From legendary short seller to god of American capital

Chapter 322: Getting 5% of Kodak Stock for Free

Chapter 322: Getting 5% of Kodak Stock for Free (Epilogue)

The following week, Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley's Whitney conducted a professional and meticulous corporate breakup.

The acquisition plan involved Larry's Manhattan Associates acquiring Bausch & Lomb, with payment then made through a Morgan syndicate account. The equity injection and conversion were extremely complicated; after the injection, three more companies needed to be spun off from Manhattan Associates, which involved precise and complex equity arrangements.

It also involves payment and various legal issues.

Fortunately, Larry brought along people from Goldman Sachs. Although they hadn't gone through a leveraged acquisition before, Goldman Sachs' "power" came from the US dollar. Larry simply entrusted Goldman Sachs with all related services, such as contacting local lawyers, liaising with various parties for asset restructuring and divestiture, and handling bank liquidation. However, he also had to pay a 1.8% service fee, which at least increased Goldman Sachs' profit on this deal to over $2.

But there's no way around it; professional tasks should be handled by professionals. Besides, the company is paying for it, so we can settle the accounts with Eastman later.

Getting a company for free is only fair, so paying some handling fees is reasonable.

After a week, the follow-up procedures were handled by Goldman Sachs. Mr. Whitney's work was finished, and he had to return to New York. Larry, who had also grown tired of staying there, decided to go back to New York with him.

Before leaving, Larry met with George Eastman.

The two met at Kodak's office.

Eastman saw Larry and a meaningful, faint smile appeared on his face. Two days earlier, Bausch & Lomb had received a report from the U.S. Navy, a semi-formal notification that Bausch & Lomb was not allowed to be majority-owned by foreign capital, otherwise the U.S. Navy would permanently revoke its status as a military supplier.

What impressed Eastman wasn't the U.S. Navy report, but the handsome, blue-eyed young man before him. How had he gotten in touch with the military? And what kind of background did his family have?

Of course, these were all Eastman's inner thoughts; when he met Larry, he was still very polite.

"What? Not planning to stay in Rochester anymore? Tired of the lake fish?"

Larry chuckled and shook his head. "My God! This is the longest I've spent in the third city in America, after Boston and New York. Rochester may be great, but I have to take my leave now—I have business to attend to back in New York!"

"Alright, then I'll work with the Goldman Sachs team to finalize the liquidation of Bausch & Lomb's shares and other financial matters—" Eastman said, a smile playing on Larry's lips. "Don't worry! I'll handle every single detail of this deal perfectly. You've done me a huge favor. I won't let you down."

"We're all brothers!" Larry laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Oh, right!" Eastman remembered something, turned around and took out a thick stack of stocks from the safe, carefully counted them, and handed them to Larry.

"This is 5% of Kodak's stock. The transfer of equity in your two investment companies has already been completed. These are the shares I promised to give you. It is an honor for Kodak to have a shareholder like you."

Larry accepted the Kodak stock certificates with both hands, examined them carefully, and then handed them to Mr. K beside him, instructing him to put them in his briefcase.

"Keep up the good work, George! I think you're on the right track with cameras. Kodak will become a great company," Larry said with a smile.

"I hope everything goes as you wish!" Eastman pushed up his glasses with his finger and smiled.

"Okay! I'll be going then—please contact me if you need anything later, or have someone from Goldman Sachs find me." Larry smiled and extended his hand to shake Eastman's, his smile softening.

The two shook hands and parted ways. Larry walked to the door, then suddenly remembered something and turned to Eastman, saying, "Remember your eye condition. Now, the lens grinders and researchers at Bausch & Lomb are all under your command. Remember to have them give you priority in researching sunglasses."

Eastman nodded, raising an eyebrow at Larry, and said, "Don't worry! Oh, and by the way, I'll also urge them to speed up the research on your military projects, and that thing—the movie projector, oh, haha. Do you really think that thing has potential?"

Larry nodded and said, "Didn't you tell Jack Morgan before that you liked this?"

"Perhaps, but for me, I always feel this machine is too wasteful of submitting papers—" Eastman replied.

"Okay—I hope that one day your film rolls will sell very well because of this machine." Larry waved to him lightly, then turned and walked away.

He left Kodak and Rochester.

Two days later, at Rochester Pier, on the Resilient passenger ship.

Amidst the morning mist and the long blast of the ship's horn, the passenger ship had entered Lake Ontario and was about to enter the Atlantic Ocean. Herzog stood by the deck railing, clutching an ebony cigar box—inside which were no cigars, but a "Confirmation of Transfer of Scientific Optics" stamped with wax seals from Manhattan and Bausch & Lomb.

The wind blew from the lake, carrying the smell of coal smoke and an indescribable sense of frustration.

"We still lost—" Herzog said in German.

Behind him, Louis Schmeisser approached, wearing a trench coat, his gold-rimmed glasses fogged up. "No!"

Dear Sir, you have received what Bausch & Lomb deserved, which is also what Zeiss intended.

Herzog said with a wry smile, "He cut Bausch & Lomb into three pieces, yet made us willingly take the lightest piece. Microscopes? Telescopes? Those are just museum specimens! And he—took the military part, and we still have to cooperate in selling him glass."

At this point, Schmeisser couldn't help but say, "Seriously, how did he come up with this idea of ​​transshipping goods from Canada? I've been in America for so long, how come I never thought of it?"

Herzog nodded slightly. "A simple entrepot trade, just passing through a warehouse, saves a lot of taxes. I feel like he's born with a knack for this—probably from a shipping family? Growing up surrounded by it?"

"But he can still contact the U.S. Navy—" Schmeisser couldn't help but emphasize.

Herzog frowned slightly and shook his head, saying, "I don't understand—never mind! I'll leave this to you. After all, you're the Empire's informant in America."

Schmeisser nodded and said with a smile, "In a while—I need to go back to Europe first. I heard that the Belgian company FN has acquired some firearms in the United States that are worth distributing. This is my most important task. I need to get this sorted out first."

After saying that, Schmeisser looked into the distance and saw white waterbirds soaring freely between the water and the sky.

Herzog nodded and turned to leave. But he stopped abruptly and said casually to Schmeisser, "Oh—right, that—"

Before he could finish speaking, the other party nodded knowingly. "I know, you can rest assured about this. I will take care of it once the ship enters Canadian territory."

Herzog patted him on the shoulder, took the cigar box in one hand, and turned back to the cabin.

Schmeisser lingered by the stern railing for a long time before letting out a soft sigh. "Larry Livingston, what a troublesome little fellow. If only you were German. We could have so much to work with—"

Thinking of this, Schmeisser pictured that handsome face and his deep blue eyes.

He then turned around, quickly slipped into the cabin, and went down the stairs to a dark room on the ground floor.

A cargo hold on the lower deck of the cruise ship had been temporarily converted into an interrogation room. A short man wearing a shirt was chained up with thin iron chains; he had already fainted.

Schmeisser walked over and gently kicked the man's face with his shoe, but the man didn't react.

Schmeisser coldly ordered his men in the room, "Wake him up with cold water—"

Stab it!

A basin of icy seawater was poured over the short man's face, jolting him awake and causing him to cough loudly incessantly.

After a while, the man recovered and looked around, as if he didn't know where he was. After a while, his gaze focused on Schmeisser, and then a look of extreme terror appeared on his face.

"Mr. Schmeisser—you, you have to let me explain!"

Schmeisser ignored him and instead asked coldly, "During your time in Rochester, did you ever meet with Livingston alone?"

"No! I've never seen him before. I only know him as one of his henchmen, the one with the scar on his face." The other person's voice was trembling with tears.

"What's his name?"

"Old K!"

"I asked for your real name!"

"His real name is Old K, that's what he, he said—anyway, that's what everyone calls him."

Schmeisser rubbed his forehead, as if trying to calm himself down. After a while, he asked again.

"How much did they pay you for the information? In other words, how much did you get for revealing your husband's whereabouts?"

The short man's face was long and contrite, and he hurriedly pulled a wad of US dollars from his shirt pocket, stammering, "A total of $216! And I had a few drinks with them—"

Schmeisser frowned deeply. "How come there are whole numbers and decimals—"

"The $200 was the reward, and the $16 was what Old K lost to me—I swear to God, that's all. We met over drinks, really—I've been in Rochester for so long and haven't had a drink until he invited me for a whiskey—Sir, I was wrong! I'll never do it again."

Schmeisser's face was ashen, but he couldn't help rubbing his forehead. "Damn idiot—bought off for a mere $200, and lost his life in the process. Didn't you think about the consequences?"

The little boy, his face filled with terror, hurriedly said, "No! No, sir, you can't—I, I was wrong, I'll change, okay?"

Schmeisser looked up at the sky, speechless.

"Does he have any other leads? Including that guy called Old K—" Schmeisser decided to give the other party one last chance.

The short man thought for a moment, then quickly said, "He said that cigars must be brushed with whiskey to enhance the flavor; he, he also said he's very familiar with famous wines from all over Europe, so I guess he used to be—he was—"

pirate?"

"Fuck you!" Schmeisser couldn't hold back any longer and kicked the other man in the chin. The short man cried out in pain and spat out blood and teeth.

Schmeisser waved for his men to take the man away. Before leaving, he said to the man, "In Germany, there are two ways to die for betrayal: hanging or silence. I've chosen for you; choose the latter."

After the little boy was led away, whimpering, with a wad of burlap stuffed into his mouth, Schmeisser finally let out a long sigh of relief, releasing his pent-up frustration.

"Wait for me to come back, wait for me to come back from Europe—Livingston, and that guy called Old K, I'll find out who you really are!" Schmeisser pursed his lips tightly.

At midnight, the short man was taken to the lifeboat area at the stern of the ship.

The night was deep, and the sound of the waves was like thunder.

No one saw what happened. Only the next day, a sailor complained to the first mate, "I don't know who did it, but a lifeboat is missing a weighted sandbag."

Almost at the same time.

Larry's own room in the Dakota apartment.

Larry Livingston locked the door, drew the curtains, and even hushed the flame in the gaslight, as if even a single crackle of the flame would disturb the ghosts of Wall Street.

He dragged a heavy oak box from under the bed, opened the lid, and a burst of golden light almost blinded him.

"A total of $15 in gold coins—" he murmured, his fingers fiddling with the pile of coins like a farmer counting grains of wheat. "Two dollars short, just two dollars short of rounding up! These Boers, they're so picky about even the smallest change."

He grabbed a handful of silver dollars and a jumble of gold coins, tossing them into the air—clinking and tinkling like raindrops falling on a silver plate. One rolled onto the carpet, and he dove down to chase it, only to knock over the coffee table. The teacup flew off the table and shattered on the floor, tiny fragments scattering everywhere.

Larry ignored it, took the gold coin, covered his head, and lay down on his back in the pile of coins, letting the gold coin dig painfully into his back.

I'm a greedy dragon again!

Larry squinted at the ceiling, a barely suppressed smile on his face. Before he was rich, he had fantasized about what he might do when he had money—perhaps indulging in lustful women, perhaps indulging in extravagant spending, or even secretly developing some bad habits—

But in fact, Larry discovered this little quirk of his. Lying on gold coins gave him an unprecedented sense of satisfaction and security. It was as if the gold coins beneath him weren't metal, but velvet.

Damn it, I didn't even know I had this strange problem in my past life—oh, of course, I was so poor in my past life I'd never even seen a gold coin—

Larry lay there for a full fifteen minutes before finally sitting up, still feeling unsatisfied.

The private contractor had already installed a safe compartment in his upstairs room, but since he had just moved into the Dakota apartment, he hadn't fully equipped himself with safes and such yet.

Larry bent down to look at the gold coins beneath him, a smile spreading across his face. After a long while, he sighed and gathered all the coins into a wooden box, casually slipping two Sovereign gold coins into his pocket. Perhaps in his haste, Larry's trousers ripped open with a sharp sound.

Larry didn't care and pushed the oak chest full of gold coins back under the bed. After confirming that everything was in place, he finally buried his head in his hands and lay back down on his soft bed.

"I'm here! I see it! I—no, I have to keep a low profile, I mustn't rush—" Larry smiled as he looked at the moon outside the window.

Before long, he pulled out a black velvet bag from under his pillow, reached in with two fingers, and took out a raw diamond that was a full carat. He held it up to his eyes and looked at the moon to watch the strange luster it emitted.

"No wonder some people like diamonds—it makes me want to study optical refractive index too!"

>