The Warning (32 page)
He and Molly raced across the hall and stopped where his two sons and their wives stood before the television. He heard the business reporter announce, “Unconfirmed reports claim that it is not just Chicago Merchant facing dire straits this afternoon. According to sources close to the management, if the Valenti Bank were forced to cover all its trading liabilities today, it would be short almost seven billion dollars. A spokesman for the bank has called this ludicrous scaremongering. However, the bank had no comment regarding the accusations that it had lost heavily in tradings over the previous three months.
“On a related development, word is just coming in of a catastrophe at sea. Billionaire Nathan Jones Turner, owner of Valenti Bank, has reportedly fallen overboard and disappeared. While no one at the bank or at Turner's Connecticut office will either confirm or deny the reports, the Coast Guard did receive a frantic Mayday call from the Turner yacht, reporting a man lost at sea. We will have more on that as it comes in. We return now to our coverage of the Valenti Bank.”
The camera panned out over the looming edifice of the Turner Building. The announcer continued, “Like many U.S. financial institutions, the Valenti Bank has poured massive amounts of its own and its investors' capital into the futures markets. During this recent era of rapid expansion, Valenti's worth has skyrocketed. However, sources claim tonight that this increased valuation was used as a basis for further highly leveraged tradings in what are known as derivatives.”
The camera's perspective switched back to the reporter's face. “If what our sources claim is true, apparently this bubble is on the verge of bursting. What is certain is that given the current state of the market, Valenti's stock and bond assets are plummeting in value. This has undermined the bank's deposits, which in turn hold up its outstanding loan balance.”
Molly said, “I don't think I understood any of that.”
Buddy did not take his eyes from the television screen. “The bank is in trouble. That's really all you need to understand.”
The announcer concluded, “Such a shortfall would only be aggravated by the rumored losses in the international currency and futures exchanges. Whether or not this institution can survive, if the rumors are indeed correct, is anyone's guess. This is Alicia Newstone for CNN News, reporting from Wall Street.”
Molly's gaze followed Buddy as he backed slowly away from the television. “It's happening, isn't it?”
Buddy could only nod. The weight of sorrow for all those he had not managed to touch threatened to crush him.
Such was Buddy's distress that he kept his face lowered the entire trip to the church. He had not wanted to come at all, but Molly had insisted. The rest of the family tried to hide their unease with small talk. Buddy scarcely heard them.
Then Molly turned a corner and exclaimed, “Who are all these people?”
From the backseat Trish asked fearfully, “Is it a riot?”
“They look too well dressed for that,” his son Jack pointed out. “And too calm.”
Buddy raised his head and saw strangers milling about, surrounded by a darkness as complete as that which shrouded his heart.
“Look, Mom, the guy with the flashlight. He's waving you to the curb.”
“We can't be expected to park here,” Molly cried. “We're six blocks from the church.”
Buddy squinted and focused on the man. He was indeed pointing them into a parking space. He heard his son say, “We've never had to park this far away.”
“Where are the others?”
“Right behind us, Mom. I see them.”
Molly cut off the motor. “Stay together, everybody. I don't like the looks of this.”
Buddy opened his door and sighed as he got to his feet. The crowd was noisy but in a disjointed, comfortable way. Buddy sensed no threat. “Come on, everybody.”
Then he jerked his head back as a light flashed into his eyes. “Buddy?”
“Point that thing in another direction, will you?”
“Sure.” The flashlight dropped away, but the voice raised to a shout. “It's him!”
“Where?” A hundred voices eagerly picked up the chorus, demanding to know where he was. Then a hundred more. Buddy felt the first inkling of real fear. Then Molly was moving up beside him, taking his hand, and calling back, “He's right here.”
Alex stepped up on Buddy's other side. “Make way, everybody! We've got a date with God!”
The man with the flashlight moved up in front of them. Buddy recognized him as Lionel Peters, the fellow church elder. “We've been waiting for you folks to get here. Come on, Buddy, I'll make a way for us.”
The crowd did not press against them. Instead, they opened up a path toward the church and simply stood and watched as Buddy and his family walked through. At least at first.
Buddy turned a corner and spotted the distant shining steeple when the first woman crossed the invisible line. In the flashlight's glare her face was streaked and shimmering with tears. She grabbed his arm and cried, “Bless you, Brother Korda.”
That was enough to burst the dam. People began flowing forward, reaching across, patting his back, his arms, trying to grab his hands. A thousand voices shouted thanks, cried in glory, yelled messages that were lost to the night.
Buddy allowed Molly and Alex to keep moving him forward, numb with shock.
Then they turned the corner, and Buddy realized what he had seen up to that point was only the tip of the iceberg.
The six-lane intersection in front of the church was packed solid with people. As was the lawn surrounding the building, the church steps, and the parking lot. Shouting and crying and waving, the noise was a commotion that followed them across the street and pushed them up the stairs.
Buddy caught sight of Clarke helping a group of young men arrange loudspeakers around the front pillars. He waved in Buddy's direction and pointed overhead.
Buddy looked up, and saw that a hand-painted banner had been strung from the eaves. It read:
The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This was the Lord's doing. And it is marvelous in our eyes!
Alex pressed his face close enough to Buddy's to be heard. “Ain't this something?”
Buddy turned to his brother and was greeted with resolute hope. “Who are these people?”
“Friends!” Alex shouted back.
Molly pressed close to his other side and said, “It is the harvest of your work, my husband. I am so very proud of you.”
Alex settled a powerful arm across his brother's shoulders and pressed him up the stairs. “Come on, let's go praise the Lord!”
Don't Miss the Sequel to
The Warning:
The Ultimatum
Buddy Korda warned the nation that an economic disaster was on the horizon. Now, eighteen months later, families across America are living out the grim reality of the second depression of the twentieth century. Some say Korda's prediction and the financial collapse were just a coincidence. Others say he caused the crisis by frightening investors out of the stock market.
But Korda's warning was not merely a prediction; it was a divine message. Now Buddy has received another messageâthis time it's more than a warning; it's an ultimatum.
God's call leads the reluctant prophet to Washington, D.C., where his friendsâincluding Linda Kee, a well-know reporter familiar with the Washington power structureâcoordinate the effort to bring America face to face with its heritage and its destiny. As the movement grows, certain politicians fear their power base will be undermined. Buddy finds an ally in Linda Kee, and together they fight a government plot and place their lives in jeopardy to turn the country around. Not surprisingly, the Washington power brokers will do anything to keep them from succeeding.
0-7852-7086-8 ⢠Paperback ⢠310 pages
