whole lot longer to get to work these days.'
The conversation drifted on to commuting times and then back again to how talented Waigel was. When lunch had finally finished, I went back down with Lloyd to the trading floor. I strolled over to Tommy's desk.
'Have a nice lunch?' Tommy grinned.
I made a face.
'You could hardly pick a nicer bunch of guys,' said Tommy. 'Lloyd Harbin, Cash Callaghan, and the odious Dick Waigel.'
'I must admit I found him very unpleasant,' I said.
'One of Bloomfield Weiss's finest,' said Tommy.
I smiled. I gestured to Tommy's phone. 'Do you mind if I watch you at work?' I asked.
'Sure.' He picked up the phone and motioned for me to take a second earpiece.
I heard him through a number of phone calls. He was good with his clients. He sounded friendly and helpful with all of them, but he changed his manner subtly with each one, hearty with one, nerdish with another. He gave his clients plenty of information quickly and efficiently, he seemed to know exactly what bonds they were holding at the moment even when some of them were doing their best not to tell him, and he made no attempt at all to sell the position in Macy bonds that Bloomfield Weiss had picked up by mistake and were desperate to get rid of. A good salesman.
After an hour or so, we were interrupted by Lloyd, who tapped Tommy's shoulder. 'Can I see you for a moment?' he asked.
'Sure,' said Tommy, and they disappeared round a corner. I stood around for a minute or two, and then sat in Tommy's chair to watch what was going on around me.
After a few minutes Lloyd returned. I made as if to get up, but Lloyd motioned for me to stay seated.
'Stay there, Paul,' he said. 'Use that desk for the rest of the afternoon as a base if you wish. The head of our research group will be up in a few minutes to take care of you.'
I wanted to ask him where Tommy was, but something told me not to. The salesmen who were sitting round Tommy's desk glanced at me furtively. I had the impression they were not looking at me, but rather at the chair I was sitting on. Tommy's chair.
I felt as though I were desecrating a grave, sitting there. I leapt out of the chair. I felt a bit foolish, standing around, being ignored by everyone on all sides. I wanted to tell them it was not my fault that Tommy had gone.
I knew what they were thinking. Tommy was unlucky. It could easily have been one of them. Tommy had gone from successful salesman to failure in five minutes. They couldn't be seen to be associated with that failure. They wanted nothing to do with it, at least in public anyway.
A man in grey overalls with a large blue crate walked up to me. 'Was this Mr Masterson's desk?' he asked.
I nodded. He carefully placed everything that looked personal into the crate. As he walked off, dragging the crate behind him, I saw he had left Tommy's jacket on the back of the chair. 'Hey!' I shouted, but he didn't hear. My English accent sounded out of place in that big American trading room, and several people turned to look, although not of course those sitting nearest me, who remained steadfastly ignorant of my presence.
At last, I was saved by the head of research who came along to whisk me away. I spent the rest of the afternoon with a number of analysts, talking about the pros and cons of various junk bonds. I found the subject interesting. Separating those companies that would succeed from those that would fail was a challenge that was as much an art as a science. I learned a lot from the Bloomfield Weiss analysts which I would be able to use later.
At about half past five I came to the end of my meetings. I went back into the trading room to say goodbye to Lloyd. He made no mention of Tommy, so I said, 'If you see Tommy, wish him luck from me.'
'Sure will,' said Lloyd, 'he's a great guy.'
I walked with him to the lift, trying not to let my anger show. Bloomfield Weiss seemed to breed very unpleasant characters: Cash Callaghan, Dick Waigel and Lloyd Harbin. I supposed that sometimes some people had to be sacked. But I doubted the genial and successful Tommy deserved to be one of those people. And he had not just been sacked. His memory and every trace of him had been expunged from Bloomfield Weiss before the afternoon was even over.
As I said goodbye to Lloyd, I again managed to disrupt his bonecrushing handshake which gave me a small shred of pleasure.
The lift was empty as I got in, and I heaved a huge sigh as the doors closed behind me. I had had enough of ruthless bastards for one day.
The lift fell one floor and stopped. The doors opened to let in the tall figure of Cathy. My heart sank. I didn't feel I had the strength for polite chat, much less an argument. Cathy didn't look too pleased to see me either. In fact she looked quite upset. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lower lip was trembling.
'Bad day?' I said.
'Bloody awful day,' she said.
'Nasty place, this.'
'Horrible place.'
'There are some real bastards working here.'
'Real bastards,' she said. She looked at me and gave me a small smile.
'Do you fancy a drink?' I asked on an impulse.
She hesitated. 'Oh, why not? Do you know anywhere round here?'
We went to Fraunces Tavern, an old red-brick building squatting amongst Broad Street's skyscrapers, with a warm, dark interior. We sat down and ordered two beers.
'What's up?' I asked.
Cathy winced. 'Let's just say there was a clash of personalities.'
'And you came off worse?'
Cathy sighed, and leaned back in her seat. 'I just had a big fight with Cash,' Cathy said. 'For all his nice-guy image that man can be very difficult to work for.'
'What did he do?'
'It was the usual thing. Cash was trying to stuff one of our clients. The trading desk in New York is long fifty million of a dodgy insurance company. There was some bad news about it in the
Her long slim fingers fiddled with the beer mat in front of her. 'Well, this is Cash's chance to look good with the bosses in New York. So he rings one of our clients in London with a cock-and-bull story about how the article is wrong and the insurance company is really doing much better than everybody thinks it is. They believe it, and are falling over themselves to buy the bonds. They'll find out their mistake soon enough, when they try and get a price for them.'
She sighed. 'It isn't even really his client. It's someone I have been trying to develop a relationship with for months. They were just beginning to trust me. After this, they won't want to talk to me again. Cash will look a hero, and I will lose a client.' She looked up at me. 'I shouldn't be telling you all this, should I? It's just sometimes I get so sick of the whole thing I could explode. And it's nice to talk to someone about it.'
'Don't worry,' I said. 'I had worked out Cash wasn't a hundred per cent trustworthy myself. Does this sort of thing happen a lot?'
'All the time,' she said. 'I hate lying. I'm not really much good at it. I'm sure the only way to develop relationships properly is by building up trust.' She looked up from her beer. 'We may have had our differences in the past, but I have always been honest with you, haven't I?' Her eyes looked for support and encouragement.
I thought about it. She was right. And she had been very straightforward with me in telling me about her run-in with Cash. I nodded. 'I can't think of a time when you haven't been straight.'
Cathy was pleased with my response. 'It's frustrating. I do my best to tell the truth to my customers and they don't deal with me. Cash lies through his teeth to them, and they do masses of business. It's like that with De Jong, isn't it?'
'I haven't really thought about it. I suppose it is,' I admitted.
She looked glumly down at her beer mat. 'But I shouldn't go on about my troubles all the time. What about
