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

Chapter 81 Larry's Plans (Bonus Chapter, thanks to everyone for your donations, monthly tickets, and recommendations)

Larry was furious that someone else had snatched up the Colt stock he had been longing for.

But this was only for a moment. Just like when he learned that Carnegie stock had been liquidated, Larry was able to suddenly break free from his emotions and re-examine the problem he was facing when faced with such devastating news that could make anyone lose their mind.

Larry squinted and pondered for a moment.

Well, actually, this isn't the worst-case scenario...

After all, this stock is still accumulating shares and hasn't really started to rise yet. Even if you buy in now, you could potentially make a lot of money.

Furthermore, Colt's financing plan is still in the planning stage. Whether it's the variables from Mr. Morgan or the twists and turns of Colt's bond financing project itself, there is still much to be done.

After all, the project is still being implemented by Mr. Wallace, so this is considered their home turf.

If someone steals my peaches under these circumstances, then Mr. Wallace might as well quit this business altogether.

Of course, it cannot be ruled out that Mr. Wallace himself may have been accumulating shares first.

Larry thought about it again and felt that this was unlikely, because Mr. Wallace knew that this project was risky, and as the project leader, he could control the progress. He could take the initiative to choose a safer and more favorable time to build positions, and there was no need to make arrangements in advance.

Besides, regardless of whether the project succeeds or not, I am actually the first person to know, because I am going to give a project report to Mr. Morgan.

I can also make full use of the time difference here.

No, no, this is definitely not a disheartening defeat, but rather a period of great potential in the midst of chaos!
Thinking of this, Larry's eyes instantly brightened.

Larry took out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was 10:25 a.m., and there was still plenty of time.

First, I need to buy some stocks at the betting company, just in case.

He first went to the price list and found Colt's latest price: $50.25.

The stock price is still rising quietly. The major shareholders who are accumulating shares may not have the intention to push up the stock price now, but in order to absorb enough shares in such a short period of time, they can only keep pushing up the stock price to attract more bargain hunters to sell.

Larry didn't hesitate any longer. He turned and walked to the betting company's transaction counter, asking in an icy tone,

"Gentlemen, what is the margin requirement for buying stocks here?"

The clerk looked up and saw that the young man standing in front of the counter was tall, but his face was still somewhat immature. On the contrary, his temperament was very calm and reserved. She couldn't figure out his identity for a moment.

"Are you... Oh, is this your first time in New Haven?" the teller asked politely.

Larry knew the teller was actually trying to find out his background, so he said in a nonchalant tone, "I'm here to study, starting next week."

The clerk nodded. There are too many talented young Americans studying at Yale. These days, those who can go to college are either rich or powerful. They are all prime targets.

After a moment's thought, the clerk smiled and said to Larry, "It's $1 per share, but some special stocks require $2."

“Oh, okay.” Larry glanced back at the price list and asked, “Can I buy a few hundred shares? Is there a limit to the number of shares you can buy here?”

"There's no upper limit, sir!" the teller said generously.

Larry nodded, mentally calculating that he still had over $800 in cash in his pocket, along with the $100 Mr. Wallace had given him.

Since Colt's stock price is currently accumulating shares, it's unlikely that the major shareholders would engage in a pre-rally shakeout at this level. Therefore, making a short-term trade should be a very safe bet, especially since I'll be passing through New Haven on my way back to Hartford.

With that thought in mind, Larry calmly took out $600 from his wallet, handed it to the teller, and said with a smile, "Please buy me 600 shares of Colt stock, going long. Thank you."

Her tone was gentle and refined, instantly making a good impression. The teller smiled and took the money with both hands, placing it in a small box before taking out a white cardboard transaction form and filling in the transaction information.

"Sir, may I ask your name?" the teller asked Larry with a smile.

Larry understood that some betting companies required the names of traders to be registered, so he gave a name: “My name is Edward Robinson, and I’m from Cambridge.”

The teller smiled, wrote down the name, checked the Colt firearms quote, and wrote on the transaction slip, "Buy 600 shares at $50.25, margin $1 per share."

After Larry finished writing, the teller filled in her name and the date before handing the sheet of paper back to him, reminding him that...
"You also need to pay a transaction fee of 50 cents!"

Larry narrowed his eyes, sensing that the teller had deliberately overstated the amount by 25 cents, but he didn't make a sound. Instead, he placed 50 cents on the counter as instructed by the teller.

Holding the transaction slip, Larry felt at ease. He folded the slip neatly, put it in his wallet, and turned to leave the betting shop.

Back at the train station, Larry bought a hot dog for lunch from a vendor in the station square, then went back to the first-class lounge to retrieve his luggage and suitcase.

Now it depends on Mr. Morgan's situation. If Morgan's bank confirms the investment, I will send a telegram to Mr. Wallace as soon as possible to report the good news.

However, if Mr. Morgan rejects the investment plan, I will first go to New Haven to close out my 600 long positions before informing Mr. Wallace of the news.

You have control over both time and initiative.

Larry watched the train puffing steam as it pulled into the station through the shop window and muttered to himself,

"It's my money! I'm determined to earn it, and no one can take it out of my pocket!"
.
At 8:15 p.m. that evening, the train pulled into Grand Central Terminal in New York City.

Larry carried his suitcase and luggage out of the train station platform and into the main building complex. He immediately noticed that this "Grand Central Station" was not the "Central Station" he knew from his previous life, and the style of the station buildings was also very different.

Grand Central Station is a three-story red brick building with a square clock tower in the center. Inside the station, there are three separate waiting halls, each serving a different railway company.

Larry used the first-class VIP passage, where the lounge was surprisingly equipped with electric lights. However, the public areas downstairs still relied on gas lamps, creating a stark contrast between light and dark.

Stepping out of the train station, a completely different world unfolds before you.

North of the station square is Park Avenue, where the villas, at the very least, are three stories high, surrounded by gardens, and their windows are brightly lit.

The south side of the square is the slum. It's night now, and all you can see are the occasional twinkling lights in that dark cluster of houses.

Although it was already 8:15 p.m., the carriages with canopies, ordinary carriages, and freight wagons were still moving slowly in a congested state. The shouts of the coachmen, the occasional neighing of the horses, and the sounds of steam trains coming and going from the station behind them all blended together.

Under the glow of the streetlights, a boy cleaning horse manure would occasionally slip through the gaps in the carriage and shovel fresh manure into a wooden bucket.

The air was filled with the smell of disinfectant ammonia mixed with horse manure and sweat.

Larry stepped out of the congested street in front of the station square, walked to a less congested street, and hailed a horse-drawn carriage.
"To the Astor Hotel!" Larry ordered, referring to the hotel Mr. Wallace had specifically requested he stay at.

　I'm really touched by all the monthly tickets and recommendations you've given me these past few days. My book isn't doing well; it only has 3000 favorites so far.

　　There were many awkward and illogical parts in the earlier parts of the story. I am grateful for everyone's tolerance and continued support and help. I sincerely salute you all.

　　Every encouragement you give me is a spur to me. I have no way to repay you except to write well and write more, in order to fulfill your earnest expectations.

　　(This newbie is really naive; I've never even heard of giving twenty or fifty monthly tickets before. This is truly astounding. But as I always say, every monthly ticket and every recommendation you give is equally precious to me. Thank you so much!)

　　
　
(End of this chapter)