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accelerating my worst fears. The push for a global currency that faded with a whimper in 2009 is now back with full steam and it looks like, at the very least, we’ll see a continental currency sometime this year. The government now runs banks, healthcare, the auto industry and they’re damn near close to taking over housing and the trucking industry. This is increasingly not the country I love, although I undoubtedly still love it. Not to mention, the threat of radical Islam has steadily increased regardless of the ‘new tone’ we’ve been naively promoting. ISIS, Al Qaeda, Boko Haram and Hamas are certainly not on the run. Dovish diplomacy hasn’t made us safer one bit. Our enemies have been playing us the fool with more vigor, intent, and tenacity than ever before. And now we have this Fitz character …”
    Frank’s elbows were digging sharply into his kitchen table as he continued to pontificate, with charismatic hand gestures, on all the elements of the global political climate, and the specific trends in the US that clearly aggravated him and gave him pause to trust in any political party, leader or institution, financial or otherwise. His faith in the US currency, in the future sovereignty of the US and in future of his significant wealth was all clearly shaken.
    Bernie, who was the poster boy for A.D.D. obnoxiousness, somehow always remained calm, patient, and rational in the midst of a business meeting. Having voted for both Obama and Jack Fitzsimmons, he disagreed with almost of all of Frank’s worldview, but he would never allow Frank to know. Bernie responded, “I understand that all these uncertain global changes are huge. The things our government is putting on the table and taking seriously could be seen as unprecedented and downright scary to one of a conservative mindset. I get it. But what choices do we really have here? If what you fear will lead to an erosion of all that we know and trust, does it matter where your money is? Likely not. Even if you shove it under the mattress, in the culmination of all you fear, the dollar isn’t worth much anyhow. And we’ve already discussed the gold idea which you’ve made clear is only going to remain a portion of your portfolio. So we can’t reasonably plan on any such doomsday notion. That being the case, let’s continue this proposal with trust that the tax laws will be the same as they’ve been for over one hundred and fifty years and that our plan will accomplish the ongoing tax deferral you so desperately need.”
    Frank chuckled a bit. His diatribe was largely a way to vent all of his feelings and concerns. He knew that regardless of whether his fears were legitimate or not, it made sense to go forward with Blaze and Bernie’s plan. After an hour and a half of end-of-the-world speculations, and an additional hour and a half of actually reviewing the merits of the financial recommendation, Frank finally inked the deal with Blaze and Bernie. The two said their goodbyes and expressed their gratitude to Frank and headed out to their cars for the usual post-meeting colleague banter.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    THE ROOSEVELT ROOM, THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC
    â€œI ’m beginning to think that Mahoney and Sapp are onto us, Gabriella,” said President Jack Fitzsimmons, the 45 th President of the United States.
    â€œJack, you need to relax. There’s never been any suspicion as to why I’m here. All through the campaign, not once did we sense that we’d been discovered. Besides, you’re the president. Who’s going to speak up against you from your inner circle? It’s not as if I’m in here flashing a thong like Monica. This is quite more serious. I’m only your therapist.” Gabriella Mancini was beginning to feel less like a shrink and more like a babysitter. Managing the emotions and whimsicalities of the President of the United States was beginning to become