Page 102 of The Atlas Maneuver

“Who doesn’t?”

“Why did you buy it?”

She couldn’t tell her the truth, so she said, “I considered it a good investment.”

“Why? There’s nothing of any tangible value there. Not a thing you can hold or touch. Just a blip on a computer screen.”

“That people are willing to pay money for.”

“What happens when they don’t want to do that?” Austin asked.

“I guess I’m in big trouble. But could not the same thing be said for any money? It’s all based on a belief that it’s valuable.”

“That’s true, with one big difference.”

The gates were now fully open and the car began to slowly creep inside the compound.

“With fiat money a government issues and regulates it. Yes, nearly all of them manipulate it, printing more and more, devaluing what already exists, and a person’s wealth is totally dependent on that manipulation. But all of that happens in the open. There are many, many people involved. The media watches everything. There are countless eyes and ears on what is happening, so there are few surprises. If the people don’t agree with the manipulation, they can change the government. But with bitcoin, everything, and I mean everything, is hidden away. Sure, every transaction is recorded on the internet. But you have no idea who is buying and selling, who is manipulating, and the entire system is designed to make sure you never do. That’s good in one respect, but dangerous in another. Especially for a commodity that is nothing more than ones and zeros in a computer program.”

She’d never really considered it all before this moment.

“And how is it you know all this?” Kyra asked.

“I created the whole damn thing.”

The car eased its way into a large, paved courtyard that fronted the main house and the driver switched off the engine.

“When you check in, like good guard dogs do, I want you to deliver a message to Katie Gledhill,” Austin said.

She was listening.

“Tell her, I created it all and I can end it all. So don’t screw with me. I want the information on my daughter.”

CHAPTER 57

CATHERINE STOOD AT HER OPEN BALCONY DOORS AND STARED OUT. The evening sun slanted at a low angle and its golden light made the contours of the distant Atlas Mountains seem deep, the colors rich, yellow-green on the western face, darker to the sides, snow atop, the vibrance of every ridge against the valley’s shadow like an inner glow. The air was dry and pristine, which was one of the things she really loved about Morocco. No haze or heat gave any illusion of motion. No wind swayed a thing, no clouds drifted in the evening sky. Every peak, every rock lay still, like when a breath was held.

Her father had worked hard to create a working estate. Carrots, turnips, potatoes, and onions were still grown in irrigated fields, as well as wheat. Date palms and olive trees dotted the land, sheep and goats grazed on patches of grass alongside free-range chickens. In recent years she’d opened a carpet workshop that produced some impressive Berber rugs sold in the markets. Beyond the walls, toward the west, stables housed purebred Arabian horses, another of her father’s passions that she’d continued, the animals compact, powerful, and highly intelligent.

She’d arrived in Marrakesh ahead of Kyra and Kelly, and had just been informed that the two women were now within the compound. Good. Everything was finally contained.

She loved the estate. Her father had seen to every detail in the construction. Architecture had been another of his many varied interests. He’d modeled it after otherkasbahsin the region and she’d lovingly maintained his vision, new stone added to old and scraped to a corresponding gray-brown pallor. Gardens abounded everywhere, the largest now filled with a tent large enough to accommodate the eighty guests who were here for the evening. She was climbing to the pinnacle of her life, ready for her latest performance, eager to erase the failures of the past two days.

Prepared to change the world.

A soft knock came on the bedroom door.

She stepped across and opened it.

Kyra Lhota entered and she closed the door behind her.

“Your guest is safely in her bedroom,” Kyra said.

“Did she offer anything meaningful?”

“One thing.”

And she listened as Kyra told her what Kelly had said about being capable of ending it all.