been booking a holiday for all Jonah could tell, or at least it sounded that way when he closed his eyes. It was only when he really watched him that he could see the focus.
One thing that Franky and the others hadn’t told Jonah was that the Baron didn’t write tickets for his trades. He just looked at Jonah and told him the deals directly. He’d say things like “40k short Anglo at 1254,” and Jonah would have to deduce the meaning. Fortunately, Franky helped him get started, explaining the traders’ language to him as they went along. “40k short Anglo at 1254” meant that he had sold (short) forty thousand (K) shares of Anglo American (a massive mining company) at a price of 1,254 pence.
Pretty soon the Baron gave up even looking at Jonah, such was his confidence in his abilities. He just spoke the orders out loud, so Jonah had to have his ears open to conversation, his eyes on the tickets, and his fingers on the keyboard, all just to keep up. Still, Jonah found the whole thing exhilarating. It was like a race at school, but far more intoxicating. There was the same thrill of leaving everyone in his dust, but this set every nerve ending on fire in a way that Jonah had never previously experienced.
Without meaning to, Jonah slipped into a style of working in which he used his right hand to input the Baron’s trades and his left to do the rest. That way he could keep his eyes on the tickets, and when he heard the Baron announce a trade, he could lift hisleft hand up and switch to his right so that there was a division in his information processing.
“How the hell do you do that?” Franky exclaimed. She was standing behind Jonah, double-checking his work when she caught sight of Jonah’s incredible speed and dexterity. Jonah acknowledged the question with a shrug, so focused was he on the task at hand. But inside he felt an indescribable electricity, as if every fiber of his being was telling him that this was what he’d always been meant to do.
“My work here is done,” Franky said more to herself than to Jonah, though she did give him a punch in the shoulder for maximum effect. Then she went off to collect more tickets, only returning to Jonah’s side for any real length of time when he needed her help to read a trader’s writing. Dog’s scrawl, in particular, was horribly appalling, but a few of the others weren’t much better. Jonah was a bit apprehensive the first time he called her over for additional assistance—he’d thought she’d been glad to leave him to his own devices. But if anything, it seemed like, contrary to her behavior yesterday, she was actually quite relieved when her help was required. Every so often she’d say things like, “Ah! You still need me?” and “Not an expert yet, huh?” And while Jonah couldn’t be sure, it felt like as the morning wore on, her words took on a slight bite.
At ten fifteen A.M. David Lightbody appeared at the desk. “We’re going to have to leave soon, Jonah,” he said.
Jonah turned around. “No, Dad, not again.”
His father looked around, his expression a mix of disgust and intense apprehension as he took in the frenzied activity. “I have another client meeting, Jonah. And I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself.”
“Who with?” Jonah asked.
“Huh?”
“Who’s your meeting with? Is it that Russian guy again, Scrotycz?”
His dad shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who it’s with. I said it’s time to go.”
Jonah resumed typing. “Dad, I’m inputting trades.”
David sighed. “Are they being nice to you?”
“Really nice.”
“What are you trading?”
The Baron had told Jonah not to tell anyone what they in the Bunker were doing. He’d sat him down and said, “Loyalty, Jonah. That’s what I expect. Even if it’s your dad.”
So Jonah shrugged. “No idea, Dad. It’s just numbers to me.”
“Hmm …” David replied.
Jonah smiled to himself, his attention still on the
One thing that Franky and the others hadn’t told Jonah was that the Baron didn’t write tickets for his trades. He just looked at Jonah and told him the deals directly. He’d say things like “40k short Anglo at 1254,” and Jonah would have to deduce the meaning. Fortunately, Franky helped him get started, explaining the traders’ language to him as they went along. “40k short Anglo at 1254” meant that he had sold (short) forty thousand (K) shares of Anglo American (a massive mining company) at a price of 1,254 pence.
Pretty soon the Baron gave up even looking at Jonah, such was his confidence in his abilities. He just spoke the orders out loud, so Jonah had to have his ears open to conversation, his eyes on the tickets, and his fingers on the keyboard, all just to keep up. Still, Jonah found the whole thing exhilarating. It was like a race at school, but far more intoxicating. There was the same thrill of leaving everyone in his dust, but this set every nerve ending on fire in a way that Jonah had never previously experienced.
Without meaning to, Jonah slipped into a style of working in which he used his right hand to input the Baron’s trades and his left to do the rest. That way he could keep his eyes on the tickets, and when he heard the Baron announce a trade, he could lift hisleft hand up and switch to his right so that there was a division in his information processing.
“How the hell do you do that?” Franky exclaimed. She was standing behind Jonah, double-checking his work when she caught sight of Jonah’s incredible speed and dexterity. Jonah acknowledged the question with a shrug, so focused was he on the task at hand. But inside he felt an indescribable electricity, as if every fiber of his being was telling him that this was what he’d always been meant to do.
“My work here is done,” Franky said more to herself than to Jonah, though she did give him a punch in the shoulder for maximum effect. Then she went off to collect more tickets, only returning to Jonah’s side for any real length of time when he needed her help to read a trader’s writing. Dog’s scrawl, in particular, was horribly appalling, but a few of the others weren’t much better. Jonah was a bit apprehensive the first time he called her over for additional assistance—he’d thought she’d been glad to leave him to his own devices. But if anything, it seemed like, contrary to her behavior yesterday, she was actually quite relieved when her help was required. Every so often she’d say things like, “Ah! You still need me?” and “Not an expert yet, huh?” And while Jonah couldn’t be sure, it felt like as the morning wore on, her words took on a slight bite.
At ten fifteen A.M. David Lightbody appeared at the desk. “We’re going to have to leave soon, Jonah,” he said.
Jonah turned around. “No, Dad, not again.”
His father looked around, his expression a mix of disgust and intense apprehension as he took in the frenzied activity. “I have another client meeting, Jonah. And I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself.”
“Who with?” Jonah asked.
“Huh?”
“Who’s your meeting with? Is it that Russian guy again, Scrotycz?”
His dad shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who it’s with. I said it’s time to go.”
Jonah resumed typing. “Dad, I’m inputting trades.”
David sighed. “Are they being nice to you?”
“Really nice.”
“What are you trading?”
The Baron had told Jonah not to tell anyone what they in the Bunker were doing. He’d sat him down and said, “Loyalty, Jonah. That’s what I expect. Even if it’s your dad.”
So Jonah shrugged. “No idea, Dad. It’s just numbers to me.”
“Hmm …” David replied.
Jonah smiled to himself, his attention still on the
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