Janet stepped onto the balcony, wrapped her arms around Simon's, glanced down, and just pursed her lips. "You little rascal, your ponytail assistant's mommy and daddy are here."
Hearing the woman's jealous tone, Simon smiled and patted her waist, then turned and walked back into the living room.
Standing in the foyer of the living room were two men and two women. Just by their appearances, Simon immediately recognized the older middle-aged couple as Jennifer's parents, James Rebould and Carol Reboulf. The couple were well-known Manhattan financial lawyers; their firm, Rebould & Associates, specialized in providing legal support for corporate financing, restructuring, mergers and acquisitions, IPOs, and other operations.
Jonathan Friedman, Pat Kingsley, George Norman, and others were still en route to New York. After the news reached Los Angeles this morning, George Norman strongly recommended the Rebould over the phone to help Simon handle the current situation.
As introductions were made, Simon also sized up the Rebould's family.
The couple looked to be only in their early forties, appearing very young. James Rebould was slightly taller than Simon, wearing a well-tailored black suit, with some stubble on his face and meticulously groomed hair. Carol Rebould wore a white women's professional suit; her features closely resembled Jennifer's, and her upswept hair gave her a more mature, intellectual air.
The Rebould were also assessing the young man who had 'whisked away' their daughter during the conversation. Carol Rebould gave Janet a particularly meaningful look when shaking her hand.
After brief pleasantries, James Rebould declined Simon's invitation to sit. His eyes scanned the presidential suite, then he gestured towards the door. "Simon, let's talk outside."
Somewhat puzzled, Simon followed James Rebould out into the corridor.
Once in the hallway, James Rebould didn't stand on ceremony. He directly instructed his and his wife's assistants, along with Simon and Janet's bodyguards, to guard both ends of the corridor, then stood with Simon in the center.
Both Jennifer and Carol proactively stayed by the suite door and didn't approach.
Scanning the surroundings once more, James Rebould looked at the young man before him, his tone serious. "Simon, first I must confirm one thing. You don't need to answer directly. However, if the answer is negative, this matter might not require Carol and me to be involved. So, is the money exposed in the media really yours and Ms. Johnston's? Or are you just a proxy?"
Simon understood that many people probably harbored this doubt. Without hesitation, he said, "Jims, you must have read the newspapers. The current sum was built step by step over the past five and a half months starting from $75 million. The $75 million principal came from the proceeds Jen and I received from selling the distribution rights for Run Lola Run. So, yes, this money belongs entirely to Jen and me."
As a professional financial lawyer, James Rebouldhad already pieced together the trajectory of how Simon turned the $75 million principal into $1.62 billion over recent months just from the information exposed in the media. However, he also found the whole thing rather unbelievable, hence the question.
Hearing Simon's personal confirmation, James Rebouldsaid no more on that topic and continued, "Simon, in my view, there are two possibilities for the current situation. First, someone sold your recent months' account transaction records to the major newspapers. But, I suppose you realize this possibility is very low."
Simon nodded in agreement. If it were just someone leaking to the media, it wouldn't coincidentally appear on the same day in the most influential East Coast newspapers. "Jim, what's the second possibility?"
"Actually, I have a pretty good idea who is orchestrating this," James Rebould said with a slight smile. "Simon, do you know Rudy Giuliani?"
Simon thought for a moment, and the title 'America's Mayor' flashed in his mind.
From memory, Rudy Giuliani served as Mayor of New York City from 1994 to 2001, earning the nickname 'America's Mayor' for his calm leadership during the 9/11 attacks. He later ran for president, making him a standard political star.
Further back.
Combining information gathered from newspapers and media since his rebirth, Simon quickly assembled a series of facts. Rudy Giuliani was currently the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Since taking office in 1983, he had been aggressively prosecuting financial and organized crime in New York.
Nodding slightly, Simon asked, somewhat confused, "Jim, you think Giuliani is behind this?"
"Since taking office, Giuliani has liked to pressure subjects by leaking information to the media in advance. This tactic both builds his own reputation during investigations and forces targets to capitulate under public scrutiny. Moreover, this prosecutor's methods are certainly not limited to that. Wiretaps, anonymous letters, threatening calls—he uses them all to achieve his goals." James Rebhorn said, then glanced towards the direction of Simon's suite door. "Another point: the headquarters of the SEC and the CFTC are in Washington, yet you were questioned here in New York. That makes it even clearer. Manhattan falls under the jurisdiction of the Southern District of New York court; most federal financial cases are investigated and tried here. So, Simon, I sincerely hope you haven't said anything you shouldn't have in your room these past few days."
Simon followed James Rebould's gaze towards the presidential suite door. "Jim, this is The Plaza Hotel. And are you sure you're talking about a federal court, not the Mafia?"
"I truly hope my judgment is wrong. But what I just said is from personal experience. You must believe that an ambitious politician is in a league of his own compared to the Mafia," James Rebould gestured to his assistant, took a Motorola cell phone from him, and said, "Simon, I maintain contacts with some security firms. Should I have them send a counter-surveillance team to check the suite? I believe you wouldn't mind the bill right now."
Though skeptical, Simon nodded.
Half an hour later, looking at the listening devices retrieved from the suite's landline phone, sofa, mattress, and even the soles of his own shoes, Simon struggled to suppress his intense anger at the violation of his privacy. Finally, he grabbed a vase from the suite and smashed it violently against the wall, then turned and strode out.
Paul Eckmann, the hotel's head of guest services who had earlier strongly objected to Simon inviting the counter-surveillance team to inspect the suite, snapped out of his stunned state only after everyone had left. The balding middle-aged man trembled as he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from his face, hurried out of the suite, followed Simon into the elevator, and said urgently, "Mr. Westeros, this must be a misunderstanding. Please rest assured, we will definitely find out who is responsible for this... prank." [TL/N: Let's prank this guy by shooting his head. ^_^]
Simon glanced at the name tag on Paul Eckmann's chest, his tone clearly sarcastic. "A prank, Paul? Do pranks like this happen often here?"
"No, no, of course not," Paul Eckmann quickly shook his head. "Mr. Westeros, please give us some time, okay? We will definitely provide a satisfactory explanation. I hope... I hope you can refrain from disclosing this matter for now."
Simon didn't answer. The elevator soon reached the ground floor.
Exiting the elevator, Simon remembered the crowd of reporters waiting outside the hotel and finally calmed down a bit.
Glancing at the people who had come down with him, Simon gave a reassuring look to Janet, who was watching him with concern, and said softly, "Sweetheart, pack the things we need to take. We're going to the place on 68th Street."
Janet studied Simon's face for a moment before nodding and re-entering the elevator.
Paul Eckmann, seeing Simon's expression soften and knowing he certainly wouldn't return to the room, added, "Mr. Westeros, if you're leaving, I can have someone arrange a car."
"No need," Simon shook his head and said to Neil Bennet, "Neil, take them to check our car as well."
Neil Bennet acknowledged and led the security company staff outside.
Simon then turned to the James and Carol. "My apologies, both of you. I lost my composure earlier."
James Rebould shook his head slightly. "It's fine, Simon."
Having been in this profession for many years, James Rebould had seen too many similar scenes. Compared to clients who flew into a rage or even threatened violence upon discovering they were bugged, Simon, at his young and impulsive age, being able to calm down so quickly was quite impressive.
Janet soon came downstairs. They had arrived with two suitcases. When she came down again, she handed a noticeably lighter suitcase to Ken Dixon. After Neil Bennet confirmed the car had been checked, the group headed out.
Seeing Simon emerge from the hotel, the crowd of reporters who had been waiting for hours erupted, swarming around him. The frantic shutter clicks were accompanied by loud questions that were almost impossible to distinguish.
"Simon, is the news in the papers true?"
"Simon, why did you buy $1.1 billion in tech stocks?"
"Simon, will you continue directing films?"
"Simon, tech stocks surged across the board after the market opened today. What's your take on that?"
"Simon..."
Amid the cacophony, Simon simply wordlessly pulled Janet close, shielding her as they made their way through the crowd with the help of their two bodyguards and hotel security, eventually boarding a black Range Rover. The Rebould and the counter-surveillance team followed in their cars.
Reporters, seeing Simon's car leave, scrambled to their own vehicles.
The distance from The Plaza Hotel to the Upper East Side's 68th Street was less than a kilometer. The Range Rover soon stopped in front of a light grey apartment building. Simon and Janet quickly got out and entered the building with the Rebould and others who had followed.
Simon and Janet had successfully purchased the triplex penthouse in this building earlier in the month.
The previous owner was a major shareholder in a confectionery company who was selling the property to raise funds for the struggling business. After the stock market crash, the company's situation worsened.
Since the owner didn't accept installments and demanded a full one-time payment, the final negotiated price was $11 million.
However, before the deal was finalized, the owner removed all the expensive furniture, carpets, and artwork originally intended to be included, which was one of the conditions for negotiating the price down to $11 million. Simon didn't like the original style of the apartment and planned to renovate.
Now.
Leading James Rebhorn and the others into the duplex apartment and seeing the empty living room, Simon was suddenly reminded of the rental house in Montana where Janet had helped him settle initially.
Although the place was bare, Simon still had the counter-surveillance team perform a check. Confirming it was clean, Janet left to purchase some temporary furniture. Simon, the Reboulds, and the others went up to the apartment's rooftop terrace.
This had previously been a rooftop garden of about forty square meters. All the original plants and flowers had been removed, leaving it also feeling somewhat empty. Naturally, no one was concerned about such details at the moment.
After submitting Westeros Corporation's recent months of index futures and stock trading records to the two agencies as required, Simon had kept copies, which were in the suitcase Janet had just brought from The Plaza Hotel.
Even before receiving George Norman's call, James had carefully read today's newspapers about Simon's index futures market operations. However, looking at the more detailed transaction records in his hands now, he still found it somewhat incredible.
From mid-May to late August, from the S&P 500 at 270 points to 330 points, clearing and switching positions within a 20-point range each time—Simon's operations were clearly meticulously calculated. Turning to short positions starting at 330 points—such timing wasn't something an average person could easily manage.
Subsequently, Simon's operations in October were even more stunning.
From October 1st to October 16th, over twelve trading days, building short positions at an average rate of about 2,000 contracts per day. The 26,700 short positions were completed on the trading day immediately before the crash. Then, after the crash on October 19th, Westeros Corporation's over twenty thousand short positions again very precisely capitalized on the market's only three days at the lowest index levels to close out.
Over five months.
It was as if he had foreseen the market's movements. Simon operated with precision along the S&P 500's rise and fall curve. After reviewing the materials, James found it difficult to find an accurate word to describe what he had just seen.
A miracle?
Even a miracle might not be this miraculous!
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