David Knight's limousine left I-95 at the Greenwich exit and headed south on Steamboat Road. It turned right at an exclusive yacht club as they neared the shoreline. His driver pulled up the drive to the door, while Knight absentmindedly noted the other limousines parked bumper to bumper along the curved drive. It didn't concern him that he arrived last. He knew his colleagues intently awaited the news he brought to them. They would conduct no significant business in his absence, so he gave the matter of his tardiness no further thought.

A uniformed staffer opened his car door for him, and Knight emerged into the warm Connecticut sunlight, although a cool breeze blew in from the Sound. Without even a glance at his surroundings, he strode through the door that another staffer held for him and headed toward the conference room. He gave no recognition to the receptionist outside the door who stood as he approached and greeted him by name as she held the door to the room open for him. He walked briskly inside and took his place near the head of the table, while she discreetly pulled the door closed after him.

The chairwoman paused in mid-sentence to acknowledge his entrance.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Knight. We're glad you could make it.”

“Of course I made it! You had the temerity to doubt it? I trust I have not missed anything of importance,” he sneered imperiously as he took his chair.

“Not at all,” came her shocked and tepid reply. “We just sat down.”

To describe David Knight as imperial almost understated the man. The authority of his presence pervaded a room full of men and women fully used to obedience and marked him as their clear leader and superior. More than that, he presented himself impeccably. His black, custom-made H. Huntsman suit made of Super 100 wool covered a crisp, white cotton dress shirt. His royal blue Stefano Ricci pure silk tie with small Swarovski crystals in a diamond shape on the front seemed to radiate extreme power--the effect its wearer wished to convey. Every hair from his perfectly-in-place and exquisitely snipped Orlo haircut matched his perfectly trimmed mustache, which completed the effect.

He gazed around the room at the people assembled. He nodded across the table at Harry Peterson and glanced next to him at Jiang Qwan, vice-chairman of the National Commercial Bank of China. Continuing around the table, he saw the British finance minister; Prince Husaam of the Saudi royal family; the German foreign minister; and a half dozen other leading financially and politically powerful people. Representation at the meeting included each of the world's major financial powers, although none of the top leaders of those powers sat in attendance (other than himself). With a quick nod to each of them, he reflected for a moment on the sheer reach and power of the men and women in the room.

“The Executive Committee is now in session,” the chairwoman intoned gravely. “Mr. Knight, if you please...”

“Thank you,” he began in a powerful voice that effortlessly filled the room. “First, I can report that the video has been recovered successfully. We have reviewed it and found that the amount of compromising information it contains is minimal.”

The persons assembled breathed a collective sigh of relief at these words. Knight could feel the tension level dissipate.

“What about copies?” his Chinese counterpart interrupted to ask in perfect English.

“Obviously, they cause us concern. While we have found no evidence of copies, I think we all agree that copies must exist. We must also assume that it will gain public release at some point.”

“Were any of our outstanding operations named or described in any way?” asked the German foreign minister. “Minimax? Currgent? Wellform, perhaps?”

“No, the participants in the video mentioned none of them by name, and the conversation never moved in any of those directions,” Knight replied briskly. “Thankfully, the three of us confined our discussions to the bailout that day.”

“That is good news indeed, Mr. Knight,” Prince Husaam said. “Of course, you still have not explained how the security breach occurred.”

“We have not completely discovered the method used, although we have some idea that a tiny camera hidden in a corsage was probably how they did it. Our security department recommends that we prescreen all participants using professional scanning equipment upon arrival, as well as carefully inspecting the locations themselves, prior to any sensitive meeting. That means each of us must submit to being scanned immediately before every meeting held at my bank. I recommend each of you implement similar precautions at locations you control, as should the CIC,” he said, looking this time at the chairwoman.

“I agree. We will implement your suggestion immediately, going forward.”

“There's still the issue of your nephew, sir,” added the British finance minister. “He stole the video, did he not?”

“Actually, we do not know for certain the level of his involvement,” Knight said. “Nor do we know for sure the role his daughter's tutor might have played in the conspiracy.”

“Then you'd better interrogate your nephew as soon as possible,” the finance minister pointed out. “Where is he, anyway?”

Knight glared at his challenger.

“Unfortunately, we do not know his whereabouts at present. It appears that a group called the Agorist Underground may have him in their custody.”

“The AU?” came a voice from the far end of the table. Their attention turned to the Japanese defense minister. “I didn't know of their involvement.”

“You know of them?” Knight asked conversationally. “We just learned about them within the past 48 hours.”

“Yes, we do. In my country we have already experienced considerable inconvenience at the hands of this AU. If they are behind this video incident, I urge caution in dealing with them.”

“This news makes the recovery of your nephew of paramount importance, sir,” the British finance minister declared. “We must know what this AU knows.” A general murmur of agreement flowed around the table.

Knight nodded his acquiescence. “Yes, I agree. I have already taken steps to reach him. Once we make contact, I hope to initiate steps to take him into our custody. Earlier today, I spoke with the President, who promised me FBI assistance in gaining his return.”

“How did your nephew end up in the hands of this AU?” asked the German foreign minister.

“Again, we do not know for sure, but it appears that they worked a deal with the FBI to get him.”

“But you said they promised their cooperation!” the German blared.

“Unfortunately, they released him before I could reach the President.”

“That is very disturbing news, sir,” the British foreign minister pontificated. “Your nephew knows far too much about the banking industry for him to remain in the hands of anarchists and bomb-throwers.”

“Nonsense!” Knight declared forcefully, blustering, “I would not go so far as to say–I do not think they actually...”

“Worse,” the minister plowed on, “we have no way of knowing how much your nephew might actually reveal to such people! Imagine the damage he could cause! With the world economy in such a precarious state, we don't need a slip of someone's lips to undermine public confidence in the economy even further than it has already eroded in such a short time.”

“Oh, well, as to that, I do not think...”

Prince Husaam interrupted this time, “Yes, every person at this table represents a government or financial organization that dares not risk further public embarrassment at this time, particularly since we are so close to achieving...”

“Do you trust your nephew, Mr. Knight?” the Japanese minister interrupted this time.

The entire room quieted at the look on Knight's face. He made it clear with a glance that he considered the effrontery behind the suggestion intolerable. In truth, he didn't trust Justin very far. The boy sometimes demonstrated a distressing tendency to overly sympathize with the interests of customers in preference to the interests of the bank, although it hadn't yet interfered with his ability to do business effectively on the bank's behalf.

“Justin always did a good job. His initial reluctance to release the video to us does not speak well of him, of course, but I believe he will prove pliable once we get him back. I consider any suggestion to the contrary a clear case of disloyalty. Ladies and gentlemen, you all know the importance of this situation, but it does not change our plans one bit, and I grow tired of the simpering whining of doubters,” Knight said menacingly. “Who among you dares question my authority in the matter?”

“I'm sure our colleague meant no disrespect,” Prince Husaam noted while bowing his head diplomatically and clearing his throat. “Nevertheless, I find this news very distressing. You must take action to retrieve your nephew immediately. The risk to this organization, should he prove to be less pliable than you imagine, concerns me. It concerns all of us.”

More nods and sounds of agreement came from the people present.

Knight pressed his lips tightly together. “Ladies and gentlemen, I can assure you that we will get my nephew back, dead or alive.”

He had spoken, and it satisfied his listeners. They proceeded to discuss the next item on the agenda: recent progress made in advancing their plans for an international identification system for all world citizens.

After the meeting concluded, Knight sat once again in the back seat of his limousine while his driver drove him back to his Manhattan office. He made a call to Nevio Roone en route.

“Roone here.”

“What progress, Mr. Roone?” Knight asked without preamble.

“Considerable, sir. I just heard back from one of my best operatives, Haven Donahue.”

“The man in charge of estate security at my nephew's home?”

“Yes, sir, that's him. He has a line on how to get into the AU, which he is now following up.”

“Once you figure out how to do that, I want you to coordinate a raid with the FBI. The President promised me their cooperation once we successfully identify my nephew's location. My nephew must be recovered at all costs, Mr. Roone. I prefer him to be breathing, but I will not be picky about his condition. Do you understand me, Mr. Roone?”

“Yes, sir, we'll get him, breathing or not.”

“No more slip-ups, Mr. Roone! Do we understand each other?”

“No, sir! I mean, yes, sir!” Roone babbled in reply.