Free to Trade

by Michael Ridpath

  I was furious. He was right, I didn’t have a choice. But I hated it. I hated to be outwitted by him when I was so close to nailing him. There he was in front of me, smiling slightly, calculating all the angles and getting it just right. As usual.

  I looked at the clock. One thirty-five. Three minutes before he had to ring Waigel.

  Hamilton said. ‘Now, after you have torn up those tickets, write some replacements purchasing Phoenix Prosperity’s stake in the SPV for twenty million dollars, for same-day settlement. I want you to tell administration to process the trade immediately, and call you back when the funds transfer is confirmed. I’ll watch.’

  I thought Hamilton’s last instruction through. It would allow him to make sure Phoenix Prosperity didn’t lose their $20 million after all.

  Hamilton continued. ‘I will call Dick Waigel every five minutes. If you try any funny stuff, or if he doesn’t hear from me, Cathy is dead.’

  I sighed. There was nothing for it but to do what Hamilton wanted. I sat down at my desk and pulled out some blank tickets. Just then the line flashed. Hamilton held out his hand to stop me, but he was too late. ‘Yes?’ I said.

  ‘Paul, it’s Robert Denny.’

  ‘Oh, hallo,’ I said.

  ‘I know you can’t talk now,’ he said, ‘but everything’s ready for you to come round with Hamilton and Rob. The police are here, waiting.’

  ‘Not Powell?’ I said.

  ‘Inspector Powell is here, but I’ve got his boss as well, Chief Inspector Deane. There are also two men from the Serious Fraud Office. And the FBI are standing by to snatch Waigel in New York.’

  Hamilton couldn’t hear what Denny was saying, but he was watching me closely. I looked up at the clock. One thirty-seven. Hamilton’s eyes followed mine. ‘One minute to go,’ he said.

  ‘Are they right outside his office?’ I asked Denny.

  ‘Hold on,’ he said. I heard muffled voices on the other end of the line. They took for ever. I watched the second hand race round the face of the clock, heading fast for the number twelve. I knew our clocks were accurate to the second, I hoped Waigel’s would be equally precise. ‘Yes, they are right there.’

  ‘I won’t call Dick Waigel back unless you hang up now,’ said Hamilton. I glanced at him. He meant it.

  My mind raced. This was the best chance I would get to stop Hamilton. If I let it slip, there could never be any guarantee that Cathy would be safe. And I couldn’t let him just walk away.

  I took a decision.

  ‘Listen closely,’ I said to Denny, speaking rapidly. ‘Tell the FBI to snatch Waigel right now. And send some police round here. Do it quick. We only have seconds. I’ll explain in a minute.’

  ‘Right,’ said Denny, and rang off.

  My heart was thumping at the risk I had taken. I put the phone down and stood up straight, looking directly at Hamilton. His eyes were wide open with surprise. He hadn’t expected this. ‘I wasn’t bluffing,’ he said. ‘Cathy is dead.’

  He bent down slowly, picked up his briefcase, and backed towards the door, his eyes never leaving my face.

  I caught the movement of something rushing towards the desk beside Hamilton. Rob vaulted over it, sending a computer crashing to the ground, and hurled himself on to him.

  They both hit the ground hard. Rob let out a cry and grabbed his shoulder. As Hamilton pulled himself to his feet, I leapt on top of him. He struggled, but Rob joined me, and in a few moments we had him pinned to the floor, Rob on his legs, and me on his shoulders.

  ‘Tie his hands,’ shouted Rob.

  I looked for something to bind him, and grabbed at the electric lead sticking out of the computer that lay cracked on the floor. I yanked it out and tried to wrap it round Hamilton’s hands.

  It was difficult. Even with two of us, Hamilton was wriggling and thrashing, and we couldn’t keep his wrists in one place long enough to tie them.

  ‘Keep still!’ I shouted.

  Hamilton took no notice, and somehow managed to kick Rob hard in the ribs.

  I took the flex and wrapped it round his neck, pulling his head back.

  ‘Keep still, I said!’

  He bucked and nearly threw me off his shoulders. I pulled back on the flex hard. Anger rushed through me. Here was the bastard who had betrayed me, deceived me, who had cheated, lied and killed. He would have murdered Cathy as well if he had had the chance. In fact, he might already have succeeded.

  I gritted my teeth and pulled harder. The blood rushed in my ears. The body underneath me stopped moving. I half heard Rob shouting my name.

  Then I felt strong hands grab the flex and pull it away from me. Other hands picked me up off Hamilton. I looked down at him. His head flopped to the ground, and he took huge wheezing gulps of air. Spittle dripped down from his open mouth. His face was bright red.

  I slumped back into a chair, the anger draining out of me. A small voice of common sense told me I was glad I hadn’t killed him. A policeman was kneeling over him, and another had his arms firmly on my shoulders. Two more were watching, one talking urgently into his radio. My mind cleared. Cathy! I leapt to my desk and rang Denny. He put me on a speakerphone with Chief Inspector Deane.

  In a few seconds I told them what had happened. Deane had some questions.

  I didn’t answer them. I needed to know about Cathy. ‘Did the FBI get Waigel?’ I said. ‘And had he made the phone call to the hit-man? Can you find out right now?’

  ‘All right,’ he said. He left me on the speakerphone. I could hear muffled radio conversation, but I couldn’t make out the words. Two of the policemen handcuffed Hamilton and bundled him out of the trading room, still wheezing. I was glad he was out of my sight.

  A very long minute later, Deane’s voice came back on the phone. ‘They’ve got Waigel,’ he said.

  ‘Had he made a phone call?’ I said, my hopes raised.

  ‘He was just putting the phone down when they entered his office.’ Deane’s voice was grim. ‘He won’t say who he was calling, but from the way he is acting, the FBI men there think it must be the hit-man.’

  Oh God. I had blown it. Oh Cathy, Cathy, Cathy!

  ‘Mr Murray?’ It was Deane’s voice, insistent. ‘We need to know where she is.’

  ‘Right. I’ll find out.’

  I hit the cancel button and called Cash.

  ‘Y’allo.’

  ‘Cash. It’s all going wrong. Waigel has put a hit-man on to Cathy. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘What’s up? I thought you were going over to Denny’s this afternoon. What happened?’

  ‘Look, I have no time to talk. Just tell me where Cathy is, will you?’

  ‘OK, OK. I’ve got her itinerary here. Let me see.’ Come on. I willed him to hurry up. ‘Here it is. She has a meeting at nine o’clock at Arab American Investment. That’s at 520 Madison Avenue. She’s staying at the Intercon. Knowing her, she’s probably walking there right now.’

  ‘Thanks. Talk to you later.’

  I hung up, and got back to Deane. I told him what Cash had told me. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘It’s ten to two our time, that’s ten to nine in New York. She should be almost there. I’ll get the FBI on to it.’

  I put down the phone. I sat hunched at my desk staring at the screens. I didn’t take in any of the green figures and letters in front of my eyes. I was looking at a New York street, searching for Cathy.

  The clock ticked loudly. The police radios behind me crackled. I was in my usual position, sitting at my desk, waiting for the phone to ring. But this time it wasn’t paper money at stake. It was Cathy’s life.

  How could I have been so stupid? Why had I taken the risk? This wasn’t some damn trade. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

  The phone flashed. I picked it up. Down a fuzzy line, I heard the sound of traffic.

  ‘Paul! It’s Cathy.’ I could hardly hear her voice, it was an urgent whisper. But she was alive! So far.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m scared. There’s a man fol
lowing me, I’m sure of it. He’s followed me all the way up from the hotel.’

  ‘What’s he doing now?’

  ‘He’s leaning against the wall of a church, reading his paper, acting as if he hasn’t seen me.’

  ‘Is it crowded?’

  ‘Yes. I’m right off Fifth Avenue. There are people everywhere.’

  ‘Good. Now, where are you exactly?’

  ‘I’m in a phone booth on Fifty-Third Street, just by the entrance to the subway station.’

  ‘Hold on.’ I turned and gave this information to the policeman behind me, who relayed it into his radio.

  ‘Now, Cathy, just stay where you are. The police will be with you in a few minutes. Stay on the phone.’

  ‘Who is he? What’s he doing?’ asked Cathy, sounding really scared.

  ‘Waigel put him on to you. But don’t worry, there’s nothing he can do in a crowded street.’ I tried to make myself sound as confident as possible, and I hoped I was right, but I really didn’t know.

  We stayed on the phone, too tense to talk, waiting. The bustle of Fifty-Third Street crackled down the phone lines: the noise of traffic, snatches of conversation from passers-by.

  I watched the second hand crawl round the clock above me. Where had the police got to? Images of a gridlocked midtown Manhattan flashed before me. It could take ten minutes to go three blocks in the rush hour.

  I started. Where was Cathy? I couldn’t hear her. ‘Cathy?’

  ‘Yes, Paul, I’m here.’

  Relief.

  ‘Has the man moved?’

  ‘No, he’s still over by the church.’

  ‘Good. Tell me if he does move, won’t you?’

  ‘All right.’ A pause. ‘Paul, I’m scared.’ Cathy’s voice sounded very small, very far away.

  ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be long now.’

  Then I heard them. The wail of sirens, getting louder.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘He’s crossing the road. He’s coming right towards me.’

  ‘Drop the phone and run!’ I shouted. ‘Run!’

  I heard the clatter of the phone banging against the booth. Then a crack and the sound of splintering plastic.

  Half a second’s silence.

  Then screams. Women shrieking, men yelling, the sirens getting louder. A shout: ‘She’s been hit!’ Another ‘She’s bleeding!’ The sirens getting very loud. Large police voices ordering people to move back, make way.

  ‘Cathy!’ I shouted. ‘Cathy!’

  Then her voice. Cathy’s sweet voice. Strained, sobbing, but still her voice. ‘Paul?’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes. A woman’s been hit, but I’m OK. I’m OK.’

  23

  I watched the screen in front of me with satisfaction. There had been a brisk rally in the treasury market during the morning; it was now a point and a half up on the day. Hamilton, as usual, had positioned the portfolio perfectly. We were going to make some money. I had heard rumours of a big new issue for the World Bank, due out in the afternoon, and I wanted to make sure I got a piece of it. With the positive sentiment in the eurobond market, it would fly.

  I looked up at the clock. Twenty past twelve already! It seemed only an hour or so since seven thirty, when I had arrived back at my desk for my first full day’s trading since I had been sacked. It had felt good. Jeff was nominally in charge in Hamilton’s absence, but he had made it clear that he would allow me quite a lot of latitude. I was confident I wouldn’t misplace his trust.

  I was due to meet Denny, Cash and Cathy at Bill Bentley’s at twelve thirty. Denny had offered to buy us all lunch. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the lifts. As I got out of the lift at the ground floor, I saw Rob waiting for someone. I ignored him and walked across the foyer to the revolving entrance doors.

  ‘Paul!’ I stopped. He was calling me. ‘Got a minute?’ He nodded to some chairs in a quiet corner of the entrance hall. I hesitated and then went over to join him.

  We didn’t sit down, we just stood by the chairs. Rob shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. Finally, he screwed up his eyes and his courage and said, ‘I’m really sorry I lied to the police about you.’

  I didn’t say anything. I would find it impossible to forgive Rob. As far as I was concerned, our friendship was over.

  ‘I’ve been through a bad patch these last few months,’ Rob went on. ‘A very bad patch. I’ve done a lot of things I wish I hadn’t. I just wanted you to know I am truly sorry for what happened.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, neutrally. I knew Rob was in trouble. The TSA were investigating his purchase of Gypsum shares, and the police were not at all happy about the way he had given them misleading evidence. However, Rob had promised to testify against Hamilton and had been instrumental in his arrest, which would help. Whatever happened, he would probably lose his job at De Jong. I was glad about that. In my eyes, Rob was weak rather than evil, but I certainly didn’t want to see him every day. ‘How’s Cathy?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Fine. She’s fine.’

  ‘Good. She’s a wonderful girl. Don’t lose her.’

  It must have been difficult for Rob to forgive me for Cathy. I was surprised.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I said, and headed for the exit. As I walked out through the revolving doors, a very tall, blonde-haired girl of about twenty walked in. She was wearing a skimpy T-shirt, no bra, and very short denim shorts which showed off miles of golden brown leg. Heads turned all around, including mine. I paused just outside the building to watch as she bounced over to where Rob was sitting. His face lit up with that expression I knew of old, as he stood up and gave her a kiss.

  How the hell did he do it? What did they see in him? I shook my head in wonder and turned down the street to the restaurant.

  I walked down the steps into Bill Bentley’s at half past twelve exactly. The bar was already crowded. Denny had booked a table downstairs.

  Denny, Cash and Cathy were already there. Cash and Denny shook my hand warmly. I kissed Cathy. It was great to see her alive and smiling.

  ‘I’m glad to see you,’ I said.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘When did you get in?’

  ‘This morning. The New York police lost the man who shot at me, so they told me it would be best to cut my trip short and come right home. But they don’t think there is a longer-term threat. With Waigel and Hamilton locked up, it’s very unlikely he would go after me.’

  ‘God, I was worried when I heard those screams down the phone,’ I said.

  ‘You were worried! I was scared out of my wits. Fortunately the woman who was hit is going to be OK, so I’m told.’

  Cash poured me a glass from the open bottle of champagne nestling in a bucket beside the table. ‘Here’s to all of us!’ he said taking a large gulp. ‘And here’s to Hamilton’s vacation. I trust it’s a long one.’

  We drank the champagne. I felt good. I had my job back. I would now be able to afford to buy my mother’s cottage after all. And I was able to trade. But, most important of all, I had Cathy. I caught her eyes smiling at me over her glass.

  I turned to Denny. ‘Thank you very much for all you have done,’ I said.

  Denny held up his hand. ‘Not at all. It was a genuine pleasure to help you. Debbie was a good lawyer; I’m glad I had the opportunity to help catch the man who killed her.’

  We ordered lunch, and Cash asked for another bottle of champagne.

  ‘Have you heard anything from Jack Salmon?’ I asked Cash.

  ‘I spoke to him yesterday,’ said Cash. He paused whilst the waiter placed a bowl of soup in front of him. He slurped at it greedily. ‘He is in total panic. He says the investigators are in already. Of course he told me he didn’t know anything about it, but I doubt he will last past the end of next week.’

  ‘Another client bites the dust,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, too bad,’ said Cash. ‘Phoenix Prosperity will just become another bankrupt savings and loan
owned by the US government. Still, they will have lots of bonds to sell.’ Cash paused for a moment as he considered the possibilities.

  Just then the waiter came over to our table. ‘A phone call for Mr Murray.’

  Cash’s eyes watched me closely as I took the call by the bar. It was Jeff. ‘Paul, I’m glad I caught you. There is a new jumbo deal for the World Bank just coming out now. It looks very cheap. Harrison Brothers are the lead. Can you get back here right now?’

  ‘I’ll be right over,’ I said, and put the phone down.

  I went back to the table and made my excuses.

  Cash’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘What was that?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I’ve just got to go and buy a few bonds.’ I winked at Cathy, who grinned broadly back. I darted out of the restaurant, with Cash scrambling to catch me up.

  ‘Hey, wait up,’ he shouted after me. ‘What’s the deal? Who’s the lead? I’m sure Bloomfield Weiss will have a good angle on this one. Don’t do anything till I get back to my desk.’

  I ignored him and rushed back to the office, my mind already calculating how many World Bank bonds I would buy.

  About the Author

  Before becoming a writer, Michael Ridpath used to work in the City of London as a bond trader. He has written eight thrillers set in the worlds of business and finance. Michael is currently writing the internationally bestselling Icelandic based Fire and Ice series. He was brought up in Yorkshire, but now lives in North London. His website is at www.michaelridpath.com.