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was unbelievable. I asked to see the Global stock we owned, and my hirelings
told me that although we owned it, we did not have possession of it. I asked
when we would take possession and they told me that was not how it was done.
The stocks would remain in the hands of a third party. We owned it in name
only. It is a ridiculous system these people have. The money changes hands,
but not the property. I put a stop to that at once."
"I'll bet you did."
A green-suspendered clerk came out of the office with a sheaf of stocks. He
handed them over to the Goldman Sachs messenger, who went away just as Chiun
finished counting the second gold shipment.
After the other messenger had left with his stock, Remo put a question to
Chiun.
"Does Smith know how you're running this place?" he asked.
"I have not spoken with him all day," Chiun admitted. "But I am certain he
will be delighted. I have sold more Nostrum stock today than in the previous
month."
"Really?" Remo asked.
"I will let you in on a secret," Chiun said conspiratorially as clerks came
out to gather up the gold in mail carts and wheel them into a side room. "Men
will pay incredible sums if they believe a thing is valuable. Smith offered
Nostrum stocks for mere credit, and few bought. I insisted upon gold, paid in
full upon delivery, and they are beside themselves to own it."
"Little Father," Remo said sincerely, "I think you've got the hang of how they
do business on Wall Street."
Chapter 10
P. M. Looncraft came into his office late. This time, it was not considered
unusual by his employees. It was a Saturday.
On the way to his office, Looncraft stopped to lay a firm hand on the
pink-striped shoulder of Ronald Johnson, who wore the gold tie of Looncraft,
Dymstar d proudly.
"How are we today?" Looncraft said, low-voiced, knowing that every man on the
floor would notice the personal interest he was taking in Johnson. He made a
point of not calling Johnson by name-the better to keep the man in line.
"Excellent, sir."
"And Global?"
"I've acquired over five thousand shares for the company. They will execute
Monday morning at the opening price."
"Hmmm. Only that?"
"I did buy some for myself," Johnson admitted.
"Good man. How many shares?"
"One thousand, sir. It will empty my bank account."
"Brave soul," Looncraft said in sympathy.
"Sir?"
"We may have to divest. I hear rumblings about Global."
"What kind?" Johnson squeaked. Catching himself, he lowered his voice. "I
mean-"
"I know what you mean," Looncraft whispered. "It seems Global may be having
FCC difficulties. And they are overleveraged. They may have to divest.
Possibly downsize significantly."
"But . . . but my entire savings is in Global," Johnson croaked.
Looncraft clapped a hand on Johnson's shoulder. "You are a loyal employee,
Johnson," he said magnanimously. "I value you. LD rb losses better than you.
The firm will buy your shares at market, if you wish to sell. "
"Yes!" Johnson said fervently, tears coming into his eyes. "I'll execute it
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immediately."
"Wise man. No sense being long and wrong, as they say."
"Thank you, sir."
Looncraft started to walk away. Johnson's voice brought him up short.
"Mr. Looncraft. One moment, please."
"Yes?" Looncraft asked, making sure to suppress the greedy grin on his
cadaverous face before he turned around.
"Nostrum. You asked me to look into them."
"So I did," Looncraft said. "In my office, Johnson."
"Certainly, sir. Let me execute the Global transfer first."
Looncraft started to object, but caught himself. "Do that, by all means."
Looncraft went to his office, telling the secretary, "Johnson will want to see
me presently. Keep him waiting ten minutes."
"Yes, sir."
That will teach the upstart, Looncraft told himself as he placed his briefcase
beside his desk. He hung his chesterfield coat on an old-fashioned wooden
rack. He went to his deskside computer terminal and logged onto a bulletin
board that bore the legend "MAYFLOWER DESCENDANTS."
His lantern jaw fell when he saw the message on his screen "CHECK," it said.
There was a number next to the message, along with the notation: "MADE
REDUNDANT. CAUSE UNKNOWN." It told Looncraft that they had lost the Reuters
connection. It was distressing news.
He sat back to ponder the matter. A new element had apparently entered the
game. He would have to be prepared. Then his secretary announced the arrival
of Johnson.
"Has he been waiting a full ten minutes?" Looncraft asked. When the reply was
affirmative, Looncraft said, "Send him in."
"Here is the signed contract," Johnson said, placing a sheet of paper on
Looncraft's spacious desk. Looncraft's glance flicked to it, and seeing that
it was properly and irrevocably executed he waved for Johnson to sit.
"Tell me about Nostrum," Looncraft said, steepling his fingers. He was
looking, not at Johnson, but off toward his
great-great-great-great-grandfather H. P. Looncraft.
"They're a NASDAQ stock," Johnson said, reading from his notes. "Very
difficult to dig up information on."
"But you did."
"Some, sir. It's very odd. They went public only a year ago, and I had a tip
only this morning that their stock is heating up."
"Really?" Looncraft said, swiveling in Johnson's direction.
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