Michael Ridpath - Free To Trade

I couldn't ask Cash about it directly. If he were implicated in some way, it might tip him off, and I couldn't risk that. But I somehow needed to find out more about Bloomfield Weiss's involvement. I had an idea. I picked up the phone and punched out a number.

"Allo. Banque de Lausanne et Geneve.'

'Claire, it's Paul. Are you free for lunch today?'

'Oh, what a nice surprise. Of course, I should love to have lunch with you.'

'Great. I'll see you at Luc's at quarter past twelve.'

Claire had worked at Bloomfield Weiss until six months ago. She ought to be able to tell me something about Tremont Capital, and Cash's involvement with it. Besides which, it was nice to have an excuse to take her to lunch.

I got to Luc's Brasserie early and was shown to a table by the window. The restaurant was on the second floor of a building in the midst of Leadenhall Market. The sun streamed in through the open window, bringing with it the noise of the shoppers below. The restaurant was only half full; it tended to fill up around one o'clock with underwriters from nearby Lloyd's.

I had been waiting only a couple of minutes when Claire arrived. The loud clack of her high heels on the black and white floor, the tight short skirt hugging her thighs and the trace of expensive but subtle perfume following her captured the attention of every man in the room. As she came to my table, held out her hand in greeting, smiled, and sat down opposite me, I could not help feeling a touch of pride at the envious glances in my direction. Claire was not classically beautiful, but she was desperately sexy.

We ordered, and shared complaints about how quiet the market was. After a few minutes, I came to the point. 'Claire, I did actually have something specific to talk to you about. But it's very delicate, and I would be very grateful if you wouldn't mention it to anyone.'

Claire laughed. 'Oh Paul! How exciting! A secret! Don't worry, I won't tell a soul.'

'It's about Cash.'

All trace of laughter disappeared from her face. 'Oh, Cash. That bastard!'

'Why do you call him that? What has he done?' I asked.

'Perhaps I shall tell you a secret first.' She looked down at the table, picked up a knife and began to fiddle with it. 'As you know, I worked for Bloomfield Weiss for two years before I moved to BLG,' she began. 'Well, after a year or so I built up a good group of clients. I was doing lots of business. I was happy, the clients were happy, Bloomfield Weiss was happy. Then Cash Callaghan arrived from New York. He had a big reputation and a big salary to live up to, and he didn't have any existing clients in Europe. So he stole them.'

'How did he manage that?' I asked.

'Subtly at first. He would work out which of the big accounts salesmen did not have enough time to cover properly. He would "help them out". Eventually, the client would end up wanting to talk to Cash rather than his original salesman. I suppose in a way that was not too bad, the client got better coverage and the firm did more business. But then Cash began to use more drastic methods.

'In my case he had his eye on my two or three largest customers. If ever I was out of the office, he would call them. But they were loyal, they wanted to stay with me. So then he began a rumour about myself and a client. I am afraid I cannot tell you his name.'

'What was the rumour?'

'He said that I was sleeping with this client, and that the client was giving me all his business because of it,' she said, her voice burning with anger. 'It was ridiculous. Completely untrue. The reason my client did most of his business with me was that I gave him good ideas and he made money out of them. I would never have an affair with a client. Never. It would be completely unprofessional.'

She looked up at me, her eyes alight with fury. Then she laughed. 'Oh Paul, don't look so disappointed.'

I could feel my face redden with embarrassment. Her declaration of professional conduct with clients had shattered some half-hope at the back of my mind. I had no idea that my disappointment had shown.

She went back to her story. 'I didn't know anything about this. Nor did my client. But everyone else was talking about it, or so I am told. It became one of those stories that circles around and around, so that after a month or two you have heard it from several different sources and it has to be true. I am sure my boss must have heard about it, but probably only whispers. Of course I could not deny it. I didn't know there was anything to deny.

'One day Cash went to my boss. He said that my "affair" was making Bloomfield Weiss the laughing stock of the City. He had some numbers, which he claimed came from a source inside my client's company, that showed that my client was doing 95 per cent of his business through me. Cash must have fabricated those numbers. I know my client did a lot of business with other brokers.

'So I was called into my boss's office and told I could either resign, or my boss would have to suspend me pending the launch of a formal investigation. He said this would probably damage my client as much as or more than me. I was shocked. Then I am afraid I lost my temper. I shouted and screamed at him, called him every foul name I could think of, and told him what he could do with my job. BLG had being trying to hire me for months, so I started a new job with them within a week.'

'But wouldn't it have been better to be a bit calmer? You could have cleared your name. Cash wouldn't have been able to prove anything.'

'The damage was already done. I wasn't prepared to have my integrity questioned in public, and my personal life examined under a microscope, just for the privilege of continuing to work with scum like that.'

'I see,' I said, feeling anger rise myself. 'You're right. What a bastard. This business is rotten. So many people running around making so much money. They think they are geniuses, but half the time they might just as well have stolen it. If they all just got on with doing their job in a straightforward, principled way, there would still be plenty for all of us.' I could not keep the anger from my voice, and I could feel the words coming faster and louder.

Claire laughed. 'Oh Paul! You are so sweet. So concerned. So idealistic. But the world doesn't work the way you want it to. You have to be tough to do well. The biggest bastards earn the biggest bucks. I'm OK. I am doing the same job for better people at a higher salary.' Her big, liquid eyes smiled at me beneath long lashes. 'But you were going to tell me your secret.'

I calmed myself down. 'I'm afraid I can't tell you the exact details yet, partly because I don't know them myself. It is important, though, that nobody finds out what I have been asking about.' I lowered my voice. 'Last year De Jong bought a private placement from Bloomfield Weiss, issued by Tremont Capital. It was Cash who sold it to us. Do you know anything about it?'

'Tremont. Tremont Capital,' Claire murmured, her forehead knitted in concentration. 'The name sounds familiar but I don't… One moment! I know! Wasn't the deal guaranteed by the Industrial Bank of Japan?'

'Not quite, it was Honshu Bank. But you are close enough,' I replied.

'Yes, I do remember it vaguely. It was only a small deal, wasn't it?'

'Forty million dollars,' I nodded. 'Did you sell any?'

'No. It was one of Cash's "special deals". I think he cooked it up himself. None of the rest of us got a look in at selling it. All the commission went to him.'

Special deals. Special customers. Cash did a lot of special business. 'Do you know anything at all about the company?'

'Tremont Capital? Nothing at all. I have never heard of it before or since.'

'Would anyone else?'

'No. When Cash put together deals, he kept them to himself until they were finished and he could proclaim them from the mountain-tops.'