Insider Tweeting

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Someone is manipulating the direction of the stock market for their own gain. I wonder who and how?

Submitted: June 15, 2018

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Submitted: June 15, 2018



The setting for this tale is at the Mall Grounds, Washington, DC, U.S.A.

It is just after dark and the Mall lights are glimmering on the water in the massive rectangular pool.

Surprisingly enough there are few people around, so a rather robust man in a dark gray overcoat is easily noticed. The man is walking hurriedly, so that makes him even more noticeable, but when he reaches a bench near the Lincoln Memorial he stops.

After looking around he pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and struck a match; his whiskey-red cheeks, neatly trimmed hair, and impeccable manicure were briefly seen in the light.

As he tossed the spent match aside he began pacing back and forth, puffing on his cigar at a steady pace; the smoke trail was reminiscent of the smoke trail from a steam-locomotive.

Suddenly a young woman in a business suite appeared, she appeared as if from nowhere and stood near enough to the man so he could hear her words. She asked, “Is that a Havana?"

The man with the cigar, still puffing away, turned but did not look directly at her. And as he stopped and removed the cigar from his lips, he stated, "No, it's a Virginia blend. I buy American."

The woman smiled and replied, "All this clock-and-dagger is wearing on my nerves. How about you?"

The man chuckled and replied, "I'm up to five cigars a day, and my usual is two. So, do you have anything for me today?"

The woman looked around as if she were looking for someone, then she said, "These are the Tweets that will be going out tomorrow, just after the Market closes; they will continue all through that evening and into the next morning. If these Tweets don't move the market, well, I don't know what will.

Oh, and please, tell your brokers to pace their trades this time. OK? If anyone notices and figures out what we're doing, well, all our gooses are cooked."

The man was caught by surprise, by her statement, and he laughed.

Then he tried to make it look as if he was coughing to cover up his blunder.

"Cough, cough! You mean OUR Gooses will be cooked," he stated. Your boss can always play his trump-card and resign, (cough), then he will just walk away with every dime that we've been putting in his off-shore accounts. Without full disclose, no-one will ever find a penny; cough, cough."

The woman held out her hand with what looked like nose tissues in it.

"Oh, tissues, gee thanks," the coughing man said with a smile.

Then the woman stated, "Hopefully, no-one is getting caught. Your copies of tomorrows Tweets are printed on the tissues ......"

The man sneezed into the tissues, blew his nose, and then asked, "What did you say?"

The woman replied with an air of hopelessness mixed into her words, "Oh, never mind, here are my copies of the tweets; use them."



D. Thurmond / JEF


© Copyright 2020 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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