Chapter One
From his office in the lower Manhattan financial district just a few blocks from Wall Street, Bo Parrott stared in disbelief as his phone rang . . . again.
With decades of experience as an investment advisor, Bo was no stranger to the long hours required to answer the barrage of client calls that defined his workday. The call volume typically increased whenever the storm clouds began to gather, signaling a stock market downturn. He was no stranger to that, either. But today it felt different. The phone had been ringing nonstop since he stepped through the door two hours earlier.
“What the hell is going on, Parrott? Did you see this coming?”
Bo recognized the voice as belonging to a client known for his strong personality yet weak command of genteel discourse. Howard Lanning may never have gotten a stomach ulcer, but he was more than capable of giving one to someone else. Bo studied the report streaming across his screen. Despite Howard’s abrupt delivery, his words echoed Bo’s own concerns.
“I’ll find out, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
Spencer T. Barnes, Bo’s young assistant, sat across from Bo’s desk. “Howard Lanning?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Bo nodded. “Yes, but he’s not the only one. Our client base comprises a significant percentage of savvy investors, and many of them have caught wind of a potential shift in the stock market that could negatively impact their earnings. With over three thousand clients worldwide, that’s a lot of phone calls! They’ve been pouring in all morning.”
Bo powered up his laptop. Despite feeling unsettled about the possible rate hike from the Federal Reserve, he managed to smile as the charts began to populate his computer screen. He asked Spencer to move his chair closer for a better view.
“The indicators really are something to behold, especially when you consider what they represent. The lines are like a kaleidoscope with a panoramic effect and a beauty all their own.”
Realizing how that last statement may have sounded, Bo quickly backtracked as he darted his eyes in Spencer’s direction. “If you like that sort of beauty.”
Twenty-five years Bo’s junior, Spencer chuckled as he ran his hand through his side-part haircut. A few streaks of brown blended with his golden mane. “It’s growing on me.”
Bo continued, “A seafoam-green background serves as the canvas for the market indicators. They appear like an artist applying dabs of paint squirted onto a palette board.”
Spencer leaned in closer as Bo pointed to several images on his computer screen. “Each colorful line tells a story. Some lines have more relevance at specific coordinates on the chart’s workspace, and some have less. At zenith moments, the chart system behaves like a supernova: Brightness increases when the star explodes and releases most of its mass. When the mood is right in the stock market, the drama is something to behold.”
“What about today?” Spencer asked.
“Today, the mood appears dark and foreboding. Figuratively speaking, this chart represents a network of capillaries that have burst. Blood is gushing profusely. Unless a tourniquet is applied soon, the victim could die.”
Spencer leaned back in his chair. “Wow, it’s one thing to see these stock market configuration indices in multicolor. It’s another to interpret what it all means.”
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and then Add to home screen.