“It has zip to do with business, Henry. You just can’t control yourself.”
“Control myself! What planet are you on? I have a multibillion dollar deal in the pipeline—”
“Stop the crap,” interrupted Nancy. “If this is important you can deal with it on the phone. I am sure that you have perfect backup. Your team are not a bunch of incompetent nerds, right?”
Henry did not have time to reply.
“You do what you have to do, I won’t interfere again but I will not be working with some chap who is going to annihilate his chances of salvaging his case – clear?”
Nancy turned and walked away.
“And what is my case to you anyway Nancy, hey? An attempt to crawl back into the limelight?” shouted Henry.
“No, a vague attempt at redemption. And since we are getting down to it, I had received the plane tickets in my post by mistake and forgot to deliver them back on time to you. Yes, the police know. Yes, I feel bad about it. And no, I don’t give a damn whether you’re peed off.” Nancy was speaking over her shoulder as she was waiting for the lift. She disappeared into it when it arrived.
“Shit,” shouted Henry throwing his keys against the door of the lift.
* * *
McCarthy had checked his mobile earlier in the day and could see he had missed a call. Henry’s name was showing on the small screen and McCarthy was only surprised it had taken so long. He must have been informed of GL’s decision by HR. McCarthy had not made the time to speak to Henry directly and for a moment he felt regret. After all, Alexander the Great had been known to give the coup de grâce to his dying soldiers himself, but then again McCarthy was not Alexander the Great. More pressing matters were requiring his attention besides his philosophical beliefs or Henry’s need for explanation. He walked out of his office in search of an empty meeting room. He needed urgently to call his Whitehall contact. McCarthy walked purposely. Anyone meeting him would imagine he was on his way to an urgent appointment. He would not be interrupted. To his annoyance all the meeting rooms were full. This sign of renewed activity did not cheer him as most meetings were internal, his firm was on the brink. His people were starting to get too agitated, the takeover combined with a gasping market that could not find its feet was destabilising GL’s well-oiled platform. Disaster scenarios were being run daily. It was now only a matter of time. McCarthy dove into the staircase and went down one floor. Thankfully, a small meeting room was free. He swiftly entered the room and dialled his contact number.
“Douglas,” said the voice, genuinely surprised. “So soon! How are you my dear fellow?”
“We urgently need to talk,” McCarthy said. There was no time for niceties.
“I suggest lunch tomorrow. I may be a little late. Say 2pm, same place? I’ll be there, alone.”
“As you see fit, William,” answered McCarthy.
“Can you give me a hint?”
“We are on the verge of a global financial meltdown,” replied McCarthy without hesitation.
* * *
The rain had started falling in the early morning, a fine drizzle that made the cold even more penetrating. James Radlett shivered as he crossed the street towards GL’s offices. It was 6.30am. The trading floor began its day with cash traders on European markets arriving as early as 6am to prepare their day, listening to the analysts’ reviews of the economy, reading the financial papers and scrolling through Bloomberg and Reuters. Information was key, not only published but also inferred; each trader trying to create a position of favourable arbitrage before the London market opened, a discipline that most traders would respect.
The derivative people would arrive at 7 or even perhaps 7.30am, their reliance on market data different from their cash colleagues unless the markets were turbulent.
James showed his card to the security guard – since 9/11 GL had introduced drastic security measures. He progressed towards the turnstile in the vast atrium, scanned his card again and moved to the third floor, rapidly climbing the escalator. The trading floor was already full. The subprime crisis was spreading fast, reaching areas of the market that under normal circumstances would have been spared.
One young woman had been working the Asian market and, looking away from her screens, dropped her head into her hands in a gesture of defeat. She could do nothing but lose time and time again.
James logged in, and quickly perused Bloomberg. He was not focusing on the debacle, but rather was hunting for any announcements relating to the takeover between GL and HXBK. Interesting news had the habit of appearing early morning and brusquely disappearing from the news panel as the day moved on. He searched under the GL ticker, then HXBK’s then financial institutions. Nothing. He quickly looked at the clock at the bottom of his screen which indicated 6.47. He would make his way to McCarthy’s office at 6.55. He had no intention of being early.
* * *
Ted had also arrived at the office early. He had parked his Porsche 911 in GL’s private car park, a luxury only MDs enjoyed. The congestion charge did not worry him. He had had the good fortune to fall on the right side of the line when Ken Livingstone had extended its perimeter. His house in the West End was indeed well positioned. Something he liked to brag about with less fortunate colleagues. Ted reached the elevator and looked at his watch; 6.55 exactly.
When the door opened again, Ted found himself face to face with James. A small yelp escaped from his mouth. James nodded stiffly and stepped into the lift, forcing Ted to rush out.
“Little fucker, I’ll get you one day,” James said through gritted teeth.
The lift pinged again, reminding James of why he had entered it in the first place. It took him to the executive floor where Douglas McCarthy was expecting him.
Unusually, McCarthy’s door was open. Cindy was nowhere to be seen. James was about to wait for Cindy to return when McCarthy’s authoritative voice summoned him in. He was seated at his desk and well advanced in his day’s work. He asked James to take a seat at the spacious meeting table. James sat down and McCarthy joined him, neither man had greeted the other.
McCarthy’s attention rested on James, a heavy weight that the young man felt immediately. His army training and military career, albeit short, had familiarised the implacable authority of his commanding officer, and yet the proximity of McCarthy made him uneasy. Whether he liked it or not his CEO was a force to be reckoned with.
“I am sure you know why you are here James,” said McCarthy without any further formalities.
“Well, since I have not seen Henry for over thirty-six hours, I think I do,” replied James.
There was no point in being coy. If McCarthy intended to have a straightforward conversation with James, James was intent on giving him just that.
“Our legal team informs me that matters look difficult for Henry,” said McCarthy.
No reply from James.
“I consequently have a major decision to make regarding the future of the team,” carried on McCarthy.
James remained silent. He had prepared himself for this outcome. McCarthy paused once more. James, still sitting straight in front of him, rested his gaze on his CEO. Without Henry or Anthony Albert around, McCarthy had a much broader choice. He held an additional chip that could be played to his advantage. Something that would not have crossed his mind thirty-six hours ago now became a distinct possibility. HXBK’s people knew this too. They were on tenterhooks.
“HXBK is putting pressure on me to transition the team immediately. It would be a quick and viable answer but I am not sure it is the right one,” carried on McCarthy.
McCarthy was waiting for a reaction. James, still sitting straight in front of him, had folded his hands calmly on the table. He looked at McCarthy straight in the eyes. He would not compromise.
“For the time being, I would like Ted to take control of the team. He will be relying on you heavily, of course, to keep the technical side under control. But when it comes to management decisions Ted will take over from
Henry.”
James finally shifted. This was preposterous. Ted had neither the kudos nor the market credentials to take control of the team.
“I am sure there is a rational reason why this is so but I am sorry, I just can’t see it myself.”
McCarthy remained relaxed. He would not employ the same technique as with Ted. In fact, Ted bored him, he was so easy to scare and manipulate, so repulsively weak. James was more of an interesting challenge.
“I agree that at first sight it does not seem a good move. I know Ted does not have, let us say, the same credible image as Henry does but …”
McCarthy paused for effect and poured a fresh cup of coffee for both of them. James was taken aback by his willingness to explain his decision.
“Ted is heading the integration committee on this segment of our business and you seem to work well with him. He has only good things to say about you.”
“I am glad Ted feels comfortable with me,” replied James, unmoved by the compliment. Ted had no option but to claim he got on well with James. He needed James’ technical expertise to control Henry’s team.
James felt awkward. If he had any ambition to succeed Henry, he had to seize the opportunity now.
“Excellent,” McCarthy said, turning James’ hesitation to his advantage. “Then the matter is settled. I will confirm by email the arrangement.”
“Which I am sure is only temporary, until a final decision is made,” added James, still seated and not prepared to move.
McCarthy may have decided the discussion was over but James had not.
McCarthy shot an ice cold look at James, but indulged him. After all, it would have been too easy. James glanced at the clocks on the wall. McCarthy had another ten minutes to spare. If he wanted to check how much guts James had, James was up for it. McCarthy was game, he moved back to his desk, checked a couple of emails as he was speaking to James.
“You are referring to the outcome of the merger. I agree,” replied McCarthy still looking at his screens.
James was still in his seat.
“I am not sure I am actually referring to the ultimate conclusion of the merger, no,” carried on James.
Now or never.
“The first question is, will Henry come back, the second, if he ever does, in what capacity, and finally does it make a difference anyway?”
McCarthy stopped browsing through his mailbox and leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips. He was enjoying this battle between ambition and integrity.
“You mean, if Henry returns, does he have a chance of getting his job back? Assuming he is cleared of all charges, his reputation will have been damaged beyond repair. This is not something you recover from. Henry is finished. Consequently, yes. I need to make up my mind on long-term succession.”
McCarthy stopped there, not prepared to make things easy for James. If he wanted it, he would have to ask, possibly even beg. James would have to descend into the pit, fighting in the mud like all of them.
Despite his rising anger, James felt that maybe, just maybe, McCarthy was right. What right did he have to judge so readily? He had chosen banking and not any type of banking. He had chosen to work on the trading floor of one of the largest banks in the world. These were the rules of engagement.
A sharp pain in his left leg surprised James, his face closed to scrutiny and he quickly pressed his hand upon it to stop the shaking. The wound he had suffered in battle had decided to make itself known again. He mechanically massaged it whilst trying to formulate his next question. A battle scene flashed before his eyes. He stood up.
“When you have, Douglas, please let me know,” said James.
The moment had passed. James would never become one of McCarthy’s men. He returned to his desk. Usually keen to know what the markets were doing, James would normally stop to chat with a trader. Not today. Morag had kept the meeting quiet, secretly hoping James could take over. Her fresh news about Matt’s whereabouts would do nothing to cheer him up.
Arriving at his desk, James sat down without a word. He activated his screens not paying much attention to what was scrolling in front of his eyes. Morag shifted in her seat, still hesitant.
“Yes Morag,” said James, without looking at her.
“Do you want the bad news or do you want the very bad news?”
“It’s going to be one of those days,” replied James with a grim smile. “Come on. Give it to me.”
“I know where Matt is,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning towards him.
“Mmmm,” James moved towards her, his solid face now close to hers.
“New York,” she whispered.
“And?”
“HXBK’s offices.”
“Definitely one of those days,” sighed James. “OK, fill me in.”
Morag passed on all the details she had managed to glean. James walked into Henry’s office and shut the door. He looked at the last text from his boss.
Keep going …
Chapter Nineteen
Nancy had rung Henry’s doorbell in three short bursts. She could hear, from behind the door, a fumble of activity and it finally opened. Henry had switched his jeans for the expected dark suit, white shirt and, oh, a red tie. Nancy took a step back.
“You’re with GL, aren’t you?”
“I like your newly found optimism Nancy. I thought you might have said, you were.”
“I am referring to the colour of the tie my dear. You look very Goldman Sachs. Red tie.”
“Correct. I am going incognito. This is camouflage.”
“Anyway, I approve.”
Henry grinned but did not reply. As they went down in the lift, he observed Nancy. Her elegance was sober yet striking. Her suit was dark grey and the shirt an unusual pattern of soft greys and black. The final touch was a large ring featuring in its centre an equally large pink pearl. Her style made him feel confident. He was dealing with a professional woman who knew how to power dress.
“You mentioned your driver would be here to pick us up. Should you not have checked?”
“No need, Nancy. I have used Charlie for over five years. He is the most punctual person you can ever meet. He would have called if he had been delayed.”
Henry opened the door of their building, making room for Nancy to go first. She spotted the black S-Class Mercedes waiting for them. A heavy man with dark glasses emerged from the driver’s side. Nancy thought she was meeting Agent M from Men in Black and immediately approved of Henry’s decision to stick with Charlie.
* * *
The meeting with Henry’s brief was going well. At the outset Henry had required Nancy to be included in his team; documents were being drafted to that effect. Henry repeated what he had said to Pole. Nancy gave details about what she had witnessed. One of Pritchard QC’s pupils was taking notes. For the first time in thirty-six hours, Henry was feeling in control. He had regained the upper hand. He had also managed to avoid looking at his BlackBerry for a couple of hours. Yet he fiddled with it with the intensity of a religious devotee fingering prayer beads.
“Shall we have a tea break?” Pritchard QC offered.
He signalled his pupil to organise it. Henry stood up and escaped, to be alone finally and scroll through his emails. A sense of new possibilities had given him hope. The call he had received from HR could wait. He could never take these people seriously anyway. But no new emails had come in for several hours. Henry checked again, no emails since 10am in the morning. It was already 3pm and there was only one explanation; his email service had been suspended. The searing burn of anger flared inside him.
“What is that stupid bitch thinking of? Fuck you.”
He scrolled through his previous emails and furiously dialled the HR number. Henry exploded on the phone when she answered but she was having none of it. She kept asking him to calm down and listen to his voicemails. Henry decided to shut her up by requesting to speak to McCarthy immediately. He had viewed this request as h
is ultimate defence. The old man had not responded to Henry’s missed calls but then again how could he in the midst of a takeover? Henry would have to swallow his pride and try again. He asked to be put through to Cindy. She would arrange a call with McCarthy to clear up this ridiculous mess.
“Mr Crowne,” insisted the woman on the phone in a high-pitched voice. “The decision to discontinue your email service was signed off by Mr McCarthy himself.”
Henry could not remember having been slapped so hard in the face, more used to throwing the punches than receiving them. He recovered swiftly, not prepared to admit defeat, yet.
“I want to hear this from him in person,” said Henry.
“Well, call him directly if you’d like,” retorted the voice on the other end, “but I will not disrupt him for what are clear instructions—”
Henry hung up without waiting for her to finish her sentence. He dialled McCarthy’s personal mobile number once more, a privilege he had never abused before. He had just put the mobile to his ear when a strong hand grabbed his arm. Nancy had witnessed the whole conversation.
“This is not a good idea,” she said calmly. “What are you going to achieve?”
DMac’s private mobile had started to ring.
“WHAT?” she repeated, still squeezing his arm.
Henry was furious. He tried to yank his arm free from her grip. Nancy’s hold must have been stronger than he thought. They exchanged angry looks. The mobile was still ringing. This time Henry pushed her hard and freed himself. The BlackBerry escaped his hand, flew into the air before crashing on the ground with a metallic crunch.
Henry’s eyes opened wide as he yelled, “No,” – a cry of agony. He dropped to the floor where his phone lay in pieces. “No,” he moaned each time he picked one up. Nancy’s face had reddened, her hand frozen in mid-air. Henry darted toward her, a demented look in his eye.
“I need to get a new phone right away, right NOW.”
“We have not finished our meeting with your defence lawyer,” replied Nancy with as much composure as she could summon.
“I don’t give a shit,” shouted Henry. “I need to get another phone RIGHT NOW.”
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