"Stop staring and please sit down, Mr. Johnson. You can order sothing if you like; it's pretty affordable here."
Derec cautiously pulled out the chair and sat down. "Mr. Vanderbilt?" ca out of his mouth with an ounce of surprise.
I nodded.
"That's... surprising," he said. "I expected you to be at least my age, if not older."
"I'm pretty sure you've t quite a few wealthy young people in your life."
"Yes... but they are not quite as..."
"As what?" I prompted.
"Resourceful," he finished.
That's when a waiter ca up to our table. "Would Sir like to order sothing?"
Derec looked up at him, "Yes, I'll have an espresso, please."
"You're not eating?" I asked Derec.
"I had lunch already," he replied and as the waiter walked away, he leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. "Sir... why did want to et and why here?"
"First of all, don't call 'Sir,' Derec. Just call Chris from now on," I said.
"That's not your na, though, is it?"
"For now, I'm Chris to you."
Derec didn't respond, so I continued, "I'm eting you here instead of at the company so my face won't be caught on the building's caras. As for the reason for this eting, it's about money, of course."
Derec's eyelids lifted slightly. "In your last ssage, you ntioned sending the money at the beginning of November. Did sothing change?"
I reached into my suitcase and pulled out another piece of paper and a pen. "I'm not going to explain everything in detail right now," I said, "but you'll receive a one million-dollar transfer on Monday. I need you to deposit it into the company's brokerage account imdiately."
I scribbled down the details of the options trade I had planned and dragged the paper slowly across the table to him.
He took his ti reading it, and his face kept going from understanding to fear.
He finally put it down and looked at .
I could almost sense anger in his gaze.
"Are you mad? Are you trying to collapse Immortal Investnts to benefit from the governnt bailout plan, or sothing?" he said, raising his voice.
"I knew this would be your reaction," I said, leaning back on the couch.
"These are naked calls." Derec's face reddened. "With just over a million dollars, we won't have the firepower to cover the potential losses. As soon as the stock creeps up to $199, we'll be wiped out."*
Frustration was evident in every line of his face.
I took a sip of my juice, "The volatility of the stock is very low, and the expiration date is right around the corner. I set it up in such a way that the brokerage would let you enter the contract even with just one million dollars to cover the losses."
He hesitated for a mont, then lowered his voice even more. "I know you're trying to avoid taxes with this... but how are you so sure it'll work?"
"Don't worry," I said with a slight smirk. "I've got insider information. The stock isn't going to go above $197."
Derec's eyes widened. "This is so illegal…"
"You're worried about legality now?" I replied, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you already knee-deep in this?"
He let out a dark chuckle. "No, I an, I'm just thinking about how fucked up this whole thing is."
"Don't worry about it," I said casually. "Our small fund isn't going to attract the SEC's attention. Anything below $10 million is barely on their radar. It's the sa with banks—most of the scrutiny happens at the big leagues."
I paused, making sure my words sank in. "Just stick to the plan and do what I've asked."
Derec grabbed the glass of water the waiter had brought along with the espresso and downed it in one gulp. "Ahh..." he moaned, putting the empty glass back on the table.
"How's the report on Cal-Maine coming along?" I asked him.
Derec sighed, "That's pretty much all I had to do for the past two months, so I've been all over them. I've got like a hundred pages of reports. They are trading just under $3. The company's revenue fell this year and they are operating at a loss. But they did expand last year and have the capacity for 12 million birds."
He looked at curiously. "But eggs, of all things? Why go for a commodity like eggs when the software sector's getting hot again?"
I raised an eyebrow. "I asked you to look for positives, not negatives."
Derec shrugged. "Well... shit, there aren't many positives if you ask . The demand for eggs has been dropping for the past few years."
I paused for a second. "Are you on a diet, Derec?"
He blinked at a few tis. "Why does that matter?" he asked, confused.
I leaned in slightly. "Read up on the Atkins diet. It's gaining traction, and there's a hypothesis that as it becos more popular, people might start showing more interest in eggs, which are high in proteins. Analyze the market in that direction. That's all I have for you today. You can go."
"...hmm, I'll look into it."
He finished his espresso, left a $10 bill on the table, stood up, and gave a nod before heading out.
I finished my juice, settled the bill with the waiter, and then left the restaurant as well.
'There's a man called Reagan Lee at Harvard that I need to et and recruit, but it's already late. He's probably back at his dorm already...' I mulled over it for a mont. 'Hmm. I can always swing by when I get back from Vegas.'
I decided to take a stroll through a nearby park and after so ti, I found a cozy hotel nearby.
$299 a night...
I checked in and walked up to my room, imdiately taking out my notebook.
I logged into my online banking account.
[Bank Of Arica]
------------
[Account Owner: Jack Somnus]
[Account Balance: $3,689,592.39]
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I was almost broke prior to the withdrawal and then I had to pay for the flights and a few other things. I was already diving under the withdrawal amount...
'I'm still rich...' I tried to convince myself.
I proceeded to initiate a transfer of $1,000,000 to the account under Christopher Vanderbilt. I hoped Derec would handle it well.
I watched the balance shrink.
Next, I set up a transfer of $90,999 to my dad. The amount was specific, so I would only need to pay a 26% gift tax on $79,999; the rest will be exempt.
I will also need to pay a 20% tax on the withdrawal that I have made.
That left with $1,857,793.65
In spite of using illegal ways to dodge taxes, the governnt was like an ant—no matter how hard you try to hide the crumbs, it's always there to carry off its share.
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