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

International whatever, Panama, had transferred some funds to a Dekker Trust account. And the lawyer who had ordered the transfer was an associate of a suspected money launderer. Which meant that one of the Dekker Trust accounts might contain laundered money.
    So this was what Martin Beldecos was working on before he died! No wonder Eduardo wanted to make sure that he received Martin's messages personally, and that no one else saw them.
    I picked up the fax and walked over to Eduardo's comer office. I knocked on the door and tried to open it. It was locked.
    "He's not in today," said a middle-aged woman presiding over a corral of desks just outside his office. "Should be in tomorrow. Can I help?"
    I dithered over giving her the fax. Eduardo had said I shouldn't let anyone else see any of Martin's messages. Even though she was his secretary, this was clearly an important message. I remembered the implied threat in Eduardo's voice, and decided the safest thing was to wait until I could give Eduardo the message personally.
    "No that's all right," I said, and made my way back around the square of trading desks to my own seat.

    "One nil!" Dave flung his phone down onto his desk and stood up in triumph, liis arms in the air. He attracted only a quick glance from the other traders around him. Another small victory over the market. Another dollar
    made.
    Suddenly I felt cold. Perhaps Dave had been right. Perhaps Martin had been murdered by a contract killer. If he knew about money laundering at Dekker, someone might have wanted to shut him up.
    No. I was just being fanciful. I clutched the fax tightly I should just give it to Eduardo and forget about it. He could sort it out.
    But perhaps Eduardo already knew aU about it. If someone was laundering money through Dekker Ward, it wouldn't surprise me if Eduardo was involved.
    What the hell should I do?
    I looked around for Jamie, but he was still out at his
    meeting.
    Then I saw Ricardo moving toward me.
    "Still want to keep that Argentine position? They're lagging the market a bit, aren't they? "
    I dropped the fax onto my desk and wrenched my brain back to business. "The reasons we bought the bonds still hold good," I said. "So yes."
    "OK, fine. We'll see what happens. Now, what are you doing at the moment?"
    The fax to Martin Beldecos was right there, face up on my desk, partially covered by my left arm. Now was the hme to tell Ricardo about it. Just give it to him and
    forget it.
    But something made me hold back. I think it was because I couldn't foresee the consequences, although I was sure they would be important. I needed time to think it through first.

    So, keeping my arm on the desk, covering Martin Beldecos's name on the title sheet, I said simply, "Reading."
    ''Uh-huh. Don't you think it's about time you got involved in a real deal?"
    "Yes. That would be great."
    "Good, Isabel is going down to Rio tonight to sort out this favela deal. She'll need some help. Can you go with her?"
    "Of course." My pulse quickened at the prospect of working closely with Isabel. Besides, this was a great opportunity: my first business trip at Dekker, on a big deal. One that Ricardo was personally interested in. Although I had to admit he seemed to be personally interested in every deal.
    I glanced toward her. She was leaning back in her chair talking on the phone, but she had seen Ricardo with me, and gave me a quick smile of encouragement.
    "Good, rd like you to see how we operate in tiie markets we know well before I set you on to Russia," Ricardo said. "See what you can do."
    A voice interrupted. "Ricardo! Vasily Ivanov from the Russian Finance Ministry on twelve!"
    "Ah, the Russians are coming." Ricardo smiled and returned to his desk to take the call.
    Isabel put down her phone. "Pull up a chair," she said. "I'll tell you what we're doing."
    "Just a second," I said. I picked up the fax, glancing at it once again. Then I opened the bottom drawer of my desk, which was still empty, and tossed