Wall Street bigwigs!

Green felt a chill run down his spine, quickly walked to the television in the conference room, and pressed the remote control.

On the screen, a Mexican government plane painted in dark green is parked on the runway, its flashes going off like a blizzard.

Harry Thorne, wearing his signature camel hair coat, stood by the gangway, shaking hands with a serious-looking middle-aged man wearing silver-rimmed glasses.

Mary gasped and said, "That's Gutierrez."

"He is known for his tough stance in Mexican politics and is a close confidant of the president. If he really does bring the endorsement of the Federal Reserve..."

"No, impossible!" Green stared at the screen, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his chin.

"The Fed will not provide emergency loans to Mexico three months before the election, which will anger conservatives on Capitol Hill. Harry Thorne is putting on a show, a carefully orchestrated confidence play."

At this point, Green turned to look at Selgen.

"Could you check the implied volatility of the OTC peso forward contract expiring on March 15th?"

Sergen's fingers flew across the keyboard, and after a moment he looked up with an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Boss, it's surged by 40%. Someone in the market is buying call options on a large scale through Asian channels, with trading volume five times the usual amount."

"Harry Thorne is in the final stages of creating a short squeeze." Green's voice suddenly turned cold.

"He wanted to use the news of Gutierrez's visit, along with a large purchase of short-term call options, to create false momentum that the peso was about to surge, forcing us short sellers to close our positions."

If we close our positions now, it will push up the peso exchange rate, allowing him to take profits on his long contracts.

Silence fell over the trading room; it was a dead end.

If the positions are not closed and Harry Thorne actually manages to secure the implicit endorsement from the Federal Reserve, the R&F Fund will be immediately liquidated.

If you close your position, you'll have truly fallen into a trap. Not only will you suffer losses, but it will also elevate Harry's reputation on Wall Street to new heights, solidifying his prestige in teaching those arrogant young people a lesson.

Green walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the Manhattan skyline at night, the neon lights outside casting ever-changing colors on his face.

He recalled his conversation with Kevin that night, and his childhood friend who could laugh even after getting into trouble, a rascal Kevin had mentioned a long time ago.

"Sometimes the solution to a problem isn't more complex tactics, but rather a more primal kind of courage."

Green turned to look at Mary, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Didn't you say you had some former colleagues at the SEC?"

I need you to investigate something for me: whether Harry Thorne's peso forward contracts held through Morgan Bank involve false declarations of his positions.

I recall NASD regulations requiring disclosure of any currency forward contract position exceeding 5%. Did he circumvent the disclosure threshold by holding these positions through multiple related accounts?

Mary paused for a moment, then a flash of understanding appeared in her eyes.

"Are you saying he violated the disclosure principles of the Williams Act? If we can prove that he was maliciously circumventing regulations, the SEC can order the freezing of his positions for investigation."

Green waved his hand and said.

"No, not freeze it, that would be too easy on him."

What I need is deterrence. I need to let him know that we have the power to overturn the table and send him and his wives to jail.

"You can contact your former colleague. You don't need to file a formal complaint; just casually mention to JPMorgan's compliance department that the SEC is monitoring unusual peso concentration."

"This is nuclear deterrence, mutual assurance of annihilation!" Mary said softly.

Green gave a cold smile and said.

"That's right. The rule of the game on Wall Street is that when you have leverage over someone, the best way to use it is not to pull the trigger, but to let your opponent see that your finger is already on the trigger."

After saying that, Green turned to John and Selgen and made arrangements.

"As for the trading strategy, starting tomorrow, we will operate in the opposite direction."

While Harry Thorne and his allies went long, we used our R&F Securities account to short-sell ADRs related to Mexico in the US stock market, including Coca-Cola Mexico, American Express Mexico, and Ford Mexico.

Since he's squeezing shorts in the foreign exchange market, we'll wipe out his related assets in the stock market. I want Wall Street to know that R&F not only knows how to defend, but also how to switch sides.

Green calmly picked up his coat and looked at Vera before leaving.

"Vera, contact Robert at Citibank."

Tell him we are willing to increase the collateral ratio of Nike stock to 90%, on the condition that we secure an additional $1000 million in emergency credit.

I need to make sure that even if the peso falls to 210, we have enough margin to hold it.

Vera reminded her.

"This is too risky. What if Nike's stock price corrects..."

Green stated unequivocally, "There are no ifs. Nike will release the Air Jordan III this year, and Jordan will wear them to win his third championship. Those two shoes are our cornerstone."

As Green walked out of the conference room, the lights in the corridor automatically turned on.

He took out a Zhonghua cigarette, leaned it against the wall, and lit it.

Amidst the swirling smoke, his phone rang again, and a familiar voice came through the line.

"Off work yet? Come to the Brooklyn Bridge near the 7th Precinct and bring your edge!"

Green stared at the phone that had been hung up, and finally a genuine smile appeared on his lips for the first time that night.

Kevin Payne, his childhood friend, the NYPD junior officer, had apparently heard about his current predicament from some source.

In this battlefield filled with numbers, leverage, and lies, this genuine connection from the grassroots and from the past has become his most solid anchor.

In the distance, toward Kennedy Airport, Harry Thorne's media drama was unfolding, but Green knew that the real battle was only just beginning tomorrow.

At 4:40 a.m., the morning mist, like lingering gunpowder smoke, enveloped the cobblestone path beneath the Brooklyn Bridge.

Green parked the Lincoln Continental in the shadows away from the streetlights, his right hand in the pocket of his camel hair coat, his fingertips stroking the Glock 19 that he had never used before.

This was a survival kit for New York, but now it felt like a red-hot ember, a stark reminder of the tightrope he was walking on.

"You look exactly like the expression on my face when I first saw you at the Little Rock Police Station."

A familiar voice came from the shadows of the bridge pier.

Kevin was wearing the iconic navy blue NYPD uniform, but no police hat. His blond hair was slightly disheveled by the river breeze, and he was carrying two steaming paper cups.

He looked much more tired than that night in the parking lot; the marks around his eyes were particularly pronounced in the fog, but his gaze was sharper than when he was a teenager.

I thought you would wear casual clothes.

Green took the coffee; it was the same high-concentration coffee sold at 711-Eleven, with a bitter taste and a nutty flavor.

"Just got off the night shift."

Kevin leaned against the bridge railing, gazing at the lights of Manhattan across the East River.

"And wearing a uniform has an advantage: no one will think that a guy in a police uniform showing up here at four in the morning is here to discuss illegal transactions."

Green chuckled softly, steam rising from the rim of the cup, blurring his gold-rimmed glasses.

"Legal and illegal are always just a matter of perspective in this city. Take this cup of coffee you're drinking right now, for example. To some, it's a money laundering tool; to me, it's an energy booster."

At this point, Green paused, "In this context, it might just be small talk between friends."