Thomas Hoover - The samurai strategy

"What are you going to do?" She was frowning, but I could tell the idea had appeal.

"Set dynamite under them. Just blow them sky-high."

"How?"

"Using an obscure corporate anti-takeover tactic not many people know about yet. Jim Bob's right. We're going to make history. Nobody's ever done this on the scale you're about to witness. Just pick the stocks you want detonated first, but please hurry." I shoved a pen and paper at her, then turned to watch Jim Bob, now dancing around with a phone in his ear, still buying calls on the old DNI portfolio. "How're we doing over there, chief?"

"Don't want to push March too hard, tip off the market, so I'm picking up some Junes too." He yelled my way, "We're going long, baby."

"Jim Bob, I was just wondering. Don't you think you ought to hedge a little, just in case? Maybe buy a few puts to cover the downside?"

"With the kind of volatility I'm about to goose into this market? You're starting to sound like some pussy, Walton. Get naked, go native. Only way to fly." He did a twirl, then a kick. "Just buckle in, dude, cause I'm gonna take that Jap money and pump my underlying stocks right into orbit. This play's a lock, taking money from a baby."

"Well, I wasn't blessed with your brand of raw courage, Jim Bob. So what do you say I do a little hedging for you? We'll be partners. I'll cover the downside with my own money, assuming I've got any left. I'll buy a few puts, and then if these stock prices just decide to go crazy and crash, we can still sell at the current quotes. Protect ourselves if things head south for some reason."

"Suit yourself. But that's the best way I can think of to piss away what little 'haircut' you've got left." He was grinning again.

"Guess I'm a masochist. What can I tell you."

While my new "partner" was laying the groundwork for his scam, loading up on options to buy stocks at today's prices just before he turned around and shoved enough Japanese money into the market to send them sky-high, I did the opposite. I got on the phone to various brokers, including a currently jubilant Sam Kline, and started buying "at the money" puts in Amy's name.

Jim Bob was betting the market would head up, buying calls; I was betting it would go down, buying puts. I was laying a wager with anybody in America who would agree, for my front money, to buy a stock from me at today's quotes anytime through mid-March, even if the real price had since dropped to zilch. Which I fully intended to make happen.

Insider trading? Well… yes. You see, I was literally the only man on earth who actually knew what the stock market was going to do next, after DNI started buying more of those stocks I'd planted with land mines. But I was a driven man just then. Maybe I'd go to jail eventually, but by God Amy would still make college.

Amy. What was she doing today? I wondered. This was, what? Tuesday? So she must be back at school, probably thinking about lunch. Strawberry yogurt and a bar of Tiger's Milk "health" candy. God, I loved that little dark-haired prize more than life itself.

Where were we headed, she and I? Was I going to learn to let go? Maybe that wasn't going to be the problem, I thought, at least for her. Face it, I was about to become a fixture, just a stuffy impediment to nature's raging hormones. She'd already started rehearsing feminine wiles on me, practicing that coy, downcast glance that didn't quite break subliminal eye contact. Where did she learn stuff like that? And she almost had it down cold. Next it'll probably be eye shadow and colored bras.

Damn. This Christmas was going to be my last real chance to get to know her, to bore her silly with all my eminently ignorable fatherly advice. And I blew it. That in itself was enough to make me want to deep-six Matsuo Noda forever, the bastard. The money I fully planned to recoup; her thirteenth Christmas was gone forever.

With which somber thought, I returned to buying puts. By the time I'd finished, Tam had her "death wish" list ready. And Jim Bob was just wrapping up his new program of call-option acquisition. Now for phase two.

I strolled over to his monitor, carrying her paper.

"Jim Bob, these might be a good place to start." I tossed the sheet down beside his keyboard. "Why not just set up a lot of buy orders to hit the market tomorrow at the opening? Doing it all at once should drive the prices straight up."

"Right." He leaned back, twitching. "Wonder how much buying it'll take?"

"Well, why not play it safe? Use the computer and just boost DNI's high-tech portfolio another… oh, five percent, straight across the board. Every issue. Program it and let her rip. You've already got Tam's sell setup. All you have to do is turn it around."

"Sounds good to me." Now he was swaying to and fro, humming tonelessly.

"Then let's get rolling. You hit AMEX and the Big Board; Tam and I'll see if we can't drop orders for a few blocks on Jeffries, the off-exchange network. We have to make waves at the opening bell tomorrow."

"Hear you talkin'. These issues gotta look like major movers." He was beaming from ear to ear as he revolved shakily back to his terminal. "Damn if I don't jus' love screwing the market."

We went to work, and for the next half hour we transmitted buy orders to the farthest reaches of the globe. Once they were posted, it didn't matter when they'd be executed. Even if Noda killed us, a hand from the grave would come back and destroy him. The time bomb I'd set would blow the minute the SEC tallied up DNI's new holdings. There were about to be a lot of rich, happy workers in this Land of the Free. But the one man certain not to be among their number was Matsuo Noda. Speaking of which…

"Mr. Walton, would you kindly explain what you are doing?"

I froze, realizing he was standing directly behind my chair. How long had he been there? I'd been too absorbed to pay attention. Stupid, Walton, extremely stupid.

"Tell you the truth, Noda-san." I wheeled around and looked him in the eye, shielding the screen. "Sometimes you have to make the best of things. Discretion's the better part of valor, so we're told."

"I'm familiar with the expression." He appeared less than convinced.

"Who knows? Maybe Nipponica is the way to go." We needed time, just a little more time. "In any case I'm a firm believer in riding the horse the direction it's going. So I persuaded Jim Bob to buy a few options for me. Trouble is, the guy's a little tentative on reality just now."

"Decidedly." He glanced over at our mutual friend, now typing away obliviously, then turned and moved on toward the water cooler next to my office. Did he believe me? Maybe he actually thought we would just roll over and give up.

Or possibly Noda was in that unconscious mind-state that goes along with real mastery in swordsmanship. When a Zen archer discharges an arrow, his concentration must never be on that shaft. It must be on nothing. And the same is true with swordsmanship. Your mind must be in its natural state, empty of distractions. So if Noda allowed himself to focus on the small stuff right now, he'd forfeit his "no mind" edge.

Well, we were about through anyway. The only thing left was to keep him occupied just long enough for Jim Bob to finish sending out the last of our buys.

"The sword was a masterful idea, Noda-san." I got up and walked over to join him. "How'd you manage it?"

"Mr. Walton, what exactly do you know about the Emperor Antoku's Imperial Sword?" He sipped from a plastic cup, eyes squinting behind his rimless specs.

"Probably more than I should."

'Then you will understand its recovery is a turning point in the history of Japan."

I looked at him and realized he believed it. Actually believed it. Matsuo Noda had become a legend in his own mind. Why tamper with perfection?