Tim stood up from his console and grabbed his empty cup. Through the din of chatter, shouting, and electronic clacking, he called over to Lori. “Can I get you something? Coffee?”
Lori turned and looked at him, grinning ear to ear. “I had a great time last night.”
“Yeah. So did I,” said Tim, his face turning red.
“Where'd you learn that stuff?
“What stuff?” He tried to be nonchalant.
“You knoooow,” her smile grew wider still. “With your tongue?”
Before Tim could answer, she snapped her attention back to her computer screen. “Oh wow!”
“What's that?” Tim queried.
“The stock market. It's dropping – fast!”
Tim felt his body tense up. Fresh in his mind was the flash crash back in May of 2010.[58] “Can you tell what's causing it?”
Lori's fingers flew over the keyboard. “The bond market; it's really dropping too. Especially Treasuries – they're dropping like a stone.”
She continued checking other markets. “Other bonds too. They're all dropping, regardless of who's issuing 'em.”
Tim seated himself and turned back to his own workstation. “Commodities are way up. Silver has just tripled in price to $152 per ounce. Oil is now up to $416 per barrel. And gold! Did you see gold?”
“No. What is it?”
“It's $5,730 per ounce!”
“Holy shit! What's happening?” Lori continued tapping on her keyboard.
“I got it!”
“Got what?”
“The reason things have gone haywire.” Tim paused and looked at her with amazement. “It seems there's been a default on silver contracts. Ten-thousand contracts. Let's see ... that's 50 million ounces of silver. Wow!”
The chatter on the floor intruded on his consciousness. “... I'm sorry sir, but that’s the best price I can get. Everybody’s selling – there’s no buyers. Yes sir. I'll keep trying, sir.”
Tim heard this again and again from the traders seated nearby. He checked the queue for incoming orders. There were buy orders, but they were overwhelmed with a constant flood of sell orders. And the sell orders continued to flow in – a veritable tsunami!
Oh shit, he thought. This is like the 2010 flash crash. Except all the markets are doing it this time. Everything except commodities is taking a dive!
He heard Ross pleading into his headset. “But there’s no buyers, sir – there’s only sellers!” Tim turned in his chair and looked at Ross. Ross was ashen in color, and his shirt was soaked around his armpits. And his eyes – his eyes were weeping!
Tim watched as the market continued its descent, down 800 in the last fifteen minutes. But this time he felt as though he were in an airliner, descending nose-down through the air, and aimed for an impact with a rocky cliff! He looked at the time: 3:45 pm. Just 15 minutes before market close – but there were no circuit breakers because it was too close to the closing bell! He checked the bond market. It too was in a tailspin. And commodities – gold, silver, oil, food – all climbing higher!
Down, down ... stocks and bonds continued their descent. Sliding into the abyss.
The room even had the feel of a plunging airliner. Sweat poured off the brows of the passengers. Wearing a mask of fear, they continued processing the incoming orders – which is to say they continued their fruitless search for buyers. And the markets plunged even more, bent on the annihilation of all who bet against it!
Suddenly, the stock and bond markets began to turn, as though the descent of the airliner slowed. And then the airliner leveled off, and remained level, with the markets riding out the turbulence to the 4:00 pm finish line.
Tim didn't know he was holding his breath until he exhaled. He sensed the tension dissipate from the room.
“Wow,” Lori said, “What a ride.” The corner of her mouth turned upwards to a smirk. “I'm sure glad I'm not in any of these markets anymore!”
Tim, sweaty and somewhat shaken, turned a smile of relief toward her.
Lori looked at him and crinkled her nose in a soft smile. “I can use a stiff drink and some relaxation. How about you?”
Tim relaxed still more. “Yeah. Let's do it!”
“Your place or mine?” Lori asked.
“How about mine? I've got a bottle of the 18 year old scotch. I wanna try it out.”
* * * * *
Federal Reserve Chairman Samual Ross was busily flipping through market data. Damn! I shouldn't have to do this, he fidgeted over the keyboard. I would have to let the Markets Staff Group leave early today! Oh well, we need to develop a strategy to coordinate this on a global scale. The Markets Staff can add their thoughts by tomorrow evening.
The intercom on Chairman Ross' desk buzzed. He pushed the 'connect' button. “Yes Carol?”
“Yes sir. I have President Turin and Secretary James Duncan on the conference bridge.”
“Thanks, Carol. I'll jump right on.” He terminated the intercom connection and pressed the conference button on his telephone.
“Gentlemen,” the Chairman extended a greeting. “We seem to be in quite a mess.”
James' assertive voice came across the telephone. “We sure are, Samual.”
“I'd say we have troubles,” Tom's quiet voice succinctly described the situation.
“So the dollar’s dropping like a stone. And not just the dollar, but the other currencies too. What happened?”
“Simple,” Tom's quiet voice came across. “AB Jorday defaulted on a large – and I mean very large – delivery of silver. And the counterparty gave the story to the news media.”
“Oh shit!”
“How much was involved?” James asked.
“Fifty million ounces,” Tom replied.
“Wow. It's no wonder they defaulted. I don't think anyone has nearly that amount of silver anymore,” James said.
Samual interjected. “Tom, what are the markets doing now?”
“We're seeing a big rise in gold and silver,” Tom replied. “This is causing the dollar to drop in value – and it’s affecting the other paper currencies as well. But the decline of the dollar is the biggest component, and it’s causing investors to demand compensation from their derivatives insurance contracts. And the firms who sold the insurance have to sell their assets in order to pay out the compensation – they didn't keep enough cash on hand. And so, we're seeing a dramatic drop in equities.”
James' voice chimed in. “Thank God most of the world's markets are closed, or else this could really snowball.”
Tom chimed in, “Do we have any of that $21 Trillion left – maybe it would help?”
“All gone, James replied. “We’ll have to work without it.”
Samual said, “This will soon get out of hand, anyway, unless we do something about it.” He paused, rubbing his chin. “In fact, this may take the economy too far down no matter what we do.”
“So, what are you going to do?” James queried.
“Do what the central bank is supposed to do. Pump out liquidity and be the lender of last resort,” Samual replied. “The derivatives markets are estimated upwards of a quadrillion dollars; with the banks having a lot of exposure. So, if we're going to save the banks, we'll have to cover a big share of their losses.”
“Loans totaling one thousand trillion dollars! Gawd, I never thought I'd see the day!” James blurted out across the telephone line.
“So, what else do we need to do?” Tom's quiet voice came across.
“Gentlemen, I think we need to call an emergency meeting of the G8[59].” Samual replied.
“Yep!”
“I agree!”
“And Tom?” Samual continued. “We're counting on you to meet whatever demand for loans that the banks request. Worldwide. Also, buy up all the Treasuries that are out there; we want to make sure that investors see a market for Treasuries at current prices.”
“And don't worry about our authority,” Samual continued, “ we'll ask for forgiveness later.�
��
“Hell,” Tom replied, “who would even know if we printed all this money?”
Samual laughed. “This time they'll know, Tom. Because we'll be loaning out tens or hundreds of trillions of dollars. There's no way we can cover it up!”
“Okay,” Tom replied.
“Anything else, gentlemen?”
“That's all I have for now,” James replied.
“Nothing else,” Tom chimed in.
“Have a good evening, gentlemen. I'm sure we'll talk first thing tomorrow.”
* * * * *
Josh looked on as Mikaela sniffed the cocaine through the straw. “Blimey! This is so mind blowing that I'm on cloud nine!” Her face became flushed and she started giggling.
“Here,” she offered the mirror to Josh. “Have some!”
Josh held the razor and formed the dust into a line. Placing the straw in his nostril, he used his finger to close off his other nostril, and then he sniffed the cocaine into his nose. Deeply. He released the straw and took a huge breath, bringing air through his nose and into his lungs.
He felt a rush through his body. And then his head was swimming as he quickly reached euphoria. “Wow ...,” he looked over at Mikaela. God, what a blouse! What a cleavage, he thought.
Josh took Mikaela into his arms and they kissed. Passionate and probing, they drove their tongues into each others' depths. Seeking, searching, wrestling – their tongues sought pleasure, seemingly following their own instincts. And all the while their hands were stroking each other.
And as Josh massaged her, she let out a guttural moan and drove her tongue still deeper into his mouth. And their kiss was wet, sloppy as they stimulated each other still more.
Mikaela ended their kiss and met Josh’s gaze with he own. Her lips parted and she said, “the bench?”
Josh's head was spinning, but he grinned from ear to ear. “Blimey! I love the bench!”
They kissed, their hands again moving over each other, stroking each other.
“C'mon,” Mikaela coaxed him. He stood up and Mikaela proceeded to undress him, kissing his body as she revealed ever more of his flesh. And then she held his hand and they walked over to ‘the bench'.
Josh thought back to the first time Mikaela mentioned ‘the bench'. Let's see ... how did she describe it? She was so matter-of-fact!
“The bench,” she said, “it's a heavy-duty wooden bench on legs. You lay on your back, placing your neck into the slot at one end, and you hang your lower legs off the opposite end. And then, I’ll use the straps to fasten your ankles and wrists to the legs of the bench.” Her eyes gleamed as she ran her tongue over her lips.
Josh remembered how he felt listening to her, how he became so aroused. And he smiled as he positioned his back on the bench and placed his neck into the slot. His head still swimming, he felt the straps fastening, one by one, as Mikaela tightened each strap in turn. This seems like a good idea, he thought. How could anyone get hurt doing this?
And then Josh strained his neck to watch her. His gaze settled on her red face, flush with desire. She stood back to admire her handiwork. And then walked up to him and stroked him; he was almost bursting with desire.
Mikaela turned and walked out of the room and into the bathroom. She soon reappeared, clad in her leather bustier, thong, netted nylon stockings, and her leather boots with four-inch heels. Her dark hair complemented her full ruby-red lips, and her cheeks sported a rosy red blush, magnifying her now darkened eyes.
She opened her mouth in a weird smile, and Josh could see her fangs. Fake as they were, Josh enjoyed feeling them bite into his neck. His arousal increased.
Mikaela sauntered over to Josh. Looking at Josh spread out on the bench, ripe for her abuse. She put her foot on his stomach and dug her heel into his flesh. “Ow!” he screamed. And then he sang the song, the song she would make him sing all night: “Please, my queen. Please give me more.”
Mikaela sneered as she dug her heel into him even more. Josh knew that sneer. He loved it!
“You know, Josh? This is going to be a very long night.”
Josh's euphoria rose even higher.
* * * * *
Tim and Lori cuddled on Tim’s brown leather sofa, sipping on their new bottle of scotch. A fire was burning in the red-brick fireplace, and they were enjoying the heat and energy – from both the fire and from each other. Although young, they were delighted to find enjoyment in the same kind of music, and both particularly enjoyed the smooth sound of modern jazz. And so they enjoyed their music and scotch together, intermingling a sip of scotch with long delicious kisses.
“This really is good.” Lori smacked her lips. “Where’d you get it?”
“Over at Rufalo's. That liquor store over on 5th Avenue. They have a special section marked off for their best liquor, and this looked especially good – so I got it.” Tim smiled at her.
Lori took another sip and allowed the flavor to melt onto her palette. She turned her head toward Tim and they kissed, long and passionate. Tim felt passion wash through his body, and he knew that Lori was feeling the same.
She ended their kiss and assumed a thoughtful pose. “So what do you think caused it?”
“The market decline?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“I'm not sure,” Tim felt the tightness in his face return. “But let's say that there's a default on a large number of silver contracts. And let's say that the parties don't reach an agreement on compensation and that the counterparty reports the breach of contract to the Metals Exchange. Then what happens is that the Exchange will determine the compensation and demand payment be transferred from the contract seller to the counterparty. By the way, I heard that AB Jorday was the seller.”
He paused and then continued. “Anyway, the other players in the market will learn of the breach, and they’ll drive the price much higher.”
Sheryl cuddled back into Tim’s arms, and said, “Okay. But how does that cause problems with the other markets?”
“Well,” Tim continued. “The way I see it, there's a bunch of things going on. If a rise in silver causes a comparable rise in gold, then it also causes a drop in the dollar and other currencies. And if the currency drops in value, this causes an unwinding of the over the counter derivatives markets. And,” he paused so that his next words had more impact, “this means that other assets must be sold to pay down the losses on derivatives!”
“Hmmm,” Lori’s eyebrows rose as she cuddled closer. “But why would commodities go up in the face of this unwinding?”
“Flight to safety – pure and simple. Remember, under this scenario bonds are no longer any good because they're denominated in paper money, and paper money is declining. So it all flows to commodities – gold, silver, food, and energy. Can you think of any other place to put your money?”
“Hmmm, I see what you mean.”
“And by the way,” Tim added. “I’ve heard the derivatives market is now valued at about one-thousand trillion dollars. So it’s clear there's a lot of unwinding to do!”
“Wow! I think I'm getting it now.” She replied.
Tim continued. “And it also means that this is not over. We're gonna see a lot of action on Monday!”
Now deep in thought, Lori took a sip of her scotch.
Tim could feel himself relaxing, and her relaxing with him.
Lori sipped again, and then turned her head toward Tim. She formed her lips in sensuous desire. “Will you do that thing with your tongue again tonight?”
* * * * *
And in Idaho ...
Tonight! Bill thought. Why don’t they just go home tonight and leave us alone?
Tonight, the authorities brought new tactics to bear. In addition to the floodlights streaming through the windows, they were now making more demands via their megaphone – at least once an hour. For Bill, Brandy, and Murray, this made the ordeal much more difficult since they were frequently awakened from their meager sleep.
Bill awoke a
t 5:00 am to the melody of the Fed's megaphone. “Come out with your hands up!” The voice shouted its proclamation. “Come out with your hands up!”
Shit! This is beyond old! He reflected. I'd like to shove the megaphone down that asshole's throat!
“How're you doing?” Brandy crawled up beside him in front of the window.
“I'm tired. How about you?”
“I'm tired too,” she replied. “When we get out of this, I'm gonna cuddle up next to you and sleep for a week,” she declared.
Bill's mouth crooked up into a tired smile. “Yeah, well. You won't get an argument from me.” Bill looked at the window and then turned to Brandy. “How's Murray doing?”
“He's tired, but awake,” Brandy replied. And then she frowned. “You've got your night-vision goggles handy?”
“Sure. But why do you ask?”
“I don't know. Just a feeling I've got.”
Bill raised his eyebrows. “What are you thinking?”
“I'm not sure. But I have a hunch they may try to put a raid on us.”
“Hmmm. You could be right. They're sure pushing at us.”
* * *
The tension was palpable as they watched, and waited. And to maintain their focus, they had begun to rotate their position. This allowed each of them a different view.
Murray peered out the front window. Gawd! Is this ever gonna end? Are we ever gonna get out of this? He shifted his position so that he could see the far end of the line of vehicles. I don't think they ever move! And then he saw two – no, three – black clad figures running behind the barrier. One of them was shouting, but Murray couldn't make out what he was saying.
And then he glanced over to the property entrance, watching as a caravan of cars and trucks rolled on to the grounds. Looks like some friends coming to watch our 'ordeal', he mused. Hey – there's Dwayne and Trish! Great!
Chapter 7 – Saturday Morning
Josh felt his hand on flesh – soft, smooth flesh. He gently squeezed the flesh and heard a woman's moan. He opened one eye, and then the other. Where am I? Oh, shit. I remember now!
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