daylightr1
DAYLIGHT ROBBERY
"The Business Roundtable and people like that are running this country for their benefit. They are stealing from guys like you every day of the week, and if you look hard enough you can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt..." - former CEO, major NZ bank

 

"Never before had a Government set itself up so well to give a massive payout to those in the know" - Ray Smith, Goldcorp

"Documents produced by the BNZ under order of the High Court show no real  foreign currency loan ever existed. The loans appear to have been drawn up on a piece of paper inside the BNZ's Auckland office. Fictitious, fake credit. Fractional reserve banking. A $2.9 billion fraud..."

"I didn’t come this far to be burned out in a hail of gunfire" - Helen Clark

"The revelation was stunning: the managing director of a Government-owned bank, a friend of the Minister of Finance, was acting as an advisor to a prospective purchaser"

A critically-acclaimed author:

"Wishart presents facts he can totally substantiate, and leaves readers to draw some obvious conclusions...compelling, revealing and worrying reading" - Bay of Plenty Times

"Without peer in this country as an investigative journalist ...painstaking research...pacy narrative"- City Voice

"Exceptionally thorough...skilfully blends official documents with his own observations...a more informative picture than could ever have been possible in the daily media" - Evening Standard

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Daylight Robbery by Ian Wishart

The Unauthorised Story of The BNZ Bank And The Robbers Who Ran It

IT BEGINS, as all good bank stories should, with the dirt and scum of a
new land, and that’s just some of the customers.
The year is 1861. The place is Auckland: a relative village of some
8,000 inhabitants scattered over acres of pastureland and dusty tracks
leading to outlying settlements like Mt Eden or Onehunga.

In the United States at this time, Abraham Lincoln has just been elected
President on a campaign platform of abolishing slavery and monetary
reform. The US Civil War is about to break out. But in New Zealand,
the buzz of summer cicadas, the clatter of horse hooves and carriage
wheels, and the shouted greetings between colonial settlers are all that
disturbs the mantle of unseasonal autumn heat that’s wrapped up the
town for the past two weeks leaving residents gasping for some cool
relief.

The sparkling waters of the Waitemata harbour lap at the shoreline
along what is now Fort Street, and stevedores on the rickety wharf shoulder
aside Imperial troopers, merchants, sailors and donkeys as they shift
cargo under the beating sun of an Indian Summer.

It is a new land politically, a young land physically, and on the harbour
where sleek America’s Cup yachts will sluice through a massive
spectator fleet little more than one person’s lifetime later, the vista in
March of 1861 is of barques and scows, trading ships and Maori waka.
By the dusty hillside goat track known now as Shortland Street, two
men are in earnest discussion outside the Oriental Bank office. One is a
senior banker, the other is prominent lawyer


To read the first two chapters, follow this link