Michael Ridpath - Free To Trade

Here was a man who really was at the centre of the bond markets. This was the world that I had left my staid old bank to see. Certainly I could become a big player in the market. Cash and I together would make fools of the rest of the crowd.

Then I snapped out of it. Cash probably talked to all his customers like this. Not that he was making it up. Cash's reputation preceded him. But I couldn't help wondering whether when Cash was driving his Boston customer around in his Mercedes convertible he wouldn't talk about his clients in London in such a disdainful way.

'Do you still talk to any of your American customers?'

'Only the one on a regular basis. I have what you might call a "special relationship" with him. But if I ever wanted to renew the relationship with any of the others, all I would have to do would be pick up the phone. People don't forget me.'

We drove up the ramp on to the M4. There was a lot of traffic, but it was flowing steadily. Cash moved the Aston Martin into the outside lane, and worked his way through the cars in front, flashing his headlights to intimidate them out of the way.

'How did you get into the business?' I asked.

'I met a man in a bar. He was Irish. We came from the same part of the Bronx, only I hadn't seen him before. We got on great. We got drunk together. The only difference between us was that I was twenty and in jeans and he was fifty and in an expensive suit. He had had a bad day. I was sympathetic. He asked me what job I did. I told him I worked in a hardware store. He asked me whether I would like to work in his store for a while. So I did. I started in the mail room and worked my way up from there. It was a ball all the way.'

'What was it like in the Bronx, then? Wasn't it dangerous?' I asked.

'Sure it was dangerous, but only for people from a different neighbourhood. In your own neighbourhood you were safe. Everyone would protect you. Of course it's all different now, now that there is crack all over the streets. Before, there was violence, but there was always a reason for it. Now there can be violence for no reason. It makes me sick.' I looked at Cash and saw his jaw clenched and the colour beginning to rise in his cheeks. He was angry.

'Some of the greatest people in the world live in my neighbourhood,' Cash continued. 'But we are all ignored by the rest of the country. I never forgot what that guy in the bar did for me. Did I tell you I bought my own bar?'

'No,' I said.

'Yeah. It was a great little place right by my neighbourhood. I had to close it down a few years ago. With crack, things were getting just too wild. But I put thirty kids on Wall Street. Some of them are doing real well.'

Cash looked at me and smiled. There was no doubt that he was proud of what he had achieved, and also what he had helped others achieve. And I thought he had a right to be proud.

Henley was just as bad as I feared. It was a typical July day in England. A blustery wind, and rain showers which were more on than off. All pretence of watching the rowing was forgotten. About a hundred people, employees of Bloomfield Weiss and their clients, were crammed into the tent, gobbling down cold salmon and champagne. The air was damp and oppressive, it was difficult to breathe in the clammy atmosphere. There was a constant din of rain drumming on the roof of the tent, caterers clanking plates and fifty people talking at once, interspersed with the hysterical cackle of champagne-induced laughter. A great day out.

Over the heads of the crowd I saw the tall figure of Cathy talking to a group of Japanese. She caught my eye, extricated herself and slowly made her way through the crowd over to me. Oh God, here we go.

'I hope you are enjoying yourself,' she said.

I mumbled something about how it was good of Bloomfield Weiss to arrange such a nice occasion.

She looked at me and laughed. 'Yes, ghastly, isn't it? I don't know why we do it. Still, I suppose there are always some people who will take any excuse to get drunk on a Saturday afternoon. But I have to be here. What drags you out?'

I hadn't seen her laugh before. It was a relaxed, genuine sound, not a bit like the drunken braying around us. I thought I had better not go into the details of Rob's pleading, so instead I said, 'Cash is very persuasive, you know.'

'I certainly do,' she said, smiling. 'I'm the one who works with him all day.'

'That must be a joy,' I said.

Cathy grimaced and then smiled at me over the lip of her champagne glass. 'No comment,' she said.

'So who is this American client Cash has a "special relationship" with? Is it the savings and loan in Arizona which bought the fifty million Swedens?'

Cathy's smile disappeared. I had overstepped a boundary. 'Now I really can't comment,' she said brusquely, the imperious saleswoman again. 'I can't discuss one client in front of another.' She had taken to heart the reprimand Cash had given her earlier. My curiosity would have to go unsatisfied.

Chastened, I was searching for a less controversial topic of conversation when Rob appeared at my elbow.

'Hallo, Paul,' he said. Then he looked hard at Cathy. 'Hallo.'

'Hallo,' she replied coldly.

'How have you been?'

'Fine.'

'Why haven't you answered my phone calls?'

'Oh, I didn't know you had rung,' she said.

'I rang four times last night, and six times the night before. Your flatmate took the messages. She must have told you. Didn't you get the note with my flowers?'

'I'm afraid she's very forgetful,' Cathy said, looking around her with an air of desperation.

'Well, what are you doing tonight? Perhaps we could get a bite to eat.'

Cathy caught the eye of someone at the other end of the tent, and then turned to Rob and me. 'I'm terribly sorry. There's a client of mine over there who I simply must see. Bye.'

With that she was off.

'You know, I think she might be trying to avoid me.' Rob looked puzzled as he said this.

I couldn't help smiling. 'Do you really think so?'

'But you don't understand. I don't understand. She's a marvellous woman. We've been out together three times. She's not like any other girl I've ever met. There is something special between us. I'm sure of it.'

'You haven't proposed to her, have you?' That was the most usual reason why Rob's girlfriends ran away from him, but I thought a proposal on the third date might be too fast going, even for Rob.

'No, we haven't got that far yet,' he replied. I could tell, though, that for his part Rob didn't have much further to go. 'But I did tell her exactly how important she was to me.'

'Rob, I've told you before, you've got to pace yourself,' I said, exasperated. 'That's the third girl you have frightened off like that.'

'Fourth,' said Rob.

Ordinarily I would have had the strength to console Rob. But I had had a lousy week, the weather was awful, and I just wanted to go.

I knew Cash wouldn't be leaving for several hours yet, and I couldn't face his bonhomie on the way back. So I slunk out of the tent, caught a bus to the station, and then a train home. As I stared out of the window across the rain-drenched Thames flood plain, my thoughts drifted towards Cathy. For a moment there I had thought she was almost human, and I had liked what I had seen. Perhaps Rob wasn't so daft after all.

August is always a dead month in the eurobond markets. There are plenty of reasons for this. The Continentals are all on holiday, as are the bureaucrats who work in the government agencies that issue eurobonds. The summer heat in Bahrain and Jeddah dulls even the most hardened Arab's gambling instincts, and many of them travel to London, Paris and Monte Carlo, often to play with chips instead of bonds.

Of course many of the traders and salesmen in London are unmarried, or at least have no children. There is nothing they would like to do less in August than join the screaming families at the beach. But the month is a good time for a rest. There is an unspoken pact not to rock the boat, not to create the volatility that would require us all to spend the month thinking hard about work. The market recharges itself, everyone making plans for what they will do in the first week of September.