Hawk was controlling his impatience. He glowered at me and then answered, “The present assets of the company to a large degree, but mostly its potential, future sales, the dividends it’s expected to pay—” he stopped short. “I guess what you’re trying to get me to say is that, in effect, no stock is worth any more than people believe it’s worth. Right?”
I nodded my head slowly. “That’s right. Hawk. It comes right back to trust again. Destroy that trust—”
“—and you’ve destroyed the American system!”
“So,” I said, taking a deep breath, “if any given stock were dumped on the market in huge quantities without any explanation, it would be like announcing that it’s worthless.”
“Come on, now, Nick, you know better than that! That’s not the way the market works,” Hawk protested. “The trading specialists in that stock from the brokerage houses would have to keep the price up — even if they had to buy it themselves.”
“If two or three million shares of a single major corporation were dumped all at once? Say the stock was selling for over a hundred dollars a share. How many brokerage houses could afford to buy it to keep its price up?”
Hawk shook his head. “None,” he said. “Not one. There isn’t a brokerage house that has that much money. Assuming it could happen, the value of the stock would drop like a rock.”
“How far would it drop?”
“It depends. Probably, it could go to a fraction of its value.”
“Sure. You drop enough shares of any stock into a market without enough buyers to absorb it, and each share finally winds up worth less than the paper it’s printed on!”
“Couldn’t happen,” said Hawk firmly. “The Board of Governors of each of the Exchanges would suspend trading in the stock immediately.”
“And suppose that when the market opened again the next day, even more sell orders came in, Hawk? And not just one stock, mind you, but stock in every major company in the whole United States!”
“I don’t believe it!”
I pressed on. All I was doing was telling him what the wounded Russian had told me. “Suppose half a dozen of the biggest commercial banks joined the insurance companies in selling off all their stocks?”
“Christ! You’re out of your mind, Nick!” Hawk exploded. “They wouldn’t dare! There’d be a run on every bank in the country!”
“Now you’re getting the idea.”
Hawk looked at me carefully. His cigar had gone out. He made no attempt to light it.
“Add to that three or four of the major mutual funds,” I said. Hawk waved a hand for me to stop.
“Are you telling me this is what’s due to happen?”
“That’s what the Russian said.”
Hawk took a moment to relight his cigar. He took a deep breath.
“It’s pretty farfetched, Nick.”
I shrugged. “Hell, Hawk, I don’t know. It was devised by one of the top Soviet economists. The way he figures it, our economy is the most vulnerable area they can attack. You remember what happened a couple of years back when the Russians bought a few million tons of grain? Christ, the price of food shot sky high. Inflation took off like a rocket. It triggered a round of strikes because the cost-of-living went soaring. I guess that’s what gave this economist the idea that the quickest, easiest way to destroy this country is not through war but economically!”
Hawk was somber. “The domino theory,” he said musingly. “Yes, the plan could work, Nick. If the market goes to hell, the banks follow. Then every industry in the country would have to close down in a matter of days. Once that happens, tens of millions of people are out of work. The country goes broke. Without enough money to take care of our own people, there’d be no foreign aid, no foreign trade, no NATO, SEATO or other alliances. The European Common Market would have to turn to the Soviet bloc to survive. Japan would turn to Red China. The United States would be reduced to less than a fifth-rate power!”
I’ve never seen so serious an expression on Hawk’s face. He went on, thinking out loud, “There’d be riots in every city and town in the country!”
Then he got to his feet angrily and began pacing the room in short, rapid steps. “But how, Nick? For God’s sake! You’re asking me to believe that every responsible financier and money man in the country would act contrary to his own self-interests! I just can’t see men like that acting that way!”
“The Russian says there are only a few of them, Hawk. Just a few key men, strategically placed — men with authority to issue sell orders of that magnitude. They could trigger it. The others would follow out of panic and desperation.”
“He could be right,” Hawk said finally. “Dammit, he could be right!”
“The Russians believe it can be done,” I said. “That’s why they almost killed him when he found out what was going to happen.”
Hawk paced the room like a caged leopard. “There’d have to be an organization,” he said savagely. “A tight little group, with each man a power in his own company.” He nodded, talking almost completely to himself now. “Yes, an organization, but with one man at the top. One man to give the orders.”
He turned to me suddenly. “But why? Why would they do it, Nick?”
I knew better than to answer. With Hawk’s knowledge of human nature, it had to be a rhetorical question.
“Power!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table top. “That’s the only motivation for men of that stature! They’d do it for power! Tell them that they’d be running the country the way they think it should be run and you’d have them eating out of the palm of your hand! You take a man who’s fought his way into control of a giant company and ten to one he wants to control the country as well.”
Hawk dropped the stub of his cigar into the ashtray. The outburst seemed to calm him down. I poured myself a cup of the now cold coffee and sipped at it. Hawk came over and picked up his own cup. He took his time about filling it.
“Alright, Nick,” he said almost quietly, “now you tell me how the hell the Russians fit into this thing. How did the Kremlin get their hands on the top man? Blackmail? I can’t believe that.”
“He’s a plant,” I said and watched the expression on Hawk’s face. Only a quick flash of surprise in his eyes showed that he’d even heard me.
“When did they bury him?” he asked quietly.
“According to the Russian, he was planted here right after World War II — somewhere around 1946. He’s been lying low ever since. About eight years ago he began forming this organization. You guessed it, Hawk, there is an organization. And every one of its members has a key position in his own company. Every one of them is a top financial officer.”
“You know anything else about this organization? It’s name?”
I shook my head. “The Russian didn’t learn that much. But he was able to tell me the outline of the plan. Actually, the Kremlin didn’t know what the hell to do with this organization until Krasnov — that’s the Russian economist — came up with his idea. That was about a year ago. They’re ready to go now.”
“When? When’s the kick-off date?”
“Twelve days from now,” I said. “Eleven, if you don’t count today.”
Hawk drained the rest of his cold coffee, made a face and put the cup down on the table.
“Anything else? Any clues as to who this top man might be?”
“The Russian said something strange,” I said, remembering. “He said the man was a Brahmin. Whatever that means.”
Hawk was silent for several seconds, then suddenly he whispered, “Boston!”
“What?”
“He’s a Bostonian, Nick! Upper class, old family, high in the hierarchy of the financial world. Only one group in the U.S. are called ‘Brahmins,’ because they’re top caste.”