Read Online Gold by Darrell Delamaide - Free Book Online Page B

in Zug, Switzerland, the first-generation American bought and sold oil and gold, grain and money, in every market in the world. He sold Nigerian oil to South Africa and American computers to the Soviet Union. There were very few countries he could go to without being arrested.
    “He’s very secretive, of course.” Drew’s thoughts turned to Hannes Kraml, his Austrian friend who had recently gone to Zug to work for Marcus.
    Drew recalled the day when Hannes told him about this decision. They had come out dripping after forty rugged minutes on the squash court; Drew actually had one of his rare days of victory over the athletic Austrian.
    In the sauna, that bath of warmth to make the punishment of the courts worthwhile, Hannes mentioned with a false casualness that he might be moving to Zurich.
    “No kidding,” Drew responded. “One of the Big Three?” The journalist knew Hannes had held talks off and on with at least two of the three massive banks who dominated the Swiss financial system and were among the strongest banks in the world. Drew also knew that, much as Hannes liked city life, he yearned for his mountains.
    “Actually, the job would be in Zug,” Hannes ventured timidly.
    Drew looked at his companion curiously. “I remember very distinctly late one night how you loudly proclaimed you would never work for that crook.”
    The Austrian, whose bland features lent him a deceptively slow look, smiled shyly. “I’d probably had too much to drink.”
    “It’s not me who’s passing any judgments, old friend,” Drew said. “It’s you who’s got to know.”
    “I’ve been asking around. The operation itself seems pretty much on the level,” Hannes explained. “And he does pay really well.”
    “And the mountains are very close, and he’s really no worse than most other people only he got caught, and ... and ... and.” Drew smiled. “You don’t have to rationalize for my benefit. My only regret is that I’ll have to find another squash partner who’ll let me win sometimes, and another drinking buddy who knows that pubs are for drinking beer, and somebody else who likes driving like a maniac down country roads—I’ll probably have to replace you with three people.”
    Hannes studied the hot coals of the oven.
    “Seriously, give it a try,” Drew added, “if it seems all right to you. Keep your eyes open, and if things start to get a little funny, just bolt. You know you’ll never have trouble landing a job.” Traders of Hannes’s caliber were rare.
    “I could ski every weekend in season,” Hannes said.
    “When do you leave?” Drew realized that the Austrian had long since made up his mind.
    “End of next week.” Hannes broke into a grin.
    “Two more squash games and at least one long pub crawl. Deal?” That had been three months ago.
    Drew saw Sangrat waiting patiently for him to finish his reverie. “It would take me some time,” the journalist responded.
    “I think we’d all know a lot more if we knew just how Marcus fit in,” Sangrat said.
    Drew had no idea how long it would take him to get through to Kraml, or whether the trader would talk. “I can’t promise anything,” he said to his host.
    “Of course not,” the Lebanese said after a pause. “But I think we can help each other to find out what’s going on.”
    When Drew returned to his office, the tension and lack of sleep from the past twenty-four hours caught up with him all at once. He felt a sudden emptiness, a profound discouragement that made him sad, almost as if he alone had the responsibility for the momentous events going on around him. Gold. South Africa. The dollar. Kuwait.
    What always bothered him about this roller-coaster ride of crisis and euphoria in the financial markets was how vulnerable it made the political situation. After all, the world had survived financial calamities in the past, in spite of the individual suffering they inflicted. But the conditions resulting from a financial collapse too