Warren Murphy Destroyer 081 Hostile Takeover

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"Sorry, private car," he said, pushing a man into the others. He hit the
"Close" button.
The elevator shot up. Quickly Remo stripped the paper wrapping off his
Bear-Man suit. The car abruptly stopped and the doors started to separate.
Remo hastily donned his bear-mask helmet.
"Next car," he told a pair of secretaries, hitting the "Close" button.
"Did you see that?" one squealed. "It's the Wall Street Bear!"
When the door opened again, Remo was completely enveloped in his Bear-Man
suit. He stepped out onto the thirty-fourth floor, causing an instant
commotion on the Looncraft, Dymstar d trading floor.
"It's back," a man cried. Several security guards ran in Remo's direction. He
set himself. He needn't have bothered. They ran past him and escaped into the
waiting elevator.
"That's right," Remo rumbled, taking up the cue. "I'm back. And I'm here to
tell you that greed is bad. Never mind what you've heard elsewhere."
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An eager young trader leapt from his desk and approached Remo with expectant
eyes. He was dressed in a striped shirt and red suspenders and was almost
identical to the others -except for his bright gold tie.
"Tell me, sir," he asked, "are you really a harbinger of a coming bear
market?"
"Think again, pal," Remo told him gravely. "I'm here to prevent a bear market.
You listen to Bear-Man, and the bulls will run forever."
A cheer went up from the floor.
"Tell us," the traders cried. "Tell us what we should do. "
"Go long. Long and strong. Save your money. Brush your teeth regularly."
"Teeth?"
"Brushing your teeth leads to good working habits."
"Should we invest in pharmaceutical companies?" Gold Tie asked sincerely. "Do
you have inside information?"
"Bear-Man knows all. Just remember, the market is fundamentally sound. It was
only a correction."
A trader raised his hand eagerly. "Mr. Bear-Man, do you expect corporate
profits to-"
"Sorry. Can't chat now. Got to see your boss."
Remo sauntered up to P. M. Looncraft's office. His secretary recoiled as if
from a viper. She ducked behind her desk.
"Mr. Looncraft is not in," she said in a quivering voice. "He's in a meeting.
In another building."
"I've heard that one before," Remo said, brushing past her.
He pushed open the door. P. M. Looncraft's office was unoccupied, unless one
counted the array of ancestral Looncrafts on the walls.
" I told you so," the secretary's voice said. "Now, will you go away?
Please?"
"I'll wait," Remo said, closing the door. He lumbered over to the desk and
plunked his hairy butt down. It was hot in the suit, and the smell was heavy
in his nostrils, like used cotton. He hoped Looncraft would not be long.
While he waited, Remo drummed his claws on the desk. He noticed the Telerate
machine at his elbow. He found the "On" switch and finally hit it with a claw
after stabbing at in several times.
Remo got a listing of ten active stocks, some with arrows pointing up, others
pointing down. He looked for Nostrum, Ink but remembered that it traded over
the counter, on NASDAQ, not NYSE.
When boredom set in, he rummaged through the desk. There were no papers. The
desk reminded Remo of Smith's desk. Very Spartan, almost paperless, with
everything in its place.
Remo went back to drumming his bear claws on the leather blotter.
When he exhausted the entertainment possibilities of that, he noticed the
computer beside his chair. He turned to it, and brushed the "On" switch. The
computer blipped into life.
Behind his bear mask, Remo's brown eyes blinked.
The heading read: "MAYFLOWER DESCENDANTS." Below that was a single line:
"QUEEN'S ROOK TO KNIGHT THREE."
Remo's eyes narrowed. He started hitting buttons, until he had written "Rook's
Queen to King None," give or take a typo.
He looked for a "Send" button, knowing they made things happen.
When he found it, he tapped it with a claw.
The screen blipped. There was a pause. Then the screen went crazy. Lines of
amber exclamation points appeared, and replicated themselves until they filled
the screen. A concealed amplifier began beeping, annoying Remo. He tried to
shut it off by pressing several buttons at random.
Instead of shutting down, a remote printer in a corner of the room rattled to
life. The print head began racing and buzzing. Paper started to spew out.
Remo pressed more buttons. The printer kept printing, so he looked for a power
plug. When he found it, he yanked hard. The computer and the printer both shut
down.
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Remo examined the printer and ripped away several sheets of paper. He looked
at the top sheet. Deep within his bear mask, he made a puzzled sound.
Rolling it up, Remo went back to the desk and started to scratch a message
onto the polished mahogany desktop. The claw barely cut the finish, so Remo
shucked off one bear-paw glove and used his natural nail, which had been
hardened to glass-cutting precision through diet and exercise.
When he was done, the mahogany desktop bore the words: "LEAVE NOSTRUM ALONE OR
I'LL COME BACK OUT OF MY BEAR CAVE AND EAT YOU ALIVE. -BEARMAN."
Remo left the LD floor with a hearty, "Carry on, yuppies. And don't forget to
brush your teeth." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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