by Hammond, Ray
Joe had selected a sharp charcoal-grey suit with a white shirt for his meeting with the most famous banker in the world. As he straightened his pale grey tie, his most conservative, he could feel nerves fluttering in his stomach. He turned left out of his hotel and walked up the gentle gradient of the Avenue de France. He passed the old Palace of Nations and the monument to Woodrow Wilson’s fumbled efforts to establish the first global government and then he was at the vast compound the United Nations had been given in 1947 when that organization was established. The new European headquarters of the World Bank soared like a shimmering silver hologram between the ponds and sculptures that dotted the park.
He presented himself at the security post inside the glass doors, and an electronic ident was clipped to his lapel. An American security guard asked Joe to leave all his recording and communications devices at the checkpoint. He then stepped through a scanner and was walked to the elevators. The guard leaned into a waiting car and pressed the button for the top floor. He left Joe to travel upwards alone.
The doors opened onto a softly lit corridor of mahogany doorways, pale cream walls, moss-green carpet and expensive watercolours. A dark-haired, middle-aged woman with a VideoMate under her left arm greeted him and introduced herself as Madame Pioline. She told Joe that the Doctor was waiting for him and they crossed to a pair of highly polished double doors. She pushed them open and stepped aside.
Inside, Joe’s first impression was of light and space. Then he noticed the heavy form of Dr Yoav Chelouche slumped, reading intently, behind a desk. That face was familiar from a thousand newscasts and magazine covers. Joe cleared his throat. The banker looked up, rose, walked around the large desk and extended his hand.
‘I am Chelouche,’ he announced in the gravel tones that were even more famous than his image. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Tinkler.’ He waved Joe towards a low coffee table surrounded by high-backed gilt chairs.
Coffee was brought, pleasantries exchanged: the president of the World Bank enquired about Joe’s flight and accommodation. The fallen Wall Street star then commented on the view of the lake seen from the tall office windows. He had debated whether it would be uncool to express his admiration for the man.
‘I’m proud to meet you, sir,’ he risked. He was tempted to say more about Chelouche’s renowned financial achievements. But he knew there was almost nothing he could add to the praise that had been heaped already on the banker by the world’s political leaders and economists.
Chelouche put down his coffee cup, folded his hands over his stomach and focused his dark, mournful gaze on the fit-looking black man in front of him.
‘Well, I have been aware of you for some time, Mr Tinkler,’ he said. ‘Very aware. It’s hard to become as successful as you’ve been and not get noticed.’
‘Tell that to Rakusen-Webber.’ Joe laughed ruefully. ‘They wouldn’t agree and nor would many others. You know Wall Street.’
Chelouche nodded. He did. That was where he had started, a lifetime ago.
‘I’m worried that I might now be finished in fund management.’
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ mused Chelouche. ‘But your name has been in front of me for several years. You have done well with your Tye portfolio.’ It was a statement but Joe realized that his host was inviting comment.
‘The figures say so,’ Joe admitted. ‘My fund was growing at an annual average of thirty-three-point-seven per cent in real terms over the last six years.’
‘Why do you say in real terms?’ asked the banker pointedly.
Joe maintained his composure. ‘I mean, once they’re adjusted for inflation, momentum growth, rounding errors and so on.’
‘And what has been the average rate of inflation in the reserve currencies over the last six years?’ Chelouche asked.
Joe shrugged. ‘One point one, one point two. It’s been very steady.’
‘Thank you!’ exclaimed Chelouche as if he were accepting a compliment. ‘I always feel that the expression “growth in real terms” implies there is something unreal about the underlying performance. It’s an archaic phrase.’
Joe could see that he had touched a nerve. He said nothing.
‘But you have done very well,’ Chelouche said more graciously, returning to his theme. ‘Despite being dismissed by Rakusen-Webber. As you have been advised, UNISA thinks Mr Tye was involved in that move.’
‘In what way, sir?’ asked Joe. He had learned very little more about the UN’s interest in the Tye Corporation or its boss even after he had signed the lengthy secrecy agreement that Executive Officer Deakin had put under his nose. He had been told only that Thomas Tye and his companies were the subject of a current UNISA investigation that could lead to criminal or civil charges. He was also told that his special knowledge of the Tye investment portfolio could be helpful in that same investigation. Given that Joe had nothing better to do and couldn’t easily find another Wall Street buyer for his highly specialized knowledge of Tye and his finances, he had readily agreed to visit Geneva to at least discuss the options.
‘I’ll come back to that, Mr Tinkler,’ said Chelouche. ‘But . . . you’ve been kind enough to come all this way. Let me tell you about the assignment we would like you to consider.’
Joe leaned forward and put his coffee cup down on the low table.
‘You must know the Tye investment portfolio better than almost anybody outside of the corporation itself,’ began the banker. ‘We want you to operate a new investment fund specializing in the Tye Corporation and its many related interests. It will be a large fund, a very large fund indeed, but it will have unorthodox goals.’
Joe nodded again, wondering what type of fund the man could be talking about.
‘We want you to maintain all your current intelligence-gathering operations on Mr Tye and his personal investments and we hope you will be able to attract many of your old clients back to your new fund.’
Joe allowed himself a small smile. He thought that might be possible. Many of the world’s pension-fund managers had hitched a free, or semi-free, ride on Joe’s coat-tails for almost a decade.
‘At the outset we want you to run this fund with one initial aim.’
Chelouche raised his heavy eyebrows as he reached the end of the sentence, inviting Joe’s input.
‘To make profits?’ offered Joe because he could think of no other motive. He had read as much as he could find about the World Bank since being invited to visit Geneva, but he wasn’t aware of any investment banking operations.
‘Yes, naturally, to make profits,’ confirmed Chelouche. ‘But I also want you to use the fund to maintain price stability in the various Tye stock-market listings.’
Although Joe had now been out of Rakusen-Webber for ten days he was still fully aware of the market positions and he knew that all Tye’s stocks were showing great resilience. He had been perversely pleased when the news of his dismissal from Rakusen-Webber had momentarily wiped two per cent off the top level of Tye’s quoted interests. But that dip had only lasted half a day and now most of the offerings were trading near or at the top of their year’s highs. His network agents had provided updated prices just before he had attended this meeting.
‘In what way “stabilize”, sir?’ asked Joe. ‘They seem to be doing pretty well without my help.’
‘That’s very true – for now,’ grunted the banker enigmatically. ‘Your job would be to intervene if and when any of the core stocks show signs of serious weakness. If you were to take this assignment, we’d want you to build a substantial cushion of Tye stockholdings as a first step. The more your fund would hold, the less damage any other fluctuations might cause.’
‘Would that be fair on my clients, sir?’ asked Joe.
Chelouche smiled. ‘We will ensure they don’t suffer. Additional funds will be made available, if required. How long would it take you to rebuild the sort of position in Tye’s stocks that you held at Rakusen-Webber – on the understanding that your buying activities must
n’t inflate any open-market prices?’
So the value of his previous fund would merely be regarded as a starting point – a position to hold before new funds for market intervention were even calculated!
Joe considered. He’d have to buy slowly and very carefully. A lot would depend on how Rakusen-Webber played their existing position on his previous portfolio. His sources had told him that it had now been split into five, with Morgenstein personally assuming responsibility for the largest segment. He had also heard that at least two of his old clients were shopping around for new investment houses to handle their equity portfolios.
‘Perhaps five or six weeks, sir,’ he estimated, ‘if we have to do it without being noticed. It depends on how the markets move.’
Chelouche nodded and appeared to be in deep thought. Joe took the opportunity to ask some questions.
‘Do you think we’re heading for problems in the markets, sir? Is that why you want me to buy Tye stock?’
‘There may indeed be problems, Mr Tinkler, but I think they will be very small and limited only to the Tye Corporation and its relatives if you would be kind enough to use your skills to help us.’
Joe waited.
‘You already know that UNISA is investigating Mr Tye and his corporate activities?’
Joe nodded.
‘What emerges from that investigation could affect how investors view Mr Tye and his stocks. We want you to intervene – secretly and anonymously, of course – to maintain the value of those stocks. You’ll use our funds for that, not your investors’ money.’
‘Wouldn’t that be illegal?’ queried Joe. ‘Wouldn’t that be a market manipulation?’
Chelouche smiled for the first time.
‘This is the World Bank, Mr Tinkler. This is where the rules are made. You’re not to worry about that because you’ll be working under our auspices. Our aim is to maintain stability, nothing more. The World Bank is not trying to make profits from its interventions, that is not our role. You will understand far better than most that Mr Tye’s holdings are so valuable that any sudden downwards movement could destabilize the world’s markets. That would set us back a decade or more.’
Joe nodded. He knew that even after nearly ten years of consistent stock-market growth, panic could return within minutes. Only recently he had been within seconds of selling all his Tye-related investments. His failure to do so had been the excuse Morgenstein had used to sack him.
‘I thought that was going to happen the other day,’ he admitted. ‘About two weeks ago Tye started going to cash for no apparent reason. It was touch and go whether I bailed out then.’
‘And why didn’t you?’ asked the world’s banker.
‘The market swallowed it. He liquidated nearly half a trillion US in a morning and the prices hardly wavered.’
Chelouche smiled again. ‘We found ourselves with quite a lot of Tye Corporation stock that day,’ he said.
Joe understood what he was being told, but he still couldn’t help himself exclaiming: ‘You! That’s why . . .’ He tailed off.
‘We think he might have, well . . . guessed that we sometimes undertake such activity and I suspect he deliberately leveraged our interventions to get such a large pile of cash out.’
This was all outside of Joe’s experience. There was a long pause.
‘What do you think he might need so much cash for, Mr Tinkler?’ asked Chelouche, eventually.
Joe shrugged. ‘I was certain he was making new investments. I’ve been watching, but I haven’t found any of it.’
Chelouche nodded. ‘Nor have we,’ he agreed. ‘But it must move soon. Money only generates new value when it is moving. We’d like you to trace it for us.’
‘But if you’re already intervening in the market, why do you need me?’ asked Joe. ‘I was fooled myself. I assumed the markets had soaked it up.’
Chelouche sucked in his cheeks as he considered his response. ‘There are two reasons. First, we’re no longer able to do that. As I said, we think Thomas Tye may have somehow guessed our little game. Frankly, Mr Tinkler, we want you as cover. We don’t want anyone at the Tye Corporation or anybody else in the financial community to know when the World Bank is intervening. You understand?’
Joe nodded. He did indeed understand. If anybody knew about this it would provide the richest investment gravy train in financial history. For a moment he found himself wondering if he could hitch a ride himself Then Chelouche cut into his thoughts.
‘The second reason is that we want you to be seen publicly to be building a very large Tye-based investment vehicle – far larger than you were running at Rakusen-Webber. If you’re agreeable, we’ll set you up in your own office in Swiss National’s Fund Management centre here, in Geneva. We’re very close friends with the bank and, to all intents and purposes, it will be a straightforward hiring. It will be announced that Mr Joseph Tinkler, formerly of Rakusen-Webber, has moved to Europe to join Swiss National,’ said Chelouche. He paused. ‘I presume you would consider such an offer?’
Joe smiled. A spell with the most prestigious bank in Switzerland would completely restore his reputation.
‘Of course, Swiss National themselves will be unaware of the unusual nature of your portfolio,’ continued the banker. ‘Even outside of the investments you bring from your old clients, your funds will, for all practical purposes, be unlimited. If the Tye Corporation’s overall valuation suffered a twenty-five per cent fall, how much would you need to bring them back up?’
Joe did a rapid mental calculation of Tye Corp’s total capitalization. That was too much money.
‘You mean in addition to the value of the fund I’ve previously managed?’
Chelouche nodded.
‘A very much larger fund than I had at Rakusen-Webber,’ exclaimed Joe. ‘Perhaps more than is available.’
Then Chelouche made himself crystal clear. ‘Mr Tinkler, unlimited means unlimited,’ he explained. ‘The World Bank draws its funds from almost every nation in the world. It is as though we are the keepers of the concept of value. If we say we have money, we have money. That’s what money is – a belief that there is value.’
Chelouche paused. ‘Do you know the meaning of the word “credit”, Mr Tinkler?’
Joe wondered if this was a trick question.
‘“Credit” is a Latin word,’ said Chelouche. ‘It means “he believes!”’
Chelouche laughed and Joe heard the man’s lungs gurgle. He guessed that the large humidor on the coffee table was not solely for the benefit of his visitors.
‘So if the going gets rough I prop up Thomas Tye, no matter what the cost?’ continued Joe, marvelling at the idea.
‘It’s not exactly a new concept,’ growled Chelouche. ‘Countries used to do it all the time, when corporations still had national identities. Twenty years ago companies like GE, Microsoft and Mitsubishi were frequently propped up in the markets by their national governments. Usually the companies concerned had no idea of that support. After the Cold War ended the CIA turned its attention to economic activities and the security services became economic spies, commercial subversives and tactical investors – all on a vast scale. They diverted the billions the Pentagon was saving – by not having to pursue an arms race – into economic warfare.’
The banker paused, to ensure his explanation was being followed. ‘You must recall that scandal ten years ago – when it was revealed that America had agents all over Europe trying to deflate the Euro. They were also whipping up anti-European Union sentiments in the press, covertly funding politicians and political parties who wanted individual states to withdraw from the EU – just to slow up the Union’s growth and expansion. They realized that the EU was going to become the most powerful economic bloc in the world and they were trying to subvert it. The idea of keeping a few bell-wether stocks at a high rating in the markets is nothing compared to some activities undertaken by the major governments.’
Joe nodded, not really understanding. Des
pite all his years on The Street and dealing in the world’s most important financial markets he had never heard of governments or the security services secretly intervening in the world’s stock markets – or trying to subvert the political aims of their so-called allies and friends. To his chagrin, he realized that despite his supposedly elevated position on Wall Street he and even his most exalted colleagues had been working in ignorance. In a second it all became clear: the great bull markets of the last few decades – a phenomenon usually attributed to the economic efficiencies of global networks – were revealed as products of national stratagem. While he and other market makers had been acting tactically, governments had been using them to achieve much larger strategic goals. He felt very small and rather stupid in this most hallowed tabernacle of international capitalism.
‘You know what the term “bell-wether” actually means, Mr Tinkler?’ continued Chelouche, seemingly intent on developing the semantic theme of their meeting. ‘It means the sheep that leads the flock.’
Chelouche roared heartily, his lungs now sounding like a pair of Harley-Davidsons idling at a traffic light.
‘That’s what I want you to do, Mr Tinkler. Lead the flock. Stop the shmendriks from scattering when there’s any loud noise.’
Chelouche’s laughter had turned into a wheeze and the banker pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket. He coughed, blew his nose and then looked up at Joe.
‘Mr Tinkler, who is the second most important executive in the Tye Corporation?’
Joe considered. It wasn’t easy to judge, Tye being such an autocrat.
