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

Chapter 260: Where the enemy goes, I can go too
At 9:30 a.m., there were still 30 minutes until the market opened.

After those who had shorted the stock left, Matthew and Larry's identities changed.

Matthew, no longer tense, waited leisurely at the window for the Italian lads to bring news of Mr. Dunbar; but Larry, with a serious expression, spread out the letter paper, picked up the pen Matthew had just used to sign, and began to write.

In his first letter, he wrote very freely and casually, scribbling a few lines with his pen and then putting the letter in an envelope and tossing it aside.
When writing the second letter, Larry treated it like a major battle, carefully considering each word and phrase, writing each letter with the seriousness of a primary school student handing in homework to the strictest English teacher. After finishing, Larry picked up the short letter, read it carefully three times, and only after confirming that there were no misspelled words did he sigh softly and place the letter neatly in the envelope.

Matthew looked at Larry's serious expression with great curiosity.

Larry then pressed the bell to summon the sales department clerk.

Soon, a personal waiter entered and said to Larry respectfully, "Mr. Livingston, what can I do for you?"

Larry's attitude became very serious. He picked up the first letter, handed it to the other party, and casually said, "Could you please do me a favor and deliver this letter to Henry Goldman, one of the senior managers at Goldman Sachs on Pine Street?"

The young man nodded, took the letter, and put it in his pocket.

Larry held up the second letter, his face becoming even more serious, and continued to instruct, "This second letter... oh, right, I'm afraid you'll get it mixed up, why don't you call another guy over?"

The waiter looked bewildered, but still followed Larry's instructions and called over another waiter from outside the second-floor private room.

Larry nodded when the second man stood before him, handed him the second letter, and frowned as he gave him instructions.
"You need to deliver this letter to Mr. Morgan's private library... Do you know which Morgan? J.P. Morgan! The most famous one!"

The young man was startled, but he still tucked the letter into his pocket and asked in a low voice, "How should I give this to Mr. Morgan? His security guards won't let me in..."

Larry waved his hand. "You just need to go to his private library and hand it to the security guard downstairs. My name is already on the envelope."

As they talked, Larry told the two men the location of Morgan's private library and told them to set off immediately. Then, Larry reached into his pocket for change, but his wallet only contained small $100 bills. Finally, Larry took out two quarter-eagle gold coins worth $2.5 each and handed them to the two men.

"Please deliver this to the destination. This is your delivery fee. You must complete the job properly!"

The two young men stared at the gold coin, their faces showing disbelief and incredulity. They had been here for a long time, and even the wealthy had never tipped them $2.5 in gold coins. They hurriedly accepted the coin and thanked him profusely.

Larry repeatedly urged the two to make sure it was delivered before letting out a long sigh of relief. He then casually took out a shiny eagle-shaped gold coin that he had been handling and began to play with it in his hand.

Matthew looked at Larry with some curiosity. Larry looked up and met his gaze, then casually explained, "I need to get Goldman Sachs to help me find out who's shorting this stock. You have to know your enemy, right? ... On the other hand, I need to let Mr. Morgan know so he doesn't misunderstand me."

Matthew laughed and said, "It's okay, Larry. You don't need to explain to me!"

Larry chuckled and said, "We're like family, I have nothing to hide from you."

Matthew nodded, knowing Larry's words were just polite, but he was still incredibly pleased to hear them. Then, however, he asked curiously,

"When you wrote to Mr. Morgan, weren't you trying to expose or warn him that someone was shorting the stock? How can you say it so that he doesn't misunderstand you?"

Larry grinned slyly, raised an eyebrow, and said, "I'm a trader, I make my living from ticker tape! I know there are big players shorting this, so why shouldn't I go with them?"

"You're going to short it too?" Matthew was very surprised and stared at Larry with wide eyes.

Larry, with a confident look on his face, crossed his arms and said with a smile, "Of course, wherever the enemy can go, so can I..."

Matthew smiled and shook his head. He didn't know much about stocks, but Larry made it very clear that he also planned to take advantage of the other party's attack on General Electric to short sell and make some short-term profits.

Larry pulled out his Colt gold-cased pocket watch, checked the time—there were still 10 minutes until the opening bell—and turned to Matthew, asking...
"Matthew, when is that expo commemorating the 400th anniversary of Columbus's devastation of America?"

Matthew was taken aback, wondering what Larry meant by "ruining America," but he didn't take it to heart, assuming Larry was joking, and then laughed and replied.
"May 1st, Sunday. Don't worry, my patent attorney and I are ready. We will launch the M1892 Pioneer pistol, the small electric motor authorized by Mr. Tesla, and the cash register improved with the electric motor at the exhibition. These will be the star exhibits at the exhibition."

Larry nodded, a satisfied smile on his face, and said, "Yes, you've avoided the patents on the cash register, right?"

"It's all done! With so many dollars in fees, how could a patent attorney not go all out? He's already circumvented all the patents related to cash register companies in every country. And after we exhibit our electric cash register at the expo, he'll preemptively register other patents, making it impossible for the other company to register any other electric-powered cash registers!"

Larry nodded with satisfaction and murmured, "That's great! Matthew, you know what? I think cash registers are the main source of profit for our company in the early stages... This can't be taken lightly. Also, you need to go back to King Astor IV. He promised on the phone to get us an official invited exhibit from the 'Technical Innovation Committee,' but I'm afraid he's forgotten... He's so busy, but this matter absolutely cannot be delayed..."

Matthew nodded and casually replied, "No problem! I'll go see Mr. Astor again this afternoon when Mr. Dunbar comes back." Larry smiled, nodding and muttering, "...Good, good! Sunday is the best day for the exhibition, then I can do a lot of backflips on Saturday!"
.
Meanwhile, Mr. Samuel, who had acquired 8000 shares of General Electric stock from Larry Livingston, hurriedly arrived by carriage at an inconspicuous gray building on Wall Street.

After getting off the carriage, Samuel had the coachman take the money broker back to his company, and then, amidst Gore's ingratiating farewell, he hurriedly walked into the building without looking back.

As soon as he entered the building, eight security guards and their entourage in suits appeared. However, when they saw that it was Samuel, they all silently stood up and stood at attention.

Samuel ignored them and went straight to the second floor in the steam elevator.

There, three people were still guarding the room door: two security guards and a senior secretary.

Upon seeing Samuel, the senior secretary hurried over to him and said, "Mr. John has been waiting for you for a long time..."

Samuel waved the stock in his hand, nodded, and said, "Got it!"

The senior secretary breathed a sigh of relief, "That's good! With these 8000 shares, the chances are much better!"

Once the living room door opened, Samuel walked into "Mr. John's" office.

The room was large, but because half of the windows were covered by thick curtains, it felt somewhat dark. To supplement the light, a green-shaded desk lamp sat on the walnut desk, its light shining.

An 18 or 9-year-old sat behind a desk, dressed impeccably in a suit and bow tie, his face displaying a composure beyond his years.

Samuel handed over 8000 shares of stock and said in a low voice, "Sir, these shares have been secured."

The young man glanced at the stock certificates, nodded slightly, and said, "...So now we have 10.6 shares, which is more than 20% of General Electric's equity."

"Yes, General Electric has a total of 40 shares outstanding. These 8000 shares may not seem like much, but they are very helpful for our short selling!"

The young man nodded and pushed the stack of stocks aside. "Alright, then you can go and make the arrangements. Thank you for your help with this!"

Samuel felt a sense of unease. He put away the stock and nodded, saying, "It's what I should do... So, I'll have them start placing orders."

“Alright! Let’s begin then,” the young man nodded, glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall, and continued.
"The market has already opened... Let them prepare to short it. Establish short positions through our channels at National City Bank in New York, as well as our exclusive seats on the New York market and three independent brokerage firms! Hmm, the initial size should not exceed five percent of our liquidity. Once the stock price doesn't fall below a certain round number, we'll add another two percent."

Samuel was somewhat surprised by the precision of the other person's instructions, which didn't seem like those of a novice at all, but he still nodded and said, "I understand!"

The young man nodded and said, "Also, the total position cannot exceed these 10.6 shares. If the stock price rebounds to 20% above the issue price, we will immediately stop the loss and close the position!"

Samuel was once again shocked. This plan was disciplined and left plenty of room for maneuver. It was not like the work of an impulsive teenager, but more like a risk control process devised by a seasoned operator who had weathered many storms.

However, after issuing this calm, almost ruthless, order, the young man stood up and walked to the window. He first looked at the streetlights that had been replaced with electric lights, then looked back at the green-shaded desk lamp emitting a soft orange glow.

When he spoke again, there was something unusual in his tone.

“Mr. Samuel,” he turned to the other man, his voice slightly lower, “you know, my father rose to prominence by being one step ahead and seeing value that others couldn’t.”

Immediately, a faint hint of curiosity and contemplation, befitting his age, flashed across the young man's face.

"The same goes for General Electric. Mr. Morgan was not just integrating Edison's light bulb patents. What he was really planning was the future power source. The power system... it has the potential to change the way factories, cities, and even entire countries operate."

He paused slightly, his gaze sharpening again, returning to the calculating state of a decision-maker.

“So, this time, we’re shorting it,” he said, as if to Samuel, or perhaps to convince himself, “we’re shorting its current overvalued stock price, not the era it might represent in the future. The market frenzy needs to be corrected, but after the correction… we should perhaps look at something longer.”

Samuel was shocked once again, because what he heard from the young man was not just simple instructions and execution, but rather the young man's optimism about this new technology called electricity.

“I understand,” Samuel nodded, understanding all the meaning in the young man’s words—both the cold instructions and the enthusiasm for the future. “I will make sure everything goes according to plan, and… I will continue to monitor the progress of the technology itself.”

The young man nodded and said nothing more.

(End of this chapter)