“But none of that was your fault,” Marchand said.
“Sure,” Frank replied, “but all in all, this was a huge black eye for First Manhattan. BankCoin was the CEO’s big, shiny idea to begin with, and I was his big, shiny BankCoin security geek. So – big surprise – he was canned. So were most of the other employees most strongly identified with BankCoin. Including me, since I was so visible. You may recall they were trotting me around for months as the public face of BankCoin cybersecurity.”
“Still, that seems harsh,” George said. “You didn’t design the system, and you were the one that pulled their chestnuts out of the fire – it would have been an unmitigated disaster without that.”
“Yeah, well, there was also the fact I hadn’t blended in much as a senior management executive, if you can imagine that. So, nobody had my back. I expect when you guys cracked the NASLA ring last week it left the bank feeling a lot safer, too, as backwards as that may sound given the Crypto attack. But that’s all good and I can’t complain. They bought out my contract, so I got paid for two years even though I only put in a little over six months of work. And who knows, maybe someday, First Manhattan’s stock will come back, and my options will be worth a bundle. Frankly, I’m happy to be home again.”
“Not going to miss the high life in the big city?”
“I guess it was kind of fun for a while – the town cars and fancy apartment and a couple times even a trip on a private jet – that was pretty cool. But it just wasn’t me. I’m glad I sampled it, and I’m glad to be done with it.” He was also relieved he’d been able to return the furniture that had looked so ridiculous in his Washington digs once it was delivered. What had he been thinking? And Fang was back! Whoever Dirk had hired to do his dirty work must have hung a road kill carcass outside Frank’s condo.
“So, anyway, enough about me, as they say,” Frank said. “What has anyone found out about Dirk?”
“Everything the résumé the bank had on file checked out as accurate, except for his name. Double Stanford graduate, lots of Silicon Valley experience, and so on. That was all legit. It’s when you go deeper that things start to get interesting and a bit tragic. It turns out he grew up in East Germany, not Denmark. His father was pretty high up in the Stasi, the state security apparatus. When the wall crumbled, so did their fortunes. His father ended up ratting out Stasi and Soviet secrets to the CIA, got the family relocated to the US, and then promptly died, leaving Dirk and his mother – he was an only child of about fifteen then – alone in a strange country. His mother was a recluse for the rest of her life. She was Dirk’s only relative in the States and died a while back.”
“But how does that turn someone into an anarchist bent on sending the developed world back into the financial stone age?” Frank asked.
“I don’t think we’ll ever have the entire answer to that,” Marchand said. “The most helpful thing the police found in his room was a diary he kept religiously over the years. It appears he was a high-functioning schizoaffective disorder sufferer since his college days – more delusional than crazy in the conventional sense. Or, to put it another way, the problem wasn’t so much that his thinking was irrational. The big problem was that the foundations of his reasoning were unsound.”
“I never would have guessed,” Frank said. “He always seemed pretty normal to me, at least for a programmer.”
“That part isn’t surprising,” Marchand said. “It looks like his meds worked pretty well for him most of the time. The forensic psychiatrist who reviewed the diary concluded he got too self-confident, though. It turns out he was managing his own dosages and probably never realized it when his grip on reality started sliding.”
“That explains part of it,” Frank said. “But not how he expected to pull off something so crazily ambitious. Are you sure he was acting alone? It must have cost a bundle just to put that fake penthouse apartment together.”
“Oh, money wasn’t a problem – it turns out he struck it rich on a startup he once worked at and had over ten million dollars salted away in index funds. And he never spent anything on himself. Did you know that the whole time he was working for the bank he was living in a rented room? Besides a lot of computer equipment, there was practically nothing in it except a bed, a dresser, a chair – and get this – an exercise bicycle.”
“But still,” Frank asked, “how did he imagine he was going to take over the world? Did he really think everyone would turn into an anarchist overnight and overthrow their government just because some wild-eyed geek appeared out of nowhere on their computer screen yammering about overthrowing the established order?”
“That part’s a little pathetic,” George said. “It turns out Dirk was the head of a secretive group of internet anarchists we’ve monitored for years but never took seriously. He’d enlisted eleven other true believers to become what he called his general staff. They were each responsible for an individual country or region, or a central duty, like communications.”
“What’s the pathetic part?” Frank asked.
“Dirk apparently believed his staff had signed up thousands of followers, spread out across the world, all of them waiting for the moment when Dirk would do something – he never shared with them exactly what – to take down the financial world order. He’d been marshalling his forces for almost ten years, or at least so he thought. In fact, all he’d recruited was a bunch of dreamers, fanatics, and fools. A couple of them pulled together a few other folks under them, but for most of his so-called general staff, it was more like an online game of Dungeons and Dragons than a real-world plan to bring about an anarchic Armageddon.”
“That is kind of sad,” Frank said, remembering Dirk’s earnest, bulging eyes and complete confidence in whatever he said and did.
“And here’s another interesting thing we learned from the diary,” George continued. “After a while, Dirk started thinking he was Satoshi Nakamoto. It’s clear he wasn’t, because in earlier entries, he’s wondering who Nakamoto might be, just like everyone else was back then. But it looks as if he really was Lupanov, the guy behind the Russ blockchain, as well as Schwert. Too bad for the Ruskies they didn’t have someone like you working for them.”
“So,” Frank said, “when the dust settles, I guess the only country that got creamed was Russia, right?”
“You bet,” George said. “We’re still reading the tea leaves, but we figure over a trillion dollars’ worth of Russ was in circulation before Dirk blew it up, and that’s all gone. That sent the value of the ruble down by more than thirty-five percent in less than a week. Between that, the low price of oil, and the collapse of the Kremlin’s global trade channel for embargoed goods, Russia is effectively bankrupt, just as Dirk predicted. It gives me the willies when I watch the news from over there, what with the food riots, martial law, and worse – that could have been us, too. The Russian foreign and finance ministers are meeting in secret with our folks and representatives of Germany, France, and England right now, basically begging for mercy.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard anything about that,” Frank said.
“No, and you didn’t hear it from me either, so keep it under your hat. Yazzi’s no fool. He knows he’ll get more out of the Russian president if he doesn’t humiliate him publicly. But don’t be surprised if a major nonaggression treaty between Russia and the West is announced within a few weeks. In return, all the sanctions will be lifted and the price of oil will be allowed to float again.”
“How about the Russ?” Frank asked. “Will the Russians try to revive that?”
“From what I’m hearing, no, that’s gone for good. The Kremlin figured out that when the roof caved in they owed vendors more in cash than vendors owed them in goods. They’re abandoning the whole mess.”
“Wow – it’s good there was a ban on investing in the Russ. Otherwise investors would have lost a fortune.”
“Some did, anyway,” M
archand said, “A lot of people set up offshore shell companies to keep investing. It looks as if something like a hundred billion dollars in Russ was held that way when it crashed. And that’s not the end of it. As a good faith gesture to kick-start the negotiations, the Russians turned over the names of everyone in the United States who directly or indirectly bought or held on to Russ after the sanctions went into effect. Anyone on that list should be looking forward to some significant jail time.”
* * *
Josh Peabody stared at the dark screen of the Bloomberg terminal in his home office. There wasn’t any point in turning it on, he reflected bitterly. The law firm representing the CryptoBoom! investors in their civil suit had placed a lien on everything he owned. And a judge had granted the injunction requested by the Securities and Exchange Commission to bar him from trading until his criminal trial was over.
There wasn’t any point in looking at his phone, either. He hadn’t received a text or email he wanted to read since his world blew up.
When you boiled it all down, the single piece of communications equipment still relevant to him was the ankle bracelet ensuring the only place he’d be leaving his house for was jail. The only question was when.
No wonder this country was in such a terrible state. If this was the reward for financial innovation, well, this country might as well just hang it up.
* * *
The meeting of the National Security Council was over, but President Yazzi lingered, alone, after shooing even Carson Bekin out the door. Sitting there in the room where so many other presidents had made fateful decisions always humbled him. Would he measure up the next time his turn came around?
Staring at the empty chairs, he replayed the events surrounding the Russian crisis as they had unfolded. He was profoundly grateful he’d been spared the need to launch his attack against the Russ. It wasn’t often fate intervened to spare the Decider from his duty to make a choice. Magnus’s successful attack against the Russian economy had been an unexpected stroke of luck, and Yazzi would choose luck over action every time.
* * *
Filitov lifted the kettle from the hotplate in RussCoin’s former world headquarters and poured the steaming water over the tea leaves in the china pot. It was one of the few household possessions he’d insisted on keeping after the divorce. He did enjoy a good cup of tea.
His small office hadn’t changed visibly, but everything else had. There was no longer any Russ Project, no RussCoin company, not even any Russ. It was regrettable. But the office lease was paid though the end of the year, and old habits die hard.
He wondered what poor Ustinov was up to. He had been such an earnest young fellow. The country needed more bureaucrats like him. Now it would need to manage with one fewer.
He’d heard that FSS superintendent was gone, too – Shukov – that was his name. Rumor had it the FSS director supervising the Russ Project had successfully laid the blame for the whole fiasco on him. Hopefully, the poor fellow had friends in high places to take care of him. If not, well, life in public service could be unjust.
Yes, it was all regrettable. But there would be other opportunities. The world was always adopting new technologies before it learned how to protect itself against them. It was good to be in a growth business.
He looked at his watch. Ah! Ten o’clock! Time to celebrate another day.
He set his cup down and returned to the table with a bottle and a spotty glass. Tea was all very nice, of course, but vodka was better.
* * *
Ruth Kim was one of the few bank employees on the BankCoin security team to come out of the incident well. She’d received a promotion. With Magnus gone, the IT department couldn’t afford to lose someone who understood the system almost as well as he had. And they didn’t even know the whole story, she thought. She had been under strict orders from Ryan Clancy, the person she’d been covertly reporting to at the FBI, to call him immediately if she heard from Frank after he disappeared. If she hadn’t stood by Frank instead, the FBI would likely have seized him outside the bank. Then Dirk would have had time to destroy the last copy of BankCoin. She’d miss Frank. A lot.
Audrey Addams was also a beneficiary; although in her dour way of looking at the world, it was a case of good news and bad news. Like Kim, she’d gotten a fine promotion, because Benson Cronin wasn’t the only executive who got the axe. Just before the attack, a female manager had filed a class-action lawsuit against the bank for sexual harassment, and dozens of employees had joined in. It was another public black eye for the bank at a time when it could least afford one. It didn’t take the board long to confirm that the accusations were true and then fire the worst offenders named in the suit, including Glen Olson, the manager who had assaulted her at the office party.
That was all very good news indeed.
The bad news, for Audrey at least, was the board had brought Willie Bigelow back as CEO of her bank. And his taste in ties was still appalling.
* * *
Frank was fidgeting.
Fidgeting perhaps as he had never fidgeted before in his life. How much longer could this take? He was wiped out, too. He’d been sitting there for almost twelve hours.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Tim.
Frank jumped to his feet.
“Everything’s fine, Frank. Marla’s great. And you’re a grandfather!”
“Are you sure she’s okay? Can I come see her?”
“Yup,” Tim said with a tired smile. “The baby was born two hours ago. I came out then, and you were fast asleep. You looked so bushed I figured the news could wait a little while. Follow me.”
Frank held back with great effort; he wanted to rush past his son-in-law, but he didn’t know where to go. A few twists and turns later, Tim stopped in front of a door, putting one finger up to his lips. “I’m not sure whether Marla will be awake or not.”
But awake she was. And in her arms was a small bundle with a pink face, wearing a knit cap.
Frank rushed in and crouched at the side of the bed. Marla was clearly exhausted but smiling nonetheless. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she whispered.
Frank felt his heart leap – a little girl!
“The most beautiful little girl in the world,” he said, and meant it. “And you? How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. I’m just very, very tired.”
“Of course, you are!” he said. And then, hesitantly, “May I?”
“Yes,” she said. “Stand up first.” He did, and she handed the bundle to him; it weighed almost nothing at all. He backed up and sat down slowly in the chair beside the bed, staring at the tiny, wrinkled face. The eyes were shut tight.
In her whole life, Marla had never seen her father look so happy.
Then she smiled.
He wasn’t even fidgeting.
* * *
Did you enjoy The Blockchain Revolution? Please consider recommending it to others and posting a brief review at your favorite online book site.
You can read the first two chapters of the first Frank Adversego thriller in the pages that follow.
The first four books in the Frank Adversego Thriller series are available as eBooks at Amazon and in paperback at your favorite online book site as well as at http://andrew-updegrove.com/books/
They can also be ordered in paperback through your favorite local book store.
The Alexandria Project, The Lafayette Campaign and The Doodlebug War are available as audiobooks published by Tantor Media. You can find them at Audible, Amazon, and wherever else audiobooks are sold.
Follow the further adventures of Frank at my author site, Tales of Adversego
Acknowledgements
I’d like to express my sincere gratitude to those who generously assisted me in completing this book. For a variety of rea
sons, this was one of the most challenging books in the series to write, and I am greatly indebted to them for helping me to pull it all together and make it work.
First off, my very great thanks go to my daughter Nora. The Blockchain Revolution would not be the book it is without her many hours of reading, editing, suggestions and constant encouragement from beginning to end. By way of a single example, if there was a visual along the way that you especially liked, there’s a good chance she suggested it.
I’d also like to give special thanks to several loyal Friends of Frank who read more than one draft of the book and offered special guidance. They include my brother Steve, who made many helpful plot suggestions (and to whom the book is dedicated); Rob van Son, who patiently guided me through the intricacies of the blockchain in an email exchange that extended over many months; fellow-author and former US Navy Captain Doug Norton, who provided many useful facts and corrections based on his military and diplomatic experience (be sure to check out his Code Word thriller series at Amazon). Thanks also to my brother-in-law Grayson Holmbeck, a Loyola University psychology professor, who read an early draft of the book and provided much-needed insight into what the inner workings of Crypto’s mind might be like.
My thanks also to the following beta readers who generously donated their time (in some cases reading more than one draft) and made many helpful suggestions: fellow authors Sylva Fae and Sarah Holmesley (be sure to check their work out at Amazon, too), William Lupton, Steve Oksala, Andrew Oliver, and Robert Minchen.
On the production side, I’d like to thank Glendon Haddix, of Streetlight Graphics, and acknowledge his excellent design skills. As with all of my previous books, his fantastic cover and clean interior designs make all the difference. I’d also like to thank Kelly Hartigan, who lent an eagle-eye and encyclopedic grammatical editing knowledge to the finalization of the text.
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