From legendary short seller to god of American capital

Chapter 368 Setting a Trap with Preferred Stock

At lunchtime, Larry, unlike his composed and jovial self in the morning, ate his meal quietly, seemingly preoccupied with something on his mind.

Matthew had been with him for so long, and he rarely saw Larry so quiet. But he had seen Larry busy researching and learning about the system these past few days.

Matthew could understand; Larry was under pressure.

After lunch, Larry did not return to the hotel to rest. Instead, he took a horse-drawn carriage to the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, found the three futures brokers, and gave each of them a $1 futures margin.

This money is intended for establishing positions in future on-exchange trading.

As Larry left the futures exchange, he smiled and told Matthew, "I only have $1000 left—I still have money in my accounts at Paine Webber and Reading, but I overlooked one thing. They're both East Coast brokers, and it takes time to withdraw money from there."

Matthew paused for a moment, then quickly said, "My brother, if you trust me, I'll take Mr. Cole back to Boston and escort those tickets here. It won't take long."

Larry smiled and waved his hand. "No need! The money is already on its way—but it might not arrive until next week. I'm afraid it won't be enough for the next few days—come with me tomorrow, we'll go get some money."

"You mean make money? How?" Matthew asked curiously.

Larry thought for a moment, "In a little while, go to the Chicago train station and buy us two train tickets to St. Louis."

We're leaving tonight!

"St. Louis? Missouri! But why?" Matthew asked.

Larry smiled and shook his head. "I'll explain it to you later."

Matthew nodded; he knew the other person always had their own ideas.

Matthew patted him on the shoulder. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself! You can take the carriage to the South Wharf, I'll go buy the train tickets now."

Matthew helped Larry into the carriage, waved goodbye, and then turned and headed to the train station.

Sitting in the carriage on their way to Cargill, the September wind in Chicago already carried a hint of chill. A breeze slipped in through the cracks in the windows, ruffling Larry Livingston's blond hair.

Larry's fingers tapped silently on his knees, a steady rhythm, as if calculating a century-long compound interest that only he could hear.

Cargill!

The weight this name carries in his heart far exceeds what anyone in this era can comprehend.

In the original historical trajectory, shortly after this seemingly ordinary year of 1892, this grain trader, who had once struggled in dire straits, embarked on a "silent march"!

He will weather this panic and then, under McMillan's leadership, complete the crucial integration and expansion, transforming into the prototype of a true food empire.

In the future, Cargill will become a global food giant that controls the flow of food and is deeply embedded in every link from seed to table.

His wealth was comparable to that of later tech giants like Apple and Microsoft, yet he stubbornly remained almost hidden behind the world's leading corporations. His company never went public, guarding its family's power and secrets like a medieval nobleman, keeping its staggering profits in private ledgers, avoiding public scrutiny and the short-term volatility of capital.

But its influence is enormous and silent. It can dictate the meals of countless people and even affect the delicate balance of geopolitics.

Yes, Larry made up his mind to invest in Cargill for two reasons. First, it was his nature as a traveler that he wouldn't let a good company slip away. Second, Larry knew that this might be his only chance to get involved with Cargill.

Food is the cornerstone of civilization, a hard currency that never fades. Having been reborn, if one is merely content with making a little money in the stock and futures markets, then one is nothing more than a tree without roots.

They are actors who know the script, not directors who write history.

Larry needed a solid foundation, a "dormant asset" that could automatically and rapidly appreciate in value over time. Cargill was the perfect foundation he could find in this era. Investing in food to weather economic cycles is not just investing in a company, but investing in a fundamental principle of survival and prosperity that transcends time.

Of course, for the conservative Cargill family, once they cross this ditch, they will try every means to squeeze out the shareholders. Therefore, Larry must not only be an investor, but also a special partner that they cannot get rid of, cannot ignore, and even have to rely on at times.

This is the fundamental reason why Larry went to great lengths to set traps to get into Cargill. History has proven that without the Cargill family's oversight, the company is worthless; but without Larry's own stake, what value or significance does Cargill have in the future?

The carriage jolted along the bumpy road, pulling Larry back to reality. Before them lay Cargill's warehouse at the South Harbor docks.

The carriage stopped, and Larry straightened his collar, a faint smile appearing on his lips—a smile only he himself could understand.

Using millions of dollars to manage futures contracts to help Cargill out of trouble—is that a risky move?

Yes.

Is it a gamble to gain a stake in Cargill and influence over the company itself?

no doubt!

But this is the most fascinating kind of gamble in the world—using all your current chips to exchange for a certain, glorious future.

What is the point of living for a time traveler if they don't want to have such a future?

Larry paid the coachman the fare, got off the carriage, and walked toward the company office.

At 2:30 p.m., Larry knocked on the door.

Old Cargill and McMillan were already sitting upright, with the lawyer beside them. The notebook on the table was covered with dense handwriting and numerous corrections.

Clearly, the midday discussion was intense yet fraught with hesitation. The air in the room even still carried the lingering smell of cigars.

"It seems your lunch was quite successful," Larry said with a smile as he sat down. "Time is short, so let's get straight to the point. I think my proposal this morning demonstrated my sincerity, and—my restraint!"

Old Cargill's face was stern. "Moderation? Your preferred stock proposal this morning didn't show any moderation at all."

Larry leaned forward, his fingertips forming a stable triangle. "Sir, please note. I, Larry Livingston, while daring to bet, am essentially a disciplined gambler. I'm not after control, but rather a balanced odds of winning and long-term gains."

McMillan glanced at the lawyer, who quickly cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Livingston! Do you confirm that the terms of your preferred stock will not include any right to convert to common stock, nor any board seat or veto power?"

Larry didn't answer, turning to look at old Gargill and his son-in-law. "You're scheming again? Just like when I first met you, Mr. Gargill. You should face your predicament bravely, instead of clinging to a sinking ship and refusing to give me your hand!"

"Give me your hand" is a joke used by Europeans and Americans to satirize stingy Jews, and Cargill certainly understood it.

Old Cargill frowned. "I believe—we can weather this crisis on our own—"

"Smack!" Larry slammed his hand down on the table, making the teacup next to him jump.

Old Cargill and his son-in-law were startled and quickly looked at Larry. The lawyer trembled even more, because Larry's good temper and cheerful nature made his anger even more suffocating.

Larry said sternly, "Is this how you escaped using the new method I taught you this morning? Is this all you've done to repay my kindness? You get the information and then kick me out—"

A heavy, oppressive silence suddenly descended upon the room.

Neither Old Cargill nor his son-in-law spoke, seemingly acquiescing.

But Larry coldly replied, "Don't forget! I can give you ideas, and I can destroy them. The most important thing about this plan is secrecy. If you dare to ditch me, I'll make sure you're bankrupt within this week—"

The two remained silent again, clearly acknowledging this possibility.

Larry sneered, "I knew it would be like this! So I changed my mind. I plan to acquire 25% of Cargill's common stock—if my overall operation, including futures market arbitrage and all the strategies I can create by utilizing your company's inventory, works."

"Impossible!" Old Cargill suddenly stood up. "I cannot allow the family's controlling stake to be diluted; that's my bottom line!"

"You have no choice! I originally wanted to talk to you nicely, but given your attitude, you will pay the price—" Larry smiled, but his tone was icy.

Just as the two were about to clash, McMillan suddenly stood up and stood between them.

"Mr. Livingston, I believe in your abilities, and I also believe your actions deserve reward—how about this, we will address your preferred and common stock claims in stages, based on your performance in this matter!"

Larry gave him a deep look; he knew it was a setup, with old Cargill and his son-in-law playing the good cop and the bad cop, respectively.

However, what he said was actually what Larry had planned at noon. After a while, Larry nodded and said, "Okay! Starting next week, you will see a futures market upheaval, but remember, I am the master of the storm! I can turn Cargill's ship from danger to safety, and I will naturally have the ability to capsize it into the deep sea."

As he spoke, Larry tossed a document over, stood up, and said, "Take a good look at this document! These are the terms I'm offering you: 25% common stock plus 25% preferred stock. You have no choice."

After saying this, Larry walked out the door.