Crown's Vengeance, The (34 page)

What saved the economy, however, was OPEC’s abrupt announcement that they had settled on a different course of action and would not be doubling their production of oil. Production had remained constant for the past few weeks, and all indications pointed to a gradual increase in output. After an initial flurry of activity, the markets had calmed, and investors had moved on to other targets, oil futures now in the rearview mirror.

One thing that still bothered Parker was the timing of Drake’s plot in regards to OPEC’s completely unexpected announcement that oil output would increase twofold. Drake either had access to OPEC’s internal communications, or had a big shot from the organization in his back pocket. He was leaning toward the latter, but Nick had refused to discuss the issue, only saying it had “been taken care of.”

The sudden and still unexplained death of the president of OPEC, Sheik Khalifa bin Khan, was likely just a coincidence.

As he was considering these possibilities, wondering just how far this conspiracy stretched, the most recognizable voice in the world picked up the phone. “Am I speaking with Parker Chase?”

Parker must be hearing things.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Chase, this is Harrison Knox.”

“President Knox?”

“That’s correct, son.” President of the United States Harrison Knox, the leader of the free world, was on the phone.

“Mr. President, sir. What can I do for you?” Behind her gargantuan shades, he could see Erika’s eyes roll.

“You’ve already done your country a great service, Parker. Special Agent Dean told me about your heroic efforts, and I wanted to personally thank you for helping our nation avert a catastrophe.”

Parker’s mind was swimming. He was talking to the
president
. “I’m glad I could be of service, sir. It kind of just fell into my lap.”

“A man never knows when opportunity will knock. You answered the call, Parker, and your country is grateful.”

“It was my pleasure, sir. I’m just glad we stopped Drake before he could do any real damage.”

“As am I, Parker. If you ever need anything in the future, give me a call. I won’t forget this.”

Despite his awe, Parker couldn’t help but think of the disastrous effect the crisis would have had on the president’s reelection campaign next year. Harrison Knox definitely owed him one.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

“Any chance Dr. Carr is around? I’d like to thank her as well.”

“She’s right here, sir. One moment.”

Skepticism was all over her face as Erika took the phone. “This is Erika Carr. To whom am I speaking?”

Her jaw nearly touched the sand as the president’s smooth voice filled her ear.

Priceless.

As she stuttered through the conversation, Parker sipped his beer and tried to process the past five minutes. Here he was, sitting on the beaches in Key West, talking to the President Harrison Knox.

Who now owed him a favor.

And if that wasn’t enough, his net worth had just grown by exactly fifty million dollars. That crazy dream of starting his own investment firm suddenly came into focus. If he played his cards right, this could be just the beginning.

“Holy shit.”

Erika didn’t swear very often. Talking to the president certainly called for it.

“That was Harrison Knox. Parker, the
president
just called you. And he wanted to talk to
me
.”

“Yeah, we’re buds now.”

Erika sat in silence, mouth hanging wide open.

“I think this calls for a toast.” He raised his bottle. “Come on, get it up.”

Her empty beer went up.

“First of all, to my beautiful girlfriend, for getting me involved with yet another ridiculous lunatic hell-bent on killing us. Thank you for that, I really mean it.”

He dodged as the beer bottle whistled past his head. “I’d also like to say I’m excited to see what the future brings. I’ve been thinking, and since I could now actually afford it, I’m going to look into opening my own investment firm.”

Beautiful blue eyes flashed as she took off her awful sunglasses. “Really? That’s amazing, Parker. I think you should do it.”

“Then it’s settled. Chase Investment Services will soon be open for business. I’m thinking I need to be closer to the coast, within an hour or so of New York if I really want to compete with the big boys.”

Her face lit up. “Do you mean move to Philadelphia?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his chin, radiating indecision. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Slowly, taking her time, Erika stood. Her lithe figure floated across the sand and settled into his lap, gaze never leaving his. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

As the sun set, golden rays illuminated her face, alight with a promise of things to come, and he knew she was right.

“Then so do I.”

An island band started to play, steel drums mixed with keyboards, a breezy tune filling the air. With a coy smile, Erika grabbed his hand, and they darted through the sand, music filling his soul and the world falling away as they danced amidst the tropical paradise.

<<<<>>>> 

Author’s note

Much of the plot for this novel focuses on the intricacies of finance and how, in skillful hands, transactions can be manipulated to suit one’s purpose, nefarious or otherwise. It is alluded to that the concept of proprietary trading, central to the successful execution of this theoretical scheme, will soon be declared illegal by the federal government.

The situation is factual, and refers to what is commonly called the Volcker Rule, which was mandated by the Dodd-Frank Act of 2010. The intent of the Volcker Rule is to prevent banks, which hold federally insured deposits and can borrow from the Fed at reduced rates, from putting depositors’ money at risk.

In April 2012 the Federal Reserve stated that banks have until July 2014 to fully conform their activities and investments to the Volcker restrictions. However, the Fed has the authority to further extend the period of compliance beyond July 2014 at their discretion.

Aside from the ongoing regulatory initiatives, this book was meant to entertain and enlighten. Informed and inspired debate, whether internal or among individuals, is crucial to furthering an understanding of any industry or enterprise, including America’s financial system. As demonstrated by painful, concrete consequences rooted in the 2008 crisis, an uninformed electorate risks much by sitting back in blissful ignorance while a handful of unethical individuals decimate the futures of many. Taking an interest in and understanding a complex and often confusing banking system is the first step in regaining control of a country’s financial future.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I have to thank my three resident financial gurus, Rob Dolan, Steve Dalecki, and my father. As I fumbled my way through this unfamiliar world, it was only with their kind help and endless patience that I was able to detail this hypothetical crisis without sounding extremely obtuse. I also have to thank my team of volunteer readers, which includes the aforementioned trio, along with my mother and sister. A huge thanks goes out to Alicia for her invaluable proofreading services. Thank you to Kelsey for putting up with endless evenings spent pounding the keyboard, often in frustration. And I cannot forget our new friend Graham, who has grown from a loveable black ball of fur into one of the most entertaining creatures on four legs. To everyone who has joined me along the way with either moral or intellectual support. Friends, family, and fellow authors, I thank you.

As always, any and all mistakes in this text fall squarely on my shoulders.

To you, dear reader, thank you for taking time out of your life to join me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed the experience. If so, I’d love to hear from you. I can be found on my website, andrewclawson.com. I invite you to consider reading my first novel,
A Patriot’s Betrayal
, or my latest work,
Dark Tides Rising,
available on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

If you liked this book, please consider leaving a review. If not, let me know why. I’m always looking for ways to improve. Thank you again, and take care.

Excerpt from Dark Tides Rising

Visit Andrew’s website for more information and purchase details.

http://andrewclawson.com

Prologue

Port Royal, Jamaica

November 18, 1718

Seagulls cried above sparkling blue water, wingtips spread on a brisk salty breeze. Diamonds of golden sunlight glittered atop the calm sea, dazzling warmth for hundreds gathered at the docks. Mothers with their children, traders with their whores, entrepreneurs selling rotten fruit. Vibrant energy filled the air, laughter and drunken arguments a prelude to the entertainment.

It was like this at every hanging.

A thick rope dangled, dancing gently. Soon, a man’s neck would be slipped into the rough noose. Beneath his feet the trapdoor would drop, a spectacle for them all.

All, save one.

She stood on the periphery, soft red hood covering raven curls. Skin bronzed by the Caribbean sun, velvety smooth. Her eyes cast downward lest she be recognized. Flowing mane corralled within the nondescript crimson cloth, she was simply another anonymous spectator come to witness an execution in Port Royal, one more hanging under the Jamaican sun. But for Anne Bonny, this wasn’t just any pirate dancing the hempen jig.

Calico was her captain, the man whose exploits had enriched her beyond measure. His devil-may-care attitude garnered unchecked devotion from his crew, a vicious collection of scoundrels obsessed with women, wine, and song. Never before had a man with such charisma and audacity taken the helm of a pirate’s ship, and his exploits were legendary.

Anne knew that Calico was all this and more. The cunning, cotton-draped commander was also the father of her unborn child.

She gently brushed her hand across a scarcely discernable bump. As a full member of Calico’s gang, Anne herself would have been among those sentenced to death were it not for her current state. She had “plead her belly” after their capture and been granted amnesty, as per British law.

As she surveyed the gathered crowd, tears slid down her cheeks. Jack had given her life twice over, and today she would bear witness to his death.

Beside her the soft, chubby fingers of her young son tugged at her sleeve.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

The cherubic face of her son gazed up, his gray eyes strikingly similar to those of his father.

“Just a minute, dear. We can’t leave yet.”

Her son was too young to understand. He had no idea that the man who had just ascended the wooden stage was his father’s executioner. Right now he was a child, innocent and carefree.

Anne knew he would soon be forced to grow up, become a man fit to carry his father’s name.

Cheers filled the air as Calico appeared, followed by the man Anne Bonny despised more than any other in the world.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” On stage, the Royal Governor of the Bahamas shouted for attention. Steel flashed in Anne’s eyes. This man had not only captured her husband in order to collect the reward money, he had also presided over the trial at which the verdict was guilty, the sentence death by hanging.

She hoped the bastard dropped dead.

The governor addressed a restless crowd. “Before you stands the thief and murderer known as Calico. He and his sordid lot have terrorized God-fearing citizens for years, pillaging ships and plundering their goods.”

“Tweren’t my ship he robbed, Guvna. Was your money he stole and good for him!”

Shouts of support rang out from the gathered populace.

“This man stood before a jury of British citizens,” the governor continued, ignoring the cries. “He was found guilty of piracy. The punishment is death by hanging.”

“Set him free,” shouted one citizen.

Moldy lettuce and overripe tomatoes flew through the air. The governor dodged a well-thrown red missile, but he never saw the black and green lump of lettuce that splattered on his bright blue stockings.

Calico, his hands bound behind the namesake overcoat, laughed uproariously, his open jacket stretching over a muscled chest.

The red-faced governor turned toward Jack and sputtered on. “In accordance with the laws of his Majesty King George, you will be hanged from the neck until dead. This is the punishment for piracy, and let it be known throughout the land that you, sir, are a pirate of the worst order.”

Calico basked in the praise, a wicked grin on his lips.

Anne loved him, but she knew every word of the charge was true. She herself had borne witness to his deeds.

“Have you any last words?”

Anne’s heart fluttered when Jack’s gaze fell her way. He didn’t know she stood in the throng, but she still felt as though his coal black eyes locked onto hers.

“Damn you, Governor, and bless all you villains, for you are my own.”

He never stopped grinning, and the crowd burst into frenzied shouts of support, surging toward the platform. Bayonets flashed as the line of red-coated British soldiers at the front of the stage leveled their muskets in warning.

The governor slipped the thick hemp noose around Calico’s neck, cinched it tight. “Then may God have mercy on your wretched soul.”

The pirate never once let the dashing mask of a smile slip from his features.

Anne held her gaze, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was all she could do to stay silent lest she reveal her presence. Anne had visited Calico the previous night in his cell, and he’d revealed a secret so profound that she had finally understood he would not escape his sentence. The man she loved was going to die. As the moon blazed brightly through that prison cell’s lone barred window, his final gift to her was the culmination of a life of piracy.

“Take this.” He slipped a small leather-backed scroll down her shirt. “Do not tell another soul.”