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as he went along. The black gardener had seen the Russian drive up and meet du Plessis. His information had been correct.
    Michael Mijosa had not looked up. He was invisible; it was his function. He had tended the Government Building grounds for more than fifteen years. For the past twelve he had been active in the underground. The Xhosa was one of thousands of members of the Azanian Liberation Front.
    That evening, at home in Alexandra, he would report to his ALF commander. The Russian had come, as they said he would. Now ALF could proceed to the final phase of their agreement with the Russians.
    ~
    Mark Halden sat down at his desk with a groan: 7:30 a.m. The president of the New York Fed had slept only four hours at the Princeton Club, his usual refuge when he worked too late to go home to Long Island. He had talked an hour ago to Hugh Roberts in Basel, just before the Fed chairman went back into conference with the Group of Ten central bank governors. Concern of course was great, but no one seemed panicky at the moment.
    It was a group of men inured to panic after the shocks of the past few years. They had teetered so long at the edge of the cliff without falling off that they began to think the law of gravity didn’t hold anymore.
    Halden sighed. Maybe they were right. Maybe some genius was about to come up with a new theory of economics that made sense of all this mess, a new physics for finance affirming that what went up must no longer come down. In the meantime, though, Halden knew he would continue to experience bouts of profound anxiety. His own studies, including a year at the London School of Economics while he was working on his dissertation, had been progressive enough at the time, but still imbued with classic precepts. Precepts like “You cannot make something out of nothing,” and “What goes up must come down.” Simple precepts.
    He shook off his pensiveness; he had work to do. The President’s statement from the White House the previous evening had been a typical virtuoso performance. The former television announcer told his television audience not to worry, the authorities had everything under control. The markets would remain closed for one day but would probably open again on Thursday. There was no need to panic, the President said. It was just a temporary market imbalance that would be straightened out very soon.
    The authorities had everything under control. Halden shifted in his seat. True enough for the moment, but could they continue to cope?
    Halden scrutinized the one-page memo on his desk. Poor Carol! The memo’s author, his chief international economist, probably didn’t get out of the building at all last night.
    The chronology started with “1538gmt.” (News agencies timed off in Greenwich mean time, five hours ahead of New York, where it would be 10:38 a.m.)
1538gmt: Reuters, Dow Jones, WCN report London afternoon gold fixing. Price is steady at $347 an ounce.
1600gmt: Reuters metals wire shows gold at $363, already a strong gain.
1618gmt: WCN flash cites unconfirmed reports that terrorists have sabotaged South African gold mines.
1655gmt: Reuters reports Pretoria’s confirmation of sabotage.
    1700gmt: Reuters shows gold price at $620.
    Halden studied the memo. They would have to find out from WCN what their source was. If it had not been for that flash, Pretoria could have delayed the news a good deal longer and given the central banks time to get ready. Halden had inquired yesterday afternoon at the State Department whether Pretoria had given them any notice. Of course they had not, or Halden would have heard of it right away. The president of the New York Fed was responsible for the markets.
    The Federal Reserve Bank of New York, with its thick slate-gray walls and barred windows, loomed up like a fortress in the financial district of lower Manhattan. It was the biggest of the twelve Federal Reserve Banks, which, ostensibly under the control of the Federal Reserve Board of