Michael Ridpath - Free To Trade

Waigel looked over towards Joe's table. 'That guy sure is a good trader. Or at least he has a hell of a reputation. Speaking of which, how's your boss Hamilton McKenzie? I haven't seen him for years.'

I tore my eyes away from Joe's taut frame and on to the pudgy, oily face of Dick Waigel. 'Very well indeed. He is doing a great job at De Jong. Our clients like him. The money is pouring in from investors impressed by his performance.'

'He always was a bright guy,' said Waigel. 'We were at Harvard Business School together. When he went off to join De Jong, I joined Bloomfield Weiss.'

'And what did you do here?' I asked.

Waigel took a deep breath, clearly pleased with the opportunity to talk about his favourite subject, and began. 'Well, I used to be a salesman covering accounts in the Southwest. I did well at it, but I didn't feel it was providing the right challenge for my talents. Selling is a rather narrow activity, you know.' At this the two salesmen sitting at the table stiffened. But Waigel went on.

'So I took a job in Corporate Finance, responsible for private placements. We find that sometimes a particular investor will want a bond issue tailored specifically to his needs. So I find a company to issue such bonds, and place them privately with him and perhaps one or two other investors. That's how I came to work with Cash here. Since he has such good relationships with his customers, we do a lot together, trying to structure transactions which fit their needs.'

This was Waigel's connection with Cash on Tremont Capital, which had been a private placement.

'I am not too familiar with private placements,' I said, 'but isn't it true that they give investors less protection? Normal bond issues in the United States have to be scrutinised by the Securities and Exchange Commission. Who does the due diligence on private placements?'

'Oh, we do. And I would say the investor is better protected with a Bloomfield Weiss private placement. We have very high standards, Paul, the highest on Wall Street. I can assure you that nothing irregular has happened in any of our transactions.' With this, Waigel looked me straight in the eye through his thick glasses, and gave me another one of his insincere smiles.

'I don't think we have ever bought a private placement from you since I have been at De Jong,' I said. 'Did we buy any before I arrived?'

Waigel opened his mouth, and closed it again. For a rare moment he seemed at a loss for words. Finally he said, 'No, I don't believe you did.'

Cash interrupted, 'Come on, Dick. Don't you remember that Tremont Capital deal. The triple-A bond with the huge yield. A sweet deal. I sold half of that to De Jong.'

'Oh yes, I remember,' said Waigel. 'Yes, that was a good deal. Have you looked at it, Paul?'

'I have seen the bond in our portfolio,' I said, 'but I am not familiar with the details. Can you tell me more about it?'

Waigel looked uncomfortable, but Cash bailed him out. He enthusiastically told me all about the deal, and how the Honshu Bank guarantee made the transaction creditworthy. 'One of the best deals I ever sold,' Cash finished off.

'Very interesting,' I said. I turned to Waigel. 'How do you go about putting a deal like that together?'

Waigel looked even more uncomfortable. 'One of the problems with corporate finance is that you owe a duty of confidence to everyone involved. We make it a rule never to discuss the details of a transaction, even after it is completed.'

'Baloney, Dick,' said Cash. 'There is nothing you like to talk about more than one of your own deals.'

Waigel didn't find this amusing. 'Cash, you can be as indiscreet as you like, but to me it is unprofessional. My predecessor may have been unprofessional, but I am sure I am not going to follow him in that.'

Lloyd interrupted, suddenly finding himself on a subject close to his heart. 'Aw, Greg Shoffman wasn't unprofessional, he was just a wimp. He had no guts. We had some great junk bond deals which he refused to do because he said they were unethical. Unethical! What did he think we were running, a charity?' Lloyd pulled himself up as he remembered my presence. 'Now, Paul, don't get me wrong, all the deals Bloomfield Weiss do are above board. But in today's markets you have got to be a tough competitor to survive, and this fellow Shoffman just wasn't tough enough.'

Shoffman! I had heard that name before. I riffled through my memory. That was it. The man from Honshu Bank had said a Mr Shoffman had called him a few months before Debbie.

'This Mr Shoffman was your predecessor?' I asked Waigel.

'Yes,' he replied. 'He was a nice enough guy. But as Lloyd says, he didn't have what it takes. You need the killer instinct to get things done, especially against the competition out there. That's something I have and he hadn't.'

Somehow, I could believe Waigel had the killer instinct. 'So, what happened to him?' I asked.

'About two years ago he was transferred to our documentation department, and Dick here took his place,' said Lloyd.

'Is he still working for Bloomfield Weiss?' I asked.

There was a silence. The others looked to Lloyd to break it. Eventually he obliged them. 'No,' said Lloyd. 'One day several months ago, he didn't come into work. He just disappeared. The police couldn't find any trace of him. He probably ended up in a back alley somewhere. You know what this city is like nowadays.'

'Did they find out who did it?' I asked.

'They don't even know for sure he is dead. The police think it's most likely he was murdered in the streets for his wallet.'

The police might think that. I thought it strange that both the people who had called Honshu Bank about the Tremont Capital guarantee were now dead. With a shock I remembered that there was now a third person who knew about it.

Me.

'That's what you get for living in the city,' said Waigel, waving a finger at me. 'I used to live in the city until it got too dangerous. Now I live in the 'burbs. Montclair, New Jersey. Life is much safer now. Mind you, it takes a whole lot longer to get to work these days.'

The conversation drifted on to commuting times and then back again to how talented Waigel was. When lunch had finally finished, I went back down with Lloyd to the trading floor. I strolled over to Tommy's desk.

'Have a nice lunch?' Tommy grinned.

I made a face.

'You could hardly pick a nicer bunch of guys,' said Tommy. 'Lloyd Harbin, Cash Callaghan, and the odious Dick Waigel.'

'I must admit I found him very unpleasant,' I said.

'One of Bloomfield Weiss's finest,' said Tommy.

I smiled. I gestured to Tommy's phone. 'Do you mind if I watch you at work?' I asked.

'Sure.' He picked up the phone and motioned for me to take a second earpiece.

I heard him through a number of phone calls. He was good with his clients. He sounded friendly and helpful with all of them, but he changed his manner subtly with each one, hearty with one, nerdish with another. He gave his clients plenty of information quickly and efficiently, he seemed to know exactly what bonds they were holding at the moment even when some of them were doing their best not to tell him, and he made no attempt at all to sell the position in Macy bonds that Bloomfield Weiss had picked up by mistake and were desperate to get rid of. A good salesman.

After an hour or so, we were interrupted by Lloyd, who tapped Tommy's shoulder. 'Can I see you for a moment?' he asked.

'Sure,' said Tommy, and they disappeared round a corner. I stood around for a minute or two, and then sat in Tommy's chair to watch what was going on around me.

After a few minutes Lloyd returned. I made as if to get up, but Lloyd motioned for me to stay seated.

'Stay there, Paul,' he said. 'Use that desk for the rest of the afternoon as a base if you wish. The head of our research group will be up in a few minutes to take care of you.'