Chapter 24: Futures
George stayed at the winery for a week. After the newly incorporated wineries had stabilized, he bid farewell to Ryan and left alone.
The next day, George returned to the New York Plaza Hotel and checked into a high-end business suite. The front desk informed him that someone had left a message for him earlier. It was Pietro—he had already arrived in New York.
After tipping the receptionist a dollar, George had the hotel arrange for a car to pick up Pietro from the provided address. Back in his suite, he took a shower, changed clothes, poured two glasses of wine, and waited in the study.
Soon, a knock came at the door. George opened it to find Pietro.
Once seated, George asked, "How did things go in Washington?"
Pietro replied, "Boss, the publishing house deal is finalized. They're only responsible for publishing the book; all adaptation rights remain with you. The royalty is 10%."
"Our patent documents have also been approved, including patents for car chargers, batteries, car seat headrests, and the later-submitted electronic ignition device. Here are the original documents."
"Regarding Coca-Cola, I went to Georgia and met Mr. Ernst. He said that if the price is right, he might consider selling some shares."
"Good. Give me Coca-Cola's address. I'll handle the negotiations myself. For now, start registering the company. You can choose the office space. Buy two cars—one for your use, and one for me to modify in a warehouse. Also, book us a booth at next month's technology exhibition."
Pietro took notes while George issued instructions.
"Do we have enough funds?" George asked, sipping his whiskey.
"If we're buying cars and renting a warehouse, we'll be short."
"Alright. I figured as much." George handed him a prepared envelope filled with cash.
After chatting a bit more, Pietro left. George then went downstairs, using the hotel's car service to reach the American Bank headquarters.
There, in the VIP lounge, he deposited a \$1.1 million check he'd received from the Corleone Family into his account. He avoided using the illicit funds in his spatial storage.
Henry Groman, Vice President of the New York branch, came out to greet him personally.
"Mr. Orwell, it's a pleasure. I must say, at sixteen, your savings are beyond impressive."
"You're too kind," George replied modestly.
They sat down, and Groman asked, "Do you have any plans, George?"
George immediately saw through the intent. Groman likely wanted to loop him into some investment plan. But George knew better—capitalists never offer free help.
He replied directly, "Yes. I already have an investment direction. But cooperating with your bank could save me time."
"What kind of investment?"
"I want to open an account and borrow two brokers to help with some trades."
"Interested in a specific stock?"
"Not quite. I'm pessimistic about agriculture. Can you assist me?"
"Certainly," Groman said. "We'll have everything arranged by tomorrow."
George smiled. "Much appreciated."
Groman assigned a manager—also named Pietro—to assist.
The next day, George met with the new Pietro and a lawyer. He shared his bearish outlook on agriculture and revealed plans to use \$10 million as margin to short wheat in the futures market.
They went to the bank, opened an account, and deposited the funds. George left execution to the Pietros, giving only strategic direction.
With \$16 million in total funds, George allocated \$10 million for margin, effectively enabling \$100 million worth of futures contracts due to leverage.
He and his team visited Manhattan's financial district. The narrow streets and towering buildings felt oppressive. The bull statue on the corner looked lively, symbolic of Wall Street's high spirits.
The New York Stock Exchange at 11 Wall Street had been in operation since 1903. Inside were trading floors, bond areas, and over a dozen booths. The noise and chaos of open outcry trading seemed absurd to George. He couldn't understand how deals were confirmed through shouting.
Thankfully, trades were handled by brokers, not retail investors.
The frenzied atmosphere left George unimpressed. He wondered why such outdated systems still existed when the rest of the world had moved online.
After the tour, George took one last glance at the bull statue. In his mind, he scoffed: there wouldn't be any bull market in the coming year.
The next day, George's team entered the wheat market, t—shorting aggressively. Wheat prices had surged from \$0.92 per bushel in 1914 to \$1.96 in 1920.
George knew that within three years, prices would plunge to \$0.86 per bushel. But he only planned to hold three-month contracts, betting on a near-term crash.
He remembered that agriculture would be among the hardest-hit sectors during the coming economic crisis. A month from now, wheat prices will fall to \$0.98.
Shorting wheat wasn't a secret. Alone, George couldn't shake the market, but timing was on his side.
"Boss, we've built half the position. What's next?"
"Continue building."
"Yes, sir. I'll inform them."
If George had more funds, he could've executed several profitable short-term trades already. Pietro later reported that wheat was now trading at \$1.95.
"Victory is nearly assured," George thought. If the crisis erupted within three months, wheat prices would drop. For anyone to force liquidation, they'd need to spike prices to \$2.145.
He instructed Pietro: "Tell them to lock in the position."
"Boss, aren't we doing swing trades?"
"No. Our funds are too limited, and I need the rest for other plans."
"Understood. I'll inform them."
Typically, futures traders don't hold overnight—only real businesses do, to hedge inventory. George's short position was risky. If he couldn't deliver, jail awaited.
Was he nervous? Of course. Ten million was no small amount.
Unable to stay calm in the noisy trading center, George left. He needed distance to keep a clear head.
— End of Chapter 24 —
Translator's Note:
Thank you for sticking with us through Chapter 24! Your support fuels this journey. Share your thoughts, spot errors, and don't forget to throw me a Honey Power Stone! 🍯💎