The market maker (5 page)

him and offered me a cigar, which I declined. He picked i out a large one and carefully placed it in his thick, sensual lips. He rolled the cigar around for several seconds

before lighting it. The effect verged on the obscene. He |

watched me watching with amusement. j

There was a knock at the door, and a very young, ! very pretty blonde came in. She looked as though she belonged in a school classroom rather than Eduardo's

office. "The position report, Mr. Ross," she said, and |

hurried over to his desk to put it on one comer. I

"Ah, thank you. Penny," he replied, taking the report \

himself. And as she was leaving, "You English produce ; such exquisite virgins, don't you think, Nick? It's a

shame they become spoiled as they get older." j

Involuntarily I glanced at the girl, who blushed I

bright red and made for the door as fast as she could. \

Eduardo chuckled. "Excuse me. I just think she looks so delicious when she blushes." He tossed the report in

the bin. !

I didn't answer. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Ricardo has told me a lot about you, Nick," he went i on in a friendly tone. "He's excited to have you here.

You're already making a good impression. We like to |

train up our own people, and he thinks you are exactly !

the right raw material." \

"Thank you." Praise is always welcome when |

you've just started a new job. I

"We're very sensitive to our new employees' needs/' he continued. "We like to make them feel at home early on. And we don't like them distracted. Now, I understand from Ricardo that you have quite a hefty mortgage obligation. Well, we would like to ease that burden for you."

My pulse quickened. This was one financial issue I had long been interested in.

"What rate are you paying at the moment?" he asked.

"Eight-point-one percent."

"I see. Well, we thought we could perhaps take over the mortgage from your building society and charge a lower rate of interest, say three percent? Until of course you can afford to pay it down. Which shouldn't be more than a couple of years if you do as well here as we expect you will." He smiled at me and took a puff of the cigar. The heavy tobacco rolled toward me. Like Ricardo, he too had charisma, but it was of a different sort. His large face, heavily creased brow, and thick black hair brushed neatly back gave him a kind of powerful handsomeness that held me in awe. This was not the sort of man you met on an average day at the School of Russian Studies.

For an instant I felt a surge of relief. Those mortgage payments had been the bane of my life for so long. And now the problem would go away, just like that.

But it was only an instant. Although I was coming to terms with Dekker and its ways, some instinct told me to be careful. I had come willingly to work for Ricardo. Somehow I felt Eduardo was trying to buy me.

Without thinking it through, I said, "No thank you. It's kind of you to offer, but I should be able to support my mortgage quite easily now on my own."

Eduardo's gaze darkened for a moment. He puffed at his cigar. Finally he smiled again.

"There are no strings attached/' he said. 'Tlenty of City firms give their employees subsidized mortgages. Take it. There's no harm."

He had a point. But I just didn't like the feel of it. And I was stubborn. "I'm sure you're right. But I'll manage. As you say I hope I'll be able to pay it down over the next few years."

Eduardo shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if there's anything else we can do to help you out, anything at all, please come and ask. OK?"

Another warm smile.

I was just leaving when he called out to me. "Oh,

Nick?"

I stopped at the door and turned to him. "Yes?"

"Isabel Pereira sent me the fax you received for Martin Beldecos yesterday" He lowered his voice. "You know what happened, I take it?"

I nodded.

He grimaced. "It was a terrible thing. Terrible. But if you do receive any more messages for Martin, give them directly to me, won't you? And please don't mention them to anyone else in the firm. Martin was working for me on something that was very sensitive. Do you understand?"

It was a request, and on the surface it was a request made with charm and politeness. But lying just below the surface, unsaid, and undefined, was a threat.

"I understand," I said, and left.

Jamie was waiting. "What was all that about?"

I told him Eduardo's offer to take over my mortgage and my response.

He raised his eyebrows. "Why did you say no?"

"I don't know. I just didn't like the feel of it. And once I had said no, I didn't want Eduardo to change my mind. Do you think I'm crazy?"

Jamie hesitated. "Maybe not. Eduardo's right, there would be no strings attached. But if you work here, you end up being dependent on them one way or another."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, the bonuses and employee trusts are the most obvious example. But if you're in trouble, Ricardo will help you out with money or contacts or whatever. You owed him five thousand pounds before you'd even started, remember?"

"You're right. But somehow it seemed different coming from Ricardo than Eduardo."

"Maybe. They're very different people. But they are brothers. You owe one, you owe the other."

"Are they close?"

"You bet. Most Latinos are pretty close to their family. But it's more than that with them." Jamie lowered his voice again. I got the impression he enjoyed this conspiratorial gossip. "There are some pretty dodgy rumors about Eduardo."

I leaned forward, eager to encourage him. "Oh, yes?"

"Yeah. Apparently he killed someone once. Pushed him over a balcony. It was when he was a student in Caracas. They'd had an argument over some girl. Ricardo hushed it up, and Eduardo walked free."

I shuddered. "I can imagine him killing someone."

"I know what you mean. And he leads a pretty fast life. Girls, drugs. That kind of thing. You know there was even a rumor that he was screwing Isabel."

"Eduardo?" I glanced over to Isabel's desk. I could just see the top of her head, bowed, a telephone pressed against her ear. "I'd have thought she'd have more taste."

Jamie shrugged. "I suppose Eduardo's attractive to a certain sort of woman. I did warn you about her."

"You did." I was disappointed. I wouldn't have believed that of Isabel, but since I didn't actually know her, had barely ever spoken to her, I realized I had no grounds to be surprised. A nascent fantasy dashed. Oh, well.

"Eduardo has his uses, though," Jamie continued. "He's inteUigent. Cunning. And he can get things done."

"What sort of things?"

"Things. He can make important people change their minds about things. He can influence people."

" What, you mean bribery? "

"I'm not sure that it's as straightforward as that," said Jamie. "Ricardo's squeaky-clean on bribery. In our market, either you're incorruptible or you bribe everyone. These days it's better to have a reputation for being incorruptible. Less risk. But Eduardo has his methods, and Ricardo is probably happy not knowing exactly what they are."

I resolved to have as little to do with Eduardo as possible.

I stayed late again that evening. I was engrossed in my reading: research reports and back copies of the International Financing Review, the bond market gossip sheet. Beside me was a pile of materials to read for the SFA exam, which I would have to pass before I could sell any bonds myself.

Eventually the room began to empty. Jamie said good-bye at eight-thirty Isabel drifted off at nine, leaving a trace of musk in the air around my desk. By ten-thirty, Ricardo was the only one left. He put down his phone and strolled over to my desk. I looked up from my research and smiled at him nervously.

He still looked as fresh and cool as he had at the morning meeting, although at some time during the day his top button had come undone, and his shirt cuffs had been rolled up once. He lit a cigarette. ''Coffee?"

God knows how many I had had that day. But it was good stuff. I nodded. "Please."

He strolled off, leaving me waiting uncomfortably. The boss was getting me coffee. Shouldn't I be fetching it for him? In a moment he was back with two cups.

"Well, what do you think? Fun, isn't it?"

"I didn't realize this stuff could be so intellectually interesting."

Ricardo chuckled. "You thought it was all screaming down telephones."

"I suppose so."

He looked at what I was reading, a piece panning Mexico. "What's your view on that?"

"It's well written. Persuasive. It makes sense to me."

"I know. Charlotte has that rare ability as an analyst to take facts and speculation, mix them up, and come up with an opinion that will make money. And I can assure you, I value that opinion."

He took a drag on his cigarette. "Take Mexico. Charlotte's worried about it. She sees another currency devaluation coming in the next month or two, and she thinks this one will scare investors abnost as much as the last one. And I agree with her."

"So you sell Mexico and buy Argentina?"

Ricardo smiled. "You're catching on. That would be the right trade. Argentina's a good choice too. The bonds are much too cheap. But it's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because Mexico wants to borrow a billion dollars. And that's a deal we have to win."

"I see. But you don't want to sell a billion dollars of

Mexican bonds to investors when they're scared about a devaluation?''

"Dead right."

I thought about it. "Can't you let someone else do the deal, then?"

"Normally I w^ould consider it. Of course, we'd have to be involved. This is our market, we're always involved. Those are the rules. But maybe we could share the transaction with a couple of other houses and reduce our risk. The trouble is Bloomfield Weiss is bidding for the whole deal. And I just can't let them win it."

"They're the people who stole your Eastern European team, aren't they?"

"That's right. They're aiming for us. They want our number-one position. Until recently they couldn't give a danm about emerging markets, but in the last few months they've changed their mind."

"You can head them, off, surely?"

"Not so easy They're the top trading firm on Wall Street when it comes to the conventional markets. And they have ten times our capital. They'll use that to buy their way in."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I really don't know." He pulled on his cigarette thoughtfully. I let him think, flattered that he felt able to share a problem like this with me.

Eventually, he spoke. "So you like Argentina?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why?"

I took a deep breath and answered him. "Their policy of fixing the peso to the dollar really seems to be working. And the bonds have come off a few points just because a big American money manager has been selling. They're good value."

"Uh-huh. And which bond do you like in particular? "

"The Discounts." These were one of the classes of Brady bonds that had been exchanged for old bank debt when Argentina had renegotiated its borrowings a few years earlier. "Am I right?"

Ricardo smiled. "Did you know my father was Argentinian?"

"Jamie told me."

"Well, I have an old rule. Never let a trader trade his own country's bonds. He can't be objective. Now, I usually break my rule in my own case, but this time..."

He picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

He looked at his watch. "U.S. Commerce has a San Francisco office that should still be making markets. Hold on. Brad?" Pause. "Ricardo Ross. Where are you in Argentina? The Discounts ... In twenty million? ... Of course, ril wait."

He grinned at me. "The guy's panicked. But I know him. If I ask him to make a market in size, he'll do it. He has to prove himself. Especially to me." Then back to the phone. "Sixty-seven to a half? That's a wide market, isn't it. Brad? ... OK, I know it's late. I'll take twenty at a half." He hung up the phone and turned to me. "Now, you remember to tell me when to sell won't you?"

I nodded, my heart suddenly beating rapidly.

"It's about time you went home, isn't it? We start again in eight hours. Don't you sleep?"

"Not much. Do you?"

"Not much." Ricardo grirmed. We were kindred spirits. It was rare to come across someone else who genuinely didn't need a full night's sleep. I was used to staying up into the small hours reading or researching. Five hours' sleep was all I needed. Especially when I was absorbed in something.

"Get on your bike," he said.

So I did. I pedaled home fast, my emotions neatly poised between fear that my first bond position would all go wrong, and excitement that it would all go right.

4

Wednesday morning was foggy. I couldn't see the Tower as I rode my bike through the East End. Old warehouses loomed up on either side of Narrow Street. With the skyline obscured, I could almost believe I was in Victorian London—until a van ran a red light and forced me to swerve onto the pavement.

The trading room, though, was surrounded by blue sky. We were just above the fog, a choppy white surface stretching out on all sides beneath us. The tip of the Nat West tower broke through the clouds like an island a few miles out to sea. We ourselves were an island far from England, closer to New York and Buenos Aires than Primrose Hill and Shoreditch. I looked around at my colleagues. We were a small band of settlers, immigrants from all over the world, come to seek our for-time in this strange new land.

Well, that was fine, but where were the Argy discos trading?

I switched on Jamie's screen. Sixty-seven and a quarter bid. I wasn't in the money. The rest of the market was up a point, leaving my bonds behind them. Oh, God. Maybe I'd picked the wrong issue after all.

Jamie was out that morning. He had to make a pre-

sentation to a large insurance company that was considering investing in emerging market bonds. It was an important meeting; as Jamie had put it, when these boys played, they played in size. So I spent the mormng