Stones (Data) (9 page)

V
an Pelt flashes a glance at Ryzaard and nods.

Ryzaard points to the slate on the table in front of Alexa. She checks to make sure there is a signature from every director. The confidentiality agreements themselves don’t matter. It’s all part of a carefully managed show. Ryzaard has learned from experience that if you need people to do something, just make them part of a secret, or at least make them
think
they are part of a secret. Offer them a chance to be in the inner circle, and they will do whatever you ask.

Van Pelt stands and walks to the front of the desk and faces the directors. The show is about to begin.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation. I’m glad to have that unpleasant bit of business behind us. I trust that all of you have heard of Dr. Mikal Ryzaard.” Van Pelt opens one palm to the directors and motions to Ryzaard with the other. “He is now serving as Vice President of Trading Research at MX Financial, having replaced the prior vice president due to a rather unfortunate hunting accident.”

As if by a magnet, the directors’ eyes are drawn to Ryzaard.

Sudden pleasure buoys him up. The joy of the predator as its jaws sink into the prey. Judging from their feeble attempts at suppressing the fear on their faces, the directors are going to give him whatever he asks for.

“Allow me to introduce him.” Van Pelt turns to Ryzaard. “He has a matter of utmost importance to share with you tonight. I suggest you give him your full attention. You’ll be glad you did.”

Ryzaard suffers a slight smile to appear on his face as he nods to the chairman.

Lights darken in the boardroom. Van Pelt stands aside as the glass screen behind him lights up with a video image of Professor Ryzaard in his signature tweed jacket and bowtie writing briskly on an ancient blackboard, teaching a classroom full of eager university students. As he turns around, his broad smile is clearly visible.

The deep bass voice of the narrator begins to speak.

“Prior to coming to MX Global, Dr. Ryzaard was a distinguished professor of archeology at Oxford University.”

The walls around the directors came alive with images of a younger man with a black mustache and fewer lines on his face, dressed in khakis, a long-sleeved shirt and a canvas hat.

“In his long and distinguished career, Dr. Ryzaard has directed archeological digs around the world.”

A revolving earth appears on the screen. Red dots emerge around the globe. In turn, the screen zooms in on each location as it flashes a name and then the familiar image of Ryzaard, always with his khaki long-sleeved shirt and a team of college kids, engaged in excavation work. Baalbek, Lebanon. Persepolis, Iran. Pazyryk, Russia. Hierakonpolis, Egypt. Baga Gazaryn Chuluu, Mongolia. Ban Non Wat, Thailand. The list goes on.

“Dr. Ryzaard is well-known for his uncanny ability to precisely locate important sites and artifacts. His greatest professional achievement was the discovery of the lost tomb of Genghis Kahn.” A video shows Ryzaard standing on a grassy plain next to a large excavated site.

The directors stare at the image.

Ryzaard wonders if they notice the Stone in his hand.

“This caused considerable excitement in the world of archeology. A short time later, Dr. Ryzaard received a MacArthur Fellowship, commonly known as the
Genius Grant
, to support his work in archeology and elsewhere.” A predictable video comes up on the wall to the side of the directors. It shows Ryzaard in his tweed jacket and bowtie, smiling with an oversized check for $1,000,000. “This brought him to the attention of MX Global.”

The lights in the boardroom come back on.

Van Pelt has his hands together in a gesture of genteel pride. “So, you may be wondering what all of this,” he waves his hands at the glass walls around the directors, “has to do with the work of the corporation.” Resting his chin on the tips of his fingers, he narrows his eyes, and then looks up at the directors.

Ryzaard smiles at the performance.

“I ran into Dr. Ryzaard at an international conference on mathematical prediction theory a little over three years ago.” Van Pelt struts before the directors as if he fancies himself an Oxford professor delivering a lecture on thermodynamics. “Over lunch, we discussed the use of algorithms in predicting the location of ancient artifacts, such as his discovery of the Genghis Kahn burial site.”

Van Pelt stops, cocks his head to the side and strokes his chin with an index finger and thumb. “It occurred to me that these same algorithms might have application to other phenomena, such as stock and futures trading.” He stands silent and triumphant in front of the directors, letting his words sink in. “Dr. Ryzaard was intrigued with my suggestion. Apparently, he had never thought of this approach before speaking with me.” He glances at the side of the room where Ryzaard is sitting.

Ryzaard provides the obligatory nod, happy for now to forgive this wholly fictitious and one-sided telling of their encounter. The truth is that the meeting with Van Pelt was carefully orchestrated by Ryzaard so that he would walk away with a job offer. But none of that matters. As long as the directors vote in favor of the proposals that will soon come before them, all will be well. He won’t have to endure Van Pelt’s pompous presence beyond the end of the meeting.

The voice drones on. “So we brought Dr. Ryzaard to MX Financial a little over three years ago to test this hypothesis. Based on preliminary results, I ordered a new hedge fund to be set up for proprietary trading. And, as you all know, it has been a stunning success.”

The lights dim again.

An earnings chart for the last five years of MX Financial crawls along the wall in front of the directors. As it moves past them, the horizontal line hooks sharply upward at a point starting two years prior and continues on a steep trajectory.

“As a matter of fact, the trading program has worked so well for MX Financial that we’ve been forced to spread the profits around the entire corporate family to avoid unwanted attention.”

The wall to the right of the directors shows a familiar corporate organizational chart. MX Global is at the top. Below it, numerous subsidiary corporations fan out in both directions. The two largest subsidiaries, as all the directors know, are MX Scientific and MX Financial. One by one, the screen zooms in on a five-year earnings graph for each subsidiary. All have the same pattern, hooking up sharply during the last two years.

“As you are well aware, MX Global’s stock price is now ten times what it was eighteen months ago, making the shareholders very satisfied.” Van Pelt smiles and turns to his left. “I will let Dr. Ryzaard himself take it from here.”

A reverential hush falls over the directors as Ryzaard stands up and walks to the middle of the floor.

“I thank Chairman Van Pelt for his kind words. Needless to say, I have enjoyed immensely the last three years here at MX Global.” Ryzaard smiles at the earnings charts displayed on the side wall. “I trust that my presence has been of some use to the corporation.”

His hand slips into the pocket of his jacket and fingers a heavy object.

“I know your time is valuable, and we have already taken too much of it, so I’ll be brief.” Ryzaard casts a sideways glance at Van Pelt amid some quiet laughter from the directors.

“The computational models which I pioneered while at Oxford, although complex for most archeologists, were relatively simple and involved only a few dozen variables. The basic principle was to parse all the streaming data available and, applying computational analytics, gain insights which are statistically robust while maintaining predictive value.”

Ryzaard scans the directors to make sure they think they understand him when, in fact, he’s speaking pure gibberish. Most of the directors’ eyes have already started to glaze over. Van Pelt has assured him that there aren’t any mathematicians among them. His presentation is having exactly the effect he planned.

“I have refined my methods since coming to MX Financial. Using the massive power of MX Scientific’s XUNIL super-cluster system, we are now able to weigh over 500,000 separate real-time variables, both structured and unstructured, applying the method of predictive analytics. As a result, we’ve boosted our rate of return by an order of magnitude in the last twelve months.” Predictably, most of the directors are bobbing their heads up and down with feigned understanding. A couple of them look at him as if he is speaking a foreign language.

There is one exception, a certain Ms. Chen, recently added to the board of MX Global from one of its Beijing subsidiaries. She remains motionless while surveying Ryzaard with narrow eyes.

Before losing any momentum, Ryzaard decides it is time to wake them all up and deliver the killer punch.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. Silence falls over the room, increasing the dramatic effect. “Our algorithms now allow us to predict the movement of stock and derivative markets
in advance
with 100 percent accuracy.” He drops his hands behind his back and lets the idea sink in for a few seconds.

More than one set of eyes among the directors shoots open.

Ms. Chen clears her throat, shakes her head, and raises her hand to speak.

Ryzaard nods in her direction.

“It’s impossible to predict the stock market,” she states flatly. “You may have made some lucky guesses or have gotten some good trading advice, but don’t expect us to believe you can predict with 100 percent accuracy. That’s not only ludicrous, it’s mathematically impossible.”

Ryzaard smiles as his teeth grind together behind the lips. How could Van Pelt have missed this one? He makes a mental note to discuss Ms. Chen’s upcoming nomination for a second board term with him after the meeting.

“I understand your skepticism, and I welcome the challenge you have just thrown out. As they say, the proof is in the trading.” He fingers the Stone in his pocket. “Ms. Chen, how would you like to see a real-time demonstration of the technology? Right here, right now.”

“With all due respect, Dr. Ryzaard, I don’t think you have the guts to do that.”

Ryzaard digs deep to hide his shock at the rough tone of Ms. Chen’s words. Apparently, there is still at least one director unafraid to challenge him. He turns behind him to the visitors’ table where Alexa sits next to the corporation’s general counsel. He points at the cylindrical object, its gold exterior glinting in the light.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce the Xerxes Diviner.”

Alexa stretches her hand toward the device on the table in front of her. She plays her fingers on its side, and green lights begin to flash.

“Which exchange shall we test it on? Can I have a suggestion?” Ryzaard holds out his hands to the nine directors spread out in the chairs above him.

“How about Shenzhen?” Ms. Chen twists a lock of hair with a mischievous look on her face. “One of the most volatile in the world.”

“Excellent choice. The more volatility, the better the profits.” Ryzaard nods at Alexa sitting at the table. Her fingers play again across the glossy surface of the slate. The lights in the room dim. “For this experiment, your mobile devices will be reactivated so you can independently verify what we are about to show you.”

Three of the directors pull out their jaxes, which suddenly glow blue in the dark room.

The wall screen behind Ryzaard lights up, and he steps to the side. The words
Shenzhen Stock Exchange
appear in white on a dark background.

“Any suggestions for a stock to trade?”

“Wong Dung International?” A director pipes up.

“Wong Dung. One of our competitors. A volatile stock indeed. Notoriously dangerous to trade. Many an investor has been shipwrecked on its erratic shoals.” Ryzaard walks across the front of the room with his hands behind his back and turns to face the screen. Then he signals Alexa with a finger. The words
Wong Dung International
appear on screen near the top. Below that, the familiar jagged green line of a stock ticker snakes its way across the wall from left to right.

“This is how the stock is trading right now in real-time,” Ryzaard points to the line above him. “We’ll now access the trading algorithm to generate the predicted movement of the stock thirteen seconds from now. You’ll see that in red.”

Sneaking a peek in his pocket, Ryzaard sees the Stone turn to a luminous purple.

A red line jumps onto the screen a foot ahead of the green line and begins to move like a snail across the wall, leaving a trail behind it. The green line follows just behind, getting closer.

The room is silent except for one director that inhales sharply as the red line spikes up, hangs for a second and falls back down, leaving a mark shaped like a mountain peak, a perfect profit-taking opportunity.

“By the way,” Ryzaard pauses for dramatic effect. “You’re all invited to join in this trade, for your own personal accounts. Please wait for the buy and sell signals.”

There is a frantic rush among the directors as they pull out their jaxes, fingers tapping the sides. The only holdout is Ms. Chen, who sits calmly without moving, arms folded in front, a smile of contempt on her face.

The seconds tick by as the directors stare at the green line giving chase to the red one.

“Prepare to trade.” A female synvoice fills the silence in the room.

There’s a palpable sense of adrenaline rising among the directors.

“Good hunting,” Ryzaard says.

Before their eyes, the green line kisses the red one and follows its path. Two directors stand up, jaxes in hand, eyes fixed on the screen. Like one snake swallowing another, the green line moves exactly behind the red.

In two seconds, the green line will touch the base of the spike in the red one.

“Buy stock,” the voice says.

The two standing directors each swipe the sides of their jax.

The green line, still showing real-time stock prices, suddenly spikes up and follows the red. Ten breathless seconds go by as it scales the mountain.

Six more directors jump to their feet and swipe their jaxes.

The green line makes the summit as eight fingers tremble over eight jaxes.