'You're trying to make the point that you have absolute power in this classroom and Carla has none.' This comment came from the back of the class. It was Alex. The class went absolutely still.
Waldern's face reddened, and he opened his mouth as though to shout, but he thought better of it and closed it again. 'I decide what happens in this class. And I will not tolerate any questioning of my authority.'
'That's clear,' said Alex. 'But if you use your power to bully rather than to teach, then your authority loses its legitimacy.'
The accuracy of the statement pierced all of those sitting in the room.
Waldern took a deep breath. 'Lenka. Alex. Come with me now.'
There was a pause as Lenka and Alex glanced at each other, and then they both stood up and followed Waldern out of the room. As the door closed behind them, the class erupted.
Lenka and Alex were allowed back into the class for the afternoon session, which was a talk by the precious metals group. But they were supposed to see George Calhoun in his office at five fifteen.
The others waited for them in Jerry's.
'That was a brave thing they did,' said Duncan.
'It was stupid,' said Ian.
'No it wasn't,' said Chris. 'Someone had to stand up to Waldern. What he was doing to Carla was unforgivable. They treat us like children, but we're not. We're professional people, for God's sake. It was right that Alex pointed that out.'
'That was standard Bloomfield Weiss stuff,' said Ian. 'Carla's got to get used to it some time. May as well be now. If she can't hack it, then she's better off out of it. Sooner rather than later.'
'No,' Chris shook his head. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks. 'Waldern's supposed to be teaching us, not insulting us. Alex was right: when he treats people like that, he loses all respect. He's certainly lost mine.'
'Then why didn't you say anything?' Ian asked.
Chris was silent. He should have said something. He should have supported Lenka and Alex. But he hadn't. He thought of telling Ian he was too stunned to speak, but he held back. He knew that wasn't quite true.
'You didn't say anything because you didn't want to risk your job,' said Ian with a gloating smile.
'That's bollocks!' Chris snapped. But he knew Ian was right. Ian's smile broadened. 'You're a cynical bastard.'
Ian shook his head. 'I just don't want to lose my job, the same as you.'
The truth of this remark hurt Chris. He turned to Eric. 'What do you think, Eric? Should we have said anything?'
Eric paused. 'Waldern was wrong to do what he did, but challenging him directly like that in class was never going to change the way he behaves. Calhoun will always back up Waldern. He has to.'
'So Alex should have kept his mouth shut?' Chris asked.
Eric shrugged. 'The rest of us did.'
'Well, I wish I had said something now,' said Chris.
Duncan raised an arm and waved. 'Here they are.'
Lenka and Alex saw Duncan's arm, and threaded their way through the crowd to the table where the others were sitting. They both looked tense.
'How did it go?' Duncan asked.
'We got a grade-A bawling out,' said Alex. 'Especially me. But we keep our jobs.'
'How did you manage that?' asked Chris.
'Tom Risman was coming out of Calhoun's office as we were going in.'
'The MD of mortgage trading?' Chris asked.
'That's right,' Alex said. 'Calhoun said that Risman wanted me to stay. But I got a severe warning. "Any more of that and you're outta here." ' He did a passable imitation of Calhoun's voice.
'And what about you?' Chris asked Lenka.
'I told him we were right and Waldern was wrong,' she said. 'I said it was him they should be getting rid of, not us. He told me to shut up and get out.'
'I think Calhoun was after me,' said Alex. 'Waldern made a big deal of the way I had questioned his authority.'
'Well, I'm glad you're both still here,' said Duncan, raising his beer bottle. 'Let me get you one.' He turned to look for a waiter.
'It's lucky Tom Risman found out about what happened, or I wouldn't be,' Alex said. 'How was that, by the way?' He looked round the table. Eric was smiling quietly. 'Was it you?'
Eric nodded. 'Risman said he's always hated Waldern. He was glad to help.'
'Thanks, buddy,' said Alex. 'Now, where's that beer?'
Newark Airport was crowded. It was Friday evening, and everyone wanted to be somewhere else for the weekend. Chris had escaped the instant class had finished, and had fought his way there by subway and bus. He needn't have rushed. He had been waiting three-quarters of an hour and she still hadn't come through customs. Her flight was half an hour late and she was presumably still waiting for her baggage.
'Chris!'
Somehow he had missed her. She dropped her bag and gave him a warm hug.
'Tamara! It's great to see you.'
She kissed him quickly on the lips and nestled into his chest. He ran his hands through her blonde hair. It was great to see her again.
They broke apart and headed for the exit.
'Hey, where are you going?' she said.
'The buses are this way.'
'And the taxis are that way.'
'The bus is easy enough.'
'Oh, Chris, you're so mean. I'll pay,' and she marched towards the queue for the taxis.
Chris followed, and they were soon crawling towards the Holland Tunnel and Manhattan.
'Well, what are we doing tonight?' Tamara asked.
'I thought we could go out for dinner. And then we could go on to a party.'
'A party! That sounds fun. I can meet all your nice new friends. Oh, but will that dreadful Duncan be there?'
'He's not dreadful. And yes, he will be there. You know we share an apartment, so you'll just have to put up with him. Ian Darwent will be there, too, though. You like him, don't you?'
'Oh, yes. He's yummy. I suppose there will be lots of Americans?'
'New York is in America, Tamara,' said Chris, smiling. 'I expect there will be one or two.'
Tamara sighed. 'They're not all bad, I suppose. I shall just have to be patient with them.'
'You'll like Eric and Alex, the guys having the party.'
'Good. Now, come here.' She snuggled up to him, and ran her hand inside his shirt and over his chest. 'This is going to be a very nice weekend.'
The taxi battled across Manhattan and eventually reached Chris's apartment. The fare was huge, and somehow Chris ended up paying it.
They talked a lot at dinner, Chris about the training programme and Tamara about her wide circle of acquaintances in London. They had known each other at Oxford, but had only got together after the exams in the final year. Tamara was thin, blonde and sophisticated. Chris had always fancied her, but had never thought he had a chance. He was surprised when they had ended up in bed together after a party in the last week of term, and even more surprised that she still wanted to see him after they had both moved on to London: he to Bloomfield Weiss and she to Gurney Kroheim, a very British merchant bank. The relationship had developed over the following six months, although not quite to the point where they had moved in together. But she was enthusiastic about visiting him in New York, and for that he was grateful.
They arrived back at the apartment at about eleven. Loud music was coming from Ian's room. He had been out when Tamara and Chris had changed earlier in the evening, so Tamara hadn't yet seen him. She barged straight into his bedroom without knocking, Chris following. Chris wasn't too worried that she would interrupt Ian changing. It wouldn't bother Ian and it would give Tamara a minor thrill.
Ian was fully clothed, but he was surprised. He was bending over a small mirror on the desk, on which was arranged a thin line of white powder. He turned towards the intruders and his face reddened instantly.
'Ooh, Ian, just getting ready for the party, are we?'
Ian looked from Chris to Tamara. 'Um . . .' was all he could say.
&
nbsp; 'Hello, darling,' said Tamara, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She presented her cheek to him for a kiss, licked the tip of her finger, dipped it in the powder and rubbed it on her gums. 'Yum. Can I have some more?'
'Er . . . hi, Tamara. Yeah, yeah, sure,' said Ian, glancing at Chris uncertainly.
Tamara laughed. 'Come on, Chris. I'm sure Ian can spare some for you, too.'
Chris stared, unsure how to react. After a couple of seconds, he turned and left the room. He shut himself in his own bedroom and looked out of his window at the busy street twelve floors below.
He was angry. He didn't take drugs and he assumed that his friends didn't take any either, especially his girlfriend. What was Tamara thinking of? Taking drugs was what stupid people did. Ian was a surprise, but understandable if Chris thought about it. But how could Tamara be so stupid?
The trouble was, he was the one who felt stupid, and that made him angrier still. Of course he knew people took drugs. Occasionally, at university, he had seen people slipping away together for that purpose. And, from reading the press, the financial world was full of it. But he had always avoided drugs, or to be more accurate, drugs had always avoided him. And that was what made him feel stupid. He was an unsophisticated Polish hick. What else did he expect before a party in New York City of all places?
Get a grip, he told himself. Stay cool. He took a few deep breaths and left the bedroom. Tamara emerged from Ian's room giggling. She stopped when she saw Chris.
'Oh, Chris, you look so shocked.'
'I didn't know you took drugs, Tamara.'
'I don't. Not really. Just every now and then. I'm hardly a junkie, Chris, am I?'
Chris shrugged. He couldn't help it, but he looked for signs that the drug was having an effect. Tamara's eyes looked normal; in fact they looked exactly the same as they had a few minutes ago. Of course they did: he was being stupid again.
'You're so uptight,' she said. 'You should try some.'
Chris shook his head.
She pulled him down to her and kissed him long and deep. 'Better?' she said, when they broke away. 'Look, I wouldn't have done it if I knew you were going to get so upset. Let's go, shall we? Are you ready, Ian?'
They took a taxi over to the Upper West Side. Chris sat in silence as Tamara talked animatedly to Ian, who charmed her back. When they arrived, the party was in full swing. Eric greeted them at the door. A girl was with him, whom Eric introduced as Megan. Chris was curious. This was the mysterious girlfriend who lived in Washington, or somewhere, and whom Chris had not yet met. Not surprisingly, she was attractive, but not in the striking way he might have expected of Eric's girlfriend. She had long frizzy black hair, a pale intelligent face, freckles, a snub nose and bright blue eyes. She looked very young, barely eighteen, but there was something about her that seemed wise beyond her years. Chris instantly liked her.
He introduced Tamara, and after a little small talk, Eric sent them into the crowd, telling them the beer was in the bath.
'Now, he's nice,' said Tamara as they made their way through the crowd to the bathroom.
'He's taken,' said Chris. 'That woman is his girlfriend, I think.'
'Oh, really? I assumed she was a younger sister.'
"Fraid not.'
'No need to be jealous, Chris,' said Tamara, squeezing his hand. 'I'm quite happy with what I've got.'
Chris smiled. She was clearly trying to make amends; he didn't want to ruin the weekend by being surly.
'Besides, I don't like his taste in art,' Tamara said, frowning at Alex's painting of the petrochemical plant in the desert.
'I do,' said Chris.
'Oh, Chris, you're so industrial.'
They found the beer. It was indeed in the bath, which was full of ice.
'How very quaint,' said Tamara. 'This must be an old American custom.'
'And a very practical one,' said Alex, who had emerged from the crush of bodies. 'But I know you Brits like your beer warm. I can put yours in the oven if you like?'
Tamara smiled thinly. 'I think I'd like some white wine,' she said in her most cutting voice. Chris winced.
'Sure, there's some in the kitchen. I'm Alex Lubron, by the way.'
'How do you do?' said Tamara, looking over his head.
'This is Tamara,' said Chris.
'I've heard a lot about you,' said Alex, with a smile.
'Mm,' said Tamara.
Alex paused and narrowed his eyes. 'All right. Enjoy yourselves.' He turned away from Chris and Tamara to Tetsundo Suzuki, who had just arrived. 'Hey, Tex, how's it hanging?' he cried, giving the Japanese trainee a high five.
'Who was that little man?' said Tamara with a shudder.
'Alex is a friend of mine,' Chris said. 'He painted the picture you didn't like.'
Tamara caught the tone in his voice. 'Look, I'm sorry, but that stuff about English people liking warm beer is such a cliché. Now, can you get me a glass of wine?'
Chris didn't enjoy the party. He had wanted to show his new friends off to Tamara, but now he felt awkward at every introduction. After half an hour, she mellowed under the effects of alcohol and the drug she had taken, and was probably having a better time than he was. He tried to forget about the cocaine, but he found he couldn't.
'Hey, Chris, there you are!' Lenka's hoarse voice rose above the din.
She and Duncan fought their way towards Chris and Tamara. Lenka put her arm round Chris and kissed him. She was pretty drunk. 'So, this is Tamara? Hello, Tamara. Welcome to New York.'
She smiled down at Tamara, who was at least nine inches shorter.
'Hello,' said Tamara, coldly.
'You've come to relax Chris. He needs relaxing, don't you, Chris?' Lenka said, squeezing him. 'He works too hard, you know.'
'I'm sure he does,' said Tamara. 'You American bankers are all so serious about work. I prefer the British approach. We don't go in for all this financial analysis stuff. But we get by.'
'It's useful,' said Duncan, earnestly. 'I think the merchant banks should have their own training programmes. I don't see how they can survive in the modern world without them. At some point it's what you know as well as who you know that counts.'
Tamara's cheeks went ever so slightly pink. Chris recognized the symptoms, and winced.
That's not quite fair, Duncan,' she said. 'Gurney Kroheim have some very good people.'
'Oh, I'm sure they have,' said Duncan. 'I just think those people would benefit from some formal training.'
'Just as you have,' said Tamara, with a glint in her eye.
'Yes,' said Duncan, suspiciously.
'You don't think the Bloomfield Weiss training programme's too tough, then?'
'Well, no,' said Duncan, uncertainly. 'I mean, it is difficult, but I can handle it.'
'That's not what I heard.'
'What do you mean?' Duncan looked from Tamara to Chris, who shifted uncomfortably.
'Just that a system which pushes some of its trainees so hard that they crack under the pressure seems less than ideal to me. But I'm sure you'll pull through.'
Duncan was about to say something, but then bit his lip. He knew Tamara didn't like him, and he wasn't drunk enough to pick a fight. Lenka was, though.
'How can you be so rude to my friend?' she said.
'I'm not being rude,' said Tamara. 'At least, not intentionally. Duncan started it. I was just carrying on the discussion.'
Lenka swayed. 'Chris. This woman is awful. I can't believe you can have such a horrible girlfriend as this.'
Chris, who had been watching this exchange with dread, knew that the time had come to intervene.
'Lenka,' he said firmly. 'I know you've had a lot to drink. But you shouldn't say things like that.'
'I should,' said Lenka. 'Because it's true. You're a very nice person, Chris. You deserve someone much better.'
'Chris!' gasped Tamara, shocked. 'Make her apologize.'
The bodies surrounding Tamara and Lenka were all quiet now, all watching Chris.
<
br /> 'Lenka, I'm sure you didn't mean what you just said. Can you please apologize?'
'No way,' said Lenka, staring at Tamara.
'Here,' said Duncan, pulling at her arm. 'Come here. Let's get some air.'
Lenka hesitated, and then allowed herself to be pulled back by Duncan. The crowd watched in silence as they left the room, and then exploded with chatter.
'We're going,' said Tamara, firmly.
'Let's just say goodbye to Eric and Alex,' said Chris.
'No. We're going now.'
So they left. As they spilled out on to the quiet street, they saw the figures of Lenka and Duncan disappearing round the corner. Chris hailed a cab, and they rode back to the apartment in silence.
'Bye, Chris. It was fun. I'll miss you.'
They were standing outside the gate to Departures at Newark Airport. It was Sunday evening; the weekend was over.
'Thanks for coming all this way,' Chris said.
'It was worth it.'
'Do you think you'll be able to come again?'
'I'd like to,' said Tamara. 'Perhaps the bank holiday at the end of May. If I can get a cheap ticket.'
'They'll probably put the fares up that weekend,' said Chris. 'To take advantage of people like us.'
'I'll try, anyway,' Tamara said. Chris pulled her tightly to him, they kissed, and then he let her go. He watched her as she stood in the queue to go through the metal detector. She turned as she set off down the long corridor towards her gate and waved. He waved back, and she was gone.
Chris took the bus back to the Port Authority. It was dark outside, and the orange lights of New Jersey's oil refineries glowed through the windows of the bus. The twin towers of the World Trade Center peeked over the twisted braids of a turnpike interchange. It reminded Chris of one of Alex's paintings.
Although it had started off disastrously, it hadn't been a bad weekend. Tamara had realized she had upset Chris and had done her best to make up for it. They had spent Saturday and Sunday away from the apartment. The weather had been glorious: they'd walked through the Park, visited the Frick and the Museum of Modern Art, and also spent an hour or two in Bloomingdale's and Lord and Taylor. The sex had been great, too. But the sour aftertaste of Friday night remained in Chris's mouth.
The Predator Page 5
