Sub-prime Mortgage Buyers DID NOT Cause the Banking Crisis! Novelist Walt Thiessen pulls back the curtain to unmask a centuries-old conspiracy in this fascinating tale.
Leading banker Justin Knight comes face to face with evidence that a secret conspiracy dating back more than a century at the highest circles of the banking system not only expected, but planned and intended the current financial crisis. It didn't occur accidentally, and it happened despite well-meaning efforts to prevent it. A recorded video of a secret meeting that comes into his possession leads directly to his daughter's kidnapping. The price for her return? The video and his silence ...
Two men watched from the shadows as a lone, very well-dressed man untied his yacht from the dock and headed toward the helm. The two men crept quietly through the misty morning air toward another boat waiting nearby as the lone man started his yacht's engine and slowly backed away from the dock. A strong scent of fish and salt spray hung in the wispy grayness. He headed the yacht out of the harbor through the hazy gloom. His shadows quickly and quietly boarded the other boat.
“Get the line, Porter,” the taller of the two shadows half-whispered.
“I untied it,” Porter replied. “Donahue, where the heck is this guy going?”
“I don't know,” Donahue answered.
As the yacht passed the mouth of the harbor, Donahue slipped the smaller boat away from the dock.
The Pacific Ocean's waters swelled and fell at a gentle rate as the lone yachtsman pushed the throttle open, salty wind whipping his face, and put distance between himself and the shore. His secret pursuers doggedly kept up without getting too close, fearing they might lose him in the gathering fog, while also fearing he might detect them. Had the yachtsman just peeked over his shoulder? The two regarded each other, and Donahue shrugged.
“He won't get far,” he muttered to his companion.
The furtive chase continued for half an hour. The two vessels traveled more than 10 miles off shore. The mist thickened even more, and the two men almost didn't slow their boat down in time when they saw the yacht floating quietly in the light fog. Donahue cut the motor to an idle. The yacht bobbed about 200 yards away, and they saw the lone man facing away from them on the port side, the bow pointing to their right. His figure created a silhouette against the foggy background. Suddenly, to their amazement, he jumped over the side and disappeared. They could hear nothing. Sound seemed swallowed by the deepening fog.
The two men exchanged glances, shock etched on their faces. The fog had thickened so quickly now that they could hardly see the yacht anymore. After a moment, Donahue eased the throttle and moved their boat slowly to the yacht's starboard side. As the two watercraft touched, Porter leaped over the rail onto the yacht's deck, a gun held tightly in his hand. He quickly crossed the deck and checked over the port side.
“I can't see any sign of him,” Porter called back. He saw nothing but water in all directions, as far as he could discern anything in the atmospheric soup that now blanketed the entire area.
He turned back as Donahue cried out, “He's got to be somewhere!” Porter shrugged his meaty shoulders and shouted back, “Well, I can't find anything but this boat and the water. I tell you, there's no sign of him!”
“Must have drowned or something. Let's go,” Donahue replied, and Porter climbed back onto their boat, pushing off the yacht in the process.
“What do we do with the yacht?” Porter asked.
“We leave it,” Donahue replied as he turned their boat for the long trip back to shore.