. That’s what we’re sorely lacking here; leadership and common sense. This bunch throws money out the window without regard. They have no respect for it, because they didn’t earn it. Whenever they start running low on it, they just print some more. It’s ridiculous, I tell ya.

  “We have name recognition already working for us. Everyone knows the Donald name. Everything we do, they know will be the best in the world. They don’t even have to think about it. It’s going to be a huge success. I just have to do something. I just do. You go ahead and look at that while you have your coffee. I have to be downstairs in ten minutes for a lunch meeting. I’ll be back up here about six this evening, and we can go to dinner.”

  ***

  “No disrespect intended, Mr. Donald, but you announced your intentions of running for President eight years ago, and then, as history has it, you backed down. Don’t you think that people will remember that? Don’t you think that would work against you? Hey, I’m just playing devil’s advocate here, but I think it might be a thing,” Sera Murdoch said, in her blunt, good-natured way.

  Donald gave her his stern, over the glasses look, except he didn’t have any on. “You know, young lady, if your father was here, he wouldn’t just blurt out rude, obnoxious stuff like that! No, of course, I don’t think… What?”

  Chuckles had erupted all around him. Sera found something interesting on her plate to stare at, trying her best not to crack right up. Even Donald’s daughter Elise, who was seated next to Sera, came close to blowing milk through her nose.

  “She got you, Daddy! You’ve been had, fair and square. I’m sure you’ve heard the story about the pot calling the kettle black? Um… Yeah.”

  “Ye who art famous for getting defensive and blowing your top should be more careful than to say such things, TH!” Mr. Bloomberg chortled, pointing one finger into the air, doing his infamous Moses imitation.

  “All right, all right. I’m not that bad, and you all know it,” he grumbled.

  “Right,” Sera whispered loudly, just behind her wine glass, then took a sip.

  Donald gave her the stern look again, but everyone knew there was nothing to it. He used that look on people that were intimidated by him, to gain an edge while he thought. Sera wasn’t .

  “We all know that having one of our business minds in the Oval Office is the only way out of the financial mess that this administration has put this country in,” Mr. Paulson stated. “Mr. Donald has accepted the challenge. We’re here today to share what the rest of us have decided, and discuss whatever comes of it. What say you, Miss Donald?”

  “Oh, no way I compete against Daddy. I’m smarter than that!”

  All eyes turned to Sera.

  “If we’re going to run a second candidate, it’d be way easier for any of you, than for me. There’s already been enough sparring over the natural born citizen rule with the knucklehead that’s in there now. Even though both her and Dad have dual citizenships, Mum pushed me out in Australia. I’m always going to be seen as an Aussie.”

  Mr. Paulson and Mr. Donald looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and shook their heads, to the amusement of everyone else.

  “What?” Sera asked, smiling. “Does anyone else wanna have a go at it too, or should we all just get behind Mr. TH Donald and give him a push?”

  Donald looked down into his gold-rimmed cup of steaming hot coffee thoughtfully but didn’t say anything. ‘C’mon you guys! You know I love a challenge,’ he thought.

  “I don’t believe I will this time,” Mr. Giuliani announced.

  All heads turned to Mr. Faber. “No,” was all he said.

  “I gave it a lot of thought, I’ll admit, but I think not,” Mr. Bloomberg concluded.

  “I haven’t the energy,” Mr. Paulson admitted. “Warren and Bill are both away today, but they have both asked me to share with you all that they must decline as well. So that’s it then. It looks like we all get behind TH, as Miss Murdoch so eloquently suggested.”

  The waiter, sensing an opportunity, approached. “More wine? Spirits? Perhaps some coffee?” he asked, as his assistant cleared away empty dishes quietly. He looked from face to face of the seven people seated at one end of a table for twenty, memorizing their replies. As he moved away to fill their drink orders, conversation resumed at the table.

  This gathering of philanthropic friends, dubbed the ‘League of Extraordinary Minds’ by TH Donald, included some of the richest, most powerful and influential people in America. Today they were at Donald Headquarters, located right on Wall Street. The
building housed Donald’s main corporate offices, the Dining Room, where they were then, and his lavish penthouse. Many a huge deal had been made in that very room. Donald used it for business and graciously allowed any of the ‘League’ to use it too, to entertain guests of their own for ‘meant to impress’ business meetings. Totally private, but oozing opulence, it did just that.

  “Changing the subject for just a moment if I may; while I have you cornered Mr. Paulson, if the Federal Reserve were actually foolish enough to lower short-term interest rates again like they’re talking about and drop them into negative territory, what effect would that have on manufacturing, for example?” Mr. Faber asked.

  Everyone looked on politely.

  “One only has to look at Japan over the last decade for that answer, David. When they sell their product, they have only two choices for what to do with the money received. They can either put it in a bank until they need it again in a few days or weeks, and actually get charged a fee for its safekeeping, or they can immediately put it back into raw materials, which they turn into more inventory. Inventory, they can safely hold themselves. Let me ask you, just for fun Mr. Faber, what would you do?”

  Faber smiled, sensing a trap. “That’s a no-brainer. I’d put it back into raw materials again. That’s what any smart business mind would do, right? No way am I going to pay someone to hold my money! And, by the way, whatever happened to my getting paid interest for letting the bank use my money to lend out overnight, or short-term?”

  “What happened indeed? And you’re right, of course. That’s the only choice that makes sense at negative rates. That choice, however, has hidden consequences. In manufacturing, there is a supply chain. Think of a smaller business that adds value to copper by making specialty wire out of it, which they then sell wholesale to another company that builds the backup cameras that go into every new automobile made in the United States. When they sell those backup cameras to the automotive assembly company, they are faced with the same two choices. Bank or inventory. They choose inventory, too. Before long, the entire supply chain is sitting on maybe two hundred days of inventory, the value of which begins to exceed the insurance coverage that they can hold on it. At that point, everything stops, and everyone lays off workers until they need them again to build more inventory. Maybe in one hundred and twenty days. What are the workers supposed to do? They quit spending money, that’s what. They don’t put whatever cash they have in a bank, knowing that there’s going to be a fee for keeping it safe. Now, there is a shortage of dollars for the banks to lend to other businesses or individuals. This creates an almost inescapable problem, so the Fed, in all its wisdom, prints more money to make available for the banks to loan out, to ‘stimulate’ the economy. They actually pay them to do it. This practice would most certainly have to come to an end, one way or another. Most likely disastrously.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Donald spouted in disgust. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Nobody wins like that. We have to start winning again, people!”

  “Watch how well it works for Europe,” Paulson muttered. “They’ll be doing it by year end. Before then, my guess is that the UK bails on the EU. Others that use it will bail on the Euro. That’ll be messy.”

  The waiter returned with a tray of drinks, both hot and cold. The seven became quiet, and all smiles as the drinks were served, all perfectly created and exactly as requested. No mistakes. Never any mistakes. Donald’s son Brandon found only the best of the best to fill each staff position at their signature properties and hired them. When he was sure that the employee performed his or her duties flawlessly, he promoted them to ‘trainer’, gave them a raise, and hired them an assistant to train. That duplicated perfection and standardized operating procedures. That concept, his father had assured him, was the ultimate in efficiency. If one operates efficiently, one can afford to pay their help very well and still remain profitable. That, he had discovered on his own, created loyalty. Once loyalty is assured, one can move on to the next thing, and the next, never worrying about what’s happening behind him.

  “And what effect does that have on the US dollar?” asked Sera Murdoch. “Our bloody Australian dollar is pegged to it, you know.”

  “It would dilute its value, if it represented anything tangible, of course. Since it’s fiat currency, the US Federal Reserve is responsible for keeping the total number of dollars in circulation equal to the size of the US economy. If they print more than that, they make the buying power of the dollar less. That’s what’s called inflation. If, on the other hand, they take out more dollars than the size of the economy, it gives the dollar more buying power. That’s called deflation,” Paulson explained.

  “So that’s why the current administration wants to keep growing the population, right? The more people here, legal or not, the bigger the economy is, and the more money they can print,” she said. “Now that makes sense.”

  “And borrowing money to give them free stuff, to entice more to come, gives them a reason to print even more,” Faber mused.

  “Theoretically,” Paulson replied. “The problem comes about when other countries begin to doubt whether the United States could really keep their promise to redeem that many dollars.”

  Sera turned to Elise and whispered, “These men may go on all evening about this now, and I may just die of boredom!” Her eyes did an exaggerated partial roll. Enough to convey her message.

  Elise, being Donald’s right hand, Vice President and CFO of the family empire, and controlling many billions of the very dollars that ‘these men’ were discussing, could ‘go on’ all evening with the best of them. She figured, however, that being the only other female present, that she should entertain Sera. After all, Sera’s father happened to be the world’s most powerful media tycoon, so she had attended today for a reason. She had an agenda of her own.

  “Daddy,” Elise said quietly, when a natural break in the conversation allowed, “please excuse us. I think I’ll show Sera around a bit. Downstairs?”

  Donald nodded once, only his eyes questioning that decision, and then he turned back to the conversation.

  “I believe I can fix that,” she said to Sera, standing.

  Sera, following her lead, stood, and they both very gracefully took their leave.

  Chapter 2

  Elise Donald

  New York City

  Monday, June 15th, 2015

  “I’ve got something cool to show you, if you can handle some stairs,” Elise offered.

  “Oh heck yeah? I’m younger than you are!” Sera teased. “No elevator, aye?”

  “Not where we’re going,” Elise whispered, “and you’re only three weeks younger!”

  “Why are we whispering?” Sera whispered back.

  “Because it’s a secret, silly! You have to promise to keep my secret.”

  “Absolutely!” Sera agreed. ‘Secrets are always more fun than a bunch of old guys talking about money. My father does enough of that,’ she thought.

  Elise led Sera back towards the elevator, but turned left instead, into the ladies room, directly in front of it. A few steps inside, she stopped, and waited for the door to finish closing.

  “What a beautiful loo,” Sera said, politely. “Did you decorate this yourself?” ‘What’s so secret about a ladies’ room?’ she wondered.

  “Yes.”

  Next to the green Italian leather sofa with a plush white rug beneath it, an entire section of the wall was covered by a finely crafted, built-in mahogany bookcase. Three sections of shelves were separated by two ornately carved, gold leaf gilded pillars. The shelves of each held various framed family-type pictures, books, magazines, and knick-knacks. Elise walked directly to it, and lifted a cut stone bookend slightly until there was a click. She put the forefinger of her other hand to her smiling lips, signaling Sera not to let loose a squeal or anything. Then she pushed the middle section of the bookcase backward, slightly further than the depth of the other two, and
shoved it to the left with one hand. It appeared really heavy, but she moved it with ease until it was entirely behind the one in front of it.

  Sera was all smiles. Doing her best to suppress a giggle, she followed Elise into the well-lit space behind it. The walls were smooth and shiny and painted a very light shade of gray. There was a single metal bar, painted a vivid yellow, blocking the walkway. She stopped at it, trying to peer into the darkness that was beyond it, while Elise put the bookshelf back.

  “What is this?” Sera asked.

  “Not many people know it, but we have a self-contained ‘panic’ bunker here in a sub-basement level. It’s for our family, our staff on site, and any guests present here should there be any kind of threat, be it natural, or man-made. New York is just too much of a terrorist target these days.”

  Sera watched as Elise squeezed the yellow bar on its underside with her thumb, near the hinged end. It clicked softly, and the dark space behind it lit up. Elise lifted the bar up from the opposite end, allowing the girls to walk past it, before lowering it back down.

  Before her, Sera saw a big square elevator shaft looking hole in the floor, with a rounded stairway, painted that same yellow, that spiraled downwards. It was attached to each outside wall solidly, everywhere it touched. There was also a steel arch from the outside of a stair wherever it touched the wall, supporting the outside of the steps. That left a large circular hole directly down the middle. Above, a large red tube shaped dumbwaiter hung from a cable reel, which obviously could be lowered down the center. Elise took a remote control off its holder on the wall as she came to it, and led the way down the stairs.

  “What’s that for?” Sera asked. Oh crap. That’s a lot of stairs!

  “The dumbwaiter. This is the only way to work it. If I take the remote down with me, nobody up here can raise or lower it. It’s a safety thing. This stairwell travels from here all the way down to the bunker, with no opening in between. It’s totally invisible to anywhere else in the building, and it’s not even on the blueprints. It’d be hard for someone to find, even if they knew to look for it. I mean, let’s face it, it’s not like men hang out in the ladies room, and for some reason, very few women come to the Dining Room.”