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She’s smiling so wide, her eyes simmer close.
She claps her hands with glee and says, “Bring everyone in.”
I nod and do so as instructed.
With all of us in the room staring at her, she begins.
“The Lucchese’s did what all mafia families do. They legitimized. But once they started getting more white money, what did they do? They started a conglomerate - construction, paint, and manufacturing machinery. They then
proceeded to list the company publically.”
Shit. Why hadn’t I thought of this? I know exactly what she’s suggesting.
“How much money would you need?” I ask her.
“Tomorrow, buy stocks worth 200 million,” she says.
“Buy these through a network of individuals so they can’t be traced back to us for illegal practices. The stocks will rise... right? It will cause a spike in demand, and their share values will go up because more and more people
would end up following your lead, so you’d already have stocks in your hand at a higher price.”
“And then?”
“And then we sell it when the shares are up. The minute you start selling such large quantities, what happens?”
“The stock prices fall.”
“Exactly,” says Emily.
“But we don’t just dump it and take the money; we make it crash so that it’s clear that revenge has been served.”
“How?” I ask.
“By playing the largest players. Tomorrow night, there’s an investor’s party at Sal Lucchese’s. I can plant altered financial statements for the company into whatever briefcases I find. Once people see that their financials are bad,
they, too, would start selling. Your sales, and theirs, would tank the stock and hit them where it hurts the most,” she says.
“But what about innocent people who own the stocks?” I ask.
“I looked into it. Most of the stocks are in a mutual fund. Their bets will be hedged. Majority shareholders are cousins of the Luccheses,” says Emily.
“But Emily,” I say, “Let’s stick to the buy and sell. But we don’t need revenge. It’s too dangerous. None of us can walk into the Lucchese’s just like that.”
“But I can,” she says.
There’s a moment of stunned silence as we all turn to look at her.
“You can?” I asked, disbelief coloring my voice.
“You can’t just walk into their place and drop those statements,” I say.
“You could get killed.”
“I’m not afraid,” she replies, her voice steady and confident.
“I can blend in. I can do this.”
I look at her, really look at her, and see the fire in her eyes.
