World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

Mark looked sceptical. "But there are always conflicts and wars happening and the stock trends don't really react."

Sam, on the other hand, looked much more interested. "You mean the state of affairs with Iraq? Do you think there will be a war? That they won't comply with the United Nation's resolutions?"

"I'm predicting an all-out invasion." I told them.

The room became very quiet.

I continued, "The tension has been building since 9/11. The US was already accusing them of terrorism and lately President Bush presented evidence of Iraq's alleged weapons of mass destruction programs and has said that UN has been too lenient on them. I think that they won't be leaving it to the UN anymore."

Sam weighed the information. "It does make sense. But don't you think they might just continue with the cold war tactics?"

I shook my head. "The media has been extremely vocal about this situation. The majority of people are in favor of taking action, especially since 9/11. The build-up is too significant to ignore."

Mark, who was listening all the time, leaned in, "Do you have any concrete evidence?"

"I will give you an irrefutable argument: The Pentagon recently awarded a $500 million contract to Halliburton's Kellogg, Brown & Root division for logistical support and oil field repairs in the region near Iraq."

I continued. "There's been a steady stream of reports about resources and military assets being relocated. They're moving troops and equipment into the Gulf region, and I'm almost certain we'll see military exercises there soon. The U.S. and its allies are positioning themselves for a significant military operation..."

Mark leaned in, a hint of impatience in his voice. "If you're so damn sure about this, why aren't we pulling the trigger now instead of waiting until January? Why not start stacking up positions right away?"

I met his gaze. "Most of the military sector's stocks aren't going to show any immediate fireworks. What's crucial here are the contracts. The real money will come when those government contracts start rolling in, right before the war starts."

I took out a piece of paper from my suitcase. "I'll give you a list of a dozen or so companies that I'm betting will snag those government deals. If even one of these companies lands a contract, we're looking at serious gains." I concluded.

Mark nodded.

"Mind if I use your setup for a moment?" I asked him.

"Go ahead."

I sat down and started searching for companies in the defense sector. My memory was a bit hazy, so I relied on intuition, writing down names that were somehow ingrained in my mind.

Meaning that not all of them would actually hit the jackpot.

After a few minutes, I handed Mark the list.

He glanced at it. "Got it. I'll start tracking these."

I turned to Sam. "Sam, do you have a printer I could use?"

Sam nodded and stood up.

I looked back at the traders on the floor. "See you guys."

With that, I followed Sam out of the trading floor and then used their printer to print out the logs of my brokerage account that I could present to Charles Schwab.

After finishing up at Johnson Trading Corp., I went downstairs to my car, and drove off.

'I will go to Charles Schwab, but before that, there's something else I want to do—someone I need to threaten.' I thought.

I know that there was no reason at all for me to do this...

I know that at this time, the man probably didn't do anything wrong yet...

But my conscience was screaming.

I drove to a more suburban area, to a spot where one could see homeless men on the sidewalk. I drove a little further down, to a quieter area and got out of the car.

I saw a homeless man huddled against a brick wall. His beard was scruffy, and his long dark hair was a tangled mess. He lay on a piece of cardboard, wrapped in a thin, worn blanket.

I walked up to him cautiously. "Hello?" I called out to him

The man stirred groggily and squinted up at me, clearly surprised that someone was talking to him.

But soon his face went from confusion to a hopeful sort of desperation. "Sir," he began, his voice rough but earnest, "could you help with $5?"

I crouched down to his level, noticing the wary glint in his eyes.

'Now that I look closer, he can't be older than 30.' I thought.

"I'll give you more than that," I said, "But first, I'd like to know why you're out here. "

The man hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I was caught stealing a car. I've been out for about a year now, but I haven't been able to find any work. The job market hasn't been kind to me."

'No shit.' I thought.

I nodded. "I'll give you $500 if you do something for me," I said, making sure to meet his gaze firmly.

His eyes widened. "Five hundred dollars? But..." He shifted uneasily. "I am not going to do anything illegal. I don't want to end up back in prison."

"It won't be anything that would land you in prison. I guarantee there's no way you'll get caught. I just need you to write something on someone's car window. That's all."

"I'll do it." He didn't hesitate. "Just tell me what I need to write and where."

I handed him fifty dollars and took a moment to pat him down to ensure he didn't have any weapons.

I gestured for him to get into the passenger seat of my Mustang.

The smell inside the car was absolutely horrid, but I tried to ignore it. I had no intention of doing the deed myself.

I drove to a nearby shop and while I stayed in the car, I made him buy a can of red spray paint, paying in cash.

Next, I drove closer to the University of Central Florida.

...this is the place where my sister's killer goes to college.

I found a quiet street a few blocks away from the campus.

I parked the car and turned to the man, handing over another hundred dollars. "Two streets away from here is the WestUnion Dorm. In the parking lot, look for a red Ford Mustang Roush 360R with a white stripe going down the middle and with the license plate ORL 457S."

He nodded.

"Don't think of running away or not following through..." My tone turned serious. "I'll find you... I have connections that make it very easy to track people down. Now, go. I'll give you the rest of the money when you get back."

I had some experience. Being a part of the Johnson family business wasn't far off from being a Mafia member.

He swallowed hard. "But... you didn't tell me what to write on that car's window."

Fuck... I forgot.

"Write, 'STAY AWAY FROM WAHNETA OR I WILL CUT YOUR DICK OFF.'"

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