The Last Hedge by Carey Green Read Free Book Online Page A

of paper towards Conroy.
    “I have photos also. These were taken at a hedge fund convention in Lyford Cay, Bahamas, where each year, almost every important money manager flies to the Caribbean to hock their wares.” Highland slid a picture forward across his desk.
    The photo showed a picture of Dylan Cash in polo shirt and khaki’s, sipping a drink on board a luxury yacht. “This is Dylan Cash, sipping a martini on the yacht of convicted hedge fund criminal Peter Shipman.” Conroy looked over the photograph. Highland was already forwarding another towards them.
    “Next, here he is, standing next to Joel Johnson, another convicted hedge fund felon, at the convention jazz concert.” Dylan Cash was seated on a long bench, singing raucously. The participants at the event looked heavily inebriated. Though the giants of the hedge fund world attended, Conroy could tell that the conference was largely a boondoggle.
    “Now, the story gets even better. The S.E.C. brings forth an insider trading case at Cash’s old firm. Three men were convicted, two were sent to prison and Cash walked.”
    “What happened?” Conroy asked.
    “They had hard evidence on the others, but what they had on Cash and his assistant was more circumstantial. Besides all this, Cash was considered a hothead who would have sued. So they canned him and called it day.”
    “Was he involved?”
    “You tell me. The Bible says you judge a man by the company he keeps.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t read the Bible.” Highland ignored the comment.
    “An FBI informant has come forward and is willing to bring forth evidence that Cash was at the forefront of the crime that took place. He’s told us he needs exactly one week to produce this evidence.”
    “So,” Conroy asked. “What’s the problem?”
    “Well,” Highland offered, “Let me put it this way: oOur informant has some strengths, and he has some weaknesses.”
    “He’s unreliable?”
    “That’s one way of putting it.” Highland got up from behind his desk, circled in front of it, and sat at the edge.
    “There’s a lot of pressure on us to take a hard look at these hedge funds. We’ve even talked about starting our own fake hedge fund to really try and trap some of these guys.”
    “That would take a lot of money. When you’re talking hedge funds, you’re talking millions. Many millions.”
    “Hence, the problem,” Highland said. “But we need to start getting close to these guys. And this is the first step.”
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “So our boy Cash is at a new firm: Corbin Brothers. They are a small firm, nothing special, three or four hundred million under management, nothing too huge.”
    “Chicken feed.”
    “Yeah, chicken feed. I think this guy Cash is dirty, and I think we may be able to get him to talk.”
    “What do you have on him?”
    “His new firm has been accused of several incidents of naked short sales, an S.E.C. infraction. I think we can use that to bring Cash in here and get him talking. This guy knows where a lot of bodies are buried. Besides, if we can get him to talk, we have backup in case our informant doesn’t come through.”
    “What if he doesn’t give us anything?”
    “Then we pray that our informant comes through for us, so that we can nail his ass to the wall with everything we have.”
    “Sounds like a plan. So how do we start?”
    “He started this new job last week, so he should be settled in by now. I say this Friday. Let’s give him a surprise.
    “May I pull Vanessa in on this?”
    “Vanessa? You mean, Ms. Princeton.”
    “Exactly. She’s an expert on this type of shit.”
    “We could use more people like that around here.”
    “I agree,” Highland said. “And Timmy?”
    “Yeah,” Conroy said, as he headed for the door.
    “Don’t forget the money for the pool. The All-Star game is next week.”
    “Catch me in the morning, Dan. I’ll have it first thing.”
    “Good man.”

Chapter 7
     
    An art gallery late at