The Prince of Risk

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The three men sat at the head of the conference table, graying lions hunched over a kill.

“If only half of what this damn thing claims is true, we’re in trouble,” whispered one.

“And if all of it is?”

“We’re royally-”

The door opened and a Secret Service agent stepped inside. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “We’re standing by when you need us.”

A domed chandelier hung above the long table, filling the cavernous room with a dim, funereal light.

“Give us a moment,” said Secretary of the Treasury Martin Gelman. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Gelman waited for the Secret Service agent to leave, then tapped a finger on the dossier. “How many people on your end know about this?”

“Just my assistant,” replied Edward Astor, chief executive of the New York Stock Exchange.

“No one else?”

Astor shook his head, staring at the treasury secretary and the man seated beside him, Charles Hughes, chairman of the Federal Reserve. No two men exerted more power over the economy of the United States. “I had my suspicions when I commissioned the report,” said Astor.

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