The market maker by Michael Ridpath Read Free Book Online Page A

half." He hung up the phone and turned to me. "Now, you remember to tell me when to sell won't you?"
    I nodded, my heart suddenly beating rapidly.
    "It's about time you went home, isn't it? We start again in eight hours. Don't you sleep?"
    "Not much. Do you?"
    "Not much." Ricardo grirmed. We were kindred spirits. It was rare to come across someone else who genuinely didn't need a full night's sleep. I was used to staying up into the small hours reading or researching. Five hours' sleep was all I needed. Especially when I was absorbed in something.

    "Get on your bike," he said.
    So I did. I pedaled home fast, my emotions neatly poised between fear that my first bond position would all go wrong, and excitement that it would all go right.

    4
    Wednesday morning was foggy. I couldn't see the Tower as I rode my bike through the East End. Old warehouses loomed up on either side of Narrow Street. With the skyline obscured, I could almost believe I was in Victorian London—until a van ran a red light and forced me to swerve onto the pavement.
    The trading room, though, was surrounded by blue sky. We were just above the fog, a choppy white surface stretching out on all sides beneath us. The tip of the Nat West tower broke through the clouds like an island a few miles out to sea. We ourselves were an island far from England, closer to New York and Buenos Aires than Primrose Hill and Shoreditch. I looked around at my colleagues. We were a small band of settlers, immigrants from all over the world, come to seek our for-time in this strange new land.
    Well, that was fine, but where were the Argy discos trading?
    I switched on Jamie's screen. Sixty-seven and a quarter bid. I wasn't in the money. The rest of the market was up a point, leaving my bonds behind them. Oh, God. Maybe I'd picked the wrong issue after all.
    Jamie was out that morning. He had to make a pre-

    sentation to a large insurance company that was considering investing in emerging market bonds. It was an important meeting; as Jamie had put it, when these boys played, they played in size. So I spent the mormng
    at my desk. , , ,., ^^r ^
    Except it didn't feel like my desk. It felt hke Marhn Beldecos's. To say that he was haunting it would be too strong. But when I was sitting there, I had a powerful feeling of his presence, even though I'd never met the man, didn't even know what he looked like.
    The fax behind me chugged into life. Most of the faxes were for Isabel, but she was engrossed in one of her mammoth phone calls. So I strolled over to the machine and picked up the two sheets of paper.
    It was for Martin Beldecos, from United Bank of Canada. My curiosity got the better of me. I took it back to my desk—Martin's desk—and began to read.
    Dear Mr. Beldecos
    Following your recent request regarding the beneficial ownership of International Trading and Transport (Panama), I thought you might be interested in the findings of a recent investigation at this branch.
    You may recall that the only name on our records associated with International Trading and Transport (Panama) was Mr. Tony Hempel, a Miami lawyer. Our investigations into another of our clients have shown tlrnt this Mr. Hempel is closely connected with Francisco Aragao, a Brazilian financier under investigation by the United States Drug Enforcement Agencxjfor drug-related money-laundering activities.
    While we make every effort to assist the international agencies in their investigations into money laundering and drug crimes, we also owe a duty of confidence to our counterparties, so we liave not yet passed on your inquiry

    to the DEA. However, if you have information you would like to share with them, please call me, and I will give you my contact's name and number.
    Yours sincerely Donald Winters Vice President
    I stared at the fax.
    Money laundering. That meant, I believed, the recycling of illegally obtained cash through the financial system. Now I remembered from the first fax that this company.