Friday 25th October 1929
 

On Friday morning, Susan looked out of the window, hollow eyed and exhausted. She knew the days off by heart – Black Thursday, Black Monday, Black Tuesday, with the Friday and Saturday as the eye of the hurricane. She needed sleep, but she also needed to prepare for the worst.

Her office overlooked the back roads, where many of the workers came in. She could tell the ones that had been hit directly by the crash just by sight. The rest were still bantering as usual, though the mood seemed subdued. There was only one topic of conversation: the end of the world.

They thought it was temporary, she knew, that this was just a glitch and normal service would resume. There were so few who knew that this now was normal, so few who believed it would even get worse. She wanted to warn them, but she knew she would not be listened to, drowned out by the positive press and support.

She looked at her desk where the morning papers sat. The headlines blazed up at her, sharing a common thread across the front pages:

“Bankers save stock market”

Susan threw the papers in the bin and went outside to clear her head.

~

“Mr. Marcus, under the circumstances, do you really think we can be held to that?” The businessman said with a lazy smile. Nine o’clock in the morning, and Mr. Marcus already knew that this, his second meeting of the day, was going to be a bad one.

“Mr. Xavis, you agreed to a trade and signed a contract to that effect.” He reminded the man patiently.

“But the stocks are no longer worth what I paid for them.”

“That does not mean you can cancel payment. We can make a payment arrangement, if you’d prefer, but you still need to pay.” The gentleman he had spoken to first this morning had nearly bitten his hand in his eagerness to take the offer. Xavis just smirked.

“I don’t see why. You can retain the stock,” he offered magnanimously. The man was surprisingly laid back, when everyone else Mr. Marcus had seen this morning had been exhausted and nervous. He was up to something.

“You are aware we can, and will, sue,” Mr. Marcus said, testing the waters.

“It will cost you more than the stocks are worth,” Xavis replied.

“And that you will be banned from trading. This is fraud, not just breach of contract.”

“And there’s nothing you can do about it,” Xavis said. “Now I have another meeting, so if you’ll excuse me.” He waved a hand towards the door in dismissal. Mr. Marcus stood up, nodded goodbye and left with a smile.

Mr. Marcus had his instructions in this situation, and since Mr. Xavis was unwilling to come to arrangements, he had no compunction about following them. Once outside the office he tagged one of the couriers outside, a man he knew.

“Five dollars to get this to the telegram office, and another ten when you drop the confirmation slip in at the Killgrace factory.” Marcus pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed the messenger. He watched as the man turned, running off towards the telegraph office at the end of the street. By the time Xavis discovered the wire transfer had been put through against his personal accounts, the money would be with Killgrace, and the form was even in the businessman’s own handwriting. Xavis really should have thought to bring a witness to the meeting, since Marcus could now swear blind that Xavis had given the transfer form to him. The evidence would all support the lawyer. Xavis really should have considered that the Killgrace firm had its reputation for a reason.

It was time to go back to the office and brief the owner.

~

Porter shifted uncomfortably in the chair as he waited for Miss Chapman. He had never thought it would happen to him but as the market began to fall, the bank had had trouble. Some of the leveraged clients, borrowing tens of times their own worth, were already facing bankruptcy. One of their customers with the largest outstanding loans had pulled all their savings and closed their bank accounts on Thursday early, before he caught on, leaving the bank just one on the list of creditors with their hands out. The first few mortgage holders had defaulted and Porter had a sinking feeling they would not be able to find buyers for the houses.

Without the Killgrace money they would already be bankrupt. While he was sure the market would correct, he was no longer as certain that Killgrace was wrong as he thought. The Federal Reserve loan had been repaid, but he should have requested more funds from Killgrace.

The door opened, and as Miss Chapman sat down with a quick greeting he began his report.

“We’ve had a few problems this week,” Porter began. “Customers are concerned about the market. There’s been a steady stream of withdrawals.” If a run was a haemorrhage, this steady slow bleed could still destroy the bank if they found no way to replace the cash.

“Williams?” she asked sharply.

“No, I know these people. They’re paying debts after they were caught by the market.”

“Yes. Mr. Mason was spreading rumours that Porter & Mason had been so caught,” she said thoughtfully and Porter choked, coughing. He could only thank his lucky stars that Williams had not triggered his run yet. With that and Mason’s rumour combined it would be a miracle if the bank had any deposits left.

“Do you require more funds?” Miss Chapman asked.

“No. We’re stable for now, but if this carries on next week, there could be a problem.”

“Then there will be, because it will.”

“It will straighten out. You saw the bankers banking steel. They won’t let the market fail.” Porter said, and she arched an eyebrow.

“I knew they would back US Steel. It won’t work. Over the weekend, expect people to either leave the market or be forced out by margin calls.” She said it dispassionately enough that silence fell. It took Porter a moment to think of something to say.

“I’ll say this: Mr. Killgrace is a shrewd one. We’d have been wiped out if we were still in the market.”

“A lot of banks still will be,” she said, staring blankly at the folder on the table in front of her. Despite everything, and the sobering suspicion she was a lot more ruthless than him, Porter felt compelled as a gentleman to try to reassure her.

“Cheer up,” he said, rather awkwardly. “How much worse can it get? Things will all work out sooner or later.” He laughed, not entirely humorously and Miss Chapman lifted her gaze and looked at him.

“They don’t,” she said. “This is the new ‘normal’. We shall have to find a way to live in it.”

“Come up, chin up. There’s always tomorrow,” Porter said, and she shuddered.

“We will handle that when it comes. Good day, Mr. Porter.”

~