Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

‘Do we cut in our customers yet?’ asked Jamie.

‘Not quite yet,’ said Ricardo. ‘We’ll edge up our bids on the discos today to see what we can pick up. But don’t encourage your accounts to sell unless they really have to. You don’t want to look fools tomorrow. Any other questions?’

Nothing.

‘Anything else?’

Carlos Ubeda, the head of Capital Markets, spoke up. ‘Yes, one thing, Ricardo. We need to bid for the Mexican deal tomorrow. Two billion dollars, five years.’ Carlos meant that Mexico wanted to borrow two billion dollars from the markets through a bond issue, and they had asked us to quote them a price at which we would lead it.

‘Two billion! I thought they only wanted one. That’s huge. Why so much?’

‘They’ve got a lot of debt to repay this year. And you know the Mexicans. They like to show the world that they can do bigger deals than anybody else.’

‘This is hardly the time for it. What price do you think will get it?’

‘I think we might need to go inside ten per cent.’

Ricardo winced. ‘That’s tight.’

‘The competition’s tough.’

‘OK, everyone. Ask your customers what they’re hearing about Mexico. See if we can find out what price the competition are talking. But make sure that they know we think it should be at least ten per cent.’

The meeting broke up. I followed Jamie to his desk.

He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling, and rubbed his hands. ‘We’re going to have some fun today.’

He picked up the phone to his old regulars. He was calm as if this was just any other day, but the calls were crisper than usual. Less chat.

He ran through our prices with Chris Frewer of Colonial and Imperial, a London-based fund manager.

‘Heard anything about a new deal for Mexico?’ Jamie asked.

‘Yeah. Bloomfield Weiss say they might be bringing a big one.’ Frewer was English, and he sounded the same age as Jamie and me.

‘Oh, yes? Any price talk?’

‘A touch over ten per cent. Are you involved?’

‘Are we involved?’ Jamie snorted. ‘Of course we are. I’ll let you know when I hear more.’

‘Hold on! Before you go, did you say sixty-eight and a half bid for the Argy discos?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Is that good for ten?’

‘Good for ten, good for fifty,’ Jamie said. He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘But if I were you I wouldn’t rush into anything this morning.’

‘Oh, yes?’ A note of interest had entered Frewer’s voice. He wasn’t stupid. ‘And why not?’

‘Well, I could give you a lot of economic bullshit, but I don’t want to waste your time. Let’s just say they’re going up.’

Frewer thought for a moment. ‘OK. I’ll hold off and watch.’

‘Sound decision. But, Chris?’

‘Yes?’

‘You won’t go off and buy any yet, will you?’

Frewer laughed. ‘Of course not. Keep me posted.’

As Jamie put the phone down, I asked him something that had been bothering me. ‘Are we being fair?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Building up a position in a bond issue before recommending it to our customers.’

Jamie smiled. ‘We’re not trading British Telecom on the London Stock Exchange. You’re on the wild and woolly shores of the emerging markets here. This is the law of the frontier. That’s exactly how guys like us make money.’

‘Ah.’

The sandwich man came round, and I grabbed a bacon and avocado on ciabatta. I fetched us both a cup of coffee. But we didn’t stop dialling and talking. Then, at about one, I heard the familiar hand-clap. I looked up. Ricardo was standing in the middle of the square of desks, making a T sign with his hands. Time out. The hubbub swiftly died down as all the phones went on hold. Everyone turned to watch him.

‘OK, compañeros, we’ve got three hundred and forty million of the discos at an average price of sixty-eight and a half. It’s time to go public. Tell your most favoured accounts first. Charlotte will release a research report in an hour’s time. Any bonds Pedro gets from now on he’ll use to fill customer orders. We want to cut our friends in. By now we should have hoovered up all the bonds dumped by the Shiloh Fund. From now on we’ll be taking the Street short, so the price should start to move.’

The group stirred in anticipation.

‘Now, anything on Mexico?’ Ricardo asked.

‘They’re talking a smidgen over ten per cent,’ said Jamie.

‘And who’s in the market?’

‘Bloomfield Weiss, apparently. They say they’re confident they’ll get the deal.’

Ricardo frowned. ‘Well, keep your ears to the ground. And don’t let anyone even dream of a yield of less than ten per cent.’

The meeting broke up and Jamie went straight on to his favoured customers. Chris Frewer chuckled and bought twenty million. By this time New York, Miami and all the South American cities were in. Andrea Geller at a small New York hedge fund bought another twenty. And Alejo bought fifty.

Alejo was Jamie’s biggest account. He was a serious punter. He worked out of Miami, but he ran the money of one of Mexico’s wealthiest families. Needless to say the deals were booked through one of the Dekker Trust numbered accounts. Jamie had apparently cultivated Alejo as a client during his previous job at Gurney Kroheim, and had taken him with him to Dekker.

Alejo’s fifty was done at a price of sixty-eight and a half.

‘I thought you said the price would go up,’ I said to Jamie.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Give it time. This is good. We’ve got our people in at a good price.’

I looked round the room. It was buzzing. People were buzzing, phones were buzzing, bonds were buzzing. It was intoxicating. The Dekker machine was in action and it seemed unstoppable.

But it turned out Dekker’s wasn’t the only machine in action that day.

‘I’m sixty-eight offered in the discos!’

It was Pedro. We turned to look at him. He was talking rapidly to Ricardo, who was frowning.

‘What’s going on?’ Dave shouted.

‘I don’t know!’ said Pedro, running his hands over his close-cropped hair. ‘I’m getting hit with bonds from all directions!’ He grabbed a phone. I watched as he hunched over it, and slammed it down.

‘Hey, Pedro! Where do you offer ten discos?’

Pedro rubbed his chin. ‘Sixty-seven and a half!’

The price tumbled. Pedro kept lowering his price, and he kept being sold bonds. We could see the green figures on the screen in front of us winking. Sixty-seven and a half. Sixty-seven. Sixty-six and a half.

‘Jesus!’ whistled Jamie. ‘We’ve got to own five hundred million by now.’

Five hundred million! And a two-point loss. I did the sums. ‘That’s ten million we’re down.’

Jamie nodded grimly.

Ricardo strolled over. He leaned down next to Jamie. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here. Kent has spoken to the Shiloh Fund, and they’re definitely cleaned out. Someone is selling a lot of these bonds. We need to find out who.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Jamie. He thought a moment and then called Frewer at Colonial and Imperial.

Chris Frewer was angry. ‘What’s going on? I wanted to sell some bonds this morning, and somehow I seem to have ended up with twenty million more than I started with, and the price is off two points. I hope I haven’t made a mistake here.’

‘Relax. Ricardo’s on to it, I promise. But look, do me a favour.’

‘Fat chance,’ said Frewer. ‘I want out of Argentina.’

‘You will be out. In a couple of days. I just need to work out what’s going on.’

‘You should bloody well know what’s going on!’

‘Chris. Trust me. Ring Bloomfield Weiss, and ask them what they think of the discos. Say you’re considering buying some.’