The Great American Economy
- Автор: Модезитт Лиланд Экстон
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Фэнтези
Электронная книга - «The Great American Economy». Краткое содержание книги:
"No, thank you. George? Have you thought about an outside country dumping funds just to foul up your computers?"
"No, but I think that the effort would cost more than the results. You'd have to have a pretty sophisticated distribution system. I'll check on it tomorrow though."
"I really ought to go, George. Delores will be furious if she happens to get home first. I'll let you know if I hear anything."
"Well, thanks anyway, Morey."
After Morey left, he reset the defense screen and went to bed.
"Good morning, Mr. Graylin," called Mary cheerfully.
"Morning, Mary."
George crawled behind his desk and clutched the Coke she always had waiting. He hadn't slept well.
"Mary, can you get the currency transfer records for the major Commbloc countries?"
He sat in his normal morning stupor until they arrived. The records said no country had the international balance to get away with it undetected.
The morning memo run had an Important Memo from The Desk of James Boulin Chartwell, III, to the effect that James Boulin Chartwell, III, suggested that George Jordan Graylin, Junior, stop riding a donkey and get on with discovering Who was Betraying The Great American Economy before All Was Lost.
Feeling that all was lost anyway, George took the Reservation shuttle over to the newest new congressional addition and briefed Congressman Dither's new staff economist on the role of recovery and reclamation in the variable budget system. He came back to the office to find another Important Memo on his desk. It said, translated: Have you Saved The Great American Economy?
He threw it in the pulper.
"Mr. Graylin, you have a luncheon engagement with the Bank Tellers of Greater Washington at twelve o'clock at the Burr Room." Tricia smiled a very superior smile as he scurried out the door.
Percival P. Pentamount, Executive Vice-President of the Greater American Bank, was the featured speaker. The topic was "The Role of the American Banking System in the Great American Economy." Since the Government regulated the economy, and the banks' role was zilch, George went to sleep. He woke up to the relieved applause of the Bank Tellers of Greater Washington.
The meeting broke up as the tellers scurried back to their tells. Percival P. Pentamount was approaching. George eyed an emergency exit, then shrugged.
"Did you like the talk?"
Percival P. Pentamount was round, white-haired, pleasant looking, blue-eyed, and was well aware of all four attributes.
George suppressed a yawn. "It was quite a pep talk."
"Must keep the troops happy. I enjoy making them all feel wanted." Percival rubbed his hands together eagerly. He continued, "All in a day's work, you know. Banking is the Heart of the Economy." Percival then beamed at George.
George managed a smile.
"Well, I must be hastening back to The Bank. A pleasure meeting you, sir."'
Percival P. Pentamount waddled quickly off.
George sighed, gulped down the rest of his Coke, and lurched to his feet. He only knocked over one glass in his retreat.
Getting back to the office was easy. He grabbed the first cab that slowed, after shattering the ear-drums of a teen tough who tried to cycle him down. He recharged the ultra-beamer as soon as he got through the Reservation gate.
Collapsed at his desk, he found another memo. This Important Memo decreed: "Get to the Heart of The Problem. The President and I are Counting On You, George."
He tossed it into the pulper. Then he burped.
"Bad day, George?"
Norman Dentine had a flashing smile and a slightly patronizing manner. His only asset, to George's way of thinking, was that he was seldom in the office.
"No. Terrible day."
Norman flashed his smile again.
"Sorry to hear that. I'd give you a hand, but I'm due to brief Senator Titegold in an hour."
"No problem, Norm. No Problem."
George sighed. There ought to be some way to get to the Heart of The Problem. He straightened up, abruptly.
"Mary, I need some statistical research done."
"But, Mr. Graylin, I'm way behind."
"Don't worry about that. The President is Counting On Us, as the Very Honorable James Boulin Chartwell, III, would say."
Three days later, George emerged from his stack of print-outs with very little printable to say. It was Monday, and it was still gray.
He picked up the telephone. "Morey, you've got to help me. I think I'm on to something, but it's driving me nuts."
Morey arrived promptly at eight. George reset the defense screen by the apartment door.
"Delores says I can give you an hour and no more, George, so get on with it."
George poured Morey a Scotch, lifted an ice bucket and a carton of Cokes, and lumbered into the study. He slumped into the chair behind the desk.
"All right, Morey. Here's where I am. First, this bootleg money has to get into the economy from some legitimate source. It can't come through a sector which deals with physical goods because I'd be able to catch that through the IRS Data Link by comparing costs, input-output, and profit figures. Any goods producer would have to hide it through abnormally high profits. Same in the service sectors. No one in any of those sectors is showing higher profits. Then I hit on the financial service boys - the brokerage houses, the mutual funds, the insurance companies, and the banks. I thought that if anyone showed a higher net, I'd be set. But the fluctuations from institution to institution killed that idea."
George paused and gulped the rest of the Coke. He opened an-other.
"George, what about the possibility of higher costs disguising higher profits?"
Morey was still on his first Scotch.
"That doesn't show up either. I ran a cost analysis of everyone big enough to have that kind of effect. According to Census and IRS data, no one big enough to affect the economy has costs, appreciably higher than competitors."
George dropped into the chair again and kicked off his shoes.
"Hell, Morey, I'm going nuts. I even checked the Treasury Department and the Fed about the total money supply. The Treasury said no, they were not fiddling with the money supply and ran me a set of tests to prove it. The Federal Reserve boys nearly blew their programming computer when they saw the figures I brought them. They agreed and didn't like it one bit. If I don't get an answer immediately, they'll have those figures all over Greater Washington in a day or so."
"You mean, the money supply is definitely larger? Are reserves a problem?"
Morey was interested, abstractly.
"That brings us to the point, Morey. I do have one idea, but I don't know if it's technically possible. And I can't ask anyone if it is. The question itself would panic too many people. So…"
"Well, what is it, George? I can do your dirty work for you again, I suppose."
George told him.
"I don't know, George. I'll let you know."
George reset the apartment defense screen when Morey left.
"George, you have rendered the Government a Great Service. You have stopped a Despicable Plan to Undermine The Great American Economy. I am Proud of You. The President is Proud of You."
James Boulin Chartwell, III, no longer the Junior Economic Adviser, sipped his glass of One Hundred Percent Pure mineral water.
"I think We just might be able to Find a Place for You, George." George smiled. It was going to be a long summer.
The formalities accomplished, Mary waited for George. She cornered him with a Coke.
"Why banks, George?"
"As Percival P. Pentamount would say, Banking is The Heart of The Economy. What better place to pump in a little umph?"
George sipped the Coke thoughtfully.
"Once I saw how it could be done, and Morey confirmed it, the hardest problem was to find out who was doing it. The idea wouldn't have been possible years ago with all the paperwork involved then. Now it's simple. All a crooked banker has to do is a little computer manipulation. When funds are transferred, the bank computers link. The sender bank computer subtracts funds from itself and the accounts involved. The receiver bank computer adds funds to both. Old Percy had a percentage of the funds retained when his bank sent them to another. But only on certain accounts. This created a bit of extra money."