portfolio of high-tech securities, looking for the biggies. If things
went as planned, our screwing of Matsuo Noda was definitely going to be
memorable.
Now Jim Bob was chortling quietly to himself as he punched up more
numbers, moving on to bilk options traders on the AMEX.
"Matthew, you'd better finish explaining what you're up to." Tam was
standing behind me, her hand gripping my shoulder.
"Look, we have to do this fast. Switch a beat on Noda, break his
rhythm. Just trust me."
"My favorite word." She didn't move.
"Now"--I pointed to a column of green numbers on the left-hand side of
the screen--"are those the percentage holdings DNI has?"
"Looks correct."
They were about what I remembered. DNI's positions varied from around
fifty percent to the low sixties.
"Okay." I turned to face her. "Which of these do you want to knock out
first? There may not be time to torpedo them all."
"What are you going to do?" She was frowning, but I could tell the idea
had appeal.
"Set dynamite under them. Just blow them sky-high."
"How?"
"Using an obscure corporate anti-takeover tactic not many people know
about yet. Jim Bob's right. We're going to make history. Nobody's ever
done this on the scale you're about to witness. Just pick the stocks
you want detonated first, but please hurry." I shoved a pen and paper
at her, then turned to watch Jim Bob, now dancing around with a phone
in his ear, still buying calls on the old DNI portfolio. "How're we
doing over there, chief?"
"Don't want to push March too hard, tip off the market, so I'm picking
up some Junes too." He yelled my way, "We're going long, baby."
"Jim Bob, I was just wondering. Don't you think you ought to hedge a
little, just in case? Maybe buy a few puts to cover the downside?"
"With the kind of volatility I'm about to goose into this market?
You're starting to sound like some pussy, Walton. Get naked, go native.
Only way to fly." He did a twirl, then a kick. "Just buckle in, dude,
cause I'm gonna take that Jap money and pump my underlying stocks right
into orbit. This play's a lock, taking money from a baby."
"Well, I wasn't blessed with your brand of raw courage, Jim Bob. So
what do you say I do a little hedging for you? We'll be partners. I'll
cover the downside with my own money, assuming I've got any left. I'll
buy a few puts, and then if these stock prices just decide to go crazy
and crash, we can still sell at the current quotes. Protect ourselves
if things head south for some reason."
"Suit yourself. But that's the best way I can think of to piss away
what little 'haircut' you've got left." He was grinning again.
"Guess I'm a masochist. What can I tell you."
While my new "partner" was laying the groundwork for his scam, loading
up on options to buy stocks at today's prices just before he turned
around and shoved enough Japanese money into the market to send them
sky-high, I did the opposite. I got on the phone to various brokers,
including a currently jubilant Sam Kline, and started buying "at the
money" puts in Amy's name.
Jim Bob was betting the market would head up, buying calls; I was
betting it would go down, buying puts. I was laying a wager with
anybody in America who would agree, for my front money, to buy a stock
from me at today's quotes anytime through mid-March, even if the real
price had since dropped to zilch. Which I fully intended to make
happen.
Insider trading? Well . . . yes. You see, I was literally the only man
on earth who actually knew what the stock market was going to do next,
after DNI started buying more of those stocks I'd planted with land
mines. But I was a driven man just then. Maybe I'd go to jail
eventually, but by God Amy would still make college.
Amy. What was she doing today? I wondered. This was, what? Tuesday? So
she must be back at school, probably thinking about lunch. Strawberry
yogurt and a bar of Tiger's Milk "health" candy. God, I loved that
little dark-haired prize more than life itself.
Where were we headed, she and I? Was I going to learn to let go? Maybe
that wasn't going to be the problem, I thought, at least for her. Face
it, I was about to become a fixture, just a stuffy impediment to
nature's raging hormones. She'd already started rehearsing feminine
wiles on me, practicing that coy, downcast glance that didn't quite
break subliminal eye contact. Where did she learn stuff like that? And
she almost had it down cold. Next it'll probably be eye shadow and
colored bras.
Damn. This Christmas was going to be my last real chance to get to know
her, to bore her silly with all my eminently ignorable fatherly advice.
And I blew it. That in itself was enough to make me want to deep-six
Matsuo Noda forever, the bastard. The money I fully planned to recoup;
her thirteenth Christmas was gone forever.
With which somber thought, I returned to buying puts. By the time I'd
finished, Tam had her "death wish" list ready. And Jim Bob was just
wrapping up his new program of call-option acquisition. Now for phase
two.