Strings in the Shadows

By Alexandra Grose

A fascinating account of greed on a gigantic scale, of market manipulation, option swaps and underhandedness, within the financial industry. This is a novel, with a hint of truth, behind the lies.

The collapse of financial institutions goes global, as the economic market heads into freefall and insider trading is uncovered. Journalist, Tim Parkes, is to fit the pieces together, after surreptitiously been left clues to uncover.
Just who is it, that started it all? As murders from large corporations are exposed, along with the murder of scientists; world leaders in semiconductors and gene manipulation for chemical and germ warfare become known, the financial world goes into a tailspin.

With the knowledge of bribery and underhanded deals, Tim goes on a search to find the truth. He’s being targeted and watched and he knows it. He knows he needs to open this can of worms and bring the treachery to the table, before he becomes yet another dead pawn, in somebody’s game.
As world-wide lending institutions, succumb to the ravages of global financial collapse, developed through their own unscrupulous activities, more and more people are left to fend for themselves. The collapse of the sub-prime mortgage industry, has left financial institutions to do, or to die.
The sub-prime mortgage industry has disintegrated, leaving millions of people destitute in its wake. With lawlessness, disorder, looting and riots a way of life, this is a story, which brings price fixing to the fore, exposing cover-ups, market manipulation and murder.

Anarchy raises its ugly head, as Wall Street teeters, before collapsing, while Tim sorts out truth, from lies. Just who is the marionette director? Who is the person pulling the strings in the shadows, the puppet master, in this game of espionage, market manipulation, murder and mayhem? The answer may just surprise you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Jan 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781504320269

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 Alexandra Grose.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com.au

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-2025-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-2026-9 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date:  01/02/2020

CONTENTS

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

About the author

DESCRIPTION

A gripping account of greed on a gigantic scale, of market manipulation, option swaps and underhandedness, within the financial industry. This is a novel, with a hint of truth, behind the lies.

The collapse of financial institutions go global, as the economic market heads into freefall and insider trading is uncovered. Journalist, Tim Parkes, is to fit the pieces together, after surreptitiously been left clues to uncover.

Just who is it, that started it all? As murders from large corporations are exposed, along with the murder of scientists; world leaders in semiconductors and gene manipulation for chemical and germ warfare become known, the financial world goes into a tailspin.

With the knowledge of bribery and underhanded deals, Tim goes on a search to find the truth. He’s being targeted and watched; and he knows it. He knows he needs to open this can of worms and bring the treachery to the table, before he becomes yet another dead pawn, in somebody’s game.

As world-wide lending institutions, succumb to the ravages of global financial collapse, developed through their own unscrupulous activities, more and more people are left to fend for themselves. The collapse of the sub-prime mortgage industry, has left financial institutions to do, or to die.

The sub-prime mortgage industry has disintegrated, leaving millions of people destitute in its wake. With lawlessness, disorder, looting and riots a way of life, this is a story, which brings price fixing to the fore, exposing cover-ups, market manipulation and murder.

Anarchy raises its ugly head, as Wall Street teeters, before collapsing, while Tim sorts out truth, from lies. Just who is the marionette director? Who is the person pulling the strings in the shadows, the puppet master, in this game of espionage, market manipulation, murder and mayhem? The answer may just surprise you.

CHAPTER 1

H e leant back in his chair, surveying the chaotic pile of papers, on the glossy new desk in front of him. Taking his glasses off, he rubbed his tired eyes and sighed. ‘Where does all this mess begin?’ he thought to himself, with a little agitation. ‘Where will I start?’

He’d been rummaging through this muddle for well over an hour and still hadn’t been able to establish the beginning. It was hard to find the start and he didn’t think he was there yet. Page after page, he read. Some pages had slipped to the floor, other sheets of paper were dog eared, from being handled, over and over and still he wasn’t at the bottom of it.

The papers had been left on his front veranda yesterday, in a rather rough and tatty looking cardboard box. Tim picked up the box and left it just inside the door, as he went for his morning run. He didn’t think anything of it at the time. He’d take a look when he got home.

He didn’t even get around to opening the box, until the following morning. It was sitting on a chair, in the corner of his office. Tania must have placed it there sometime yesterday, since Tim had forgotten all about it.

Today, when he finally opened it, he was astounded by what emerged, from that worn out old box. There was no name, no note, or return address, amongst any of it. Briefly he wondered who had left the box by his door, however he dismissed the thought quickly. There were other things to be concerned over, at the moment, like the contents inside the box.

As an investigative journalist, Tim wasn’t really surprised to find a box with no note. It’s happened before, although not here in Australia. On reading what was inside, he was more than a little surprised and he was greatly concerned. He’d not heard of any of this and it didn’t take him long, before he cottoned on to what it was all about. Starting at the beginning was the hard part. All that shuffling of papers, was starting to tire him.

Tim got up from his chair, stretched his arms over his head and twisted from side to side, easing the tension from his spine. Tim was a tall man, standing at 6’6" and due to his size, he’d never been able to find the exact chair to fit his frame. Though he keeps himself in good shape with exercise, he often found his back ached, if he sat at his work desk for too long.

Tim glanced over his shoulder, as he wandered towards the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Looking back at the papers, Tim thought; ‘It’s going to be a long day!’

Eyeing the kitchen clock, Tim made a second coffee. It was just seven am and he’d been up for two hours already.

While the kettle was boiling, Tim popped some bread into the toaster and ducked outside, to pick a small posy of flowers. Making the coffee and toast and putting the posy of flowers into a small vase, then placing it all on a little floral tray, Tim carefully balanced the tray, as he gingerly walked upstairs and into the bedroom.

He looked at his wife of one year, her dark curls framing her petit face as she slept, peacefully nestled amongst the white sheets. Her little frame, looking miniature and lost, in that large bed. She looked so serene, he was loath to wake her.

Quietly he placed the tray beside her. Gently he kissed her, on the forehead. Slowly she stirred. She looked up at Tim and beamed a big, beautiful smile, at him. He loved that smile – he loved that girl!

She was his everything and the reason he got up so early in the morning. Acquiring the habit of getting up early, meant he could make a start on his workload and still have time to chat to her, before she headed off to her own job, in the city. An interior designer, working for herself, gave Tania the flexibility she needed to help care for her father, who lived just two blocks away.

Good morning Timmy, Tania said softy. Tim even liked the way she spoke; softly and slowly, as if each sentence was methodically thought through.

Hi. Did you have a good sleep? Tim enquired, his hand moving, to gently brush a stray curl from her eyes.

Wonderful, and thank you for breakfast. You spoil me, she replied, scrunching up her cute little nose, as she picked up a piece of toast. The flowers look so beautiful.

They do and you’re worth it, Tim said, knowing only too well, how true this was for him.

They drank coffee together and chatted for 20 minutes or so, before Tania got up, to get ready for work.

Tim made his way back to his office and stared out the window for a few minutes, enjoying what appeared to be a beautiful spring day. With a bright blue sky emerging and not a cloud in sight, the yellow daffodils and purple daisies, aimed their faces towards the sun, as if thanking the sun for its radiant warmth, after the cold of the winter months.

Tim turned to face the jumble of papers once again and once again, he sighed. He decided to start from scratch and at least get these papers into some sort of order. He must have read them five times each now anyway.

Gathering all the papers into a single heap, the pile was four inches thick. Tim then sorted them, first by category. Turning each page, one at a time, he started four smaller piles. He wrote, in thick black marker, on an A4 sheet of paper – Dead bankers. Then on the next sheet he wrote – Dead scientists.

Thirdly he wrote – Dead journalists. This one worried him a little, although there appeared to be only three dead journalists, at the moment. As a journalist himself, the thought crossed his mind, that he might just end up another name on that list. Journalists have, from time to time, dug too deeply and known too much. And it’s got them killed.

Still, Tim pressed on, pushing the thought to the back of his mind, for the time being. On the fourth A4 sheet Tim wrote – Plane disappearance.

With 20 passengers who were employed in the area of electronic warfare, Tim thought the missing plane may just have a connection, of some sort, to all the other deaths that were written about, in these dog eared pages, piled upon his desk. Obviously the anonymous person who left the papers by the front door, also had that thought, which was why they were included in this package.

After this, Tim broke the list down further, by separating each pile into the year the papers were dated. Then the month and then going through them again, one more time, to finally order them into the day they were posted, either by the stamp on the mail, or Internet (after looking it up on the computer), or by the date on the top of the newspaper clippings. In the end, Tim had some sort of structure he could work with and he began to render phone calls.

For the rest of the day, Tim called and made appointments. He arranged with anyone he could, anyone who was willing to listen to him, or talk to him; a time to discuss the papers on his desk. He needed to get to the bottom of all this and to understand if what he was reading, was correct and accurate. His calendar began to fill, with names, towns and times, for meetings.

According to this list of papers, there were around 250 people, all dead and all involved in some way, with the study of genetics, or warfare and chemicals, as well as big banks, corruption and scandals. None of the names on his list died of natural causes. No cancers, no heart attacks, no illness’s, but rather suicide, shot, drowned, robbery gone wrong, car crash, plane crash, even a couple of hit and run while cycling, but not one natural cause of death.

It wasn’t adding up. 250 people, in some way connected by genetics, warfare and banks, all dying of suicide, or accident and all within the past few years.

When Tania walked through the door, later that evening, Tim was very surprised. The time had just flown by. He knew he’d been presented a good story, one that landed in his lap effortlessly and it was a shame to have to stop now. However, tomorrow was just a sleep away and he needed a break. He hadn’t stopped all day and realised at this point, just how tired his mind had become and how famished he was.

Tim left his office and helped Tania prepare dinner. Crumbed lamb cutlets, a simple salad and a glass of red wine. They set the table, on the back deck of their little sandstone cottage. What better way to end a beautiful spring day, than a relaxing meal by a garden in full bloom, while enjoying the company of the woman of your dreams?

30104.png

This story was going to be big. Tim knew it instantly. He had a ‘nose for a good story.’ It was just a gut feeling, that Tim had always had. Though he was still relatively young at 28, he’d been interested in journalism since third grade at school.

He’d followed big stories most of his life. He’d watched good investigative reporters on TV and was constantly reading stories by all the big names in the industry, trying to emulate them, wondering what made them tick, what went through their head, as they queried, probed and challenged the people they interviewed.

During his high school years, Tim had worked on his own investigative stories and had already gained a kind of reputation, for getting to the heart of the matter. He wasn’t frightened either, of asking the kind of questions, that made other people squirm, if that’s what was called for.

By university, editors from well-known magazines, newspapers and TV stations, were offering him positions and by the time he’d finished all his studies, Tim had a secure job waiting for him at Hartley’s - a goliath of a firm; a leader in major, ground breaking stories. It was an exciting time for Tim.

Tim remained with them six years, until he met his future wife. Tania was on holidays for three weeks, having travelled across the globe, all the way from Australia. They fell deeply in love, during her short visit to America. Tania felt she couldn’t leave her parents. Her father has dementia and her mother needed her help, in caring for him, which was why this was such a short holiday; a short getaway, for Tania to have a little break.

Tim decided it was time for him to move on and within a few weeks, Tim found himself in Australia, with the prettiest girl in the world. The transition wasn’t too difficult. Tim has a good reputation in his field. It wouldn’t be a problem, for Tim to get work in Australia. He had no close family ties, to be concerned over and he was open minded, about a change of scenery and location.

Tim considered he might freelance for a while, although he had plenty of job offers. His company, sorry to lose him, even suggested he still work for them, in the hope of retaining a good employee. He could send his stories via email, or skype, they said.

Tim was resolute in his choice to stick with freelancing. It offered him more flexibility, in work times, in spending time with his soon to be wife and he would be able to help with his future father in law, if need be.

It’s since been just over a year and Tim was loving his life. Married now, he loved his wife, he loved Australia. He loved the Australian people and the Australian countryside, the miles and miles of bushland and the coastline. He had plenty of work and was never short of a good story to report. There weren’t any major, ground breaking feature stories, until these papers landed at his doorstep, but he was earning enough money, to