Greed

by D Thomas Jewett

  “Hey guys,” Joe called out.

  “Hi dad,” the two replied in unison.

  Joe put down the spatula and walked over to them. “So what's goin' on?”

  “We're getting married,” Len announced.

  Joe stopped his advance with an expression of surprise. He looked at one, and then the other, and then back again. “Super! Have you set a date?”

  “Yes,” Len replied as Brenda nodded her head with excitement. “We're planning on December.”

  “Great! I'm so happy for both of you.” Joe held each of them under an arm and huddled close to them. He whispered, “I hope you both have the most wonderful life together that any couple can have. I love you both.”

  They split the huddle and then Joe continued. “When are you making the announcement?”

  “Soon,” Brenda replied. “We want to make sure that no one hears it second-hand.”

  Joe nodded his understanding. “Well, you better go tell your mother.” And then he joked, “Or maybe not ... she'll tell the entire county.”

  They all laughed. Len and Brenda found the beer and then made the rounds to the other guests. Joe went back to flipping steaks.

  “Food's on,” he shouted.

  * * *

  Jane came up to Joe as he was flipping steaks and burgers. “How’s the cooking going?” She asked.

  “Just look around. Everyone's having a great time.”

  Then Joe put his grill work on hold and looked at Jane. “Did Len and Brenda tell you yet?”

  “About getting married?” Jane asked.

  “Yeah. What do you think?”

  Jane smiled. “I think it's great. And I told 'em so.”

  Joe leaned over and whispered. “Do you think he'll do okay with his nursing career? I mean, do you think he'll be able to support a family on that?”

  Jane's lips pursed as she glared at Joe. “Damn it. You've been harping on his decision to go into nursing ever since he first told us. It's been four years now, Joe. Get over it.”

  “Okay. Okay. I was just wondering ...”

  “Wondering what?” Jane's face turned red.

  “If that job was too feminine for him. I mean –”

  Jane interrupted. “Damn it, Joe! Ever since he decided to go into nursing, you've been ragging on him about being a man. Hell, you just about accused him of getting a sex change operation.” Jane paused and then continued. “Now what's goin' on?”

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing ... “

  “Then let it go.” She paused and looked sternly at Joe. “Let – it – go!”

  Jane turned and walked back into the crowd. Her stern expression immediately transformed into a warm smile as she greeted Mr. and Mrs. Holmsby.

  Chapter 4

  Ring. Ring! ... Ring. Ring!

  Brandy reached over and picked up the telephone. Gawd how I hate that loud ring. She put the receiver up to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Yes?” Brandy paused. “Yes, we carry those.” (pause) “Yes, we carry those too.” (pause) “I suggest that we set up a meeting.” (pause) “Where are you located?” (pause) “That’s fine. How about we meet at Brewer’s Deli in Sandpoint?” (pause) “About 12-noon today?” (pause) “Sounds good. In case we don’t connect, my cell phone is 208-555-8592. Okay. See you there.”

  Bill walked in just as she was hanging up the phone. “I'm meeting with a dealer today – new to the area. It looks like most of his business is over the internet. Brewer’s Deli at 12 Noon.”

  And then she smiled at Bill and said, “Wanna go?

  * * *

  A quaint delicatessen and restaurant, Brewer’s stands on the south side of downtown Sandpoint on U.S. 95, close to Lake Pend Oreille. A long time local eatery, Bill remembered it from his earlier days living in the area.

  Bill and Brandy entered and immediately connected with the telephone caller – a tall man with light brown hair and a broad smile.

  “Please call me Dwayne,” he said.

  “I’m Bill; and this is my partner, Brandy. Er – ah – she is the person you talked with over the phone.”

  Brandy's charming smile came forth as she drawled, “How can we help Y’all?”

  Dwayne looked back and forth between the two. “I'm looking to stock silver and gold rounds to sell on my internet precious metals site. I’m wondering what kind of price you can give me on quantity purchases?”

  Bill produced a silver and gold round, each encased in its own plastic protective sleeve, and placed them on the table. “We currently offer two kinds of coins; a $20 Silver Freedom coin, and a $1,000 Gold Freedom coin.”

  Brandy picked up the dialog. “We call them Freedom Dollars. In large lots, we charge the spot price plus twelve percent.”

  Brandy continued. “Now, with these pieces, we include a brochure on Freedom Dollars that you can give to your customers. The brochure discusses how these coins can be used in barter transactions; quite possibly in lieu of Federal Reserve Notes. We've been marketing Freedom Dollars this way since their inception – and we’ve had great success with this approach!”

  The spot price was the current price on the COMEX for silver and gold still to be delivered. Bill knew that the price was as good as any dealer could get, especially considering the manufacturing costs of the coins.

  Dwayne picked up one of the pieces and looked at it closely. “I think we can do business on these ...”

  Then he turned it over to look at the reverse of the coin. “Do you trade in any other product lines?”

  “Yes.” Brandy’s eyes lit up as she produced a one-ounce custom gold coin. “We designed these as a custom run for the Philippines. Their government receives revenue for each coin sold, and we keep whatever profit remains. We've also designed a number of different issues for other countries – usually under the same business model. They've all been successful for us.”

  “Great! And how much do you charge for them?” Dwayne asked as he flipped the piece over.

  “For these, our wholesale price is 30% below retail,” Brandy replied. “Remember, these are focused more on the collectors’ market, rather than the precious metals market.”

  “Okay!” Dwayne replied. “But I will need to see what kind of demand exists before I can commit on large quantities, so I'm wondering if I can begin by getting a quantity discount on a smaller first-time purchase?”

  “Hmmm ... I think we can find a way to do that,” Brandy replied.

  * * * * *

  Brandy walked into Dwayne’s rare coin shop pushing a smallish four-wheel cart full of Dwayne’s new inventory – an inventory of Freedom Dollars and custom pieces authorized by Thailand’s government.

  Brandy stepped up to the counter and rang the bell. While waiting for Dwayne, she looked around at Dwayne’s modest surroundings. The size and scope of the main shop area suggested a rather small rare coin operation – a suggestion that was clearly not true given his much larger inventory and balance sheet.

  “Hi, Brandy.”

  Brandy turned toward the voice and smiled. “Hi, Dwayne. I brought Y'all some stuff. How’s business?”

  “Damn! That’s a big load.” Dwayne said. “Did I order all that?”

  “Yep,” Brandy replied. This is what we talked about on the telephone. Every order you've placed has been larger than the last. As far as we're concerned, your business is growing – and fast!”

  “Yes, well ... my transactions seem to be getting more numerous, and the dollar amounts are getting larger too,” Dwayne replied.

  “So,” Dwayne continued, “how’re you guys doing?”

  “Great.” Brandy replied.

  Dwayne seemed to lick his chops as he looked at the cart. “How about we go through the invoice and make sure everything is here?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  After they finished, Brandy said, “Did you know Y’all can be a wholesaler of both the Freedom Dollars and the custom pieces? That would give you an opportunity to make even more.”

  �
��I kinda guessed that. But I’ve been so busy that I just didn’t think about it.” Dwayne said. “But now that you’ve brought it up, I’ll see how I can fit that into my business model.”

  “And also,” Brandy's eyes sparkled as she was speaking, “Bill and I have decided to come out with half-ounce and quarter-ounce silver Freedom Dollars.”

  “Great!” Dwayne smiled, “I’ve had a lot of people asking for them, so you already have at least one buyer.”

  Then Dwayne frowned. “So, what do you think of our economic situation?”

  Brandy’s expression became more serious. “Bill and I were talking about it the other night. We both think that the fundamentals of the economy are looking really bad.”

  “Not that we’ll have a crash today or tomorrow,” she mused, “but we see a rather large bubble beginning to form in the real estate market. When you add this to the Fed’s previous money-pumping bailouts – Long-Term Capital Management, the dot-com bubble, and 9/11 – and the fact that they’re pumping money to bail us out of this recession; well, we think it looks grim.

  Brandy continued. “Bill was talking with a friend who is still working in the telecommunications field – Bill left that job back in ’96. Anyway, it sounds like the computer and telecommunications industries are in a full-blown depression!” Brandy's eyes grew bigger. “And you know what? They’re still sending IT[22] jobs overseas and importing more engineers from other countries. It's killing engineers' salaries and putting them out of work.”

  Dwayne was stupefied. “You know, Trish and I have talked about these same issues; but I must admit I am shaken – really shaken – to hear this coming from you guys. Especially since you seem to have your wits about you.”

  The conversation paused. And then Dwayne continued. “So, what do you think will happen?”

  “It’s hard to say how it will play out. But it appears the Fed is willing to bail out every financial and economic problem that comes along. That alone should tell us we're in for a large debasement of the dollar over these next years.”

  “But we’ve been seeing monetary inflation for several years,” Dwayne said, “and yet, gold, silver, and interest rates are all extremely low. What gives?”

  Brandy hesitated, and then she said, “Bill and I think they're manipulating the price of gold and silver – driving the prices down. This allows them to keep interest rates artificially low and it allows them to print larger amounts of money.”

  “So, where do you think this takes us?”

  “Well,” Brandy replied, “again, there’s no telling for sure, but it could well put us through an Argentina-like collapse down the road. But – and here’s a big but – because the dollar is the world’s reserve currency, it could remake the entire world in the image of Argentina’s collapse!”

  “Wasn’t Argentina a war zone a while back?”

  “It still is.” Brandy replied.

  Chapter 5 – Circa 2003

  Sheryl Barclay's narrow fingers flew over the keyboard as she mentally checked off the arguments that the Congressman mentioned. He was dead-set against the Iraq invasion; and to Sheryl, he had made his reasons crystal clear. I need to have this speech finished tonight so that he finds it on his desk in the morning, Sheryl thought. That way, he can get his corrections out of the way first thing.

  She glanced up at the clock. Shit! it's 11:30. I'm not gonna be worth a damn if I don't finish this soon! Her fingers moved even faster over the keyboard.

  Recently hired into Congressman Bannister’s staff, Sheryl was working well into the evening. Shoulders hunched, she plugged away on the keyboard, glancing infrequently at the notes scratched on a torn piece of paper under the desk lamp. The lamp illuminated her desk; but further out from the desk, the light receded into the shadows, giving just a hint of the walls beyond. Outside her office there was a main hallway providing general access to the office suite; but as was Sheryl's custom, the office suite proper was darkened – the kind of dark that brings out the silhouette of the chairs, the desks, the filing cabinets. But not much more ...

  Good! I'm almost done! She thought. My Communications degree is beginning to pay off, she mused. If only I can get a permanent job here with the Congressman!

  Then she heard something. Not knowing what it was, she stopped typing and remained still. She heard only silence. And then, she heard it again – a gentle squeak, as though a door were opening. She remained still, listening and watching. The squeak stopped. She thought she heard rustling, but she wasn't sure.

  She reached down under her computer table and quietly pulled out her purse. She felt around in the purse until her hand closed around a spray can. Pepper spray – this should help, she thought as she grasped the can. And then she saw a ray of light; probably from a flashlight. The light was moving back and forth, illuminating the walkway through the office suite.

  Quiet like a mouse, she tiptoed softly from her desk over to the wall closest to the office entrance. Ever so still, she pressed herself up against the wall and waited – not daring to even breathe.

  Was it a security guard? No – they didn't patrol the office suites. They kept their patrol to the corridors. Was it a co-worker? Damn! What would a co-worker be doing with a flashlight? Why not turn on the lights?

  She watched the light travel the floor – back and forth – near the entrance to her office. And then the light came up to the entrance and a man's silhouette filled the doorway frame. At that moment Sheryl knew the measure of her resolve. She leaped out of the shadow and sprayed the pepper into the man's face. The man jumped back and let out a horrible scream. “Arrrgh! I can't see! I can't see!” The man fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

  Sheryl turned on the lights and then stood over the suffering, squirming man. “If you try one damn thing – if you move a muscle or try to escape – I'll call security. You got that?”

  “Ya – yes,” he hissed in pain.

  Sheryl was breathing deeply with the excitement. “Now. Who the hell are you?”

  The man's head rolled on the floor as he held his eyes. “I can't see – I can't see. Ca – ca – can you help me out?”

  Sheryl's anger was beginning to take over. “Answer my question. Who are you?”

  “Mmmm – Mark.”

  “Mark who?”

  “Shannon. Mark Shannon.”

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “Ah, ah – um ...”

  Sheryl was still standing over him. “If you don't tell me, I'll spray you again and call security. I'm sure they'll get it out of you.”

  “You – you wouldn't do that. Would you?”

  “In a New York minute, I would! Now talk!”

  “Okay. Okay,” he wheezed through his clenched mouth. “I – I came to plant a bug.”

  Sheryl’s eyebrows rose. “Bug? What kind of bug?”

  “A – a listening device. I was supposed to plant it in Bannister's office.”

  “Why?”

  “I work for the Majority Whip. He – he told me to do it. He wanted information on how many were gonna vote against the Iraq war. He – he knows Bannister’s against it. He thought Bannister would be a good source.”

  “And?” Sheryl was still standing over him.

  “And, and – that's it. That's all there is.” The man continued to writhe in pain.

  “Hmmm.” Sheryl paused in thought.

  “I think I'll call security,” she decided.

  “No – no, wait! I'll make you a deal.”

  “Deal? That's absurd! What do you have that I could possibly want?”

  “They – they've got some dirt on Bannister.” Mark was beginning to shake off some of the effects.

  “Oh?” Sheryl's eyes grew big.

  Sheryl watched as a smile broke out on Mark's face. Damn! I may have to make a deal with this jerk!

  She looked down at him. “Are you wearing contacts?”

  “Huh?”

  “I'll say it slow. Are you wearing contacts in your e
yes?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Because we'd have to take them out first thing.”

  “Stay here,” she commanded. She walked over to her desk and pulled a packet out of her purse. Ripping it open, she extracted a saturated cloth and walked back to the man. She stooped, using the cloth to wipe the pepper off his face and out of his mouth and nose; and then she gave him the cloth and said, “put this decontamination pad over your eyes. It should clear your eyesight quick.” Soon, he was sitting up and looking at her.

  Sheryl stood back and glared at him. She was now all business. “Tell me what they know about Bannister. What kind of dirt do they have on him?”

  Mark talked slowly. “Well, it's simple, really. They – the other side of the aisle – they know that he's banging his Chief of Staff. Loraine is her name, I think.”

  Sheryl felt her hands shiver and her eyes widen. So that's what's been going on! Damn! I didn't think about it at the time; but when I look at it now, I can definitely see the signs. Sheryl gasped. That time I knocked on the door and then walked right in. Loraine was standing there, stroking her blouse with her hands; smoothing it, I think. But oh – there were other times too! Son of a bitch!

  “Damn!”

  The conversation stumbled to an awkward wordlessness.

  Mark finally broke the silence. “Hey. I'll bet we can help each other out.”

  Sheryl crossed her arms and looked at him dubiously. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, maybe we could feed each other information. What do you think?”

  “Hmmm ... I don't know what I can tell you,” she responded. “Frankly, I'm not in the habit of betraying my boss!”

  “Okay. Okay,” Mark was beginning to show his boyish handsome side. “Maybe I can pass you some information? Or, maybe we can just talk? Maybe – maybe we can meet for dinner tomorrow night?”

  Mark raised his eyebrows as he looked at her.

  “Well,” Sheryl lifted her nose up in the air, “I don't know if I want dinner with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you're nothing more than a common thief, that's why.” She glared down at the man. “It looks to me like all you do is lurk the Capitol halls in search of anything you can steal. I suppose you check everything to see if it's nailed down,” she sneered. And then her brow furrowed. “How much have you stolen in your career?”