She didn’t answer directly.
“When the economy goes really badly,” she said, concentrating hard, “governments want to put their money into strong currencies – like the Swiss Franc. A totally over-rated currency for a piss-pot of a country the size of Wales, wouldn’t you say?”
Charlie shrugged and Hank looked askance at her bad language before lunchtime.
“And if things go really, really badly,” continued Helene, “governments don’t want cash, they want something a bit more certain – they want gold.”
“Yah, so what?” said Charlie, clearly bored.
“Time for another history lesson,” said Helene, getting into her stride. If she saw Charlie rolling his eyes for real, she pretended not to.
“If people don’t have confidence in the currency, the whole system is in danger of collapsing,” explained Helene. “Going back five hundred years, dear old Henry VIII wasn’t quite the bluff King Hal everyone thought he was: in reality he as a war-hungry, greedy bastard. His father had spent a lifetime making England into one of the most stable economies in Europe, but it wasn’t a case of like father like son: until Henry’s reign, English currency was made of gold and silver so the face value was pretty much the same as their bullion value. But Henry had some expensive vanity wars to pay for so he mixed the silver in his coins with a base metal, copper. But he didn’t stop there: it was such a good wheeze that he kept on doing it. Soon the so-called ‘silver’ coins were more copper than silver. That’s how Henry got the nickname ‘Old Coppernose’ because where his portrait was stamped onto the coins, his nose was the highest part of the profile. When the coins got rubbed in people’s pockets, the silver got rubbed off the nose first, it showed the copper underneath.”
“Okayay, okay,” said Charlie, “Enough of the history lesson.”
It clearly hadn’t been his favourite subject at school.
“No, it’s important,” said Helene, “because I think it explains what’s happening now. Henry’s coins were so debased in value that it caused rampant inflation: people wanted two ‘silver’ coins when before they would just have one. Foreigners wouldn’t accept English money and the economy was shot to hell and back. Eventually the debased coins were withdrawn because people had no confidence in them.”
“Yeah, so?” said Charlie, looking even more bored.
“So what if the US government has been doing the same thing?” she said. “What if, when they moved the Bullion Depository to Fort Knox in 1937 some of it – or maybe all of it – was replaced with tungsten and just plated with gold?”
The men were silent, considering her crazy idea.
“What if the US has been selling fool’s gold to foreign powers? I mean – who’d think to check? Like Old Coppernose: what if the gold has been debased for years – decades… and what if these countries eventually got a tiny bit curious about how the US was financing its debt and started checking up that the gold they’d bought from the US really was gold and not tungsten or lead or some other non-gold metal.”
“I don’t know,” said Charlie softly, his eyes suddenly interested.
“I guess they’d be selling a lot of home chemistry sets,” said Hank, finally joining in.
“Not half!” said Helene. “But imagine you were the Chinese government with your $1.4 trillion worth of US debt and then you found out that you weren’t holding US gold, but some rubbish shipped out to your country when you were still in short trousers: you’d be pretty damn pissed off. Either you would demand real gold to replace what you’d been given, or…”
“Or?” Charlie and Hank said in unison.
“Or,” continued Helene, “you’d demand preferential trade terms, ad infinitum, to keep quiet. Or you might demand other terms: that the US doesn’t intervene in Chinese ambitions in Taiwan or Tibet, for example, or turn a blind eye when China buys up land in Africa and India. They might even want to be able to buy US aerospace companies – Stealth fighter technology, say. And I can’t help thinking that the new Chinese J20 stealth fighter is an awful lot like the F117. The Chinese have put out a press statement that they reverse engineered it from a downed jet during the Kosovo war… but maybe they had a bit more help than that.”
“Holy shit!” said Hank.
“This is almost unbelievable,” said Charlie. “So the Chinese, or whoever, would have the US over a barrel.”
“Yes, but it gets even worse,” said Helene, thinking on her feet. “The stock market is so uncertain these days that investors regard gold as a hedge against devaluing currencies. Everyone wants gold. They said that Nixon scrapped the gold standard 40 years ago: but what if he was just trying to prepare the country against the day when the US government has to come clean and say, ‘Sorry, folks, but we’re broke’. Not many people can afford to consume the way Americans do: and neither can the US anymore. So they keep on borrowing – America is mortgaged up to the hilt but their only asset is a slowing economy and some falling real estate. All the government can do is just print more money – but the cupboard is bare, there’s nothing left – just some fake gold.”
She stopped, breathless.
“Maybe,” said Charlie, frowning. “It all sounds pretty far-fetched.”
Unlike Helene’s other theories so far.
“Don’t you see?” said Helene impatiently. “The only currency that has been consistent for the last 5,000 years is gold. But if the US government has been debasing their gold, the economy would be utterly buggered. And not just the US economy – the whole world would be affected. I think this is what Wally was working on: he was trying to figure out how much of the US gold reserve was real – and how much had been debased.”
Charlie still looked unconvinced.
“Okay, suppose you’re right,” said Hank. “How could we prove it? And I assume there’s no online way of doing it…”
“I’ve got an idea about that, too!” said Helene, her eyes shining dangerously like some born-again zealot. “There is an online way of doing it: we work out how much gold has been mined around the world in the last 100 years – or last fifty years if that’s too hard to find out. But as near accurate as we can get it. And I don’t just mean from the US: from every continent on the planet.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Charlie. “How the hell could we ever pull that amount of information?”
“Not easy, I grant you,” she said, still grinning from ear to ear. “But have we or have we not got a direct line to the world’s top team of hackers?”
Charlie shook his head impatiently as if trying to explain to a wayward toddler that eating six ice creams in a go was not a good idea.
“Even if we could find out the information,” he said, “how can it possibly help us?”
“Ah, but it can!” said Helene, sounding like a magician who was about to produce a rabbit from her back pocket. “Because then we match the amount of gold mined around the world with what the US have sold off and what they say they still have. If the US share is too high, if it seems as if they’re selling more than their share of what has been mined, then it means that some accountant is doing some fancy footwork. We’ll be able to prove that their own audits are a complete work of fiction!”
Charlie shook his head.
“That won’t work,” he said.
Helene stared at him belligerently.
“For two reasons,” he said. “Firstly, we already know how much gold is mined each year: it’s about 2,500 tonnes, according to the World Gold Council – if you’d taken the trouble to even look at their website. About 2,000 tonnes goes towards making jewellery and the rest is bought up by investors.”
Helene shook her head furiously. “We can’t rely on their figures – they could just be a bluff. We need to find out for ourselves.”
“And the second reason,” continued Charlie without a change in his expression, “is that we’d need to know how much gold other governments had sold, too. Otherwise the stats are totally meaningless.”
&n
bsp; “Not necessarily,” said Helene. “If the quantities of gold the US have sold are unusually high – and I’m betting that they are – then we know we’re onto something because they can’t sell huge quantities of gold and still have trillions of dollars of it without there being a balance – or obvious imbalance somewhere.”
“This is crap!” said Charlie angrily. “Can you hear how desperate you sound? This isn’t evidence; this is all just speculation. We can’t use this – it doesn’t help us! There must be something else: something else that Wally found and that we’re missing. We need to think again. For God’s sake, we need to think again!”
Helene scowled belligerently at him, which only infuriated him further. She was convinced that her reasoning was sound whatever arguments he scattered in her path. She’d found the trail of breadcrumbs – she was sure of it.
But by this time she didn’t need Charlie’s support because Hank was grinning at her and reluctantly acknowledging that it might not be a completely crazy idea.
“And who,” said Helene finishing with a flourish, “loves an impossible challenge more than the Gene Genies?”
Chapter 21
At 6.59 pm the Gene Genies were all online again. It really was a game to them, Helene realised. They thought they were rebels of the world united, but really, hacking top secret government files was just their idea of good, honest fun. On the other hand, Helene suspected that more than a couple of them would have enjoyed the idea – if not the reality – of worldwide chaos. Even hackers like hot showers and flushing toilets.
When Hank, stunningly attired in a purple taffeta gypsy smock with silver jewellery accessories, explained their new mission, there was a decided lack of enthusiasm. Where was the fun in doing pure research into dull gold mining stats when they could be hacking UFO sightings over Area 51?
“Well now, Genies,” said Hank, “it’s like this: once we’ve collated the data on gold mining versus sales of US gold, we should be able to work out if the gold in the Federal Reserve banks is bogus. Or not.”
That was enough motivation for most of them although the Genie represented by the cartoon of the Roadrunner sent over a picture of Tweety-pie giving the bird.
“Oh well,” sighed Hank, “you can’t please all of the people all of the time.”
Too true, thought Helene. Charlie was acting like a bear with a beer hangover. Even though he was a pretty good hacker himself, as evinced by the first class tickets and unlimited hotel accommodation they’d been enjoying, he knew he was out of class around the Genies; even Hank was a better hacker than him – and it pissed him off.
He paced around the pod like a wild tiger in a snare, or rather one of those perpetual motion management toys that had been popular in the seventies. Helene hoped that Charlie never got sent to prison because he’d surely go stir crazy, although he’d probably exercise his considerable brain power by working out how to escape. On reflection, he’d have done well in Alcatraz.
At length Charlie stopped his pacing and looked at Helene, slumped over her laptop, trying to turn her notes into something Frank wouldn’t toss straight in the wastepaper basket – if they ever got that far.
“You know this isn’t going to work, don’t you, Helene?” he said tightly.
She looked up at him: the same thought had been burning a hole through her dwindling resolve. Nevertheless...
“We’re running out of options, Charlie,” she sighed. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”
“Look, even if we find out that the mining quotas don’t quite add up, it’s not real evidence, is it?” he replied. “What we need is hard facts, not just circumstantial shit – or we’ll spend the rest of our lives in hiding. And I don’t know about you, but I’m nearly up to my neck with lying low.”
His vehemence surprised her. She’d supposed him immune to the discomforts of the job. Yep, he’d have done well in Colditz, too. No wonder that had appealed to him as a childhood game.
She shrugged tiredly. “Like I said – I’m open to suggestions.”
He surprised her by sitting down next to her: he was so close she could easily have reached out and touched his face. The temptation was almost overpowering.
He stared into her eyes.
“We need to break into Fort Knox,” he said.
“What?” she said, totally off balance. “What?!”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard him properly. His blue eyes had made her dizzy, the proximity of his body had…
“We have to prove once and for all if the gold is there or not,” he said seriously. “If it’s not, that’s evidence. If it is, we need to test it to find out if it’s really gold. All we need is a drop of nitric acid: we take a random bar of gold and scratch it with something metal – a nail file or whatever. Then we put a drop of nitric acid on the scratch and watch to see if there’s any reaction. If there’s no reaction, it’s gold; if it’s bright green, it’s base metal; if there’s a bit of green it’s gold leaf over base metal; and if it goes a milky colour, it’s gold leaf over silver. It’s a bit trickier to work out the carat because you have to...”
“Woah, woah, slow down!” said Helene, staring at him, breathless at this extraordinary solution to their problems. “How the hell are we going to break in to Fort Knox and steal a bar of gold?”
“Not steal, Helene,” he said patiently. “We’re not going to steal it, just find out if it’s really gold, that’s all.”
Helene felt like laughing hysterically – except that Charlie was serious.
“That’s all! Oh well, that’s alright then. We’ll just knock on the door and ask nicely if we can please test their gold because we think it might be fake, but not to worry because we’ve got no intention of stealing it. Oh well, no problem!”
“Is that a note of sarcasm, Ms La Borde?” he said, smiling impishly.
“Oh, no. It’s not a note of sarcasm, it’s a whole damn symphony!” she said testily.
“Look, Helene,” he said seriously. “I’ve thought about it over and over: I’ve thought about nothing else since you came up with the theory that the gold is fake. After all, it’s the only thing that makes sense so far. But we have to prove it – and this is the only way.”
“Charlie, you’re crazy,” she said. “There is no way we can break in to Fort Knox and test their gold. We’d be caught before we got ten paces. It’s not possible to break into Fort Knox.”
“Actually,” he said, smiling, “we’d have to break into the 12 other Federal Reserve banks, too. We’d have to prove conclusively that there was fake gold in all 13 locations.”
Helene sat staring at him, her mouth hanging open like a goldfish in a pasty-eating competition. If it weren’t for the fact they’d hardly been outside in the last 48 hours, she’d have been certain he had sunstroke.
“Do you know how crazy you sound?” she gasped at last. “Do you realise how completely bonkers that idea is? It’s so far past impossible that we’re approaching Never Never Land. It’s...”
Hank interrupted what was turning into a first class rant.
“I’m with lover-boy,” he said.
“What?” shrieked Helene. “Are you both completely deranged?”
“Well, one doctor thought so,” said Hank evenly, “but I have always disagreed with that diagnosis.”
Helene was speechless.
Hank looked at Charlie, a slight smile on his face: partners in crime.
“Just listen to yourselves!” said Helene, her voice rising another half octave. “It’s not possible. It. Can’t. Be. Done.”
“What’s your plan?” Hank said to Charlie, ignoring Helene completely.
“Three plans, actually,” said Charlie. “The first plan is to get into the vault. Now that’s going to be really difficult because bullion vaults are always timed; only the most trusted staff are allowed in there and always in pairs. So, it’ll be difficult, but not impossible: not with the help of the Gene Genies. They could get all the layouts, ti
mings, codes and passwords that we’d need. It would help to have a man – or woman – on the inside, but we can manage without if we have to.”
Hank nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm, like you say, difficult but not impossible.”
By this time Helene was through the looking glass at the bottom of the rabbit hole. Either that or both Hank and Charlie were completely psychotic. Helene was favouring option two.
“What are the other plans?” said Hank.
“Well,” said Charlie, “I reckon it would be much easier to test the gold while it was in transit. Assuming they move the fake gold around to keep up appearances, at some point it’s got to be loaded into a security van.”
“Marvellous,” said Helene to herself, “after having successfully broken into Fort Knox and having escaped without a stain on our characters, we’re going to hijack a bullion transfer. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Charlie shot her an irritated look. “We don’t hijack it: we hack the details of the security company they’re going to use, find out where and when the transfer will take place, and make sure that our ‘staff’ are the ones that are available. It should be pretty easy to set up a fake company and siphon off the intel we need.”
“Sounds good so far,” said Hank, “and Plan Three?”
“Pretty similar to Plan Two,” said Charlie, “except this time we check on the gold before it gets onto the security van. We clone a couple of high level staff passes at the bank, make duplicates, and then when the transfer is about to take place, make sure that we’re in the staff corridor when they’re moving the bullion on one of those steel trolleys that they use.”
“How would you get the time to test the gold?” said Hank thoughtfully. “I’m not seeing how that would work.”
“The schedule would be tight,” agreed Charlie. “We’d have to time it perfectly so that two of us were in the lift with the gold when it was being sent up to the ground floor. One person starts chatting to the guards, the other drops the nitric acid.”
Hank nodded. “And, of course,” he said, “we film the whole thing, every last test.”