The room exploded into shouts and questions. At the same time, a strong undercurrent of whispers ran through the room as reporters discussed the announcement and what it would mean for the average person as well as for the government as a whole.
And through it all, President Walters stared out over the crowd, basking in the frenzied excitement. His face was impassive, but there was a determined set to his jaw.
Ben cleared his throat. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I glanced at him. “What’s beautiful?”
“The spoken word.” He gestured at the president. “And it’s a joy to hear it coming from the mouth of a true master. Wade Walters is undoubtedly the finest speaker of this age.”
I forced a chuckle. “All he needs is someone to tell him what to say.”
A small smile creased Ben’s lips.
“The timing of this announcement is no accident.” The president’s voice rose above the crowd and instantly, silence fell over the room. “I’ve always tried to be a straight shooter and today is no different. The truth is this… the American economy is in desperate peril. Reinstating the gold standard is our best — and only — chance to avoid disaster.”
For the next few minutes, President Walters described the coming stagflation and the destruction it would wreck upon the American economy. He discussed the impossibility of battling it with normal strategies, given America’s enormous debt load. He explained how he would implement major spending cuts and new taxes on Monday morning. And finally, he told everyone how his gold standard would save America from future deficits. By the time, he was done his message was loud and clear. Stagflation was imminent and nothing short of a gold standard would stop it.
The press watched and recorded his speech in silence, their eyes widened with absolute shock. When it was time for questions, reporters exploded out of their seats. Screaming and waving their hands, they looked like a classroom full of teacher’s pets.
The president took a couple of questions, handling them with ease. Then he pointed at a tall, droopy man in the second row. The man stepped forward. “Mr. President, when was Fort Knox’s last official audit?”
“Hello, Bert. To answer your question, the last official audit occurred in 1953. It was done by staff members and only a small percentage of gold was actually tested.”
“So, how can we be sure the gold is real, Mr. President?”
My brow cinched tight.
President Walters plastered a smile across his face. “I can assure you it’s 100 percent real. Now, next—”
“Would you be willing to show us a couple of bars, Mr. President? And submit them to testing as well?”
There was no way this was an innocent line of questioning. Somehow the reporter knew about the fake bars. But how?
Malware.
More puzzle pieces slid into place. In order to fund Project Capitalist Curtain, a large amount of gold had been removed from the depository. Justin and his crew had been involved with its transportation. They’d vanished during the process. Did the gold disappear with them? Yes, that had to be it. It explained the fake bars as well as why Project Capitalist Curtain never came to fruition.
But what was Malware’s motive in all this? If she was after the gold, why tip off the reporter?
The president frowned. “You mean right now?”
“Yes, sir. I noticed the famous treasure hunter Cy Reed is on the premises. Perhaps he could lend us his expertise for a couple of minutes.”
“That’s a fine idea.” President Walters twisted his neck until he saw me. “Mr. Reed, could you join me, please?”
Heads swiveled in my direction. My cheeks grow hot.
How do you get yourself into these situations?
“Get up there, you dolt,” Donovan whispered.
I couldn’t see a way out of the situation. The soldiers stepped aside and with great trepidation, I strode to the podium. As I shook President Walters’ outstretched hand, I spoke quietly through clenched teeth. “We need to talk.”
“We will. Later.” President Walters nodded at Donovan. Donovan nodded back. Then he slipped past the guards and entered one of the compartments. When he reemerged, he carried a gleaming bar in his hands.
A couple of soldiers appeared with a sturdy table. They placed it onto the elevated platform and Donovan put the bar on the table.
“Now, Mr. Reed.” The president gave me a wide smile. “What’s your expert opinion? Is it real? Or fake?”
I stared at him, hoping he’d see something in my eyes. But alas, he was too busy hamming it up for the cameras.
I walked to the table and gave the bar a good look. From the outside, it looked like gold. But I had a sneaking suspicion its interior was a different matter altogether. “Perhaps this should wait,” I said. “In order to do a thorough job, I’d have to submit it to tests. Density, x-rays, drilling…”
“Nonsense. This is the perfect time. Why don’t you start with a quick drilling?” The president winked at the reporters. “We’ve got to make sure it’s not hollow, right?”
As the reporters tittered, more soldiers came forward, equipped with tools, clamps, and drills. Before long, the table was bolted to the platform and the bar was clamped into place.
President Walters took one of the drills and with a flourish, tried to hand it to me.
I shook my head.
“Here,” he said, extending the drill for a second time.
“I can’t,” I said through gritted teeth.
“You’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “I should do it.”
Approaching the table, he placed the drill against the bar’s exterior. It whirred for a couple of seconds and he pulled it away, leaving behind a tiny indentation. I was relieved to see only gold at the bottom of it. Maybe this bar wasn’t like the other ones.
“Not bad.” The president flashed a grin at the audience. “But we can go deeper than that.”
He resumed drilling. A few seconds later, the mechanical device jolted in his hands. The whirring changed to light crunching and with a deep frown he stepped back a few feet. “What the hell?”
The reporters and camera operators, slightly confused, leaned forward. For a couple of seconds, there was blissful silence. And then Bert, the reporter who’d started this whole mess, roared with laughter.
“That’s not gold,” he shouted. “It’s a fake.”
Chapter 60
Instantly, reporters jumped in front of their respective cameras. A variety of voices, all alarmed, rang out.
“A shocking discovery as President Wade Walters discovers the presence of a fake gold bar within Fort Knox’s hallowed walls,” a bubbly brunette called out.
“President Walter’s plan to reinstate the gold standard just received a major setback,” shouted a male reporter in the gravest tone imaginable.
“With America’s gold supply in question and stagflation looming on the horizon,” a second male reporter said, “the future of this country’s economy is now very much up in the air.”
With initial statements out of the way, reporters shouted questions at the president. Others grabbed their camera operators and raced toward the vault door. Soldiers closed ranks, blocking their path. The reporters responded by rising to their tiptoes and shouting questions at anyone who would listen.
Including me.
“Mr. Reed, would you please comment on what we just saw?”
“How much of the gold do you believe to be fake, Mr. Reed? All of it? Or just a significant portion?”