“Point Two. On Monday, 18 October 1937, the bond market collapsed. Bonds are a measure of the future growth of an economy, as bonds are the cost of borrowing money for future growth, and if people are not borrowing money it is because they see no hope to grow in the future.
“Point Three. On the same day—Monday, 18 October 1937—as the bond market collapsed, a seat on the New York Stock Exchange was sold for $61,000—the lowest price since 1919—no one wanted to be a stock trader any longer.
“Point Four. I was reading a newspaper that had printed a letter from the clever English economist John Keynes. In the letter, Keynes said, ‘it is a mistake to think business men are more immoral than politicians,’ and I have to agree with him. I disagree with most of this man Keynes’s ideas, but this remark did seem germane—his ideas on the Paradox of Thrift are typical of English homosexualists and the mad notions they screech from the roof tops, as they see themselves as intellectually superior to mere humans. Keynes wrote his letter in ’37; this is the same year that the New York Stock Exchange dropped precipitously because business men were unsure of what Roosevelt was going to do and so they wanted to keep their money and not invest until the outlook was less uncertain.”
At this point, Louise interrupted and asked, “Is that Englisher the one who told his lady friend Lyn that she should go to Tunis because that is, quote, ‘where bed and boys were also not expensive,’ unquote. Is that the one?”
Schneider, slightly annoyed to be interrupted (but quietly please that the legend was now truly being lived), corrected her,
“My dear, it was actually to a man that Keynes wrote this reprehensible suggestion. The man’s name was Lytton Strachey. The letter to this man was about replicating Keynes’s own visits to the Maghreb to exploit poor, bewildered, and terribly frightened little boys of 10 or 12. These English homosexualists thought nothing of abusing young boys of 10 for their own weird sexual satiations. Actually, hard though it is to believe, some of these terrified young boys had been castrated to better appeal to these English homosexualists. It’s so odd that these self-same people are so keen on talking about economic exploitation, yet seem oblivious to this far more horrible attack on a child’s innocence. These pompous and pious homosexualists consider themselves to be a class of their own—just as the U.S. government today does; Roosevelt thinks he can exploit people, just as these English homosexualists think they can destroy the innocent childhoods of these tragically poor and terrified young boys in Tunis.
“People call this Keynes fellow ‘Pozzo’—like a sewer—as his private conversation is often scatological. And this pedophile Keynes harped on about what he calls the ‘Higher Sodomy.’ You won’t find it listed in any library’s card index of course, but while at Cambridge he and this Strachey would prowl for young undergraduates to corrupt. And they thought it a great lark and adventure to visit Tunis to permanently injure these sad little boys who were not even teenagers. And this Keynes is highly thought of in the United States and worshipped in England. What is the world coming to?”
Louise looked at Schneider; she had struck a nerve, a deep nerve that she felt uncomfortable exploring. Fortunately Schneider almost instantly resumed his cover, his legend.
“Point Five. Stock flotations on the New York Stock Exchange in the Calvin Coolidge era were about 1,000 million dollars a year, but now during the current Roosevelt regime, where they have sunk to just 50 million dollars a year.
“Point Six. And this is the most important point. Government bureaucrats do not realize that businesses are fragile flowers that are more often than not created by irascible and driven fanatics whose own identity is in these companies—a company is often the founder’s child. And what these fragile flowers hate most—and fear most—is uncertainty. So when President Roosevelt gets on the radio and boasts of ‘unbridled experimentation,’ and changes his mind daily, then my dear, companies become frightened by this uncertainty.”
“I hope you will not say ‘my dear’ to the professors,” Louise teased.
She smiled.
At the next table in the dining car, a tall, slim man with aquiline features rose and walked over.
“Excuse me sir, I hate to be rude and interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear your lecture notes as you read them to your exceedingly beautiful wife. I must say that it is as if you are inside my own head. I am a manufacturer of valves for cars and my company makes the finest valves in the world. Inlet valves, exhaust values, high-temperature valves for racing engines at the Brickyard—my gosh, we make just about all kinds of valves. I work with all the big companies in Detroit. And I am proud to say I have met Mr. Ford himself on a number of occasions. And Mr. Ford is a very stern taskmaster, a martinet as it were. Yes sir, he is tough and demanding. I have to tell you that the points you just made are so true that I want to shout ‘Hallelujah’ out loud for you, sir, are a man who truly understands that uncertainty is the killer of enterprise, and that the current President and all his highfalutin know-nothing experts are killing freedom in this country. I just had to tell you that, so thank you, sir.”
With that the man bowed and left the dining car.
“Well, looks like my lecture may be a success after all, my dear,” Schneider smiled.
Louise nodded. It was clear from her demeanor that she felt she had done her duty as the spy posing as the dutiful wife, and that now she expected her reward. A reward that was a little more down-to-earth than all this economic jargon. In short, she wanted to be fucked hard.
On arriving at the station, Schneider hailed a Checker to take them to the Majestic. Once ensconced in the hotel, and after one very quick but highly satisfying standup, Schneider told her to rest then to go shopping at the hotel’s boutiques, which were open until 8 p.m. He would be back about 9 p.m. She nodded.
Schneider left the hotel and took a cab to the printing company. The company was very small and in the industrial part of town. Even for an early evening it was still bustling and he was just another man—a travelling salesman with a samples case, perhaps? On entering the printing works, Schneider greeted the old German, Heinrich, and his three brothers. The printing business was a family affair and that is how Schneider liked it. Schneider was a welcome visitor and the packages he had arranged to mail each month from Chicago had helped to smooth the partnership. Each package had contained twenty U.S. 100-dollar bills. In Ottawa, as in all of southern Canada, U.S. currency was readily accepted by all.
Of course, the bills were all from Schneider’s close friend Hiro, of the Japanese embassy in Washington. The arrangement was mutually beneficial, not only did Hiro encourage Schneider to keep half of the notes Hiro supplied, but Hiro also paid for all the visits to their favorite whore house on K Street. Hiro spoke reasonable English, but was a little shy in public, especially as the bashing of Japan by the American papers had escalated over the past months. So Schneider made the running, and Hiro slip-streamed in behind. Louise was not aware of his visits to K Street, but would not have cared had she known—powerful men active in one area of life are active in other areas, she would have quite reasonably concluded, and after all, Schneider is her boss and a very, very generous and accommodating boss at that (her mind pleasantly drifted back to thoughts of his desk in Washington).