Rob had followed me to my desk and perched himself on it, cup of coffee in hand. He grinned at Debbie's retreating figure, and began idly leafing through some of the research which had accumulated on my desk. Boring stuff. He had his own pile to go through, should he be so inclined.
'Can I help you?' I asked.
'No. Oh no. Just looking.' Rob said.
After a minute or so, he said, 'Up to anything?'
'Not really. This and that. And you?'
'Nothing much.'
'Are you doing anything interesting today?' he asked.
'Just the usual.' I wasn't going to help him.
Silence. More leafing through pages. Rob coughed slightly. 'Did I hear you say Cash Callaghan was coming in with his sidekick today?' he asked.
So that was it. 'Yes,' I answered.
'By 'his sidekick', do you mean Cathy Lasenby?'
'I think that was her name. Why do you ask?' I smiled. I could guess very well why Rob asked. He had an intense passion for women. It was not the sort of passion that lies inside most young single men. It was not at all physical. Rob was always in love. The more unattainable the object of his love, the better. In fact, whenever he got too near to consummating his desire, his ardour would cool, and he would find someone new. He had only just recovered from Claire Duhamel. Having finally persuaded her to have dinner with him, he had been driven wild with jealousy by her constant references to a boyfriend in Paris. She had told him that Gaston was the only man for her. He had been inconsolable for two weeks.
He carried his energy and enthusiasm into areas other than his love life. He was a very emotional trader. He had a 'feel' for a market. He would claim his views were based on logic, but that was just rationalisation on his part. He either loved the market or he hated it. He was by no means always right, and when he got it wrong the world was a very dark place. However, like Gordon our chartist, he got it right more often than he got it wrong, which was the important thing.
Looking at him, you would never have guessed that he was tormented by such strong emotions. He looked very ordinary; light brown to fair hair, a chubby face, a little under medium height. But the frankness with which he displayed his passions had a certain charm. Women found him 'sweet' and seemed to be drawn to him, at least at first. I must admit that over the last few months I had found myself developing quite an affection for him. He was fun when he was making money, and I had learned to avoid him when he wasn't. I am afraid to say I often found his romantic tussles amusing, there was always a new crisis to hear about.
Rob ignored my expression. 'I've always been fascinated by junk bonds. It sounds as though it will be an interesting meeting. Do you mind if I join?'
I laughed. 'No, of course not. It's at three o'clock. Plenty of time to get to the flower shop across the road.'
Rob scowled at that, but couldn't prevent his scowl spreading into a grin as he walked away. I was looking forward to the meeting. Partly I was eager to be getting my teeth into some credit analysis again. Partly I was curious to see the woman who had aroused so much interest in Rob.
They arrived at three on the dot. It was difficult to imagine two more different people. Cash led the way, bustling his short, slightly overweight frame through the door of the conference room and bellowing hallos in his hoarse, loud Brooklyn voice. Cash Callaghan, originally Charles Callaghan, had established a reputation in New York that he had built upon since he had moved to London. He was the 'top producer' in Bloomfield Weiss, meaning he sold more bonds than any of the other hundred or so salesmen at the firm. His life style matched this success. The name 'Cash' reflected the large amounts of cash he earned, and the large amounts he so obviously spent. If ever anyone was larger than life, it was he. His personality seemed to fill any room he was in. His good humour and his throaty chuckle drew people towards him. He made you feel that you were a special friend of his, and that it was an honour to be a friend of someone so popular, who had so many other friends who were not quite as important to him as you. You wanted to please him, show him you appreciated his friendship. You did business with him.
Everyone felt this pull, myself included. I did my best to fight it. I didn't trust him. Partly it was because his small, blue piggy eyes seemed totally detached from his wide grin and bright white teeth. When he and everyone around him were smiling and laughing, those hard little eyes would be darting around, weighing up those around him, looking for opportunities to make the sale. Partly it was because I had suspected him of trying to pull one over on me once or twice. No doubt he succeeded with other clients, and no doubt they were still drawn back to doing business with him.
Behind this rush of energy came Cathy. She was tall and walked into the room with an awkward, angular grace. Her dark hair was tied tightly back behind her neck. She wore a crisp white blouse under an expensive looking blue suit, with a delicate set of small pearl earrings. She had a figure designed to wear elegant clothes, slim with sharp edges. But I couldn't help noticing her eyes; large and brown, they carefully avoided contact with anyone in the room. I could see what Rob meant. She had a mixture of untouchable beauty and vulnerability that must have been giving him all sorts of problems.
As we sat down, Cash began, 'Paul, I'd like you to meet my new colleague Cathy Lasenby. Cathy, this is Paul Murray, one of our more successful clients.' With this a broad grin in my direction. 'Rob, I believe you have met before.'
Cathy gave us both a thin smile, barely twitching the corners of her mouth. I nodded to her, and Rob smiled inanely and mumbled something incomprehensible in her direction.
'It's not many of our customers who are able to spot opportunities as good as the recent Swedish deal, and have the balls to make as much out of it as Paul here did,' Cash continued.
'Even the foolhardy get it right sometimes,' I said. 'There was that other customer, the American who bought fifty million. He must have made good money. I wonder who that was.'
'Oh that was a small savings and loan from Phoenix, Arizona,' Cathy answered. She had a clear, throaty, slightly haughty voice, betraying an expensive education. I have a weakness for voices like that, hers struck me as remarkably sexy. 'He often takes that sort of risk. Actually, he is quite good at it.'
For a moment Cash frowned in evident disapproval. Customers are not supposed to know what other customers are doing. In theory this is supposed to protect client confidentiality. In practice, I suspected that it was to prevent them ganging up on the investment bank in the middle. Cathy had shown her inexperience by breaking this rule.
She noticed Cash's disapproval and reddened. 'But I am sure you can keep that to yourself,' she added, glancing towards, but not quite at, me.
'Oh, of course,' I said.
Cash's grin returned to his lips. He cleared his throat. 'As you know, we have come here today to talk about the new high yield bond issue we are going to launch for the Tahiti Hotel. Cathy will outline the details of the deal to you. Before she starts, I just want you to know that we at Bloomfield Weiss think that this is a great deal. It's going to be oversubscribed several times. This'll be a blow-out. There's a lot of money to be made here for the smart guys who can decide fast.'
I wondered if there were ever any deals Cash sold that were not 'blow-outs'. 'Please go on,' I said.
Cathy began. 'You may be wondering what can be riskier than investing in a casino. You've heard about 'the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo'. Why should you finance an operation that can be bankrupted by any lucky punter coming off the street?
'Well, when you are on the side of the house at the gaming tables, then your winnings no longer depend on luck, they depend on reliable percentages. Over the long run, the proportion of total bets placed that is won by the casino is remarkably constant. Different games have different percentages. Slot machines are a high-volume, low- margin business. The biggest profits are made from the high-rollers, the top thousand or so gamblers in the world, who bet, and lose, large amounts of money.
'So the secret to running a very profitable casino is to make sure that, when the high-rollers come to town, they spend as much time in your casino as possible. It is with this in mind that the Tahiti was conceived and built. It will be the most exciting and luxurious hotel and gaming complex in Las Vegas. The hotel has a South Sea theme with palm trees, lagoons and a specially regulated indoor climate that adds to the effect.'
