She was distracted from her thoughts by the front doorbell.
Ding dong!
Brandy opened the door; finding Bill with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Don’t you know how to call?” Brandy smiled as she chided him.
Bill grinned and held up a small electronic device.
“What's that?” She asked.
Bill crossed his lips with his index finger, signaling her to silence. “May I come in?” He asked casually.
Brandy stepped away from the door, allowing Bill to enter.
Bill held out his device and began walking through each room, observing a meter on the device as he moved. Brandy followed quietly, watching with interest as he waved it near a telephone, stopped, and removed a device from the telephone handset. He moved on, finding yet another device in her bedroom, and still another in her kitchen. He put the devices in a box and placed the box outside.
Bill then walked out to her car and checked both the garage and her Porsche. Finding a bug in the Porsche, he disposed of it as well.
They walked back into her home.
“Bug sweeper,” he held it up for her perusal. “I found some bugs in my house too.”
Brandy folded her arms and looked at him with a laugh. “With equipment like that,” she joked, “you can come over anytime.” Damn, I like this guy!
Bill just smiled.
She motioned to the device. “So what’s this thing do?”
“It’s pretty simple,” he replied. “It scans for Radio Frequency emissions. They call it RF.” He paused and then continued. “You see, these bugs have to emit an RF signal to transmit the information back to an eavesdropping receiver station; otherwise, they’d be useless. Look at this – this meter gives feedback on the signal strength of any nearby RF device. So, all you need to do is get the device near a bug and, voilà, we've got it!”
He sure has a cute grin, she thought. “Where’d you get it from?”
“I borrowed it from a guy I used to work with. He probably got it from work. Hell, they have several of these just to identify any RF leakage for their cellular network testing.”
They both moved over to the sofa.
“So, how’d your visit with your boss go today?”
“With Marcus?” Brandy grimaced. “Shit! I guess it was interesting – but that's the only good thing I can say about it.”
Brandy sighed and then continued. “First, they are definitely watching you. Second, they are watching you because of that private investment trust you were involved in. Third, he says that they started watching me when we began seeing each other – but, really, I’m not so sure that’s true ...”
“And?’
“And I gave him my resignation with two week’s notice.”
“Wow! Did you burn your bridges?”
Brandy was sheepish. “I’d say so. I didn’t call him any names; but I didn’t pull any punches either. So, yeah – I probably burned bridges. At least in the banking industry.”
Brandy paused and then tilted her head. “So,” she said tentatively, “what about this investment trust thing?” She looked at Bill. “What's that about?”
“There's not much to tell.” Bill sighed. “I invested some money in a private investment deal. The fund managers invest in global 'opportunities'; usually short-term investments.” Bill shifted his position. “They bill it as a big return on your money – as much as several hundred percent per year.”
“Wow! Doesn't that sound too good to be true?”
Bill hesitated. “Well, yeah. But I decided to try it anyway.”
“Why!”
“I talked with the managers. They said they could achieve these results because they had no government oversight or regulation.” Bill shrugged. “And besides, I only invested the minimum amount – $1,294.”
“So,” Brandy asked slowly, “is it illegal?”
“I don't see how. Hell, the prospectus says they'll only make legal investments. And the U.S. Constitution protects the right of people to enter into private contract.” Bill paused before continuing. “And this is, or was, a private contract.” Bill's voice took on a bitter tone. “But the Feds shut it down. They sent all the fund managers to jail and confiscated all the money.” Bill's mouth crooked up in a smirk. “I heard the Feds netted $45 million, maybe more.”
Bill looked into Brandy's eyes. “I was in it at the time they pulled the plug. I just left my money in, figuring that was better than letting the Feds know about me. But I guess they found out anyway.” Bill paused and then continued. “Hell, I don't know how they got my name. I guess there was a mole in the program. Or maybe – maybe my ex had something to do with it,” he grimaced. “She used to rag on me a lot. The bitch said I'd be going to jail!”
Bill looked into Brandy's eyes. “Anyway – that's my story.”
Brandy's voice was soft. “Thanks for sharing. It sounds as though it was a tough deal.”
“Yeah,” Bill replied.
“So,” she continued, “I'm sorry to be intrusive – you don't have to answer me – but, what happened with your ex? With your marriage?”
“My ex?” Bill looked at her. “We split a couple of years ago; it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“How come?” Brandy's voice was soft – inviting.
“How come?” Bill's voice was choking up. “In a nutshell, her incessant control and her damn anger. Hell, she was always ragging on me.” Bill paused and then continued. “Anyway – it's over.”
They both became silent, allowing the silence to settle into the room.
And then Bill's mood shifted. “About these bugs ...,” he prompted.
“Yes?”
“I’m pretty sure I found all of them. But there's one caveat that we always need to be aware of. These bug detectors only find bugs that actually transmit. Unfortunately, there are some bugs that record information without transmitting – their effectiveness depends on someone retrieving the recorded information. So, we also need to watch for the recording-type bugs as best we can; and also check to see if anyone enters while taking extraordinary steps to hide their entrance.”
“Okay,” she said. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” Bill was thoughtful. “Watch out what you send over email.”
“Okay,” she said. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Watch what you say on the telephone.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Nothing else,” Bill smiled. “That should cover it.”
“Cool,” her eyes were sparkling. “How about some wine?”
“Oh – yes!” He replied.
With wine glasses charged, Brandy held up her glass. “I propose a toast – a toast to finding a new job.”
Bill grinned as their glasses clinked. “To finding a new job.”
They sipped their wine.
Brandy eyed Bill, then raised an eyebrow. “So, Bill. Why this gold thing? Why do you want to mint coins?”
“Why? That's simple.” Bill smiled. “Because the same government that screwed private investors out of their money, is screwing Americans out of their wealth through inflation.” Bill's voice resonated with passion. “And I want to do something about it.”
“Wow,” she replied. “I guess that covers it.”
They sipped their wine as they talked. Most of their conversation covered Brandy’s work, the Federal Reserve, and the FBI’s surveillance. They talked for some time about the FBI and about the rules put out by the Federal Reserve. Sipping their wine and snuggling, they were happy they could now talk freely, taking solace in the fact that the federal government bugging operation had been shut down.
Brandy noticed their glasses were emptying. “Would you like some more wine?”
Bill frowned. “Yes, I’d like some very much; but if I have any more, I won’t be able to drive.”
“Well,” Brandy chimed in, “why don’t you stay here for the night?”
* * * * *
“So, Ms.
Smith,” Bill demanded, “by what authority are you conducting surveillance on us?”
Kelly Smith, director of the local office of the FBI, did not even blink. “Mr. Ford, you are very misinformed about our activities. I am head of this office, and I know nothing about any surveillance regarding you or Ms. West –”
“Wait a minute,” Brandy interrupted, “I personally confronted this Leeson character – hell, I even have his business card! And you’re telling me that he was not following me?”
“Mr. Leeson no longer works here,” she said.
“Really? He’s gone? What did you do with him?” Bill sneered.
Kelly Smith looked back at Bill and Brandy – her face was deadpan.
Bill pulled out one of the bugs he found and put it on the desk.
Kelly Smith eyed the device. “What is that?”
“You tell me.” Bill countered.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ford. I don’t know what that is.”
“It's a bug,” Bill picked it up and waved it in front of her eyes. “I found it along with several other bugs in and around my home; and Brandy’s home too.” He paused, looking at her with penetrating eyes. “I had it analyzed, Ms. Smith. It tests positive for materials exclusive to the U.S. government.”
“So?” Kelly Smith countered.
Bill could feel his head about to explode. “So these were put into our homes!”
An awkward silence filled the room.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ford. But I have no information for you.”
Bill was exasperated. “What kind of shit is this? Who do you think you are?”
“This meeting is over, Mr. Ford.” Then she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet, indicating that the conversation was finished.
Bill and Brandy got up from their chairs.
Bill focused his gaze on Ms. Smith. “You need to know, Ms. Smith, that if I detect any hint of being followed – ever again – I will file suit against you personally.”
Kelly Smith looked at Bill and Brandy with a stone face. “May I show you out?”
“No thank you, Ms. Smith.” Bill replied. “We can find our way.”
As they were opening the door on their way out, Kelly Smith interrupted their exit, “watch yourselves.”
Bill and Brandy proceeded out the door.
As they were walking down the hallway, Bill asked, “what did you think of that?”
“Sounds like a threat to me.”
“Yep. But what do you think of her?”
“Gawd, Bill. If the rest of the FBI is like her, they are really creepy – and dangerous!”
“Yeah,” Bill replied. “Do you want to come over tonight?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“If you’re willing, I’d like to talk about our partnership.”
“Wait a minute, now.” She joked, “I thought you were the guy that didn’t want to move too fast.”
“Hey. We can talk without making a commitment, can’t we?”
“Do you want me to bring anything?” Brandy smiled.
“Just you,” Bill smiled.
* * *
Over several evenings and several bottles of wine, Bill and Brandy spent some considerable time discussing the various aspects of their partnership. Through their discussions, they came to agreement on financing and terms of partnership. Also, they agreed that Bill’s primary job would be on product specification, design, and production – for both coin and depository operations, and that Brandy’s primary focus would be on sales and marketing.
With Y2K on the horizon, they also agreed they would move to another part of the country – they settled on northern Idaho.
At the end of an evening’s discussion, Brandy was seated on the sofa with her head flung back, in an ever-so-relaxed moment. “So,” Brandy mused, “when do we make our move?”
Bill moved over next to her and started kissing her neck.
Brandy giggled. “Not that move.”
Bill found her lips and they came together in a long, passionate kiss.
“So is that the move you’re talking about?” Bill asked.
“(sigh) No – but I already forgot what I was asking.” Brandy replied, her eyes sparkling. “Just kiss me.”
Bill brought her close and held her body even closer as they kissed yet again. His hands moved under the back of her blouse, gently caressing her skin. And then he slowly moved higher, fondling the back of her brassiere. He ran his hand under the strap, and then he put his fingers on the clasp – it unsnapped. Brandy stopped the kiss and looked at him. “Hey, Mister. What do you have in mind?”
“You,” Bill said simply.
“And what makes you think I want you?”
Bill grinned as he presented his arms out to the side, as though performing on stage. And then he said, “Hey. It's me – Bill. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you.”
“I doubt that,” she pouted.
“Well, maybe second best thing?”
“Maybe,” she said demurely.
Bill’s grin was wider still as he said, “C'mon, Brandy – you want me. You know you want me.”
Brandy smiled as she looked into his eyes, and then their eyes met. She pulled him close and they kissed again, their passion washing through them even more intensely. “Oh!” Brandy gasped as Bill moved his hand under her blouse, slowly caressing her skin.
She moaned. And as their lips were locked and their tongues probing each other, she moved her hands down to Bill’s belt.
… And that evening was special for them both, as they spent it in each others’ embrace.
Chapter 11 – Circa 1997/1998
In the absence of the gold standard, there is no way to protect savings from confiscation through inflation. There is no safe store of value. If there were, the government would have to make its holding illegal, as was done in the case of gold. If everyone decided, for example, to convert all his bank deposits to silver or copper or any other good, and thereafter declined to accept checks as payment for goods, bank deposits would lose their purchasing power and government-created bank credit would be worthless as a claim on goods. The financial policy of the welfare state requires that there be no way for the owners of wealth to protect themselves. This is the shabby secret of the welfare statists' tirades against gold. Deficit spending is simply a scheme for the confiscation of wealth. Gold stands in the way of this insidious process. It stands as a protector of property rights. If one grasps this, one has no difficulty in understanding the statists' antagonism toward the gold standard.
- - - excerpt from Gold and Economic Freedom by Alan Greenspan, 1966
* * * * *
As executive assistant to the Federal Reserve Chairman, Carol Stapleton seldom lowered herself to the job of typist; but this was one of those times. No one could compose this particular form of memo quite the way that she could. It wasn't the format – heaven knows almost any typist could do that! It was the message and the audience that was important, stated exactly the way it needed to be; with just the right amount of obfuscation and ambiguity – the FOMC[7] would be thankful they understood any part of it! After all, she smiled, we mustn't do anything to ruin the Chairman's reputation!
Intent on completing the internal memo, the ever-efficient Carol Stapleton's fingers were flying over the keyboard when the telephone rang.
“Office of the Federal Reserve Chairman. May I help you?”
“Hi, Carol. This is Bob Rubin. Is Mr. Chairman available?”
“Let me check, sir. I will have to put you on hold.”
“That's fine.”
Carol punched a button on the intercom. “Sir, Mr. Rubin on line 2; would like to speak with you.”
Carol listened as the intercom came alive. “Thank you, Carol. I will take the call.”
Carol resumed her typing.
* * *
Soon, Carol's intercom buzzer sounded. She paused from her composition and pressed the button. “Yes sir?”
�
��Please clear my schedule for the next 3 hours.”
“May I remind you, sir, that you have a telephone conference with the Prime Minister of Israel scheduled in one hour?”
“I am aware of that. Please reschedule with my sincerest apologies.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And please ask Jim Martin and Dave Langford to meet me in my office in 30 minutes.”
“Right away, sir.”
“And please let them know that this meeting may take some time.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Tying his necktie, Jim strode into the Chairman's office suite on his way to the Chairman's personal office. “Hi, Carol. How are you today?” He stopped to tuck in his white shirt – catching his sleeve on the pens sticking out of his shirt pocket.
Carol looked up from her composition. “Oh. Hi Jim. I'm doing well.” And then Carol continued. “Better hurry. They're already in there.”
Jim almost stumbled into the Chairman's office, where he found Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin and Dave Langford – Chairman Greenspan's Chief of Staff – in a heated discussion with the Chairman.
Jim's attention was drawn to Rubin. His face was beet red as he was speaking. “... and she intends to impose regulations on the OTC Derivatives[8] market. I tell you, Alan, I spent a good hour on the phone with Larry Summers[9] – he was pissed. He'd already spent half the morning being assaulted by a room full of bankers. They read him the riot act!” Rubin paused and took a deep breath. “Larry had a conversation with Born. Larry told her that he had 13 bankers in his office, complaining, and that she needed to immediately stop the movement toward regulation or she would cause the greatest financial collapse ever.[10] He said to her; “you don't get it! Stop this now!”
“And what did she say?” Chairman Greenspan asked from behind his black-rimmed glasses and his wrinkled, somber face.
“She said she would move ahead.”
Jim took a seat and listened. He was good at listening. As Chief Staff Economist reporting directly to Chairman Greenspan, he was experienced at directing the Federal Reserve's stable of economists in their collection of economic data – data that was vital to the formulation of Fed policy. He hated politics – and this conversation smacked of political crap – but he knew that politics and economics were inexorably tied to each other. And so he deigned to stay engaged.
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