Free Dead Cat Bounce by Nic Bennett Page A

believe what he was hearing.
    The Baron stroked his mustache. “Not yet,” he said calmly. Then as if issuing a proclamation, he added, “Let this be a lesson to all of you. If a twelve-year-old can do your job better than you”—Jonah tried to resist the smile that began to take shape at this point—“you probably aren’t true Hellcat material.”
    At that, the Baron gave a flourish of his wrist, motioning for everyone to continue about their business, and turned back to Jonah. “But you, sonny, that was good work. You’re quick. Well done. I’m looking forward to having you back with us tomorrow.”
    Jonah positively swelled with pride. He didn’t get much praise at home or at school. “What should I do until then?” he inquired.
    “Till then?”
    “Yeah, is there anything I can do so that I can, you know, go even faster?”
    The Baron started cracking up. “You want to go faster?”
    “I want to be the fastest.”
    There was a glimmer in the Baron’s eyes. “That’s what I like to hear.” He reached into his top desk drawer and pulled out a CD-ROM. “Sometimes we get a little bored, and so to keep sharp we have this training tool,” he explained, handing the disk to Jonah.
    Jonah looked down at the case. The label had the letter “A” scribbled on it.
    “You install it on your computer at home, and it will link you into our trading system.”
    “And this will teach me to be faster?”
    “This, Jonah,” the Baron said, using Jonah’s given name for the first time since he’d introduced him, “will teach you to fly.”

CHAPTER 8
    When Jonah arrived home he felt more stimulated than he ever had coming back to his room in the dorms after a class at school. He was so jumpy that he couldn’t be sure whether he wanted to run up to his room to begin trying out the disk the Baron had given him (which was now sitting awkwardly in his pants pocket) or sprint through the streets and shout out at the top of his lungs that he’d just had the best morning of his life. Even better than yesterday’s.
    However, this enthusiasm was tempered by the rapid departure of his father. He didn’t even follow Jonah inside the house; he just muttered something about how his meeting “might take all day,” spun around, and marched off back down the road, leaving Jonah to close the door and stand alone in the hallway. For a second he took in the silence of the house, hating it, and the euphoria drained out of him. The house felt hollow and desolate, the exact opposite of the trading floor. Jonah sighed and took off his shoes. He thought about taking them upstairs so that they would be easier to slip onthe following morning for what he’d been told—repeatedly—would be his final trip to his dad’s office. But he remembered how he’d been reprimanded only yesterday morning, and thought better of it. He couldn’t risk it.
    So leaving the shoes in the pile by the front door, he trudged up the stairs and began heading for his bedroom. It was the sight of his dad’s closed door that lifted his spirits. He looked both ways and chuckled to himself. It had to be done!
    He pushed the door open and walked straight into his dad’s room, his steps deliberate and his mind as singularly focused as it had been at the bank. The room’s walls and carpets were beige, and there were old newspapers strewn about, giving the space a disheveled effect that ran counter to the composed air David Lightbody attempted to project. But Jonah didn’t reflect on what any of that meant. He went directly to his dad’s wooden armoire and opened one of the smaller drawers at the top. In it, he found what he was looking for—his father’s tie collection. He ran his fingers along the silk material and reached through to the bottom to grab what he hoped was his dad’s least favorite tie, and thus the one he’d be least likely to notice was missing. The tie he extracted was green with little flags all over it, nothing like the striped navy