"Certainly, sir. Let me execute the Global transfer first."
Looncraft started to object, but caught himself. "Do that, by all means."
Looncraft went to his office, telling the secretary, "Johnson will want to see me presently. Keep him waiting ten minutes."
"Yes, sir."
That will teach the upstart, Looncraft told himself as he placed his briefcase beside his desk. He hung his chesterfield coat on an old-fashioned wooden rack. He went to his deskside computer terminal and logged onto a bulletin board that bore the legend "MAYFLOWER DESCENDANTS."
His lantern jaw fell when he saw the message on his screen "CHECK," it said. There was a number next to the message, along with the notation: "MADE REDUNDANT. CAUSE UNKNOWN." It told Looncraft that they had lost the Reuters connection. It was distressing news.
He sat back to ponder the matter. A new element had apparently entered the game. He would have to be prepared. Then his secretary announced the arrival of Johnson.
"Has he been waiting a full ten minutes?" Looncraft asked. When the reply was affirmative, Looncraft said, "Send him in."
"Here is the signed contract," Johnson said, placing a sheet of paper on Looncraft's spacious desk. Looncraft's glance flicked to it, and seeing that it was properly and irrevocably executed he waved for Johnson to sit.
"Tell me about Nostrum," Looncraft said, steepling his fingers. He was looking, not at Johnson, but off toward his great-great-great-great-grandfather H. P. Looncraft.
"They're a NASDAQ stock," Johnson said, reading from his notes. "Very difficult to dig up information on."
"But you did."
"Some, sir. It's very odd. They went public only a year ago, and I had a tip only this morning that their stock is heating up."
"Really?" Looncraft said, swiveling in Johnson's direction.
"I don't know what you make of this, but their stock has been selling like crazy all morning."
"Today? Today is Saturday. The market is closed."
"That's the crazy part. They've bypassed NASDAQ. They're selling it from their offices. No credit, no trading. Strictly cash-and-carry."
"Preposterous!" Looncraft sputtered, leaning forward.
Johnson had his full attention now and pressed the point home. "They accept payment in gold only," he said. "And the price has jumped six times just this morning. They're trading at one-ten a share and upticking."
"Gold?"
"Yes, sir. The rules are, if you deliver the cash equivalent in gold, you come away with the stock."
"The physical stock? Sold over the counter like yard goods? Absurd. No one trades in the physical stock anymore. It's not practicable."
"As I say, they're selling quite a bit of stock in this manner. Rumors are sweeping the street that they're hot. I can't imagine what will be the reaction when the market opens Monday."
"This Nostrum, who runs it?"
"The CEO is a mysterious person named Chiun."
"Just Chiun?"
"I understand he's Korean."
"Hmm. The Koreans are no slackers," Looncraft mused.
"Everybody thinks the Koreans will be the next Japanese."
"That remains to be seen," Looncraft said disapprovingly. "What do they produce?"
"That's the part that's fuzzy, sir. I'm unable to develop any information on their product line-if any."
"Well, they must do something."
"They do generate a healthy bottom line. And it looks like they plan on going places, if traders have to deposit gold in return for their stock."
"How many shares of Global did they acquire yesterday?"
"Quite a bit. My estimate is between seven and eight thousand. Which reminds me. Since acquiring my Global stock, LD over five percent of that firm's outstanding stock. As you know, according to SEC rules, you must declare your intentions in the matter."
"I intend to tender an offer of eighty per share, and I would like you to handle it."
Ronald Johnson jumped up, dropping his notes. "Sir!" he said. "But I just sold you a thousand shares at fifty!"
"Which you were perfectly delighted to do less than fifteen minutes ago," Looncraft said pointedly.
"But I understood . . . I mean, you told me that Global was in trouble."
"It is. It is also the largest communications conglomerate in the world, and I mean to have it."
"I must protest, sir. I believe you've taken unfair advantage of me as an employee."
P. M. Looncraft's eyes narrowed until they resembled the steely eyes on the banks of Looncraft family portraits on the wall behind him. Ronald Johnson suddenly felt as if he were under the multiple gaze of some many-headed hydra.
"Fifteen minutes ago, my good man," P. M. Looncraft said in a voice as steely as his eyes, "I had intended to divest myself of all Global holdings. But your information about Nostrum leads me to deduce that they know something about GLB I do not. Possibly a takeover by that Texas brigand Slickens. I have changed my mind. Had you not panicked, that stock would still be yours."
"I know that, sir, but-"
Looncraft lifted a placating hand.
"And had I not, in my generosity, offered to relieve you of the burden of your position, you might just as easily be sitting on stocks worth far less than what I offered you. You know how this game is played. Timing is everything. A man can sometimes suffer great losses or realize tremendous riches on just a fraction of a point if he buys in at noon and sells by four."
"May I point out, sir," Johnson rejoined, "that it was my information that brought you to this conclusion?"
"So noted."
"Might I not be allowed to share in the investment potential?" Johnson suggested hopefully.