Dollar Down by Sam Waite Read Free Book Online Page B

the world's largest
trading centers for equity derivatives. It also handles more
than thirty percent of the world's foreign exchange trading,
which ran more than five trillion dollars a day in 2013,
according to the Bank of International Settlements. That
includes spot trades, swaps, forward contracts, options. Trades
in dollars account for more than eighty-five percent of the
total."
    "Could Mumby have designed the instruments in
Trevor's chart?" I asked Bizet.
    "Absolutely, but he couldn't have anticipated the
    forex—that's the foreign exchange—market with such accuracy. No
one could."
    We thanked Bizet for his time and the donation of his
expertise.
    "Before you go," he said, "I would like to know if you
have told anyone else you were coming here or that you had
contacted me?"
    I shook my head and looked at Alexandra.
    "No," she said.
    Bizet nodded slowly and hummed under his breath. "I
have one more favor to offer in exchange for a vow from you. I
will tell you how to contact my former colleague, Jim
Burroughs, an American. He's quite gifted. He has designed a
grid of supercomputers specifically for modeling financial data.
I believe it is being tested now, but is not yet online for
business. He might be interested in this. Actually, I think he
should see it."
    "What do you want us to promise?" I said.
    Bizet laid the charts side by side. "As you see, my chart
covers historical data through yesterday. Besides past data,
Trevor's chart extends two weeks and a day into the future, to
March five. Look at these dates." He pointed to a line sloping
downward from March three to five. "Whoever created this
expects the dollar to fall thirteen percent in two days. Such a
plunge, forgive my understatement, could occur only from a
deeply disturbing event. What you must swear is that you will
tell no one, including Jim Burroughs, that you have spoken to
me about this."
    I looked for a hint of showmanship, a little
    just-kidding-guys, in Bizet's face. There was none. We swore
ourselves to silence in exchange for Burroughs' phone
number.
    I didn't know why Bizet was so concerned about
maintaining anonymity. Maybe it was just to preserve the moat
around his idyllic existence, or maybe something more sinister.
I couldn't guess. In any case, I was glad Alexandra was driving
and left me to daydreams of tranquility.
    A pristine rill rushed parallel to the road we traveled. A
young woman had stopped to let her horse drink. A fisherman
walked its banks. Forests, though the trees were bared by
winter, exuded aromas of loam and grass. We stopped at a
café that served country fare of pork chops, carrots and
hearty soups. Bottles of wine were set at each table in
preparation for customers.
    More than once, I thought about turning back and
asking Bizet if he could use another field hand in his
vineyards.

Chapter 8
    On the way to Bergerac, Alexandra and I had spent the
time either studying Trevor's charts or discussing how to
approach Bizet. Driving through the countryside, we chatted
about wine, music and mountaintop castles. As we approached
Paris, the tone changed.
    "Are you worried?" I said.
    "About what?"
    "Here's the short list." I held up one finger at a time.
"Trevor's missing, Sabine might have been murdered. Bizet is
predicting an event so disturbing that the dollar will fall
thirteen percent two weeks from now. You're the last
Indian."
    "What?"
    "You're in the middle of something besides a project to
market fuel for power plants."
    She turned her face toward the window. The sun was
low. Its light reflected streaks of red and gold in her hair. The
contours of her cheek and jaw were ideal silhouettes.
    When I first met Sabine, within minutes she had let
diverse facets of her personality well to the surface. Her office
alone had told me more about her than Alexandra had revealed
in the entire day we'd spent together. Either there was no
depth to her beyond her career or she had learned to conceal
anything that might be seen as a