The Prince of Risk

88

The yuan was dying a quick and ugly death.

“You watching the rates?” Marv Shank stood in the doorway, smiling broadly. “We’re up five hundred mil. You were right all along. The Chinese are depreciating. If the yuan keeps dropping, we’re going to have our best quarter ever.”

Astor looked at the screen. The yuan was trading at 6.5 and rising, well above the rate at which he’d purchased his contracts. The dramatic shift had occurred an hour ago, after a picture of Magnus Lee and the Chinese premier exiting a popular restaurant in Beijing was splashed across the Web. The heir apparent had been officially anointed. Lee was outspoken in his support of an export-driven economy. It was simply a matter of putting two and two together.

“Not bad.”

“‘Not bad’? What, are you kidding me? We’re already up a couple hundred mil. It’s stellar. You da man, Bobby.”

“Sure, but, it’s not ours.”

Shank’s smile evaporated. “What do you mean, ‘not ours’?”

“I informed our lenders that the wire transfers they received yesterday to cover our margin call was made in error. I asked that they wire the money back to the originating bank.”

“To Septimus Reventlow’s account?”

“Exactly. Technically, we stand in default of our agreements at the close yesterday. All our positions were frozen at the prevailing rate.”

“The rate at which we go under?”

“That’s correct.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s done. We don’t do business with terrorists.”

“But…” Shank shook his head, searching for words. Finally, he sighed and gave up. Even he couldn’t disagree with Astor.

“Sell at the open to cover what we owe. Talk to Mandy Price. See what she thinks.”

“What’s going to happen to Reventlow’s money?”

“Nothing for the moment. First the government needs to get proof against him. So far, there’s only my word he’s involved in this whole thing.”

“Show ’em your hand,” said Shank, incensed.

“I don’t think that will count for much a year from now when this thing finally gets to a court of law. And anyway, Reventlow’s gone. He probably hopped a jet as soon as he figured out that his brother didn’t make it. I give you even money no one sees him again.”

“So tomorrow the yuan falls through the floor, we should be up two billion, we should be the toast of the town, but instead Comstock is broke, I lose my shirt, and Septimus Reventlow just gets to walk away.”

“Pretty much. Unless the government presses charges against him or his family office, and we both know that isn’t going to happen.”

Early that morning, Astor, Alex, and Shank had been ushered into an office at 26 Federal Plaza and given a sharp talking-to by the director of the FBI himself. No word of Magnus Lee’s or Septimus Reventlow’s involvement in the affair could be allowed to get out, now or ever. Palantir’s report was on the president’s desk. A special meeting of the National Security Council was scheduled for later in the day. Were word of China’s involvement in Charles Hughes’s and Martin Gelman’s deaths to leak, the diplomatic repercussions could be unthinkable. The assassination of government officials counted as a casus belli. The hawks on Capitol Hill would be calling for war.

“Fuck me,” said Shank, throwing up his arms, turning and leaving the office.

Astor watched through his window as his friend moved up and down the trading floor, screaming out sell orders, scowling, berating anyone who dared ask him a single question. He was a creature of the Street. Marv Shank would live and die on the floor.

Astor called Alex. “Anything?”

“Nada.”

“You think they gave up?”

“Not a chance.”

“But Reventlow knows we’re on to them.”

“Does he? I’m not sure. And if he does, I don’t know if it matters.”

Astor turned and walked to the east-facing window, looking down toward Broadway and Wall Street. “So did you think about it?”

“What?”

“You know…us.”

“I don’t go out with men who chew their nails,” said Alex.

“Very funny.”

“Hold on for a sec.” Alex’s voice hardened, and her worried tone sent a chill down Astor’s spine.

“What is it?” he asked.

There was no answer, and Astor asked again.

“They’re here,” said Alex.

The line went dead.

Astor put his hand to the window, his eyes finding the Exchange building.

It was happening now.