glad the men were here to interview me. With luck, I would be able to sort it out, there and then.
'Yes, please,' I said quietly.
Hamilton left the room to collect the two men from reception. I looked around the conference room. It was a lonely room. All internal walls, no windows. Expensive-looking but characterless reproduction furniture. Idiotic clippers sailing nowhere across the walls. White crisp note-pads and sharp yellow pencils on the table. Yes, it would serve as an interrogation room.
Hamilton returned, followed by the two officials. I supposed they must have been waiting there when I came in, but I hadn't noticed them. Although it was early September and it hadn't rained for days, they both carried fawn raincoats over their arms. They unburdened themselves of these, and their briefcases, took out their own pads of paper and sat down opposite me. Hamilton sat at the head of the table between us. I wished he had positioned himself right next to me. The three feet between us seemed a long way.
One of the men began to talk. He was mostly bald, the dark hair that remained was cropped close to his skull. He had a prominent nose and chin, but there was very little distance between the two features, giving his face an unpleasant squashed look. He wore black-rimmed glasses with very thick frames. He must be almost blind, I thought. The corners of his thin mouth turned up as he introduced himself. 'Good morning, Mr Murray. My name is David Berryman, I work for the Securities Association. This is my colleague Rodney Short.' The other man, grey- haired and timorous, nodded. That was the closest I would get to communicating with him. He was there to keep quiet and write everything down.
I knew all about the Securities Association, commonly known as the TSA; I had recently sat an examination to become a member. It was one of a number of self-regulatory organisations that had been set up following 'Big Bang', to police the City. It promulgated dozens of rules and had its own staff to ensure that they were complied with. It had the power to fine or expel members. In cases where criminal charges could be brought, then the TSA would hand over its investigation to the Fraud Squad or the Serious Fraud Office.
'Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?' Berryman began.
'No,' I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. Berryman strained to hear. Pull yourself together, I said to myself. I mustn't look nervous, after all, I had done nothing wrong. 'No,' I repeated loudly, too loudly to be natural.
There was a pause as Berryman looked at me through those big lenses. I smiled a helpful, friendly smile. 'I will tell you anything you like.' My smile was not returned as Berryman fumbled through his notes. His sidekick, Short, was already writing furiously. What, I had no idea.
The questions began. 'Your name?'
'Paul Murray.'
'Are you employed by De Jong & Co.?'
'Yes.'
'For how long have you been in their employ?'
'Nearly a year.'
'In what capacity?'
'Portfolio manager.'
These questions came quickly, and I answered them quickly and clearly.
'Did you, on the sixteenth of July last, purchase Gypsum of America bonds to the value of two million dollars on behalf of De Jong & Co.?'
'Yes, I did.'
'And did you on the same date buy a thousand shares of Gypsum of America common stock for your own account?'
'Yes.'
'You will be aware that later that day the share price of Gypsum of America rose from seven dollars to eleven and a quarter dollars. Within a few days an offer to acquire Gypsum of America was announced. Did you have any knowledge that this offer was pending?'
'No, I didn't.'
'Then why did you buy the bonds and the shares?'
I knew my answer to this question was important. I leant across the desk and tried to look Berryman in the eye. It was difficult with those bloody lenses.
'Bloomfield Weiss had offered to buy a small position of Gypsums which De Jong had held for a while. I did some research on the company, and it seemed to me that a takeover was a distinct possibility. The company had been badly run, and the previous chief executive had died recently. He had always blocked a takeover in the past.'
'I see.' Berryman tapped his chin with a biro, and thought for a moment. 'There was nothing else that made you suspect a takeover was imminent. What you have told me seems precious little on which to risk De Jong's capital, let alone your own.'
'Well…' I started, and then cut myself off.
'Yes?' Berryman raised his eyebrows so they were just showing above his spectacles.
I had to finish. 'I was suspicious that Bloomfield Weiss knew something. It seemed odd to me that they were willing to pay such a high price for the bonds, all of a sudden.'
'Who was it at Bloomfield Weiss who expressed interest in the bonds?'
'Cash Callaghan, one of their salesmen.'
'I see. And Mr Callaghan gave no indication that the company was about to be taken over.'
'No, he didn't. But then he wouldn't, would he? Not if he wanted to buy the bonds from me cheaply?'
'Are you suggesting that Mr Callaghan knew about the proposed takeover?'
I hesitated here. For a moment, I thought this could be the chance I had been looking for to nail Cash. But only for a moment. I was on dangerous ground; I had better play it straight. But Berryman had noticed my hesitation, no doubt he was putting his own interpretation on it.
'No, I'm not. I have no idea what Cash knew or didn't know. I am merely saying that, at the time, I suspected that he might.'
Berryman didn't believe me. I could tell he didn't. In a way I wished he would come right out and say it, give me a chance to convince him of my innocence. I thought of launching into an impassioned plea to be believed, but I held back. It would probably just make things worse.
'This is an important question, Mr Murray.' Berryman leant forward. 'Did you discuss with Mr Callaghan the possibility of buying shares in Gypsum of America for your own account?'
'No, I did not,' I said firmly.
'Are you quite sure?'
'Absolutely sure.' I wondered where Berryman had got this idea from. Perhaps Cash had been trading on inside information himself. Perhaps he had claimed that he had tipped me off. I didn't know.
The corners of Berryman's mouth twitched upwards again. He seemed very satisfied with my response. I felt as though I had fallen into a trap, but I couldn't for the life of me work out what the trap was.
Berryman continued. 'Did you call the compliance officer at Bloomfield Weiss shortly after the takeover was announced?'
My heart sank. Berryman saw this. 'Yes,' I said.
'Why did you do that?'
'Our compliance officer here was a girl named Debbie Chater. She died recently. When I was clearing up her desk, I found a note to her from Bloomfield Weiss about an investigation into the Gypsum of America share price movements. It asked for her to give them a ring. I called the man at Bloomfield Weiss, a Mr Bowen I think it was, to see if I could help.'
'I see.' Berryman rummaged through his notes. 'You told Mr Bowen that Miss Chater had informed you about the Gypsum investigation.'
'No. Not at all. Well, I mean…' Christ, what had I said? 'I think I said that we had been working on Gypsum together, which we had, in a manner of speaking.'
'Hmm. Mr Bowen is of the opinion that you had discovered that Miss Chater had tipped him off about her suspicions about the movements in the Gypsum share price, and you rang him to try to find out how the investigation into yourself, Callaghan and others was going.'
'That's just not true.'
