Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

‘Good. Because if the financial markets found out about the devaluation through me, that would be a real breach of trust on my part.’

‘Of course, I understand.’ My ears were singing. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

‘So will you give me your word you won’t tell anyone at your work about what we... didn’t discuss last night.’

Shit! Shit! Shit!

‘Nick?’

What to do? Lie, of course.

‘No. Don’t worry, Wójtek, I won’t guess anything. You just gave me useful background, that’s all.’

I think my voice sounded steady. I was just glad he couldn’t see my face.

‘Good.’ He sounded relieved. ‘It was great to see you again. Keep in touch, OK.’

‘OK, Wójtek. See you soon.’

I slammed the phone down, and took a deep breath. I looked up and saw Ricardo coming towards me.

‘Well done, Nick,’ he said. ‘We’re all set up now. I just hope you’re right.’

‘I’m right,’ I said. But I felt very wrong indeed.

‘Oh, we’re taking some clients out tonight. Very important clients. Would you like to come along?’

Oh, God. More drinking. The last thing I felt like was being nice to people I didn’t know. I wanted to go to bed early. Very early.

But it was clear that I should feel flattered to be asked. So I summoned up a smile, and said, ‘Great.’

I grabbed a cup of coffee from the machine, and reached for the paper. I laid it out on my own desk away from the square. I had earned myself some peace and quiet. The coffee didn’t really seem to help. My head still hurt, and my stomach was queasy. I felt hot. I was sweating gently. Vodka was an occupational hazard of studying Russian. I could see that it would become a problem in this job too, once I became seriously involved with Eastern Europe.

I glanced at Isabel. She was reading through a pile of papers, her hair hanging down and hiding most of her face. God, she was attractive. Since our drink the previous Friday, we had exchanged a few friendly words, but nothing more. I guessed that she wanted to make sure that nothing developed between us. And that was a great shame.

I remembered Jamie’s warnings about her. He was wrong, surely. I was certain I could trust her. But I had no intention of following her suggestion and talking to Ricardo about my suspicions. Prudence suggested I should do nothing, although that didn’t seem right, either. My head hurt. I didn’t come to any conclusion.

‘Nick, what is it?’

‘What?’

‘You’re staring.’

My eyes came back into focus. Isabel was looking at me with an amused smile on her face.

I could feel myself reddening. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. My eyes and brain aren’t well connected this morning. I was out drinking for Dekker last night.’

‘Such loyalty is touching,’ said Isabel.

Embarrassed, I cast my eyes down to the paper in front of me. I leafed through to the arts pages. I had to admit that the film reviews in the FT were pretty good. There was a new Polish film out by Krzysztof Kieślowski. It sounded interesting. I’d try and see it if I got the time.

Oh, damn! I hated having to lie to Wójtek. I had betrayed his trust. Of course, it was partly his fault. Mostly his fault. I had gone there telling him who I was and what I wanted. He had been stupidly indiscreet. He knew it: that’s why he had just rung me in a panic. It was his fault. His fault that I had betrayed his trust.

No. It didn’t work. Wójtek would be seriously upset with me if he ever found out what I had done. I would just have to hope that he never did.

Stephen’s words echoed to me, in that pompous accent of his. ‘Quite honestly, it’s hard to go too far in this business. As long as you don’t get caught.’

Ugh.

After a couple of glasses of wine, my brain began to clear, or at least the pain softened. We were in Vong’s, a smart New York restaurant that had migrated to Knightsbridge. There were seven of us and five of them. Ricardo was there, with Eduardo, Jamie, Miguel, and a couple of others. Our guests were officials of a central bank. This trip to London had become something of an annual event, a thank-you from Dekker for business done in the past and to be done in the future.

I had to admit that, for civil servants, these people were quite fun. The food was delicious, the drink flowed, and with it the laughter.

I was sitting next to Eduardo, but we spoke little, until towards the end of the meal he leaned over to me. ‘You’ll learn a little about how business is done tonight,’ he said, with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Yes. It’s important to give your customers what they want. And that’s not just the best prices or the best deal. Ricardo can do all that. But someone has to look at the broader relationship. That’s my speciality. Do you know what I mean?’

He looked at me closely, his lips parted in a smile.

‘I’m not sure,’ I said.

‘Well, you have to know what your customers like. Now, I happen to know that this group all like women. That’s easy. Except for that man at the end of the table.’ He pointed to a good-looking balding man, listening with great interest to a story Jamie was telling. ‘I happen to know he prefers boys. His colleagues don’t know that, nor does Jamie, but I’m sure he will appreciate being seated next to the prettiest one among us.’

I couldn’t help myself smiling at this. It was true that Jamie’s good looks could attract interest from either sex, which caused him intense irritation. He would go spare if he knew Eduardo was using him in this way.

‘You won’t tell him, will you?’

‘I will one day,’ I said. ‘I won’t be able to resist it.’

‘OK, but not tonight. Tonight you will see why these people always deal with us, and never with Bloomfield Weiss.’

At about eleven, we left the restaurant, amid cries of ‘Eduardo!’

‘What happens now?’ I asked Jamie.

‘We go back to Eduardo’s flat for more entertainment.’

I was intrigued. I had caught a second wind, and the exuberance of the crowd was infectious. I bundled into one of the three cabs we commandeered outside the restaurant.

Eduardo’s flat was in Mayfair, not more than half a mile away. He had a large living room, with plenty of chairs and sofas, and heavy expensive curtains and carpets. The light was dim. We piled in, taking off jackets and loosening ties. There were bottles of champagne waiting on a sideboard, guarded over by a very attractive blonde waitress. I accepted a glass, and slumped into a sofa.

The man next to me, Felipe, was talking about a notorious conference that Dekker had set up in Acapulco two years before. I had difficulty following all of it because he was speaking fast, he had a thick accent, and in his excitement he didn’t make much sense. But the others around him were nodding and laughing at the memories.

The champagne was excellent, the flat was warm, the chair very comfortable, and I sat back in a relaxed fug. I stopped trying to focus on the noise around me. This was really rather nice.

A light flashed in my eye, and startled me. I looked over to its source. It was a small mirror. Eduardo and two of our guests were hunched over it arranging some lines of white powder.

I smiled at the irony of the situation. Having spent the last ten years of my life in universities, I was used to seeing drugs around me and avoiding them. Things were obviously not much different here. I sank further into my chair, and hoped they wouldn’t notice me.

The mirror attracted most of the men in the room, including Jamie. He caught my eye and shrugged. I knew Jamie wasn’t a coke user. This was probably another one of those things he did to fit in.