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

Chapter 72 Mr. K Reunited (Thank you for your votes)
After dinner, Mr. Potter arranged for his own carriage to take Larry back to his apartment.

It was a full eight miles from Mr. Potter's house to the Back Bay, a journey that would have taken Mr. Potter's private carriage two hours.

Outside the carriage, the night was still and quiet, with occasional glimpses of gas lamps from the roadside shining through the carriage windows and illuminating Larry's face.

Larry kept recalling the unusual drop in Carnegie Steel's stock price. After thinking for a while, he shook his head and laughed.

Is this the world of capital?
Larry learned of the reason for Carnegie Steel's decline from the Boston Globe this morning.

The reason for the workers' strike was simple: at the Boston branch of Carnegie Steel, a worker, exhausted from working overtime, fell into the molten metal furnace and was burned to a crisp. The other workers watched him suffer as he was consumed by the furnace, but they were unable to save him.

Afterwards, people didn't even find the poor worker's remains, but only a furnace of irregularly shaped, unrecognizable cooling iron plates.

The factory determined that the worker's negligence was to blame and was only willing to offer the worker's family $40 in humanitarian compensation.

This is equivalent to two months' wages for the worker.

The other workers were furious because an 11-hour workday was the normal working time at the steel plant. Moreover, the workers had to work in a hot and stressful environment, and some were forced to work overtime for various reasons, resulting in some workers working continuously for 14 to 16 hours.

But that's not even the most infuriating part.

Fearing wasted costs, the factory remelted the iron plates containing the remains of the deceased workers. This extremely cold-blooded act instantly ignited the Carnegie Steelworkers' strike.

Therefore, the workers at Carnegie Steel, led by worker leader George Deporte, launched an unprecedented strike.

The workers' demands are simple: they want adequate compensation for the workers who died and for the factory to implement an eight-hour workday.

However, it is clear that The Boston Globe is still on the side of the employers. After reporting in detail the cause and effect of the incident, the newspaper still talked about how the workers were free and that they were not forced to sign contracts to work at the Carnegie plant. It was all voluntary on both sides.

Furthermore, even if it's an excessive 11-hour workday, it's said to be perfectly fair to both parties because the steel mill is paying them enough wages, and if workers feel it's unfair, they can choose to leave.

To be honest, Larry was actually a victim of this strike; he lost his profits and principal. But his memories from his past life told him that he could sit on the wrong side, but his heart could not be dirty.

Larry initially thought the matter was no longer his concern, but the next morning, as he walked to work after getting off the public carriage, he noticed a newspaper being sold by a newsboy, The Sun, with the headline: "Exclusive: The background and consequences of the Carnegie Steel Works strike."

Larry bought a copy and flipped through it casually, but on the second page he suddenly saw photos of the deceased workers entering the factory:
That was the blond boy I'd met briefly at the breakfast stall in the old town—also 14 years old, also named Larry, and with the same unforgettable warm smile…

Larry suddenly felt something inside him shatter...

Larry stood on the street for a long time before finally sighing and tossing away the newspaper.

Larry decided he would never read The Sun again.
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On Thursday noon, Mr. Wallace informed us that Colt's financing plan had received preliminary approval from the board of directors and could enter the implementation phase next week.

Mr. Wallace informed Larry that a bond underwriting team from the company headquarters would be stationed at Colt Firearms Manufacturing Company in Hartford next Monday; and Mr. Wallace and Larry would also be going to Colt to coordinate related matters.

This could last up to a week. Larry nodded in agreement, which also meant he wouldn't have to worry about having to travel again this week.

Mr. Wallace reiterated that if Larry could work with him to get this done, he would give Larry a bonus of up to $200 after the job was done.

Larry was far less interested in the so-called bonuses than in smoking a cigar alone at night.

What he cares about is insider information and the resulting stock price volatility!

If I could observe the progress of Colt's financing process in person, it would greatly facilitate my subsequent stock trading.

After all, the $1.2 in Larry Redding's account and the $3500 in the safe had long been eager to be used.

I'm going to make a killing this time, big enough to get on Wall Street!
Larry made a silent vow to himself.

On Thursday afternoon, Mr. Porter set off for the New York headquarters. No one in the sales department knew what his purpose was, but Larry immediately thought of what Mr. Porter had told him personally: that he might be transferred to the company headquarters.

Friday was January 22nd. When Larry woke up in the morning, he suddenly thought of his parents.

It's been three whole weeks since I left them, and I wonder how they've been doing lately.

Is the new farm ready yet? Does my hardworking mother still want to work diligently every day like before?
Can a father with a disability in his left hand really be competent to work on the farm?
Larry had been traveling for a large part of the previous three weeks. At the same time, he suddenly experienced the benefits of living alone, and the novelty made him more focused on life, while neglecting his parents.

Come to think of it, I haven't written them a letter yet!

Larry pondered for a moment, thinking that since he didn't have anything to do this week anyway, he might as well take Saturday off and go to Holliston to see his parents, which would at least soothe his guilt.

With this in mind, Larry suddenly had a goal in life. He quickly dressed, put on his shoes and socks, checked that all his belongings were still there, and then excitedly went downstairs to ride his bike straight to Paine Weber Securities Company.

When Larry arrived at the company, it was only a little past 8 a.m., with an hour to spare before work. He randomly picked a coffee shop on the street that served breakfast, bought a cup of coffee with butter, bacon, and slices of whole wheat bread, and started munching on it in front of the coffee shop window.

Suddenly, a familiar figure walked slowly past the shop window. Although his hat was deliberately pulled down, Larry recognized him at a glance as Mr. K, the man who sold him the pistol.

At that moment, Mr. K, wearing an old trench coat, slowly strolled to the entrance of Paine Weber Securities Company and stopped.

Larry could tell that Mr. K was much more disheveled than before. His beard was long and messy, and his trench coat had tears, whether from rolling down a hillside or from a fight.

The striking X-shaped scar on his cheek was still very noticeable.

Mr. K stood at the entrance of the sales department, the cold wind blowing against his thin trench coat. He hunched his shoulders, as if waiting for someone to appear.

Larry suddenly realized that he was waiting for Mr. Potter!
(End of this chapter)