Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

Ricardo frowned. ‘What things? What do you mean?’

I paused to collect my thoughts. I knew that, if I wasn’t careful, Ricardo would talk me out of this. ‘We talked about it on the plane back from Brazil. And there are other things I’ve seen since then that have made me more concerned.’

‘You saw the Brady battle against Bloomfield Weiss, didn’t you? Of course you did. You played an important part in it.’

‘Yes, I saw it.’

‘Didn’t you enjoy that?’

‘Yes, I did.’

Ricardo paused and looked at me. ‘Do you know how much money you’ll make this year, if you do as well as I think you will?’

‘No.’

‘Guess.’

‘Well, nine months’ work, that’s a bit over twenty thousand pounds’ salary. And a bonus.’

‘Of how much?’

Damn him! I should just ignore his question. But it intrigued me. He was clever. I’d joined Dekker for the money. How much money had been left vague. Now I would find out.

‘I don’t know. Ten thousand pounds, maybe?’

‘I would be surprised if you didn’t get a bonus of a hundred thousand dollars this year.’

Jesus! I tried hard not to look excited or greedy. I could feel a smile creeping across my face, but I suppressed it. ‘Oh,’ I said, my voice strained.

‘And, of course, we’ll start making investments for you in the employee trusts. In three years you’ll be worth at least half a million. In five, a million. Now, do you still want to resign?’

He was telling the truth, I could see. He wasn’t bullshitting me. With a million quid I could give up and do what I really wanted to do for the rest of my life. If I left now, the boiler still wouldn’t get fixed.

But I would lose myself. I would become a different person, a rich person, but a person I wouldn’t like. A person Isabel wouldn’t like.

‘Yes,’ I said.

Ricardo’s face flushed. He looked angry. ‘You really should take some time to think about it. Take a week.’

‘No. I’d like to leave today.’

‘If you’re not with me, you’re against me. I told you that before, didn’t I?’ There was a real edge to Ricardo’s voice.

I held up my hands. ‘Hey, I don’t want to become Dekker’s enemy. I’m just in the wrong job, that’s all.’

‘No, Nick. I have personally put a lot of trust in you. You have let me down. I won’t forget that.’

His eyes looked straight into my soul, blue and piercing. I felt very uncomfortable. I wanted to bow my head, to say, ‘Yes, of course, Ricardo, I’d be happy to stay.’ But I held his eyes, and kept silent.

‘All right. There’s no need for you to go right away. It’s not like you’re going to a competitor or anything. Are you?’ He glared at me.

I shook my head. There was no way I was going to make the same mistake twice.

‘Good. Well, clear your desk and be out by this evening. Talk to Eduardo about your P45, and your loan.’

With that, he stood up, turned his back on me, and walked off.

I hung my head and sighed. I felt like shit. I felt disloyal, dishonest, cowardly. How did he do it? How could he make me feel like this?

A few minutes before he had treated me with genuine sympathy. And then... It was his single-mindedness, I supposed. Anything that threatened his beloved Dekker Ward threatened him personally, even if it was only the resignation of one of his most junior people.

His words returned to me. ‘If you’re not with me, you’re against me.’ No compromises.

I knew I had taken the right decision. While I had been in Brazil my doubts about the money-laundering, the way I had deceived Wójtek, and what had happened to Dave had all receded into the background. But they would come back. I had discussed my resignation with Isabel, and she had thought it a good idea. Besides, with the press story Luís had concocted, it was best to get out now. The whole Dekker experience had been a big mistake. The sooner it was behind me the better.

Slowly and deliberately I began to gather my things together.

I felt a presence beside me. It was Eduardo. He looked angry.

‘Ricardo tells me you have resigned.’

‘That’s right,’ I said.

‘Well, I think you should leave now.’

‘But Ricardo said I had until this evening,’ I protested.

‘And I say you leave now,’ Eduardo repeated firmly. ‘The security guards will be up in a couple of minutes.’

I shrugged my shoulders. Actually, that suited me. I had collected all my stuff in a cardboard box, there wasn’t that much of it.

Eduardo’s dark eyes bored into me. ‘When you go I want you to forget Dekker, and forget all you saw here. But I won’t forget you. I’ll be watching you. And if I see you try anything, any tiny little thing, which might harm this firm, I will take the appropriate steps.’ His voice was low, almost a whisper. It made my skin prickle, a physical reaction to the danger that loaded his words. ‘Do you understand?’

My throat was dry. I knew Eduardo didn’t make empty threats. But I didn’t want him to see me swallow.

‘What I do with my life is my own affair,’ I said.

‘Oh, no, it’s not,’ said Eduardo, leaning forward. ‘It’s mine now, too.’

I picked up my jacket from the back of my chair and put it on. Eduardo was right to be concerned about me, of course. As he would realize when he saw the stories in the Rio papers.

Two security guards arrived at my desk. They searched me, turning out my pockets, and patting my chest, arms and legs. Eduardo seemed disappointed when they didn’t find anything.

The dealing room went quiet, as everyone watched me, jaws open. Jamie saw me from the square. ‘What the hell?’ he mouthed. He still didn’t know I had resigned. I sought out Ricardo. His eyes met mine, emotionless. I felt the stares burning into me. Still, I thought, if they could turn Dave into a non-person so quickly, they’d have no trouble with me. The guards led me through the unnatural silence, out of the trading room to the lifts.

I plummeted forty floors down to the real world.

I felt elated as I pedalled rapidly back to Primrose Hill, leaving the Tower further and further behind me. No more worrying about Ricardo and Eduardo. I could forget money-laundering and murder. I had escaped!

By the time I reached home it was one o’clock, and I was hungry. As soon as I was through the door I checked the fridge for something for lunch. Nothing. There was a pint of milk, though, so I made myself a bowl of cornflakes. There were also a couple of cans of beer. I don’t drink during the day. I took one. It turned out that beer and cornflakes don’t go well together.

I was glad about leaving Dekker, although I felt a fool for going there in the first place. It would be a difficult mistake to unravel. I would have to go cap in hand to Russell Church at the School of Russian Studies, admit I was wrong, and ask if he knew of any jobs anywhere. I shuddered as I thought of applications, interviews, explanations of why I hadn’t any formal Russian qualifications, if I even got far enough to be allowed to explain. My father would think I was crazy.

And money. I had received one pay cheque from Dekker, which helped a lot. But I still had the mortgage on my flat. Mr K. R. bloody Norris would be on my back again in no time. And I owed Ricardo his five grand, three of which I still had in the bank. Well, that would come in useful to tide me through the next few months. One day I’d pay him back. Maybe.

Sharp hammering started up somewhere above me, followed by the muffled crash of plaster pulled away from a wall. I remembered that the old lady upstairs had warned me that she was having some work done. I was never home during the day so I hadn’t noticed before.