Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 173 Jay Gould

It was already late when Larry left Morgan Trust Bank.

Mr. Dunbar was still waiting outside, hands on his hips, watching people come and go on the streets of New York, where cars and people were constantly passing by.

Larry greeted him with a smile, and Mr. Dunbar suddenly turned around, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. "Oh my God, you've finally come out! I even thought you were living inside..."

“The procedures here are just too complicated…” Larry sighed, then said, “Come on, Uncle Dunbar, let’s go get some steak. I didn’t eat lunch and I’m starving.”

Larry took the small suitcase, placed it on the right-hand side near the sidewalk, and then beckoned Mr. Dunbar to come with him to a nearby restaurant.

Having spent a few days here when he last received an award from Paine Weber Securities, Larry now has some knowledge of the area around Wall Street.

The area around Wall Street is dotted with steakhouses catering to financial elites. In this era, dining for steak is more like a formal business dinner for Wall Street professionals. They often use this relatively relaxed setting to facilitate business collaborations with clients or people from other industries in a comfortable atmosphere.

Larry took Mr. Dunbar out of Wall Street and onto Broad Street, where there was a steakhouse named after Mount Gibraltar that often stayed open very late.

It was already evening, and the city lights were just coming on.

Mr. Dunbar had seen electric lights before, but he had never seen so many lights on, and he was somewhat distracted while walking.

In the past, this loyal bodyguard always kept a close eye on Larry's every move, constantly on guard against any dangerous sounds coming from other directions. But today, like a country bumpkin in the city, Mr. Dunbar was also awestruck by the New York City skyline.

Larry arrived at the ground floor of a red brick building, where there was a huge arched glass window that allowed natural light to stream in and made it easy for passersby to glimpse the bustling scene inside.

Looking through the window, the interior features dark wood paneling, brass lighting, and leather booths, with waiters in red vests moving between the different seats.

"Let's go, Uncle Dunbar!" Larry called to Dunbar, who was still watching intently from behind, and walked through the door first.

As soon as the two entered the steakhouse, a waiter led them to their seats and respectfully asked them what kind of steak they would like.

Larry raised an eyebrow and looked at Dunbar sitting opposite him. The latter frowned and smiled, "I'm old, my stomach isn't good, I can't eat it too rare, medium-rare, please!"

Larry nodded and smiled, thinking to himself, "If you're only medium-rare because of a bad stomach, then when your stomach is healthy, you eat medium-rare."

In the end, Larry ordered a prime sirloin steak for Dunbar, while he ordered a ribeye steak, medium-rare.

A rare steak retains the most juices and truly makes you feel like a dragon from the East.

After ordering, the waiter first brought out the bourbon whiskey that came with the meal.

The restaurant was filled with the clinking of cutlery, the low murmurs of men talking and laughing, and the sizzling sound of meat roasting in the kitchen.

This steakhouse is divided into a public dining area and a semi-enclosed booth area. The public area is furnished with heavy solid wood tables, where Larry and Dunbar sat, along with most of the Wall Street elites.

As Larry turned his head and looked around, he saw a number of businessmen in suits talking to each other about their intentions for major mergers and acquisitions, their share of bond underwriting, and their views on the recent fluctuations of a certain stock. This kind of information, which money can't buy anywhere else, was just casual conversation in the special setting of a steakhouse.

On the other side of the restaurant were more private booths. Larry even saw two young men who were obviously security guards standing outside one of the booths, where a multi-million dollar deal was probably being discussed.

Once at the steakhouse, Larry and Dunbar's roles reversed. Larry kept looking around, while Mr. Dunbar was able to calm down and keep an eye on Larry and his suitcase to prevent others from coveting them.

Fifteen minutes later, the steak was served.

Mr. Dunbar's premium sirloin steak sizzled with the Maillard reaction, while Larry's steak revealed a tender pink hue the moment it was cut open.

In addition, the side dishes include creamed spinach, baked potatoes, and onion rings.

The air was filled with the aroma of charred barbecue, the smell of cigars, and the scents of leather and cologne.

The two clinked their glasses, took a sip of bourbon whiskey, and then picked up their knives and forks to eat the beef.

Larry regretted it after taking a couple of bites. He had never had a medium-rare steak before, and it tasted almost like raw meat!

If Mr. Dunbar hadn't ordered it medium-rare today, I wouldn't have impulsively ordered it medium-rare...

However, they were still hungry. To be precise, their last meal was in the train's dining car that morning.

As the two were eating with their heads down, Larry noticed a conversation between two people at the next table.

"Hey... do you know who's eating in that booth over there? They must be someone important!"

"Haha, I really do know! I just saw him and his bodyguard in the restroom. That's the Pirate Baron!"

Upon hearing this, Larry unconsciously stopped eating, slowed his chewing, and listened attentively to the discussions coming from the seats next to him.

The term "Pirate Baron" on Wall Street refers to Jay Gould, a financial magnate and speculator.

This man was a director of the Erie Railroad and the de facto controller of Union Pacific. At his peak, he controlled 15% of the U.S. railroad network and was the biggest manipulator, railroad tycoon, and telegraph giant of the American Gilded Age.

The two people in the next seat were still talking incessantly.

"I heard Gould isn't in very good health, how come he's still able to come out and meet friends today?"

"Friends? Oh my god, you probably don't know, do you? He's cold-blooded and ruthless, he doesn't have any friends at all! I bet he's up to some kind of shady business!"

"Oh, yes, you're right. The media always relentlessly criticizes him as cold-blooded and the number one devil in the financial world. Gould probably alone carries half the content of the third page supplement of the New York newspaper, hahaha."

“Besides Le Monde, Gould was the former owner of Le Monde and still owns a large stake there.”

Larry stared at the steak on his plate, listening intently to their conversation until they changed the subject, at which point he resumed eating.

Mr. Dunbar glanced at Larry, but didn't say anything more, and continued eating.

A moment later, a commotion arose in the private room. Two bodyguards escorted a tall, thin, bald, bearded old man out of the steakhouse. The commotion drew everyone's attention. Larry unconsciously turned to watch the renowned Wall Street speculator stagger away from the steakhouse, the whispers of two people at the next table still lingering in his ears.

"It really is Jay Gould... Wow, that old guy, he's up and running again..."

Larry remained silent, preparing to eat, when he saw the other person who had been dining with Gould in the booth come out. He first went to the counter to pay the bill, and then pushed open the door and walked out of the steakhouse.

Larry turned around abruptly after seeing the man, looked down at his steak, and turned his back to the man.

Once Larry was sure the man had left the steakhouse, he turned to look at his retreating figure and carefully confirmed that the man who had just dined with Jay Gould was none other than Mr. Costa, Morgan's senior partner.

Larry was puzzled. How did Mr. Coster end up with Jay Gould? The two weren't on the same side.

If it were a private transaction, the two of them would have no need to eat at this steakhouse where so many eyes and ears could see them!

Could it be that Mr. Morgan sent Koster to contact Gould on his own initiative?
But something's not quite right, because someone of Gould's stature would talk to Morgan himself, not his senior partners. That's an imbalance of status!

Both of these possibilities are somewhat unlikely...

Larry had no idea about this, so he could only keep his questions to himself and take another sip of his bourbon whiskey.

But then Mr. Dunbar suddenly uttered a sentence that nearly scared Larry half to death.

“That man is about to die!” Mr. Dunbar whispered to Larry.

Larry was startled and quickly looked up to ask, "Who's dying?"

"That important guy in the private room with bodyguards, the one with the big beard..." Mr. Dunbar glanced around and, seeing that no one was paying attention, continued to explain in a low voice.

Larry's glass froze in mid-air. After a few seconds of thought, he stared wide-eyed and asked, "Uncle Dunbar, how did you know?"

Dunbar pulled a string of beads—clearly an Aboriginal-style item—from his inner suit pocket, looked at Larry, and slowly said,

“I learned this from the Su people. They have a special skill that can sense a person’s life force… That person just now had a dark face, so he must have a very serious hidden illness. According to the magical skill left by the Su people, his lifespan will not exceed one year!”

Larry's eyes widened immediately. His prediction that Jay Gould, one of Wall Street's biggest speculators, would not live more than a year was truly astonishing.
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That evening, Larry and Mr. Dunbar checked into the Astor Hotel. Larry booked a suite for each of them, and since they would be staying for several days, he simply paid a $100 deposit.

Mr. Dunbar frowned and muttered under his breath, "Too extravagant... A regular room would have been fine."

Larry smiled but didn't say anything.

After the two followed the waiter to the third floor of their lodgings, Larry did not return to his own room. Instead, he pestered Mr. Dunbar to explain this amazing skill of the Native Americans.

Mr. Dunbar didn't hide anything from Larry, and so he shared all the knowledge he knew that was circulating among the Native American tribes.

Larry listened to Mr. Dunbar's explanation, nodded, and understood the general principle.

Ultimately, the Native American's amazing ability to sense a person's life force is somewhat similar to the "qi-observation technique" of ancient Chinese sorcerers, and also has some connection to the "observation, auscultation, inquiry, and palpation" of traditional Chinese medicine.

Specifically, it involves observing the color of a person's forehead, temples, eyes, and lips. If these areas all exhibit a "dark aura," it indicates that the person's lifespan will not be long.

Larry, despite having a photographic memory for numbers and being able to remember people almost after just one meeting, hadn't actually noticed what Jay Gould looked like or whether he had any "dark aura."

But Mr. Dunbar was sitting across from Larry and had just noticed Larry paying attention to the booth, so he naturally started to notice what was going on there as well.

Just as Jay Gould walked out the door with his bodyguards, Dunbar immediately noticed the unusual look on the man's face.

Larry had probably learned this "aura-reading technique" from Dunbar, and then he rested his chin on his hand and pondered deeply. If Jay Gould really only had one year to live, how should he make use of it?

No, we must not be impatient, nor should we be overly ambitious and assume that every unexpected event we encounter is a clue that we can memorize and explore later.

Larry felt that the most sensible thing he could do was to find some information about Jay Gould and do some research.
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The next morning, after having breakfast at the hotel, Larry and Mr. Dunbar walked to the Paine Weber Securities branch.

It was only 8:30 a.m., and the business office had just opened. The young staff were cleaning the business hall and preparing for the opening.

Larry walked into the sales office and casually asked, "Excuse me, has Mr. Potter arrived?"

A man in a suit recognized Larry and quickly walked up to him, smiling as he said, "Mr. Porter comes to the sales office at eight o'clock every day. If you need him, I'll go and call him!"

Larry quickly waved his hand, "No, I should be the one visiting him."

As he spoke, he arranged for Dunbar to sit in the sales hall, while he himself followed his memory from last time and walked all the way to the door of Mr. Potter's office.

"Knock knock knock!" Larry knocked on the door.

Mr. Potter's booming voice came from inside, "Come in!"

Larry smiled and pushed open the door, as if he were still in the Boston branch.

Mr. Porter was slightly surprised to see Larry. He raised his eyebrows and asked, "What brings you here? Didn't you already return to Boston?"

Larry smiled and waved the small leather suitcase in his hand, saying, "Mr. Potter, I need to trouble you with something. I have 2 shares of New England Railroad stock here, and I need you to help me sell them!"

Mr. Porter frowned and said, “I thought it was about you buying land. Goldman Sachs people have come twice this week. I sent a telegram to Boston, but Wallace said you weren’t there at all and he couldn’t reach you.”

Larry was taken aback, then quickly asked seriously, "Did the Goldman Sachs people say anything?"

“They said there are two four-story brick-and-mortar commercial and residential buildings for sale nearby. The original owner of the properties owes a lot of gambling debts and is looking to sell his two properties,” Mr. Porter replied.

　There will be another chapter before 12 o'clock.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)