Big Deal

by Soraya May

  Billy snorts. “Yeah, screw that. On the other hand, that sounds miles better than working for you-know-who.” He glances over at me. “You okay about what happened with Ronnie, boss? I know she had to go, but she was real good, I mean—”

  “Yeah, Billy, I’m okay.” The mention of Ronnie’s name puts a cold grip on my heart. I see her face in my head, desperate, pleading, and for a moment I’m furious with myself for hurting her so much. It was her choice. I couldn’t do anything else.

  I can’t hide anything from these people, and it’s better not to try. “I’m sad about it, but there’s no other option. The team comes first, no matter what.”

  Mike raises his pint glass again. “To the team! Walters Capital’s finest!” We clink glasses again, and I try to get as much of the beer down my throat in one go as I can.

  “Heads up, boys; incoming dickhead at ten o’clock.” I look up, and see Rick Parsons approaching, with three of his team behind him. He stops directly in front of us.

  “One last hurrah for your team, huh, Tom?” I nod as cordially as I possibly can. “Hey, why don’t I buy a round for my future employees?”

  There’s stony silence round the table. Billy mutters something under his breath, and I’m glad he doesn’t say it any louder than that.

  “Awwww, c’mon, is that any way to treat your future boss? Come on, you know it makes sense. Sure, Tom might have finished his career with this stunt, but there’s no reason for you to do so as well.”

  Mike looks at him. “No thanks, Rick. Not for me.”

  Rick guffaws. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who actually guffaws. “Believe me, boys, you’ll be singing a different tune tomorrow when you sober up. I’ll expect your resumes on my desk at 9am. Hell, if you come to the office in person, we can even set about finding you desks. Now Global Finance is getting ready to be number 1 in the market, we’re going to need a whole lot more space.”

  “Rick,” I say, as politely as I can, “now is really not the time. Can you talk to everyone another day?”

  Ignoring me, he turns to the table, and spreads his arms wide. I really want to punch him at this point. “Come on, boys and girls, just admit it. I’ll do a better job for you than Tom the Loser ever could.”

  “Dammit!” Billy slams both palms down on the table, and surges to his feet. Uh-oh. Rick’s team are behind him, staring at us coldly. He’s a broad-shouldered guy; I’m not short, but he’s bigger than me in every direction. Billy, however, is a small mountain, and when he stands up, everyone takes a step back.

  “Whoa, boys, looks like we’ve got a live one here!” Rick holds up his hands, but he doesn’t back off. “You a bit upset about the end of the parade, huh?”

  “Listen to me, dickhead.” Billy’s voice is cold. “Tom Macaulay is the best boss I’ve ever had, and he’s a good friend of mine. He’s a good friend to everyone around this table. You’ll get no success trying to poach us in front of him. And if you shoot your mouth off again, you’ll get a lesson in manners.”

  Two of Rick’s team step forward next to him. One of them peers at us balefully. “You guys talk pretty big. Shame you fucked it up just as big.”

  That’s it. Billy cocks his fist back, and for a moment I think it’s all on, but I’m a bit quicker. I shoulder him out of the way, and find myself face-to-face with Rick.

  “Mr. Parsons,” I say with careful politeness, “it seems the presence of you and your team is no longer welcome here. I’d remind you that we’re in a public place, and there are cameras everywhere. In order to avoid an ugly scene, I suggest that you and I de-escalate this situation.”

  “And what if we don’t, Tommy-boy?”

  “Then I’ll lay you out myself. I’m retiring, remember? I ain’t got nothing to lose.”

  I stare at him, unblinking, and count quietly to ten in my head. Before I get to ‘eight’, he cracks.

  “Sure thing, Tom. Out of respect for what you’ve achieved, I’m going to let you go this time.” He backs away, still with that smarmy grin on his face. “Just remember this, though; the whole world knows what you’re going to do, and they’re going to be watching. No matter what, you’re out of choices. You’ve lost this game before you even start to play.” He tosses me a mocking salute. “Adios, amigos.”

  Turning back to Billy, I look at him carefully. He’s still furious, half-drunk, and breathing heavy. I grab both his shoulders. “Man, it’s not worth it.”

  His face falls. “Yeah, I know, boss. It’s not worth it.” Sitting back down heavily, he rests both elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands. “It’s just so damn frustrating—like we’ve got nowhere to go and nothing to do. Rick Parsons is right. Tomorrow, when the bond starts trading, everyone in the world is going to be watching us, and they know what we’re going to do. Just like he said, we’ve lost this game before we even start to play.”

  If you don’t like the game, change the rules and play a different one. Ronnie’s words echo in my head, and I look carefully at the team around me. Their faces are dejected, but every single one of them, when I meet their eyes, offers me a smile.

  That’s it. I stand up. “Guys, I have two things to say. First, it’s been a privilege to work with every last one of you. Nobody could ask for a better crew than this one, and the time we’ve spend together will always be special to me. Second, I want everyone at their desks at 7.30am sharp tomorrow. I’m serious.”

  The chorus of groans that greets me is not unexpected.

  “Boss, what’s the point? The market doesn’t open until nine, and it’s not like we don’t know what we’re going to do.” Billy looks around, gloomy. “Hell, everyone else in the whole Goddamned world knows what we’re going to do.”

  I slam my fist down on the table. “That, Billy Flynn, is exactly the point. Now get your asses home and sober up. I’ll explain later. Right now, I have to go.”

  I walk out of the bar, grabbing for my phone. I ring Ronnie’s number five times, but she doesn’t pick up. On the fifth one, I give in to my frustration and send her a message.

  Ronnie, it’s Tom. I understand that you weren’t expecting to hear from me, but it’s urgent. I need your help tomorrow. Can you meet me outside the office at 7am?

  Now all I can do is wait and plan.

  38

  The early-morning air is crisp and cool, and I shiver a little on the sidewalk. A host of questions runs through my mind, but I don’t have answers for any of them.

  Why does Tom even want to talk to me now? What could I do to help him? How the hell am I going to get into the building?

  “Ms. Haas.” I look up. It’s Barbara. For once she doesn’t have a clipboard. I think about making a joke about not recognizing her without it, and decide against it. “Please follow me.”

  “Barbara, I—” She’s already walked off in front of me, down the street. Hurrying to catch up, I try to continue talking “I don’t know how I’m going to get in; Security took my access card for the main doors when I left.”

  Three feet in front of me, she sniffs, loud enough for me to hear. “We’re not going to the main doors, Ms. Haas.” I follow her around the building, into an alleyway. She beckons impatiently. “Hurry, please. We don’t have much time before morning security arrives.”

  There’s a small door with MAINTENANCE printed on it, and she walks up to that. Feeling in her purse, she produces a set of keys, and unlocks it.

  “Am I supposed to be here, if I’m not an employee?” I frown at the door, and Barbara turns to me, regarding me severely.

  “No, you most definitely are not. It is strictly forbidden for non-employees to access the building without signing in. That is why you are not accessing the building.” She brandishes the keys. “I do not have these keys, and this maintenance door definitely does have a functioning security camera.”

  I nod, slowly, and decide not to say anything. The door swings open and Barbara points into the darkness. “Go down the corridor as far as you can, then turn
right. You will come to a freight elevator, which will go all the way up to the twelfth floor. I dare say someone will meet you there.” She turns to walk away, then looks back at me. “One more thing, Ms. Haas.”

  “Yes?” I really don’t know what to say to her at this point.

  “I do not under any circumstances condone violating company rules. However, there are times when someone acts under the guidance of a higher moral authority. I believe your resignation to be one of those times.”

  “Thank you, Barbara.” She sniffs.

  “Don’t thank me. Dr. Macaulay believes your presence on the floor this morning to be vital to the continued future of this firm. If that means we must adopt,” she inhales deeply “a broader-picture view of compliance to company rules, then so be it.”

  I try not to smile. “Very well.” She gestures again, impatiently.”

  “Hurry up, Ms. Haas. You mustn’t keep Dr. Macaulay waiting.”

  The corridor is narrow and dark, and I seriously doubt anyone’s done any maintenance here for a very long time. I get to the end, and press the button to call the elevator, fumbling in the gloom. In the distance, I hear the maintenance door slam shut behind me.

  Well, I’m in for it now. Resigned from a company, then illegally accessing their building the very next day. Really grown up and responsible, Ronnie. Nice one.

  The elevator doors are the old mechanical sort, and I force them open with some difficulty and get inside. There’s no light, and I have to use my phone’s screen to see the buttons. There’s one labeled ‘12’, but I have no idea where the hell on the twelfth floor it comes out; I’ve been all over that floor and never seen a freight elevator.

  The elevator lurches into motion, and I hold onto my bag, trying not to feel like I’m ascending into some trial out of a video game. It crunches to a halt, and the number ‘12’ lights up above my head. I peer through the little window in the door, but everything is black.

  Taking hold of the door, I pull it open, and am greeted by—a wall of boxes reaching up to the ceiling. Great.

  Just as I’m staring into the boxes wondering what the hell to do now, there’s a scrabbling noise. One of the middle boxes shifts about, then slides out and is replaced by Tom’s face, lit by the glow from his phone. Inexplicably, he smiles.

  “Ah, Ronnie. I’m glad you could make it.”

  I try not to scream what the hell is going on? and look sideways at him. “Well, yeah. I didn’t have any plans today, anyway.”

  “Hold on, let me clear some more of these boxes.” He pulls a few more out, creating a big enough hole for me to fit through. Reaching in, he holds out a hand. “Take my hand. We don’t have much time, and we need to have both of us on the floor.”

  This time, I can’t resist. “Tom, what the hell is going on? I understand you don’t want to see me any more, but I honestly have no idea what I’m doing here, or even where I am.” He holds out his hand again, but, angry, I refuse to take it.

  His face softens. “Ronnie, I’ll explain, I promise. Right now, I need your help.”

  “Tom, I—”

  “Ronnie, please. You’re the only one who can help me.”

  I grab hold of his hand, warm and strong, and for a moment just being able to touch him is a relief. He helps me through the boxes, and waves his phone around. From its dim light, I can tell we’re in a storeroom.

  “This room, it turns out, is actually a maintenance room, but some time ago the freight elevator was shut down, and these boxes were just piled up in front of it. Turns out nobody really knows it’s here. Come on.”

  Opening the door, I suddenly realize where we are; in a small corridor off the main foyer. Tom grins at me. “Neat, huh?”

  “Tom, how did you know this was here? It’s not like I see you wandering around looking at floor-plans most of the day.”

  “Well, not really, no. Turns out that if you want to get someone into this building without authorization, it’s nearly impossible. In fact, the only person who knows how to do it is Barbara.”

  I look at him goggle-eyed. “You mean this was her idea?”

  “Not exactly. I approached her last night and asked hypothetically how I would get a certain former trainee into the building if it were essential for the firm’s survival, and it turned out she had a perfect solution. She didn’t even really need that much convincing, oddly enough. I think she has a soft spot for you.”

  This is just getting weirder and weirder. “I, uh, yeah. So, tell me again what I’m doing here?”

  Tom takes hold of my hand. “I’ll explain on the floor. Come on, we don’t have much time.”

  Down on the trading floor, everything is quiet. Rows of computers lie dormant, waiting for people to come and wake them up, and for the day’s business to start. In front of me Tom strides in, flipping power switches as he goes.

  “Right.” He turns to me. “Grab that whiteboard, and power up those computers. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Tom, what are you talking about? I’m not even supposed to be here. Walters Capital is doomed, and it’s my fault.”

  He holds up a finger. “Maybe not.” Pulling two chairs over in front of the computer screens, he indicates that I should sit down, and I slump into one of the chairs.

  He stands in front of me, and kneels down, putting his hands on my knees. “In the short time I have known you, Ronnie Haas, you have taught me a lot of things. You’ve taught me that there’s more to my life than financial games. You’ve taught me that sticking to your principles can be painful—” I smile, ruefully, and he continues, “—but that sometimes, maybe, it’s not as foolish as I thought. And,” he turns back to the trading floor, “in your wisdom, you have pointed the way to how we can get out of this damn situation.”

  This is pointless. What am I doing here? “Tom, how could we possibly get out of this situation now? Everyone in the whole world knows what’s going to happen in an hour’s time. The market in Singapore is going to open, and the first wave of investors are going to sell as fast as they can.”

  I put my hands out, pleading. “Then, the market will drop as a result, and this will trigger a chain reaction across the rest of the world as each market opens, placing Walters Capital further and further in the red. By the time New York opens, the firm will either have had to sell at a massive loss, or be wiped out. Everyone is watching, and they have an opportunity to make virtually free money at our expense.”

  Tom nods enthusiastically and turns to face the whiteboard. “Correct.”

  I stand up, my frustration boiling over. “Why the bloody hell are you so happy? How can we possibly change things now everyone knows what we’re going to do?”

  Tom turns back, and this time his eyes glitter like the downfall of angels. “Exactly.”

  39

  As the team make their way in for the morning, coming into the wide expanse of the trading room, and see me, there are plenty of surprised faces. Mike comes up to me, beaming, enfolding me in a hug. “Ronnie! What the hell are you doing here?”

  Across the room, Tom calls out “Consider her an…external consultant on a short-term contract.” He’s bending over a computer terminal, typing as fast as he can.

  “Oh, yeah? How short-term?”

  “About two hours. The other thing about this contract is it’s, uh, ad-hoc.”

  “Whaddya mean ad-hoc?”

  “I mean nobody knows about it.”

  Mike has a conspiratorial smile. “Ah. We’re breaking the rules. I like it.”

  Tom straightens up, turns around and raises his arms. “Gather round, everybody.” He gestures at the desks, and starts to explain.

  “This morning, before you came to work, I placed a number of buy orders to be triggered exactly when the market opens and the ‘Macaulay’ bond starts trading. I did this without your knowing, and for everyone’s own good, I can’t tell you exactly what’s going to happen now. I repeat; I am acting on my own, aided by someone—” he indicates me, “who isn�
��t even an employee any more. From here on, I ask only that you trust me. When this is over, you will say that you were following instructions from your superior, and that’s all.”

  Billy steps forward. “Boss, what the hell are you up to? Tokyo is opening in ten minutes, and that’s when the chaos is going to start. You can see it’s already happening with the pre-orders and the dark pools.”

  He gestures to the computer screens, already flickering with activity. “As soon as people can start selling, we’re going to be screwed. The more they sell, the more the price drops. The more the price drops, the more people sell. Every time the price drops, we lose money. We’re trapped in a whirlpool, and there’s no way out.”

  “Billy, bear with me.”

  “But, boss—”

  “Just wait. The first round of orders is already set. Once that’s happened, I’ll let you know what to do.”

  So now we wait. I watch the minutes counting down on the big clock attached to the ceiling, and glance nervously at the huge screens at the front. The rest of the team is milling around, glancing at their computers, talking quietly. I don’t know what they’re thinking right now, but I suspect it’s probably about their future employment. Billy and Mike sit at a table, legs crossed, looking from me to Tom, and back again.

  Five minutes to market open.

  “Ronnie, help us out here.” Billy speaks, unable to sit quietly any more. “Surely you can tell us what he’s up to.”

  I wave my hand. “Sorry, Bill. Not even supposed to be here, remember? It’ll be okay, though.” I try to sound more confident than I feel.

  Two minutes to market open.

  Tom is stretched out in a chair, doodling on a piece of paper. He looks over at me and blows me a kiss. I want to hit him, but I restrain the urge.