At 10:00 A.M., the opening bell of the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) echoed through the trading hall, but the Union Pacific Railroad bond ticker was already in chaos.
Numbers leapt like wild horses, flickering across the board and drawing hundreds of anxious eyes.
Shane stood before the ticker, pupils narrowing at each fluctuation: $96… $95.6… $95.1… Every dip and rise rippled through the careful calculations he had planned.
"It has begun," Henry James Hill's hoarse voice came from behind, carrying the comforting weight of experience. The black coffee he handed Shane had a thin layer of undissolved sugar floating on top.
"The first wave of news has stirred the market. Traders are selling Union Pacific bonds, convinced of some negative event."
Shane took a measured sip, noting the faint metallic tang on his tongue. He realized he had bitten his lip without noticing, leaving a small trace of blood. His gaze swept the trading floor. In the southeast corner, Morgan's trading supervisor, wearing a bowler hat, smashed a telephone receiver in frustration, muttering curses under his breath.
"Notify the other three brokers," Shane said softly, wiping the rim of his coffee cup, "activate the secondary accounts, and continue building positions in stages."
His calm tone carried authority; the two traders behind him straightened immediately.
From October 5th onward, beneath the NYSE dome, Union Pacific bond prices danced erratically in red. Shane, in the shadows of his third-floor office, held open a copy of The Wall Street Journal showing Montreal port customs officers inspecting a railcar emblazoned with the IMM logo.
Down in the pit, Morgan's traders, clad in crisp charcoal pinstripes, swarmed smaller brokers like sharks, trying to maintain control.
"Look at those fools," sneered Oliver, Williams' assistant, speaking into a phone. "They actually believe those fabricated stories."
He gestured downward, unaware that Omaha First Bank had quietly started absorbing sell orders via coded channels.
By 11:17 A.M. on October 8th, in his office at 23 Wall Street, Shane sliced open a tin of Morgan Holdings' beef jerky. The rancid smell permeated the room.
"The Canadians are taking the bait," Old Henry said without looking up, scribbling another five-figure "consultancy fee" payable to a secret Ottawa account.
Outside, a street newsboy's voice pierced the window: "Yankees sweep the Pirates!" followed quickly by, "Babe Ruth—three home runs!"
Shane glanced toward Yankee Stadium, recalling the championship celebrations. Yet the smell of decaying meat from his office window remained unnoticed by the crowds.
At 2:17 P.M. on October 12th, the first snow of winter dusted the St. Marys River. Shane paused on the seventh line of the customs seizure list. The "medicinal alcohol" batch matched the first four digits of Morgan Trust's treasury bond custody certificate.
Henry removed his gold-rimmed glasses, wiping the lenses with a Morgan letterhead. "The New York Times printing press will need fresh ink," he muttered.
Moments later, an exclamation echoed from below. The front page of the latest extra edition magnified Morgan's steel seal twenty times.
With thirty minutes remaining until the NYSE closing bell, sell orders for Union Pacific bonds surged, breaching the order book. Even Morgan's traders began unloading bonds in panic. Meanwhile, Williams raised his glass in a private Chicago club, oblivious.
By October 15th's close, Shane already controlled 19.7% of Union Pacific bonds. Morgan was only beginning to comprehend the situation.
At 10:00 A.M. on October 17th, a team of unfamiliar European brokers entered the NYSE trading floor, sharp in dark gray three-piece suits. Their polished shoes reflected the quote board, and their London accents clashed with the New York din.
Shane leaned against the brass railing, observing the arrival of the short-selling reinforcement. "Begin hedging. Follow the ratios we calculated," he said calmly into a phone, as if discussing tea rather than millions in bonds.
Put option contracts executed two days prior now sat ready in Karl Loeb Company's vault, heating up the strategy. Morgan's traders sliced open short-order tickets with sterling silver letter openers, oblivious to every hundred-thousand-dollar sell being quietly bought by St. Louis Savings.
By October 18th, the Union Pacific quote board trembled: $90.2 → $89.4 → $88.7…
Henry wiped his glasses with a Morgan Bank blank check. Oliver's shock reflected in the lenses—Morgan's carefully crafted short-selling strategy was collapsing.
Oliver shouted into the brass microphone: "The bond market is abnormal! Close shorts, go long!"
But instructions never arrived before the closing bell.
October 21st, rain streaked the NYSE dome. The Union Pacific quote fell below $86.4.
Oliver finally received the belated order: "Buy aggressively." Yet the panic selling had vanished.
Shane marked an inconspicuous note in The Wall Street Journal: "Ottawa Dispatch: Prime Minister Mackenzie King launches federal investigation into Morgan Foods' refrigerated transport chain and sodium benzoate use."
"Pull out that put option book expiring October 25th, targeting Union Pacific 1927 4% bonds, strike 87. Increase the notional principal by 30%," Shane instructed quietly.
At 11:07 A.M. on October 25th, the quote board buzzed. Price settled at $85.7. Henry's glasses reflected a red light: "Average cost down to $84.1." He smiled wolfishly.
Outside, a black Ford Model T with The Chicago Tribune logo screeched to a halt at Morgan Mansion. Three reporters jumped out, cameras gleaming, holding the extra edition: "Morgan Foods Inc. Causes Worker Poisoning."
Shane, observing from a nearby building, sipped coffee as the chaos unfolded.
October 27th, The New York Daily News reported: Union Pacific railcars detained by customs were filled with strategic wheat reserves.
The quote board surged: $86.2 → $89.1 → $91.4 → $94.8. Morgan's traders went into frenzy; the London short-selling expert broke his pocket watch chain.
At 10:00 A.M. on October 28th, the Federal Reserve announced the interest rate cut. Union Pacific bonds skyrocketed past $115. Shane and Henry's team slowly sold their accumulated low-priced bonds in staggered orders.
By noon, October 30th, the final batch sold at an average price of $115.9. Henry, using a Morgan Bank blank check as a coaster, toasted silently:
"Happy hunting, kid. You performed exceptionally well."
The Wall Street Journal extra headline reflected the outcome: "Financial Giant Falls: Mysterious Buyer Precisely Targets Morgan Bonds." Williams' resignation appeared in the smallest font below, a testament to the trap crafted from smoke, forged reports, and cunning strategy.