since we’ve met. Paris, wasn’t it?”
Now it clicked. The meeting was with Halden; Guinness was there for protocol.
“Years ago,” Drew responded. “We both had different jobs then.” He smiled.
“This is Carol Connors, one of our top economists.” Carol shook his hand firmly, with a friendly, open smile. Despite his confusion at the sudden turn of events, Drew was momentarily distracted by the encounter. Carol’s brown eyes were alight with intelligence, but perhaps something more—that slight expansion of the pupils that marks a kindling of interest.
Guinness ordered tea as Drew took his place and concentrated on the two men. He imagined how many bank chief executives had sat in his place, waiting for the tea to be served in Guinness’s office, wondering what had prompted the Bank’s summons.
Once the tea was poured and Halden had reminisced with Drew about Paris, the Fed president said, “I’m sure you’ve figured out why we called you.”
“South Africa,” answered the journalist.
“I’ve spoken to Tom Madison and another fellow—”
“Richard Corrello,” Carol prompted. Drew nodded. Protocol again, clearing the conversation with his two superiors at SBC.
“That was it. They said it was your call. The news came from your stringer, they said. But that’s all they knew.”
Drew picked up on cue. He recognized the need for the responsible authorities to explore the circumstances leading up to such a market crisis, so he sketched the chronology of Tuesday afternoon, starting with Van der Merwe’s phone call. He did not mention the telex or MacLean.
The two central bankers listened attentively. Guinness was a tall man, whose big ears stuck out prominently. Carol took notes, looking up only occasionally to meet Drew’s eyes.
“My traders tell me there was considerable movement in the market just before your flash,” Halden said when Drew had finished.
Drew paused. He took a deep breath and told the three of them about MacLean. He narrated just the facts: Van der Merwe asking about his telex, MacLean’s hasty departure for the dentist and subsequent disappearance. They were suggestive enough. Then he added what he had heard about the gold trading from Preston Morgan and David Sangrat, without giving the names of these two sources.
“Looks like we need to find this MacLean,” Halden said to Guinness.
“Have you talked to the police?” Guinness asked Drew, who shook his head. “It’ll be easier for me to get the machinery moving. Somebody from the Yard will call you.”
“There is one other thing I should mention,” Drew said, and told them about the unidentified murder victim in Annecy. The information was greeted with silence, except for the scratching of a pencil as Guinness made a note.
Carol resumed the conversation. “You’ve had no contact with Van der Merwe since then?” she asked Drew.
“Our contact with him was always spotty anyway, and communications seem completely shut down since the sabotage.”
Halden was thoughtful. “Amazing, how thin the thread is,” he remarked. He looked at Drew. “The markets are up and running again. But you know as well as I do just how delicate things are.” He paused. “Off the record, I had an emergency meeting yesterday with the Latin American finance ministers. The Fed’s putting up a ten-billion-dollar safety net for their interbank deposits.”
Drew kept quiet but whistled in his mind. What a tip, straight from the horse’s mouth. Too bad it was off the record.
“Can you do me a favor, Drew?” Halden leaned forward. “Let me know first if you hear anything else from Van der Merwe.” Drew shifted in his seat. “I know it’s unusual,” Halden went on, “but I asked Madison, and he had no objection. It’s up to you.”
It was a touchy point. Deep down, Drew believed that the public good was best served by an independent press. But it seemed a small enough favor, and Halden made sense—the markets were very
Now it clicked. The meeting was with Halden; Guinness was there for protocol.
“Years ago,” Drew responded. “We both had different jobs then.” He smiled.
“This is Carol Connors, one of our top economists.” Carol shook his hand firmly, with a friendly, open smile. Despite his confusion at the sudden turn of events, Drew was momentarily distracted by the encounter. Carol’s brown eyes were alight with intelligence, but perhaps something more—that slight expansion of the pupils that marks a kindling of interest.
Guinness ordered tea as Drew took his place and concentrated on the two men. He imagined how many bank chief executives had sat in his place, waiting for the tea to be served in Guinness’s office, wondering what had prompted the Bank’s summons.
Once the tea was poured and Halden had reminisced with Drew about Paris, the Fed president said, “I’m sure you’ve figured out why we called you.”
“South Africa,” answered the journalist.
“I’ve spoken to Tom Madison and another fellow—”
“Richard Corrello,” Carol prompted. Drew nodded. Protocol again, clearing the conversation with his two superiors at SBC.
“That was it. They said it was your call. The news came from your stringer, they said. But that’s all they knew.”
Drew picked up on cue. He recognized the need for the responsible authorities to explore the circumstances leading up to such a market crisis, so he sketched the chronology of Tuesday afternoon, starting with Van der Merwe’s phone call. He did not mention the telex or MacLean.
The two central bankers listened attentively. Guinness was a tall man, whose big ears stuck out prominently. Carol took notes, looking up only occasionally to meet Drew’s eyes.
“My traders tell me there was considerable movement in the market just before your flash,” Halden said when Drew had finished.
Drew paused. He took a deep breath and told the three of them about MacLean. He narrated just the facts: Van der Merwe asking about his telex, MacLean’s hasty departure for the dentist and subsequent disappearance. They were suggestive enough. Then he added what he had heard about the gold trading from Preston Morgan and David Sangrat, without giving the names of these two sources.
“Looks like we need to find this MacLean,” Halden said to Guinness.
“Have you talked to the police?” Guinness asked Drew, who shook his head. “It’ll be easier for me to get the machinery moving. Somebody from the Yard will call you.”
“There is one other thing I should mention,” Drew said, and told them about the unidentified murder victim in Annecy. The information was greeted with silence, except for the scratching of a pencil as Guinness made a note.
Carol resumed the conversation. “You’ve had no contact with Van der Merwe since then?” she asked Drew.
“Our contact with him was always spotty anyway, and communications seem completely shut down since the sabotage.”
Halden was thoughtful. “Amazing, how thin the thread is,” he remarked. He looked at Drew. “The markets are up and running again. But you know as well as I do just how delicate things are.” He paused. “Off the record, I had an emergency meeting yesterday with the Latin American finance ministers. The Fed’s putting up a ten-billion-dollar safety net for their interbank deposits.”
Drew kept quiet but whistled in his mind. What a tip, straight from the horse’s mouth. Too bad it was off the record.
“Can you do me a favor, Drew?” Halden leaned forward. “Let me know first if you hear anything else from Van der Merwe.” Drew shifted in his seat. “I know it’s unusual,” Halden went on, “but I asked Madison, and he had no objection. It’s up to you.”
It was a touchy point. Deep down, Drew believed that the public good was best served by an independent press. But it seemed a small enough favor, and Halden made sense—the markets were very
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