Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 25 Earning a Little Money for the Holidays

Tuesday, October 12th.

Larry arrived at Paine Weber Securities and found Mr. Porter preparing to visit a client, but had not yet officially set off.

Larry quickly asked Mr. Porter for leave, explaining that he couldn't come to work on December 24th, the day before Christmas.

Mr. Porter frowned when he heard Larry ask for leave, but when he learned that it wasn't for "personal matters" but to go with his parents to buy land in the western suburbs of Boston, Mr. Porter relaxed and approved his leave request.

Larry thanked Mr. Potter, and as he was leaving, he suddenly wanted to ask Mr. Potter, "Mr. Potter, do you think Logan is trustworthy?"

Mr. Potter glanced at Larry, raised his eyebrows slightly, and said, "Have you heard anything about his background?"

Larry asked curiously, "What do you mean... I'm thinking that I might ask him to do something for me in the future, but I don't know if he's reliable."

Mr. Potter nodded and said, "Don't let his position as a sales clerk fool you; he comes from a good family. In my opinion, he's trustworthy. If you need anything from him, I think it's a good idea."

Larry nodded emphatically and left Mr. Porter's office.

Larry actually had a strange feeling that he would need Logan to do some things for him in the future.

Larry went outside and informed the front desk manager that he was taking leave.

Then it was time for the market to open.

There were even fewer customers in the brokerage than yesterday. The recent sluggish stock market has dampened the enthusiasm of many to spend a few hours at the brokerage.

Larry and many of the young men in the sales department were happy to have some free time.

Occasionally, a quote would drip in, and Larry and Tom would take turns climbing the ladder to fill in the latest stock quote.

Larry's two stocks also performed very steadily, declining slowly and steadily amid the dismal market performance.

Based on market performance, Larry felt he wasn't in a hurry to cash out his profits to the betting house, but should wait until the last minute.

The next day was Wednesday, December 23.

After a boring morning at Paine Weber Securities, Larry finally strolled over to the betting shop.

There were far fewer people at the betting shops than on Monday, but among the customers today was a group of fishermen dressed in sailor suits. They had just returned to shore after a long fishing trip and, having plenty of spare cash, decided to try their luck at the betting shops.

Larry stood in front of the quote board for a while and received the latest quotes for the stocks he held.

Tennessee Sugar, $11.75.

European express shipping, $4.65.

Larry checked the price; his Tennessee Sugar Company's deal was $12.6, while the cost of Continental Express was $5.

After a quick mental calculation, Larry realized that the profits this time were not much. Tennessee's 200 shares yielded a profit of $170, while Continental Express only yielded a profit of $60.

The total is $230.

There's nothing we can do; the market is just too quiet.

I can only make a little money now.

But then I thought about it again, and this "small amount of money" was equivalent to half a year's salary, so it was not bad.

Larry had the urge to close all his short stock positions right now, but strangely, he suddenly had a strange premonition that he should wait a little longer.

So Larry simply sat down on the row of wooden chairs in the betting shop and waited quietly.

Larry himself didn't know why he had to wait, but when inspiration struck, he usually followed its guidance.

After a while, around 1:20 p.m., the market remained quiet, and there were no new quotes for the two stocks Larry held.

The other customers around them also started to get bored. They gathered in twos and threes, first cursing the lifeless market, and then talking about the various interesting things that had happened to them recently.

"I heard that an Alsatian fishing vessel was hijacked by the Danes near Iceland. Damn it, this isn't 800 years ago. Do the Vikings still have to make a living by raiding?"

"Mr. Li's fleet has caught a very large sperm whale..."

"A siren appeared on King Fix III's ship in the middle of the night and seduced three Irish sailors, causing them to fall into the sea..."

……

Larry listened half-heartedly until a sailor, still reeking of fish, rudely interrupted the others.

"Hey! What's this? I have some really breaking news! One of Mr. Klein's ships sank in the North Atlantic off Newfoundland. They were incredibly unlucky; they hit an iceberg last night." The sailor's words shocked those around him, and everyone asked if it was true.

Larry pretended to be interested in the crevices under his fingernails, staring intently at his hands as he rubbed them together, but his ears perked up, listening for any further developments.

Faced with the onlookers' questions, the sailor swore an oath.

“Our crew members are all fishing for cod in Newfoundland. Although I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, it’s true because someone in our crew has seen it with their own eyes.”

"Did the ship sink? How many people died?" someone asked.

"It sank, but it was a cargo ship. The crew and captain were transferred to lifeboats overnight and survived, but it is said that the ship was carrying nearly 5 tons of chemicals, I don't know if they came from Britain or France. Our fleet leader said that these damn chemicals would kill a lot of cod."

Larry wasn't particularly concerned about the shipwreck and the cod, but he understood one important piece of information: Mr. Klein was the owner of the Continental Express, a very respectable Bostonian, whom Larry had even met in the sales office.

Has the ship sunk?

Will this have a significant impact on the stock price of EuroExpress?

Larry's heart began to pound.

But he still had doubts. After all, it was as natural for sailors to boast and talk nonsense as it was for Chinese people to love rice. Larry couldn't be sure if the sailor's information was true.

Furthermore, even if it were true, since these sailors knew about it, the stock price of Continental Express did not show any signs of insiders selling off their shares.

If the ship had really sunk, the people inside their company should have known long ago.

Larry is someone who makes a living by trading stock tickers, meaning he trades stocks based on his predictions of price fluctuations.

He did not see any significant abnormal decline in Continental Express's stock price in the current market.

However, the current stock price performance does not necessarily mean that this matter will not have an impact.

Should we increase our short position in Continental Express based on this breaking news?

This is very perplexing.

Larry pondered for a moment, then suddenly had a good idea.

He walked to the counter and took out the order for shorting 200 shares of Tennessee Sugar.

"Help me understand these 200 short positions!"

The clerk behind the counter glanced at Larry, then at the latest price for Tennessee Sugar on the price board. In the order book, after "Short 200 shares of Tennessee Sugar at $12.6, margin $2 per share," he continued,
"Closed position at $11.65." and signed his name.

Larry made $190 on this deal.

Larry quickly went to the cashier to exchange his principal and profits, and then returned to the counter.

The counter clerk looked puzzled when he returned.

Larry placed the $590 he had previously requested, including principal and profit, on the counter, withdrew an additional $410, and reiterated to the teller behind the counter,
"Sell me 500 shares of Continental Express at the current price. That's $1,000!"

The clerks behind the counter exchanged bewildered glances, wondering if the young gambler was about to pull off another big move.

However, business was quite slow today, and with only a little over a day and an hour of trading time left until Christmas, they didn't think much of it and filled out two new trading forms as Larry requested.

Each order is a short selling order for "250 shares of Continental Express at $4.65 with a margin of $2", and there are two such orders in total.

Larry gave the teller an extra $1 for the transaction fee, held the two transaction slips in his hand, placed them together with the previous short order for 100 shares of Continental Express, and then turned and left the betting shop.

"I hope the old man is still in the trading hall, I hope the old man is still in the trading hall..."

Larry muttered to himself as he ran back to Paine Weber Securities Company. He opened the door and immediately saw that the wall clock showed it was 2:15 p.m.

There are 45 minutes left to close today's trading.

That didn't matter. Larry craned his neck, searching for the person among the customers' seats...

Finally, he found it. In the last row of seats in the trading hall, a well-off old man with gray hair was dozing off in his seat with his legs crossed.

Ah, Mr. Michael Hennessy! I'm counting on you for this holiday bonus.

Larry walked toward him.

(End of this chapter)