Chapter 26

The man's name was Jim Roberts. He was a plain type of guy. Short, balding, shirt and tie kind of gentleman. The gray hair around his temples was thin and wispy, sticking out more than was stylish or even acceptable. But then the comb-over that he sported was neither stylish nor fooling anyone, so the fluffy temples weren't that noticeable. He had droopy jowls below his unobtrusive chin that shook twice for every time he shook his head. All in all, he was the epitome of a stereotypical banker.

Bryan and Silver sat across the desk from him as he went through his spiel about the economy and having to sell off property with as much loss as the establishment could stand. This was in response to the offer that Bryan had finished making several minutes before. The day was Wednesday, less than forty-eight hours after the realtor's sign went up. Bryan looked at his watch, hoping the man would be talking sometime before Friday." ... and besides," he sneered. "Both of you are self employed. We need people with actual jobs that..."

"Like who would that be exactly?" Bryan asked smartly, irritation clear in his tone.

"Well," Jim stuttered, obviously unused to people using that tone of voice with him. "I, uh ... Well for instance there was a nice young man in here yesterday that qualified for the loan. He's the new FEMA regional officer. He purchased a house."

"Hmppph," Silver chuckled. "So you want a government stooge to buy the land? So soon all the public land is owned by government employees?"

"I..." Jim coughed, surprised by the bluntness of Silver's question. He frowned, causing his jowls to droop comically in a manner reminiscent of an English bulldog. " ... I ... Well young lady. I do no such thing..." He seemed to gather his thoughts and redress the couple with a renewed look of respect and a bit of fear. He pulled his glasses down on his nose a bit farther and peered over them at the young couple, trying to regain his self-implied control. Their faces were stone cold, no fear, no amusement. He shrugged, letting that go and continue with the spiel.

"Unless you have quite a lot of collateral..."

Bryan moved like lightning out of his chair. With a crash he slammed something down on the hardwood.

"I never said we wanted to borrow the money," Bryan said coolly.

Jims eyes fell on the object, or rather objects, there were three of them. His eyes widened as he recognized what they were.

"Fifty dollar, one ounce Gold American Eagles," Bryan confirmed. "Three ounces of pure gold."

Stunned, Jim's mouth fell open.

"When the financial crisis occurred they were worth about fifteen hundred dollars apiece. Now, you would think that the new Amero-dollar would make them less valuable, but the fact of the matter is that they don't."

He pulled out a printout he had made at home and looked it over. "According to this, the approximate value of gold versus an Amero-dollar is staggering. Replace a fiat currency with another fiat currency and nobody wants to use it because the first one was worthless to begin with."

Jim coughed but made no effort to interrupt. "So what we have here is currently valued," he paused and smiled. "And I'm rounding down mind you ... Is somewhere in the ballpark of sixty-three thousand dollars per ounce of pure gold."

Their eyes met across the desk, a forced of wills ensued silently, waiting for the other to break. After only thirty seconds, Jim looked down, unable to meet Bryan's laser-like gaze any longer.

He stared instead at the three coins.

"I will add that they seem to appreciate in value against the Amero almost five percent a day."

Jim looked up, somewhat stunned. He had finally done the math in his head. "You offered me one-hundred and twenty thousand for the acreage. This is well over that amount."

Bryan shook his head and glanced at Silver before answering. "I think it is plain to see that I am not an idiot," he said slowly, deliberately. "So you will forgive me if I ask you to kindly shut up while I tell you what it is that I want."

Jim sat silently, though a little dejected at being chastised in his own office. Only the gold kept him from kicking these people out of his office, but Bryan clearly knew that...

Silver handed over a piece of paper with some kind of map on it. Jim looked at it for a few minutes before identifying what he was looking at. He looked up shaking his head. "This property isn't for sale."

"Your bank holds the note on it." It was not a question.

"Well yes but..." Jim stuttered.

"The state, the creditor in this case has not made their payment and it is twelve days past due." Again it was not a question. "And what's more since their revenue stream is broken they likely won't be able to make their payment for it anytime soon."

Jim sat there, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"So what you are going to do," Silver said. "You call whoever is in charge of this account and offer to refinance the loan, on the stipulation that they relinquish a sizeable chunk of property, which you give to me in exchange for..." She gestured toward the gold.

"And what's more," Bryan said. "There's something in it for you personally." He slid a one dollar silver American eagle across the desk toward Jim. "That's valued at about twenty-two hundred Amero." Jim remained stunned before regaining his composure.