Melekov was now angry.
“Now just a minute. It’s very easy to throw around words like ‘speculation,’ ‘capitalistic wolves,’ and the like. But let’s see whether the glove fits or not. The truth is much different. We have based our entire foreign trade with the West on the U.S. dollar. The U.S. dollar is not safe. It is going to be devalued. It would be total insanity not to recognize this. It would be greater insanity not to protect the Soviet Union from the consequences of this. And it would be folly not to seek to take advantage of this. Even my chairman should be able to follow that simple logic.”
“So, so. The dollar is going to be devalued. Just like that,” said Litnovich.
“Of course,” answered Melekov. “Don’t you realize what has been happening during the past twenty-four hours? Didn’t my chairman tell you about the run out of the dollar and into gold in Europe, the start of a panic in New York, the resulting chaos in Tokyo? These are quite visible symptoms of what is going to have to happen. I am not just guessing, I—”
“That’s enough, Melekov,” shouted Litnovich. “Just one hour ago I received a complete intelligence report on the entire situation. I know all the facts, and perhaps more than a few that you do not know. This is a trap. You hear? A trap. All the Americans were doing was looking for an excuse to cut off those wheat shipments. Which they now have done. Do you know what that can mean for our people? And for this government? The Americans know. And that’s why they’re cutting us off. And you’ve provided them with a perfect excuse. Because you fell right into their primitive trap.”
“But surely you must realize that they’re using this wheat thing as a bluff. Don’t you understand that it is you, not I, who is falling into a trap, stupidly missing the opportunity of a lifetime. Surely—”
“Melekov! Shut up!” yelled Litnovich, “I’ll do the talking from now on. And the deciding. I hope this is quite clear. I want no further interruptions. None.” He pounded his fist on the conference table to emphasize the last point.
“Now you listen to me. They started this thing, quietly, subtly. With the help of their friends, of course. And you jumped on this fake bandwagon just like a greedy wild-eyed greasy speculator right out of the textbook. I know how smart you young fellows are. I know all the fancy tricks you learn in London and Zurich. Well, we don’t want any part of such stuff. As a result of your megalomania, the world now thinks that we started this; that we are trying foolishly to hit the Americans right where their greatest strength lies—smack in the middle of their dollar. And when it doesn’t come off? Who stands as the idiot in the eyes of the world? We will. We, the Soviet Union. And the Soviet people, who will have to stand in bread lines for the first time in twenty-five years. All because of you, you stupid son of a bitch. Can’t you remember a small incident not that many years ago on a little island in the Caribbean called Cuba? It set us back God knows how many years. Just because another maniac thought he could outbluff the Americans with his rockets. And now you, of all people, little unknown jerk Melekov, have decided to confront the world with your super-weapon, the ruble. Absolute total insanity!”
At this point Melekov made up his mind. Fine. O.K. Your funeral.
Litnovich continued, but now in a very soft voice, barely audible to Melekov who was sitting no more than five metres away. “You, Melekov, are suspended from your position at the Foreign Trade Bank of the Soviet Union. As of right now. You may leave. A car is waiting for you downstairs. You will return to your apartment, and you will remain there.”
Without a word, without a glance at his “friend” Roskin, but on unsteady legs, Melekov rose and started to repack his papers.
“The papers and briefcase remain here, Melekov.”
Melekov left the room.
“Now, Comrade Roskin. What has your role been in this whole scandal?” Roskin had had time to think a bit ahead. His reply was deliberate, measured—correctly measured, he hoped.
“Comrade Litnovich, I would be the last to deny that Melekov has talked to me about this matter. I can also not deny that his logic concerning the growing inherent risks which we are running in the dollar was quite convincing. Therefore I decided to take certain defensive measures. I suspended a major sale of gold last week. I agreed that it made sense to put the German pipe purchase onto a dollar basis, in the hope that we could pay for the deliveries in devalued dollars. That’s it.”
“But didn’t you realize that Melekov was selling dollars like a maniac on the foreign exchange markets in every major Western city during the past forty hours? Didn’t you know that he has built up a short position in dollars exceeding—imagine!—$3 billion? Don’t you know he just bought 5 million ounces of gold for over $300 million?”
“Of course not. This is quite outside of the range of our normal discussions. We confer with each other on matters of principle, not those of operation.”
Litnovich fixed Roskin in a deliberate stare. Roskin returned it quite calmly and without the twitch of an eyelash. To survive as the head of the National Bank for so long had required strong nerves more than once.
Finally Litnovich resumed. “We’ll have further talks on this subject, Comrade Roskin. Right now, we have more important things to accomplish. But get this—and get it quite clearly. We want this thing stopped absolutely dead and right now. We want these stories of the Soviet Union trying to destroy the dollar in an open fight to be squelched, completely and immediately. And I want this nonsense with gold to stop—right now. By you, personally.”
Five minutes later the meeting had ended. It was only nine-thirty Moscow time.
The chairman of the National Bank was the first to be back at his desk. He only had to walk a few steps down the corridors from the conference room to get there. He picked up the phone, and placed an emergency call to Basel, Switzerland, for eleven-thirty. That should catch the gold people of the BIS right after they got to work. That done, he made a very careful set of notes based upon his recall of the conference which had just ended. He sought total recall. Every word would be important at some later date. Especially the exact words which Melekov had spoken.
Ten minutes later Chairman Stepanov of the Foreign Trade Bank of the Soviet Union had also returned to his office. The first thing he did was also pick up the phone.
“Get me the head of that German delegation on the pipeline deal.”
His secretary replied, “Yes, sir. What’s the name, and where is he?”
“Dammit, how should I know? Just get him, and now.”
Obviously the place needed a bit more discipline. He’d given that man Melekov far too much authority and freedom in the place. With the best of intentions, all the good will in the world. And look what happened. He, Stepanov, would now have to pick up the pieces. That goddamned liar over at the National Bank, Roskin, had better be bloody careful, too. His position was hanging on a thread. Just one more incident and—bang! Litnovich would see to that!
The phone rang.
“I have Herr Klausen of Rhein-Ruhr Stahl,” said his secretary. “Hold on, I’ll connect you immediately.”
The phone clicked a few times as phones always do in the Soviet Union.
“Klausen,” suddenly came roaring out of the receiver.
“My dear Herr Klausen, this is Chairman Stepanov of the Foreign Trade Bank.”
“Who?”
“Stepanov. Foreign Trade Bank of the Soviet Union.”
“I’m afraid I have never met you. I’ve always dealt with Melekov.”
“That’s right, Herr Klausen. Unfortunately Mr. Melekov is out today, and therefore I have taken over some of his tasks. I’m his chairman.”