Greed

by D Thomas Jewett

  “I'm not sure ... I’m kinda thinking about northern Idaho. There’s not much up there that I know of.”

  “This is interesting.” Dwayne mused. “Here we live in Omaha, Nebraska; home of the Strategic Air Command – or whatever they call themselves these days – where the Air Force controls most of the U.S. nuclear arsenal. One of the few places where everyone believes we’d be nuked. And where no one – NO ONE – ever expects to survive a nuclear attack. And now, here we are, talking about how to survive a nuclear bomb and also survive the aftermath that could be martial law!”

  “Damn!”

  * * *

  Frank’s visit gave Dwayne a lot to think about. He started looking around at some of the websites, and he found one that was focused mostly on preparation for the end of the world as we know it – they called it TEOTWAWKI. The people on the site talked a lot about 9/11 and other terrorist-type attacks, as well as potential government responses to domestic and international catastrophe. It seemed as though the site had a strong doom and gloom bias, and yet much of their discussions and predictions seemed to be the thoughts of rational people.

  Over time, Dwayne followed the news on these sites and compared it with what he observed in the mainstream media – newspapers, television, etc. And as he noted the differences, he came to the conclusion that the mainstream media was not reporting on the really important world events.

  Some few months later, and after talking with Frank and other customers, Dwayne came to some conclusions – and he made a decision.

  * * *

  Trish was working at the kitchen sink when she heard the garage door open. Then she heard a car drive into the garage, followed by the garage door closing. Dwayne is home, she thought with a smile.

  “Hi, Trish.” Dwayne greeted her as he walked into the kitchen. “How was your day?”

  Trish turned around from the kitchen sink, and her smile faded. The tone of his voice, his posture, his expression, all communicated his thoughtful preoccupation.

  He seated himself at the kitchen table and gazed up at her.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” She asked.

  “Yes dear.” He smiled a tired smile. “Everything’s fine. I’ve just been doing some thinking.”

  Dwayne was often thoughtful – that was his nature. But his nature was usually upbeat. Now she wasn’t so sure. “About what?”

  “Well, about the world, events, and our place in the scheme of things.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “And?”

  Dwayne looked up and into her eyes. “What do you think about moving?”

  “Moving? Well, I’ve always wanted a new home – this house is kind of dated and it doesn’t heat very well.” She paused and looked at him. “But ... I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about.”

  She folded her arms and looked at Dwayne. “What are you thinking?”

  Dwayne hesitated and then said, “I suggest we close our storefront at the mall and move to the country.”

  “Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been thinking that we should move to the country. Maybe to an area like northern Idaho.”

  Visibly upset now, Trish sank into her chair.

  “No! Not a chance! We’ve got our friends here. Your family is here. Our business is here. Damn it, Dwayne, this is our home!”

  Dwayne was silent as he looked down at the floor. Then he looked up and their eyes met. “May I explain why?”

  Looking back into his eyes, Trish took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yes. Please tell me why.”

  “Well, Frank Meeks – you remember Frank, don’t you? Anyway, Frank dropped by a few weeks ago and we got to talking about 9/11. He pointed out some interesting facts that got me to looking further.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’ve been following the news on a few of these websites and I’ve found some interesting tidbits. Like, did you know that the U.S. government set us up to enter world war one?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did you know that the Pearl Harbor attack by the Japanese was known by FDR and his administration several days before it happened?”

  “Dwayne. What are you saying?”

  “Did you know that the federal government has repeatedly used emergencies – like 9/11 – to push further restrictions on our liberties? And to steal more of our Constitutionally-protected rights?”

  “You're nuts, Dwayne! What you're saying is nonsense.”

  “Will you please listen to me?”

  Trish sighed, and then said, “Go ahead.”

  Dwayne's voice quivered as he spoke. “Frank suggested that a terrorist could light up a nuke in a big city. And that it would cause the government to impose martial law. Just look,” he pleaded. “Look at the lockdown on air travel following 9/11, and how they’ve since pushed through the Patriot Act. Damn it – I think he has a point!”

  Trish became silent. She looked down to the floor, watching the shifting of her feet.

  Dwayne continued. “We have no way of knowing what’s going to happen; but why do we continue to live in Omaha – a primary Russian nuclear missile target? If terrorists wanted to disable our nuclear capability, this is the first place they'd hit!”

  “Let me give it some thought,” Trish replied...

  * * *

  A few days later ...

  “Hi, Trish. How’s my lover?”

  Trish's eyes lit up as she turned around from the kitchen sink. She looked into Dwayne’s eyes with her most seductive smile. “Hey Buddy, I can usually hear the garage when you come home. But not today – I don’t think the garage even opened. So what’s this sneaking around you’re up to?”

  Approaching her, Dwayne looked deep into her eyes. He moved his body close to her, feeling her body against him. Then he kissed her – deeply – longingly – stirring her passion.

  Their kiss ended as passionately as it began. And then she smiled while placing her hands on his chest – creating just a hint of separation. “So. Sneaking in here. A long passionate kiss. What, my dear, are you planning?”

  Dwayne was enjoying their closeness. “I’m not sneaking around. I was thinking that we could find a nice quiet restaurant for dinner. And maybe spend some time being together.”

  “Ooooohhh. I like that!” Then, she nodded toward the kitchen table. “There’s a letter from James.”

  Dwayne followed her gaze over to the table. “And ... what does he say?”

  “I suggest you read it, dear.”

  “You're not gonna tell me?”

  Trish smiled. “You need the connection with him. Read it.”

  Dwayne pulled the letter out of the envelope, and began to read.

  Dear Mom and Dad, ...

  Dwayne read the letter intently; all the while his lips moved as he parsed the words. When he finished, he folded the letter and inserted it into the envelope. He raised his head and looked at Trish. “You’re right, I sure do like reading his letters for myself.”

  “I thought you would,” Trish said with a smile.

  “So, do you still want to go out for dinner?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Let me get my coat.”

  * * *

  That evening over dinner and wine, they came to an agreement and formulated a plan. They would buy some land in northern Idaho and sell out their Omaha property. As a cover story, they would tell their friends they were seeking a more relaxing life in the country. Dwayne figured they could sell out the storefront portion of their rare coin business and continue with their rare coin and precious metals internet business. Their business could use a mail drop as close as possible to their new home – hopefully within 15 miles or so. Dwayne reflected wryly that this was the nature of country living.

  Chapter 2 – September 13, 2001

  The FOMC – Federal Open Market Committee – met several times a year. Their charter was to set interest rates according to the 'needs' of the economy and the markets – ostensibly
to minimize price inflation and maximize employment. But their prime directive was to act as the lender of last resort; in essence, to create money from nothing in order to bail out banks that would otherwise fail.

  Seldom did the Committee meet outside their normal schedule. But this time was different. This was September 13th – two days after the attacks of September 11th – and Jim Martin, Chief Economist of the Federal Reserve, was especially curious about the hastily organized meeting and about the way the Committee would handle the aftermath of 9/11.

  Jim dialed into the conference bridge. The conference had just begun, and yet the dialogue seemed as dry as ever ... it sounds as though they might not panic over this, he reflected.

  Chairman Greenspan’s voice droned over the speakerphone. And as the Chairman talked, Jim listened and took notes of the proceedings, writing them into his leather-bound book.

  “... In summary, as we stood in the early days of September prior to the crisis, we were still in that very precarious balance with regard to which way the economy was going to go. The shock event of this past week is clearly a negative one. It is negative in the most important sense that it presumably increases the real risk premium for long-term capital investment, for fairly obvious reasons. That is, the longer-term environment for which capital investment decisions currently are being made must be perceived to be less certain and potentially of considerably more concern than one would have felt earlier. How significant that deterioration is, I think, is exceptionally difficult to judge. Indeed, one can envision a scenario--it’s a low probability scenario ...”

  As the Chairman continued speaking, Jim imagined that he was watching Alan Greenspan – his patient, measured, and intellectual manner – expressing himself behind his black-rimmed glasses and his wrinkled features. They will, of course, drop interest rates still more; so that they increase the amount of money in circulation, Jim reflected. That seems to be their answer to every crisis that comes along – whether real or imagined.

  Interlude

  From the shadows cast by the fire, Lord Basil posed with an air of satisfaction. He drew from his cigar, letting the smoke waft through the air; and then he waved his hands extravagantly. “Gentlemen. I propose a toast – le’chaim – to the success of 9/11, and to all of us, and to our success!”

  They replied in unison, “Le’chaim” – as they lifted their glasses in salute, and then to their lips.

  Success was to be shared by all. And this success was tremendous for its scope and scale. The destruction of the world trade center towers, the reclamation of the precious metals stored in the basement, the collection of billions of dollars in insurance, the cover up of the multi-trillion dollar theft from the U.S. government[21] – and above all, an excuse accepted by virtually all Americans to take America into war.

  All of the men leaned back in their plush leather chairs – joyous – reveling in their great achievement.

  “Now, gentlemen; we have given our minion, President Bush, the list of countries he is to invade. We shall find out if he is up to the challenge.”

  They all raised their glasses together. “Le’chaim!”

  Chapter 3 – Circa 2002

  Tall, handsome, with graying temples around his medium-brown hair, Nate stuck his head over the partition wall and into Joe's cube. “Hey Joe. Can you get those software patches into the operations console? This afternoon?”

  Joe's head popped up from his computer terminal. He looked up at Nate and said, “Sure. But I gotta tell ya – if we try it this afternoon, we run the risk of screwing up the patch. And you know what that means!”

  Nate knew exactly what it meant. If the patch was not inserted correctly, control over network operations would be down for the count. Nate looked back at Joe and paused. “Hmmm ... Can you do it tonight? When the traffic load is way down and we don't need the operations console so much?”

  “You bet,” Joe replied with a smile. “I'd rather do it then because there's much less hassle.”

  “Okay,” Nate replied. “Leave me an email and let me know how it went.”

  “Okay.”

  A large, blond, fiftyish man, Joe Miller loved his work – and he was dedicated! Joe worked in a regional network center for the telephone company. As a network engineer who also dabbled in software development, he worked in telecommunications for a former Regional Bell Operating Company.

  Joe went about his work but scaled back around 6:00 pm. He hung around the network control center until 8:00 pm, and then proceeded to install and test the new software patch. The installation and test went off without a hitch, so Joe informed Nate via email and went home for the evening.

  Joe liked his job ...

  * * * * *

  “What do you think?” Joe asked as he glanced sideways at Jane. “Is this place worth checking out?”

  “Maybe ...,” Jane looked at Joe and smiled, “Let's see what they have.”

  The 'place', as Joe referred to it, was a residential subdivision of new homes. A beautifully landscaped area, it was one of several subdivisions they would visit that day.

  Driving under a clear blue sky, Joe turned into the subdivision and drove past a sign to the right of the entrance. The sign read, 'el Chico'. He followed the real estate signs through a couple of turns to the model homes and parked in front of the sales office. They sat in their luxury automobile for a moment, perusing the neighborhood.

  Jane bit her lip. She looked at Joe with a pinched expression. “Can we afford this?”

  “Sure we can,” Joe replied. “I make good money.”

  “You make $140k a year, Joe. Yeah – that's good money. But is it enough for this?” She motioned expansively. “In a neighborhood like this?”

  Joe looked over at her; his patient eyes resting easy on her attractive, fiftyish features and her petite frame. “Let's go in and find out?”

  They stepped out of the car and walked past a sign that whispered ‘Custom Homes’. They disappeared into the sales office.

  * * *

  Driving around Sacramento's suburbia on a Sunday afternoon, Joe and Jane Miller were seeking that perfect home. The kind of home that would make them feel fulfilled. More than just a word, the fulfillment they sought was about style, and about image. The relaxed image of a Mexican tile roof and stucco exterior provided a laid back style of casual elegance. And the plush interior appointments of finely-crafted woodwork and stone, combined with floors of ornate Italian tile and red oak, would ensconce them in the elegance they deserved.

  And here they were, touring just such a home ...

  “Oh. I like this,” Jane purred as she ran her hand over the granite countertops, her fingers lightly brushing the hardness of the stone. She paused, looking around the kitchen – the oak cabinets, the wood trim, the brightly-lit countertops, the Italian tiled floor – she took in all of this with a feeling of satiation. She sighed.

  Joe looked over at her, smiling. “This is ... nice!”

  “Did you see the master bedroom?” She almost squealed.

  “I just love that bathtub; it's a full two-person tub!” Joe was feeling lusty as he thought of it.

  “Sigh.” Jane's voice was filled with passion. “Joe, I love this place. But do you think we can afford it?”

  “Sure. I make good money. I work in a good industry. Things are always looking better and better; just look how my raises outstrip the inflation rate. So –”

  Jane interrupted him. “Okay, then. Let's get them to build something like this for us.”

  * * *

  Later that evening ...

  “Joe. Are you sure we can handle this house payment?”

  Joe looked at her in his usual patient manner.

  “After all,” she continued, “we’ve got car payments. And we're still putting Leslie through college.”

  And then she wailed. “I just don't see how we can afford a $3,200 per month house payment!”

  Joe walked over and held her in his arms. He raised her chi
n with the hook of his finger. Looking into her eyes he said, “Hey. You know it costs to buy into the California market.”

  “I know,” she demurred.

  “And you know that California real estate is always going up.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Her spirits began to brighten.

  “And – hey! Real estate is a great investment.” Joe smiled as their eyes met.

  “I know.” Her eyes crinkled with a smile.

  “And you know that my job is solid and that prospects for growth are great. Right?”

  She nodded her head 'yes'.

  “And Len is out of college, so we need only pay for Leslie.”

  “And?” she coaxed him some more.

  “Look,” he continued. We can let the house go up in value – and when it comes time to retire, we can sell out and move to a cheaper state. Maybe Arizona!”

  “Or maybe we could move up to Washington?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him with a smile.

  “Sure,” he replied. “We can do that.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Kiss me, Joe.” And she raised her lips up to meet his.

  * * * * *

  A few months later ...

  Perusing their new home from the street, Jane and Joe shivered with anticipation as they held each other close. Jane looked up at Joe and smiled. “I'm so glad you talked me into it,” she said.

  Joe smiled from ear to ear. “So am I,” he said. And then their eyes met. “What do ya think about having a housewarming?”

  “Yes. Yes!” Jane replied as she jumped on her toes with excitement.

  * * *

  The crowd was large, and the housewarming was going in full swing. And Joe was in his element as he worked the backyard grill.

  Joe glanced up just as the back door opened – Len emerged from the house, followed by Brenda.