Page 107 - TruthAboutLyingFinal

Nicholas Boothman
of him. His mouth opened. He tried to speak into his headset.
The patch behind his ear flashed red.
He doubled over.
A woman beside him pulled off her headset and staggered backward, sweating through her blouse. Another trader tried to shout an instruction, stopped halfway through, and clamped a hand over his mouth.
The room at the Fed went silent.
Jinji whispered, “Oh no.”
Henry moved closer to the screen.
On another feed, an executive from a major investment bank stood before reporters.
“Our exposure is limited,” he said.
The patch behind his ear glowed red.
He froze.
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Then he gripped the podium with both hands and said, “Our exposure is not limited.”
Gasps from the press room.
“It is substantial,” he said, each word forced out as if dragged through glass. “We structured disclosures to comply with regulations while obscuring actual risk.”
Behind him, someone said, “David, stop.” He shook his head, sweating now.
“We knew,” he said. “We all knew.”
The feed cut away.
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