Looking to the future… which groups will ultimately prevail, no man can predict; for we well know that many groups, formerly most extensively developed, have now become extinct.
It was almost midnight and the streets leading to Les Eaux-Vives were quiet, the shops shuttered, the restaurants closed. Quarry and Leclerc sat in the back of a patrol car in silence.
Eventually Leclerc said, ‘You are quite certain you wouldn’t prefer to be taken home?’
‘No. Thank you. I need to get in touch with our investors tonight before they hear about what’s happened on the news.’
‘It will be a major story, no doubt.’
‘No doubt.’
‘Still, if you don’t mind my saying so, after such a trauma, you need to be careful.’
‘I will be, don’t worry.’
‘At least Madame Hoffmann is in a hospital, where they can treat her for delayed shock…’
‘Inspector, I’ll be fine, all right?’
Quarry put his chin in his hand and looked out of the window to discourage further conversation. Leclerc stared out at the street on the other side. To think that barely twenty-four hours earlier he had been starting a routine night shift! Truly, one never knew what life would throw at you. The chief had called from his dinner in Zurich to offer his congratulations on ‘a swift resolution of a potentially embarrassing situation’: the Finance Ministry was pleased; Geneva’s reputation as a centre of investment would be unaffected by this aberration. Still, he felt he had failed somehow – had always been that crucial hour or two behind the game. If only I had gone with Hoffmann to the hospital at dawn, he thought, and insisted that he stay for treatment, then none of it would have happened. He said, almost to himself, ‘I should have handled it better.’
Quarry gave him a sideways look. ‘What’s that?’
‘I was thinking, monsieur, that I could have dealt with things better, and then perhaps this whole tragedy could have been avoided. For example, I could have spotted earlier on – right from the start, as a matter of fact – that Hoffmann was in an advanced state of psychosis.’ He thought of the Darwin book and Hoffmann’s crazed assertion that the man in the picture somehow provided a clue as to why he had been attacked.
‘Maybe.’ Quarry sounded unconvinced.
‘Or again, at Madame Hoffmann’s exhibition-’
‘Look,’ said Quarry impatiently, ‘you want the truth? Alex was a weird guy. Always was. I should’ve known what I was getting into the first night I met him. So it’s nothing to do with you, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.’
‘Even so…’
‘Don’t get me wrong: I’m desperately sorry it ended like that for him. But imagine it: all that time, practically running an entire shadow company right under my nose – spying on me, on his wife, on himself…’
Leclerc thought of how often he had heard such exclamations of disbelief from wives and husbands, lovers and friends; of how little we know of what actually goes on in the minds of those we think we know best. He said mildly, ‘What will happen to the company without him?’
‘The company? What company? The company is finished.’
‘Yes, I can see that the publicity might be damaging.’
‘Oh really? You think so? “Schizophrenic genius banker goes on rampage, murders two, sets fire to building” – that kind of thing?’
The car drew up outside the office block. Quarry rested his head on the back of the seat and stared at the roof. He let out a long sigh. ‘What a bugger it all is.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Oh well.’ Wearily Quarry opened the door. ‘I expect we’ll talk again in the morning.’
Leclerc said, ‘No, monsieur, at least not with me. The case has been reassigned to a very able young officer – Moynier. You’ll find him efficient to deal with.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Quarry seemed vaguely disappointed. He shook the policeman’s hand. ‘I’ll wait to hear from your colleague, then. Good night.’
He climbed out of the car, his long legs swinging easily on to the pavement.
‘Good night. Incidentally,’ Leclerc added quickly, before Quarry shut the door. He leaned across the back seat. ‘Your technical problems earlier – I meant to ask – how serious were they?’
The habit of deception still came easily to Quarry. ‘That was nothing – not serious at all.’
‘Only your colleague said you had lost control of your system…’
‘He didn’t mean it literally. You know computers.’
‘Ah yes, absolutely – computers!’
Quarry closed the door. The patrol car pulled away. Leclerc glanced back at the financier as he entered the building. Some shadow passed across his mind but he was too tired to pursue it.
‘Where to, boss?’ asked the driver.
Leclerc said, ‘South on the road to Annecy-le-Vieux.’
‘Your place is in France?’
‘Just over the frontier. I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford to live in Geneva any more.’
‘I know exactly what you mean. It’s all been taken over by foreigners.’
The driver started to talk about property prices. Leclerc settled down in his seat and closed his eyes. He was asleep before they reached the French border.
The gendarmes had gone from the office building. One elevator was cordoned off by black-and-yellow tape and had a sign stuck to it – ‘DANGER: NOT WORKING’ – but the other was operational, and after a brief hesitation Quarry stepped into it.
Van der Zyl and Ju-Long were waiting for him in reception. They rose as he came in. Both looked badly shaken.
Van der Zyl said, ‘It’s just been on the news. They had shots of the fire, this place – everything.’
Quarry swore, looked at his watch. ‘I’d better start emailing the major clients straight away. Better if they hear it from us first.’ He noticed that van der Zyl and Ju-Long were looking at one another. ‘Well, what is it?’
Ju-Long said, ‘Before you do, there’s something you ought to see.’
He followed them on to the trading floor. To his amazement, none of the quants had gone home. They rose as he came in and stood in complete silence. He wondered if it was meant as some sort of mark of respect. He hoped they weren’t expecting a speech. Out of habit he glanced up at the business channels. The Dow had recovered almost two thirds of its losses to close down 387; the VIX was up sixty per cent. The imminent UK election results were being forecast from a nationwide exit poll: NO OVERALL CONTROL. That just about summed it up, he thought. He checked the nearest screen for the day’s P amp;L, blinked at it and read it again, then turned in wonderment to the others.
‘It’s true,’ said Ju-Long. ‘We made a profit out of the crash of four-point-one billion dollars.’
‘And the beauty of it is,’ van der Zyl added, ‘that that represents only zero-point-four per cent of total market volatility. No one will ever notice, except us.’
‘Jesus wept…’ Quarry quickly did the calculation in his head of his personal net worth. ‘That must mean VIXAL managed to complete all the trades before Alex destroyed it.’
There was a pause, and then Ju-Long said quietly, ‘He didn’t destroy it, Hugo. It’s still trading.’
‘What?’
‘VIXAL is still trading.’
‘But it can’t be. I just saw all the hardware burned to the ground.’ ‘Then it must have other hardware we don’t know about. Something quite miraculous appears to have taken place. Have you seen the intranet? The company slogan has changed.’
Quarry looked at the faces of the quants. They seemed to him to be both blank and radiant at the same time, like members of a cult. It was eerie. Several of them nodded at him encouragingly. He bent to examine the screensaver.
THE COMPANY OF THE FUTURE WILL HAVE NO WORKERS
