~

“I am sorry. I hadn’t actually believed anyone would act like that until I saw it.” Susan said, once they were back in the car.

“I’ve been treated worse for less reason.” Henry actually grinned. “So we actually got us a bank branch then? You think he’ll stick with it?”

“He’d better,” Susan said, and Henry coughed cynically.

“Unless someone else talks to him and he changes his mind. He’s weak.” Henry paused, glancing round to make sure they were clear before turning onto the main street.

“Give him a little credit, He had the rug pulled out from under him a month earlier than the rest of the world, and now he’s trying to adjust.” She shrugged. “Besides, if he wasn’t off balance we’d never have conned him into opening that branch.” Susan made a quick note to tell Sarah to take room 2C off the office schedule. It was a first floor meeting room, with a brick stationery cupboard at the back that shared a wall with the factory. She had a few vague thoughts about knocking through and adding a gantry to create a teller window for the factory workers to save them a walk, but that was for the future. For now the room would do for a bank branch, especially since Cet had already installed the stock ticker in there.

“You planned that,” Henry accused when she put away the notepad.

“Among six other options, yes. I always plan for contingencies.” She looked up, catching his eye in the mirror. “If it makes you feel better, one of the contingencies was firing Mr. Porter.”

“It makes me worried,” Henry complained, only half-joking.

“Don’t be. I just hope he picks a decent clerk,” her expression looked like a smile, only with more teeth, “or we’re going to be going through them fast. So, back to the factory?”

“Miss Chapman, is it too late to throw some more in your investment pool?” Susan opened her mouth to say yes, and sighed. It was his money, after all.

“How much do you want to put in?”

“Four hundred dollars,” Henry said, happily. “I had them cash a cheque.”

“Are you sure?”

“You never let me down yet,” he said with a grin. She resisted the urge to rub her forehead, reminded herself there were only seven days to go, and smiled.

“Then we’d better head for George’s. You know the place.”

“Yes, Miss Chapman!”

~

The phone rang in the laboratory basement and Cet extended a probe to the wires.

“Mr. Killgrace.” Porter’s voice on the end of the line was actually distressed. “Your secretary has made an outlandish suggestion.”

“What has occurred?” Cet responded, modulating its voice to human tones.

“She wants to open a branch of the bank in your building! ”

“Why?”

“To have it available to the workers or some such nonsense!” Cet calculated the options in its head. The likelihood of employees using a convenient bank was high, particularly among those with few options. The effect of reserves would be positive: wages retained in the bank, so within the company group. Mortgages and loans would then be provided and paid from those wages so interest would be brought back in. It seemed Susan had found an extremely productive use for the bank.

“I approve,” it said, after a moment, “the results should be profitable.”

“But, Mr. Killgrace–” It interrupted Porter’s bluster with a reaction drawn directly from borrowed human memories.

“Just do it.”

~End Entry~

(Closing Index: 326.51)

Wednesday 23rd October 1929
 

On Wednesday the streets were silent when she walked in, even the Williams factory casting little light from the shuttered windows into the street. It sounded muted, the third shift hardly employed, and she walked quickly by, letting herself into the utterly silent Killgrace factory and walking up to her office. Five o’clock in the morning, and she had had a sudden idea that would not let her sleep. Picking the lock to let herself out of the boarding house during curfew was annoying but not hard.

Spreading the charts out she mapped her predicted figures again, and the discrepancy leapt out, between her figures and what she had learned. Her graph was too smooth. She thought over her history lessons again. The Friday between Black Thursday and Black Monday had not gone down in history. Between two major crashes, perhaps, just perhaps, there had been a small recovery, a dead cat bounce. If not, she lost a few points between the falls.

Susan looked out of the window at the dark streets, hours before dawn. If she was going to maintain her position she simply had to have the nerve to let it run, but simply maintaining it was not going to be enough to save the company. Right on the cusp of the crash she made her decision, picked up the phone and called George. She was lucky, he had not left for the trading floor yet.

“This is early,” he said, after a quick greeting.

“George, I need to speak to you about the shares.”

“Always listening. Even this early.” She ignored the banter, cutting to the chase.

“Can you do an extra trade this week? I need you to close all my positions on Thursday morning, after trading starts but before -” she stopped aware that she had been about to say ‘ before the bankers act’, and hoped she could remember the time. “- before twelvish. Then, if that has not made ten million in profit, I need you to reopen them all on Friday and Saturday, reinvesting the profit in each. Get the best price you can. And don’t close them on Monday. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

“Sure.” he sounded uncertain. “Anything else?” She took a breath, trying to keep her voice level.

“Yes. If I have any money left in my margin account, short sell now before the end of the day.”

“Short sell what?”

“The big boys. General Motors, US Steel, any of the ones in my portfolio.” There was a stunned pause and then George exclaimed.

“Are you crazy?”

“Believe me, I wish I were.”

“Look, Susan, all the bad news is coming from Europe. You sure it’s going to reach here?”

“Europe isn’t based on a speculative bubble. When the news punctures that the effect will be worse.”

“Sure.” George said. He sounded strained. “I don’t usually second guess you, but Adams is down ninety-six and the rest of the market is falling. Do you want to close now?”

“No. Hold,” she replied curtly. If she closed the positions now, she would never find a buyer to reopen them. “Just…just follow what I said.”

“OK.” He said the word thoughtfully, and the tone reminded her unpleasantly of Warrbler-Nightingale.

“George, I mean it. I’ll be sitting in the viewing gallery watching if I have to.”

“I understand.” The way he said it told her that he had picked up more than she wanted him to know. “I’ll get it done. Take care.”

“You too. Bye.” A chill rushed through her as she put the phone down. Oh for the sake of whatever was out there, for the sake of her people and company, let her have her dates right. The extra trade between the two crashes was entirely spur of the moment, but it was a chance however small to correct her short fall.

~