Chapter 492: Chapter 492

From somewhere down the street, the wail of police sirens cut through the city, though it had no connection to Richard or his banking affairs though.

"I guess it’s better to set the £20 million to Asia instead of the U.S. stock and futures," Richard mumbled.

Taylor Smith was surprised. "So, we’re shifting it to Asia instead of the U.S.?"

"Let me borrow your computer," Richard said before taking over the computer from him

After that, he started typing, and soon the bold headline [Iraq Disarmament Crisis] appeared, followed by several pages of detailed analysis on the U.S. Congress passing the Iraq Liberation Act, which stated that the United States wanted to remove Saddam Hussein from power and replace his government with democratic institutions.

"Yeah, I guess so," Richard said decisively.

When Smith looked at the news Richard was reading, he was surprised. "Are you saying it will severely impact the market?"

Richard shook his head. "Not really—it won’t have that big an impact. But definitely, the other grass is greener over there than here."

Moreover, in the U.S., there were less than two years left until the next presidential election, which meant...’Democrats and Republicans are going at each other’s throats again. The election must be getting close,’ Richard muttered to himself

The current U.S. president, Bill Clinton, after making such bold moves in Iraq, would definitely face a tough battle in the upcoming election. Political opposition was already mounting, and with the anti-incumbent sentiment growing, his position was far from secure.

Well, it doesn’t matter. Richard quickly erased the amusement from his face, adopting a serious tone.

"What’s your opinion on Asian countries?"

The 1997 Asian financial crisis gripped much of East and Southeast Asia during the late 1990s. The crisis began in Thailand in July 1997 before spreading to several other countries, creating a ripple effect and raising fears of a worldwide economic meltdown due to financial contagion.

Smith’s brows furrowed slightly at the unexpected question. "I’m not sure what you mean."

"To be more precise, I’m asking how you view the economic situation of Japan, South Korea, China to developing Asian nations like Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia."

It was obvious that he had a deeper reason for bringing this up, but Smith couldn’t quite grasp what it was. He subtly watched Richard’s expression, then carefully replied,

"Well... all three have experienced rapid economic growth over the past decade, haven’t they?"

A cryptic smile formed on Richard’s lips.

"Is that so? To me, they look like reckless nouveau riche, partying on the edge of a cliff—popping champagne bottles with borrowed money."

"Did you say nouveau riche standing on the edge of a cliff?"

Receiving the gaze, Richard curled his lips into a sly smile and said, "Or perhaps the expression ’a flock of sheep covered in thick wool’ might be more fitting."

"...Wait a moment," Smith said, rising from his seat, leaving Richard with Rodney, who seemed to understand what he wanted to do.

"Sure," Richard also rose from the sofa and headed toward the one in the back.

As the Asia crisis spread, other Southeast Asian countries, and later Japan and South Korea, saw slumping currencies, devalued stock markets and other asset prices, and a precipitous rise in private debt.

Until then, Asia had attracted almost half of the total capital inflow into developing countries.

The economies of Southeast Asia, in particular, maintained high interest rates, which were attractive to foreign investors seeking high returns. As a result, the region’s economies received a large inflow of money and experienced a dramatic run-up in asset prices.

Just as Richard was settling into his more comfortable spot, suddenly, something happened in the private banking floor

Out of nowhere, four furious clients stormed in, led by a man whose face was red with anger.

"You think you can just sit here while we lose millions?!" one bellowed, slamming a thick folder onto the desk.

Papers jumped into the air, spilling across the polished surface. The room erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped loudly against the floor as people jumped to their feet. Phones rang unanswered, and the hum of computers was drowned out by shouting.

"No one needs to do anything rash, sir," said the security guard, raising his hands and trying to assert some control.

But one of the clients grabbed a chair and shoved it toward the wall, then spun around, pointing a finger at Richard. "We trusted you! And this is what happens?!"

Another stepped in between Richard and the enraged client, trying to calm the situation. "Let’s all just—"

But another client interrupted, waving documents wildly. "Calm? Calm won’t bring our money back!"

Richard frowned. He knew any wrong move could escalate things further. He glanced at Smith—still nowhere in sight. Just as he was about to leave, thankfully, his four bodyguards arrived, and he sighed in relief.

"Sir, maybe we should leave here. Things aren’t looking too good over there," one of the bodyguards said cautiously.

"What do you mean? You know what happened?" Richard asked.

"You don’t want to know, sir. Not just here... on the first floor in the lobby, some furious clients stormed in with a gas can."

Richard’s eyes widened in shock. "Are you serious?"

"That’s why we hurried over here. Police cars, sirens... it was a madhouse. How did you not hear?"

"Oh... so that’s why I kept hearing sirens earlier?"

The bodyguard clicked his tongue in disbelief. ’Man, you’re dense! Sigh, Rich people... surviving in the wild must be a nightmare for them.’

Of course, didn’t dare say it out loud.

"Yes, sir. Even if it was just downstairs, how could you miss all that chaos?"

"I was in a meeting, okay? When you’re focused on polishing shoes, you tend to tune everything out," Richard said, giving his bodyguard a sharp side glance.

"Oh, sure... yes, sir," the bodyguard replied, realizing Richard was annoyed, and wisely ended the little debate.

Still curious, Richard leaned in closer. "So, what was all the fuss about?"

"If someone’s causing a scene at a brokerage, there’s only one reason."

Suddenly, a voice was heard—it was Mr. Relationship Manager, who had just returned. Richard nodded before turning his attention back to the chaos again.

Smith handed a document to Richard. He nodded, keeping it close to him.

"Given that we had an active brokerage and trading business, we were aware of several cases involving dealings with other market makers," Smith explained. "So, a broker might use us as a conduit for their schemes. Apparently, one of the brokers convinced his clients that he had inside information on a stock that was about to skyrocket."

"A pump-and-dump scheme?"

Smith nodded. "You’ve been around long enough to know—real stock manipulation is done quietly, in the shadows."

"Right," Richard nodded too.

Smith sighed, "But this guy was running his mouth all over the place. Should’ve been obvious it was a scam. How could they not see that?"

"Maybe they trusted him. And if someone dangles the chance to make big money, it’s easy to get blinded by greed."

"Still, you have to be skeptical! Just hearing about it makes my blood boil."

Shaking his head, Smith clicked his tongue. "Well, I guess it’s not that easy to spot a con when someone’s really determined to scam you."

"So, what happened in the end?"

"The usual. The scammer took all the money and fled overseas. The victims stormed into us demanding compensation, saying our firm had washed its hands of it. But brokers use banks to place money or handle securities, not to carry out the real transactions—unless they’re using our securities, right?"

"So that’s how it is," Richard said, finally understanding.

When a client gives money to a broker to buy stocks, bonds, or other securities, that money usually doesn’t sit in the broker’s personal account. Instead, the broker deposits it in a segregated client account at a bank. This keeps client funds separate from the broker’s own operating funds, which is required by regulatory authorities.

Richard then turned to Smith. "But the bank is regulated to prevent misuse of client funds. If a broker were to misuse client funds, it could lead to fraud charges, lawsuits, or massive reputational damage for both the broker and the bank."

Richard immediately saw the loophole in Smith’s explanation.

"Originally, yes," Smith explained. "But the deal was unofficial, conducted entirely off the books. One of their employees convinced a few clients to funnel money into a ’special opportunity’ through his own channels, outside of the bank’s formal systems. The bank never authorized the trades, never touched the money, and never held legal responsibility."

Only then did Richard understand why Barclays had washed their hands of it. Since it was an unofficial deal, they said it wasn’t their responsibility.

"So the victim snapped and caused a scene," he added.

"Good thing it didn’t go further—if he’d actually set fire to the place, it would’ve been a disaster. No kidding. People like that scammer need to be swept out of the industry for good."

Smit exhaled deeply, then turned to Richard with a serious expression. "You better not get tangled up in that kind of mess."

"Oh, come on. Someone like me? A stock scheme?"

"But you invest in stocks too, don’t you?"

"That’s just a little hobby—something I dabble in for fun."

Still, Smith didn’t relax his stern expression. "Gambling always starts with a few small bets for fun. Next thing you know, you’re selling your house and your land, losing everything."

Richard was about to joke back but clamped his mouth shut when he saw the serious look on Smit’s face.

"Did I ever tell you about a guy I knew who got involved in a stock scheme and ended up dead?"

"...That really happened?"

Smith nodded, his expression turning bitter as if recalling an unpleasant memory. "Yeah. He was drinking late, stepped out to catch a taxi, and got stabbed to death by some thugs."

Hearing this for the first time, Richard leaned in, listening intently. Even his four bodyguards were paying attention, as if hearing a dark tale.

"At first, everyone thought it was just a random robbery gone wrong. But it wasn’t."

"A few days later, the police caught two suspects. Turns out, one of them was his coworker."

The shocking twist hit Richard like something straight out of a crime drama. His eyes widened in disbelief. Smith’s voice grew heavier as he continued.

"The coworker owed him two thousand in debt. And he knew that the victim had hundreds of thousands of pounds in client funds through a secret account. So, he planned to steal it."

"Wow..." Richard was speechless.

"He even promised his accomplice a ten thousand to carry out the murder."

"...It’s all bullshit."

"Think about it. If he was trying to steal money, why didn’t he kidnap the guy or at least force him to transfer the funds? Why just stab him outright?"

Now that he mentioned it, killing the victim wouldn’t get them access to the secret account. Something didn’t add up.

"That’s... actually true."

"The whole ’money theft’ excuse was just a cover. The real motive was to silence him."

"Yeah." The rıghtful source is N0veI.Fiɾe.net

Smith paused for a moment, his face hardening. He picked up his coffee cup—long cold now—and took a slow sip before continuing.

"I think I know the reason."

Richard raised an eyebrow, waiting for the puzzle to be completed.

"At the time, if I remember correctly, the victim worked for GN Netcom. He had discovered critical flaws in the filings and was preparing to assert his company’s claim over one of their patent technologies. Naturally, that made him a target."

Instantly, Richard perked up.

"The timing... it does seem strange," Smith continued, leaning forward. "Even without a direct connection, the circumstances were too coincidental to ignore. The most absurd part?" He paused. "Despite all the suspicious activity, the case was quietly closed."

"How is that even possible?" Richard asked, clearly baffled.

Smith’s eyes darkened. "The dead tell no tales." He then leaned in. "The mastermind behind it was someone powerful," he said, his voice low.

"I don’t know exactly. But it was an American company, they said."

Richard stayed silent for a moment before asking, "Do you know what patent it was?"

"Audio compression technology,"