Greed

by D Thomas Jewett

  “This morning? It looks like you’ll just make it.”

  “Yep. I think we’ll get out of here at just about 8:00 am – just under the wire.”

  Jeff’s curiosity was piqued even more. “So, who is ‘they’? And did they say why they wanted it cleared?”

  Kirk hesitated. Should I tell him? Or should I just brush over this? Finally, Kirk came to a decision. “Jeff – listen – I really can’t say much. But this much I can tell you. If you can do it, you should get all of your stuff out of your vaults by 8:00 am.”

  Jeff’s face turned red. “8:00 am? Just who do you think you are?”

  Kirk shrugged and turned away. “Do what you want. Just don’t blame me for whatever happens.”

  Kirk walked away leaving Jeff standing at the vault entrance.

  A half-hour later, Kirk heard a couple of lorries – 10-wheeled dump trucks – coming up the old access tunnel. I guess he took me seriously! Kirk thought. But I've got a hunch he won't get it done by the deadline.

  * * * * *

  It was a carefree September morning for Eileen Shaw, administrative assistant and legal assistant for Richard Seneca, a Partner in the law firm of Hartley and Mayberry. She had held this position for several years, displaying an efficiency and competence unmatched by many of her peers. On this morning, her destination was the office on the 52nd floor of world trade center building number 2. She was walking smartly in her customary stride – her blond hair bouncing and her skirt hugging her hips as she moved gracefully along the sidewalk. This was a day of clear blue skies and warm temperatures – a day that lifts one’s spirits.

  Turning the corner into the world trade center complex, she spied two flatbed tractor trailer trucks parked along the road on the side of the building. She could not remember ever seeing trucks parked like that – especially large trucks such as these. What are they doing?

  Although she was walking at about a thirty degree angle to the trucks, she was nonetheless moving closer to their position. As she closed on the trucks’ position, she first noticed a number of men in black garb stationed strategically around the site. And although she was mostly ignorant of firearms, she could see that each man grasped the pistol grip of a black rifle. As she moved closer still, the details of the trucks came into sharper focus. The front truck was hauling a flatbed trailer – the trailer was fully-loaded but the cargo was covered with a tarp. And then her eyes were drawn to the truck in the rear – it was much more interesting. The truck was in the process of being loaded; and unless her eyes were deceiving her, the truck was being loaded with pallets of bars – (gasp!) are those gold bars? Of course she was still some distance from the trucks, and the shade obscured the color and glimmer of the bars. But she could have sworn they were a golden color.

  She stopped and moved to the wall of the nearest building. Standing against the wall, she watched, looking for whatever clues that might tell her what she was seeing. She saw a forklift as it came up the ramp from the basement. It was carrying a pallet with still more bars. The operator deftly guided the forklift to a spot on the trailer and carefully lowered the pallet. As the pallet settled onto the flatbed, she could clearly discern a downward pressure on the bed. The operator stopped before withdrawing the forks and looked toward her position. She could have sworn he was checking her out.

  The man continued to look in her direction. And in response, Eileen felt more and more unnerved by the man’s stare; and for that matter, by the entire scenario. If this is gold they are loading, what would cause them to do so? And why today? Eileen considered possible answers to this question – the more she thought about it, the more apprehensive she became.

  The forklift operator looked back to his work. After removing the forks from the pallet, the forklift turned and headed back down the ramp.

  Eileen stood against the building. She tuned into her intuition – her sixth sense – and then a shiver pulsed through her. She sometimes had an episode like this, but never before was it this intense. She came to a place of ‘knowing’, and she knew that this was a good day to be home. She turned and retraced her steps back the seven or so blocks to the LIRR – the Long Island Railroad. From there, she grabbed the next train back to Hicksville, Long Island.

  En route to her home, she heard initial reports that an airliner crashed into one of the world trade center towers.

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile, at the AB Jorday precious metals trading desk ...

  “Blimey! Check out the price of gold!” said Chet.

  “What about it?” Eddie retorted, thinking why is he wasting my time?

  “It’s climbing fast. Really fast! It was around $271 a few minutes ago; and now it’s up to $280.”

  “And oil is up too.”

  “What are the currencies doing?” Eddie asked, now interested.

  “The dollar is down sharply. Just in the last few minutes,” replied Chet.

  “What do you suppose is going on?”

  “Hey, Chet. Turn on the tele!” Natalie shouted from her office across the hall.

  “Huh?”

  Excited, Natalie was now at Chet’s doorway. “They just had a plane crash into the world trade center. Turn on the tele.”

  Chet turned on the television he kept in his office. Everyone in the room let out a gasp as the picture came into focus – showing one of the twin towers with billowing smoke coming out near the top.

  Everyone in the office stood around watching the news report. No one said a word.

  Finally, Chet piped up. “Blimey! I guess this explains the market action!”

  “Well, it sure does.” Natalie chimed in. “I just hope those people get –”

  “Oh look!” Natalie pointed at the tele. “Oh my God – look at that plane. Look at that bloody plane!”

  “Oh my God!” Chet shouted.

  Mouths agape, they watched as another airplane came out of nowhere and flew headlong into the second tower.

  Eddie was quick on the uptake. “You can’t tell me that’s just coincidence! There’s no way that two planes are gonna fly into two buildings standing side by side within – what – an hour of each other? That’s bullshit!”

  “Gold is now at $284 an ounce!”

  Shortly, the news came over that the U.S. markets would not open that day. Gold finished the day at $287 per ounce, and oil closed much higher. For the next three days, the Federal Reserve pumped $100 Billion per day into the markets and the banking system. And the dollar – a measure of investor confidence in the U.S. – dropped like a stone.

  * * * * *

  New York (International Press) Crushed Towers Give Up Cache of Gold Ingots

  By Nancy Wharl in New York; November 2, 2001

  Evidence of a billion dollar cache of gold was discovered at ground zero. The gold was believed to be lost when the two towers fell.

  Workers were clearing rubble in a service tunnel underneath one of the collapsed world trade center buildings when they were surrounded by more than 100 armed government agents. Apparently, the agents had been tipped off by the owners where the gold was buried.

  In the basement of World Trade Center Building 4, there were a number of vaults; but police have yet to disclose the owners of the gold.

  COMEX[20] – the metals trading division of NYMEX – stored a reported 3,800 gold bars in the basement of WTC 4. The bars weigh more than 12 tonnes and are worth more than $100 million. COMEX also held about 800,000 ounces of gold on behalf of other clients – with a value of $220 million. And it stored more than 102 million ounces of silver; worth approximately $430 million. COMEX also held precious metals for Chase Manhattan Bank, the Bank of New York and Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation.

  In addition, the Bank of Nova Scotia kept gold in one of the vaults. They reported a loss of over $200 million.

  The gold was discovered on Tuesday. It was apparently being transported through the basement of WTC 4 on the morning of September 11. Recovery workers excavated into a servi
ce tunnel and discovered a number of crushed cars; and a lorry – a truck with ten wheels specially equipped to carry heavy loads.

  The workers built a temporary ramp to gain access to the tunnel. And then a team of police and firefighters arrived to put the gold into Brinks trucks. Other workers were told to leave immediately. “If I tried to go down there they would have shot me,” one man said.

  No bodies were found in the tunnel; which suggests that those originally transporting the gold were forewarned to leave prior to the collapse of the south tower.

  As of this writing, it is not known how much gold and silver was stored in the basement of the World Trade Center.

  Part 3 – War

  “Gold is my enemy. I am always watching what gold is doing.”

  ----- Paul Volcker, Chairman of the Federal Reserve, Circa 1980

  * * * * *

  Chapter 1 – September 11, 2001 (Continued)

  THE MAN DROVE along the residential street and pulled up in front of a house. He stepped out of the car, his large but youthful frame struggling through the tiny car door. James Jeffrey looked around, noting that the homes along the street were brightly lit. With the walkway illuminated, he strode up the path and stairs to the front door. He walked into the house, finding his Mom and Dad still awake. They were sitting in the den and discussing the day’s events. The television volume was turned way down, yet there was an animated mouth on the screen. The mouth was exaggerated – telling of pain and fear with every new grimace.

  Mom and Dad seemed to be almost in shock – emotionally drained. It was at this point when he realized he too was in a similar place – angry, sad, grief-stricken, and ... lost.

  When James entered the room, Dwayne and Trish stopped talking and looked up.

  And then Dwayne stood up and blurted out, “Are you okay son?”

  “I'm fine, Dad; but I can't get over what happened. I spent the day over at Jed’s place. Mr. Simpson – Jed’s Dad – thinks that when we find out who did it, we'll be going to war.”

  “That’s really perceptive of him, son. Your Mom and I were just talking about it too – that if our government can pin it on any other country, then we'll be going to war for sure.”

  Trish picked up the conversation. “Oh God. Watching that airplane fly into the tower seemed like a dream. And the towers falling, and all those people dead; I still can’t get over it.” She began sobbing. “I just can't believe this happened!” She shivered as the tears rolled out. “Dwayne, I’m scared. I'm damned scared of what’s coming next!”

  “Yeah. I’m scared too.”

  Dwayne continued. “I'm wondering what really happened. , Because something doesn't add up about this.” He paused. “Did you notice how the Air Force didn't scramble fighters to stop the second plane? Did you notice how the Air Force didn't attempt to stop the attack on the Pentagon? And – and did you notice how the towers fell straight down? It was as though the center of the towers gave way; rather than leaning and falling to one side or the other. ... Strange.”

  “Dad! What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I’m just sayin’, James. I’m just sayin’ that some things about this don’t add up!”

  * * *

  “But, Dad!! I want to help our country. I want to kill the rag head scum terrorist assholes. I want to hunt down those bastards and kill 'em.”

  Dwayne was pacing back and forth. “I understand how you feel, James. I feel the same way. Call me crazy, but I have a hunch that there’s more to this terrorist attack than meets the eye.”

  “C’mon Dad. What is there to know! These rag heads attacked New York and brought down three of our buildings.”

  “Damn it, James! I’m asking you! Please – PLEASE – wait a few weeks, or months, before you enlist. The Marines, or whatever branch you choose, will still be there. And if this is truly a war we should be in, then it will be obvious to all of us.”

  “Dad. What are you saying? Are you suggesting that we were not attacked? “

  “No, James, it’s pretty obvious that we were attacked.” Dwayne looked into James' eyes. “The question is, by whom?”

  “Aw shit, Dad! Are you going off on one of your conspiracy theories again? I think Mom’s right. I think you're a paranoid nut!”

  Dwayne's face turned red as he slapped his hand across James' face, knocking him to the floor. He glared down at the boy. Then pointing his finger at James, he said “Don't you ever call me that again!”

  James put his hand over his wound, then looked up at his Dad with sadness in his eyes.

  Dwayne exhaled as he looked into James’ eyes. “I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry.”

  James stood up and looked at his Dad. “I'm sorry too, Dad.”

  “You do what you want, son. After all, it's your life.”

  * * *

  Things were never the same after 9/11. For Dwayne's part, he found his business taking off, and yet his son had left home to enlist in the Marine Corps. And he experienced a new tension among his customers. People who once came in to browse his selection of rare coins were now more interested in bullion bars and coins. Many of his customers now talked of war and terrorist attacks on U.S. soil, whereas they used to talk of family and friends. Times had indeed changed ...

  On a day soon after 9/11, Dwayne arrived early at his shop. He had it in mind to gather and analyze financial information from the internet. Damn! He thought. Business has been really brisk. And with both the storefront and internet presence, I'm getting good sales volume. Good enough to more than make up for the low margins on precious metals.

  Dwayne was in the back room checking some transaction data in COMEX gold when the chimes at the entrance rang. He peered through the door to the front of the store, seeing Frank Meeks enter the shop.

  Since that first visit eight years ago, Frank had turned out to be a regular customer – coming in somewhat frequently to buy gold and silver bullion. And Dwayne always appreciated the time he spent visiting. As strange as Frank behaved, he had recently completed his Ph.D. in Psychology and was working in a local mental health clinic.

  “Hey Dwayne,” Frank said. “What do you think about 9/11?”

  Dwayne's face turned red. “If I had those assholes in my sights, I would kill ‘em – right now! I'd kill ‘em all, God damn it! And I'd happily watch them die in a pool of their own blood!”

  Frank responded with an outburst of his own. “Shit, Dwayne. What they did was evil – absolutely evil! I can think of nothing they deserve more than the hangman’s noose.”

  Dwayne paused at Frank's comment and looked into his eyes. “I thought you were a pacifist?”

  “Yeah ... well,” he shrugged. “Just how much shit do you take before you fight back?”

  Frank's lips quivered as he continued. “I'm pissed. I don't understand how they did it – it's like our defenses didn't even exist!” Frank paused and then said, “I'm worried, Dwayne – real worried. And my poor wife is scared shitless. She's wondering when the next shoe is going to drop. And frankly, so am I!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look – these attacks shut down air travel for three days. What the hell would the government do if something really big happened? What would they do if some dirtbag terrorist lit off a nuke in New York or Washington?”

  “You think that could happen?”

  “Yes,” Frank snapped. “I absolutely think it can happen. And I think when it happens, they'll implement martial law.” Frank's eyes were hard. “I think it's only a matter of time!”

  Dwayne felt chills down his spine. “Hmmm… So, what gave you the idea that we could get hit with a nuke? Or worse, that they would institute martial law?”

  “Just stuff that I picked up on the internet. You know – on some of these conspiracy websites.” He continued. “But you know – sometimes these conspiracy theories seem SO REAL! I can get sucked into them so easy!”

  “So, what did they say?”

  “Well,” Frank cont
inued, “the big items they talk about are the possibility of a nuke or a biological attack. Some of them were saying that a nuke – anywhere in the world – would cause the President to impose martial law. What was really interesting was this one guy was selling some kind of personal radiation detectors. He mentioned that a government agency had just placed a huge order for them. But he wouldn’t say who it was.”

  Dwayne frowned. “So, what kind of people did they seem like?”

  “They were very conservative. I can't remember the name of the site. But there was a lot of discussion about 9/11, and a lot of predictions of what was to come.”

  “So, what did they predict?”

  “Well, the predictions that most of the people seemed to agree on were restrictions on our right to privacy, and possibly our right to free speech. And some were talking about a coming police state.” Frank was wound up as he continued. “But there were a few that thought the government was involved in 9/11! There was a lot of back and forth talk about it, and a lot of people were downright resentful that anyone would even think it, never mind say it!”

  “Hmmm... So, what else did they talk about?”

  “Some people were really pushing gold. That’s why I’ve been going there – to learn more about gold and money.”

  “Gold? Interesting ...”

  Damn, Dwayne thought, I never put much stock in the meaningless conspiracy babble these websites push. But maybe they're on to something. And maybe there's more we need to fear than what's right in front of us. Maybe ...

  “So,” Dwayne said thoughtfully, “if a nuke goes off and we wind up under martial law, what are you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know. I'm thinking about moving – maybe someplace out in the sticks where the martial law troops wouldn’t bother me.”

  “Do you have any ideas on where that would be?”