“Then the solution is simple,” a Frenchman said into the short silence following Bryce’s gloomy assessment. “We must convince the central banks to never call in their reserves. Perhaps we could promise them a greater interest rate to ensure their cooperation.”

“That’s just a temporary fix,” said another New Yorker. “We can’t run from our obligation forever.”

“But if we have time to refill the central banks’ coffers, we can maintain price stability and avoid what happened when my country announced their sale.”

“And when the Wall Street Journal breaks this story,” the New Yorker countered, “what then? People are going to demand to see the gold their government promised them existed. Joe Six-Pack thinks there’s a vault at Fort Knox brimming with the stuff. He’s not going to be too happy when he learns it’s empty except for a bunch of worthless promissory notes. He’s going to panic because his government lied about the one thing it never had in the past, the surety of the greenback.”

“Which is precisely why I said earlier this is a crisis of unprecedented proportions,” Volkmann said. “We have removed the foundation of the capitalist system, and as soon as the public learns of this, it is going to crash down like a card house.”

The Swiss banker paused, scanning the room. He saw that he had their attention, and he could tell by the dour expressions that some of them already anticipated what he was about to say, even if they didn’t know the specifics. He sipped from a glass of water before continuing. “For the past six years Germany has embarked on a series of failed economic policies. The result has transformed the country from Europe’s industrial engine into something akin to a welfare state. Productivity is down, unemployment is at the ceiling allowed by the EU, and shortly the government will face the likelihood that it will default on their overly generous pensions. In a word, Germany is about to go bankrupt. I learned two weeks ago that they are going to sell all of their gold stock.”

The collective gasp was the sound of men realizing they were facing the abyss.

“That is six thousand tons, gentlemen — or roughly two years’ worth of South Africa’s production. As it stands there are only two thousand tons on reserve in Berlin and Bonn. We have to make up a four-thousand-ton shortfall.”

“How soon?” the Frenchman asked, having lost his earlier bluster.

“I’m not certain,” Volkmann replied. “In order to keep prices stable I suspect it will be over some time.”

“But not enough,” the New Yorker muttered.

“And keep in mind,” Volkmann went on doggedly, piling disaster on top of disaster, “if commodity traders realize the bind our banks are in, they will gouge us, and prices might double or even triple.”