Free to Trade (32 page)

I took a taxi back to the hotel. Before checking out I made a quick phone call to Tommy in New York.

'Good to hear from you,' came Tommy's voice, relaxed as ever. 'I trust you are sporting a nice tan after your vacation in the sun.'

'If I hear one more smug chief executive talking about operating synergies and enhancing shareholder value, I think I will explode,' I said. 'How are you getting on?'

'Nothing, yet. The police aren't very co-operative. Also, it's difficult to get hold of Shoffman's files. But don't worry, I haven't given up. Have you found anything?'

'Yes, I have done rather well.' I told him about my chat with Jack Salmon and my discovery of what Uncle Sam's Money Machine was. 'I wonder if you would do me one more favour,' I said.

'Sure,' said Tommy.

'See if you can find out who it was who took over Phoenix Prosperity sometime in the last two years. They paid forty million dollars. Some of the press-cutting databases may have something, although I suspect that the deal was kept private. I bet Bloomfield Weiss had something to do with it. They could have been advisers to either Phoenix Prosperity or the purchaser. See if you can find anything about it there.'

'It's tricky stuff snooping through corporate finance files like that. You can go to jail for that sort of thing.'

'I know. I can have a good guess who the purchaser was, but I need evidence. Sorry, Tommy. If you don't want to do it, I will understand.'

'Oh no. You can't get rid of me that easy. This is fun. I'll have the information for you. Where can I get hold of you?'

'I'll be at the Tahiti for a couple of days,' I said. 'You can get in touch with me there. Good luck.'

I was glad Tommy thought the whole thing was a lark. I felt bad about asking him to do something which carried so much risk, but he seemed genuinely eager and willing. It gave him a chance to get his own back on Bloomfield Weiss. He had been fired, what else did he have to lose?

I was not quite so happy about the whole thing. Whoever was behind it all was dangerous. Debbie and Greg Shoffman had both died on the trail of Tremont Capital. I didn't feel at all safe following in their footsteps. But I was getting somewhere, especially with the discovery of what Uncle Sam's Money Machine was. If Tommy could get answers to my questions, I would be a long way towards figuring it all out. I was doing well; it would be impossible for Hamilton not to concede as much. I would show him he had been right to place his trust in me.

CHAPTER 16

We travelled to Las Vegas in style. Irwin Piper had laid on his own private jet for certain valued investors. To my surprise, I was one of them. Jack Salmon and Madeleine Jansen were there. There were also three or four other investors from some of the biggest money managers. Cash and Waigel were also present. So was Cathy.

Cash was having a whale of a time. The plane was kitted out to cater for the 'high-rollers' that Piper wanted to transport to his casino. There was a bar, including several bottles of chilled champagne. Cash lost no time in breaking into these, forcing everyone to take a glass. Within a few minutes the plane was buzzing with chatter and laughter; Cash had started his party.

Much to his delight, Waigel found himself a TV with a selection of pornographic videos, which he hastened to try out on the machine. Cathy, whom he had jammed himself next to, stared out of the window in disgust.

I was sitting next to Madeleine Jansen. The champagne made its way up the plane to us. Madeleine lifted her glass. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers.'

We both sipped from our glasses. The bubbles danced around my mouth and tickled my nose. Champagne always seems more active at altitude.

I looked out of the window down to the dry Arizona desert below. We were passing over a range of low mountains. Here the desert buckled up into folds of browns, yellows, oranges and blacks. Rock, sand and shadow from the strong sunlight. There was not a patch of green in sight. Just one dead straight man-made track bisected the landscape as far as I could see. Looking down from an air-conditioned aeroplane thirty thousand feet up, the landscape appeared cold and empty. The intense heat of the desert floor was difficult to imagine.

Madeleine glanced over her shoulder towards where Cathy was sitting. 'You seemed a little preoccupied in Phoenix,' she said.

My cheeks burned. 'Yes, I'm very sorry. I was a little rude, wasn't I? I hope you will forgive me?'

'Yes, of course,' she laughed. I was embarrassed that my absorption with Cathy had been so obvious. But Madeleine seemed to be no more than pleasantly amused.

'Have you been to Las Vegas before?' she asked.

'No, this will be my first time. I'm quite curious to see what it's like. And you?'

'Once or twice.'

'On holiday or as an investor?'

'No, I haven't been there on vacation,' she said, 'but I have been to look at a couple of investments in the city.'

'Are these junk bond investments?' I asked.

'Mostly,' she said, 'although we do have a couple of equity investments in casinos.'

'Really?' I said.

'Yes. In fact we own a piece of the Tahiti.'

At last! Someone who was prepared to be straight about what they owned.

'That's interesting. What do you think of the deal?' I asked.

Madeleine looked at me, amused. 'What do you think of it?' she said.

I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. This woman obviously knew what she was talking about and I didn't want to make a fool of myself. On the other hand I had never liked the deal, even before I had discovered Piper's murky past. 'I don't know much about casinos, so I may be wrong, but I am afraid I don't like it at all.'

'And why is that?' Madeleine said, a slight smile on her lips.

'I'm not convinced that casinos are immune from a recession, especially those that cater for the family holiday. In a recession fewer people go on holiday, it's as simple as that. And there isn't much leeway in the financial projections for rooms and tables to be left empty.'

She looked at me, interested. 'Go on,' she said.

'Well, the other thing is Irwin Piper. Sure he's a savvy investor. But I get the feeling this is an ego-trip for him. He wants to build the most spectacular hotel in the world, and will bend the finances to make it work.' I sighed. 'The real thing is I just don't trust him.'

She looked at me long and hard. 'I think you are right,' she said.

'But, if you agree with me, why did you invest?' I asked.

'Amalgamated Veterans invested, not me,' she said. 'One of the people who work for me put the idea forward and fought for it very strongly. It has a lot going for it. It will be one of the most celebrated casinos in the world, and Art Buxxy has a good reputation for getting the customers in the door. But I didn't really like the smell of it. There was nothing I could put my finger on. In the end my colleague insisted and we went ahead. It was, after all, only thirty-five million dollars.'

'What do you mean, only thirty-five million dollars?' I said. 'That's an awful lot to lose.'

Madeleine smiled. 'I am in control of over fifty billion dollars. It's very difficult to find enough opportunities to invest that much. We make a host of investments of fifty million or less in projects like the Tahiti.'

Although I was used to juggling with millions of dollars, I still found it difficult to comprehend the sheer size of the American insurance industry. Companies like Amalgamated Veterans Life, the Prudential and Aetna played with amounts that were bigger than most countries' gross national product.

'Anyway, it looks like we will be all right. We provided bridge-financing for the construction of the hotel. As long as the junk bond issue gets placed, we will get our money back, and make a nice profit on top.'

'How much of a profit?' I asked.

'Oh we should make 80 per cent or so,' Madeleine said. 'Not bad for a one-and-a-half-year investment.'

That 80 per cent matched Jack Salmon's claims that Phoenix Prosperity would be doubling its investment, allowing for some exaggeration on Jack's part.

'So why are you going to see the Tahiti if you are going to get your money back soon?' I asked.

Madeleine paused. 'I don't want to put you off, but since you seem put off already, it doesn't matter. I am not sure that the new junk bond issue will get done. I think people have some serious questions about Piper. We shall see.'

If investors knew what I knew about Piper, I thought, then they certainly would have some serious questions. And the shareholders in the Tahiti, like Amalgamated Veterans, wouldn't double their money, they would probably lose most of it.

'Who else has invested in it?'

'There is one other institution apart from Irwin Piper himself,' she said. 'I'm afraid I can't tell you who it is.'

'It's not a crazy savings and loan from Arizona, by any chance?'

'I'm afraid I can't say. Let's just say that the other institution doesn't give me any comfort that this is a good investment.'

Just then from the back of the plane Jack Salmon let out a whoop of laughter at something Cash had said, and Madeleine and I exchanged amused glances.

The Tahiti was located on Las Vegas's Strip, the area three miles from downtown which contained the glitziest casinos. There was no mistaking it as we approached. A tall white octagonal tower housed the bulk of the hotel rooms. The entrance was up a short palm-tree-lined drive. Big banners hung over the door announcing the Grand Opening. The first steps into the Tahiti were breathtaking. The foyer was a huge atrium reaching a hundred feet into the sky. The floor was broken up into islands connected by walkways. Salty water lapped up against the island shores, in small waves. On the islands were a variety of seating areas, bars, fast-food counters and the inevitable slots. As I walked through the archipelago, I was struck by the atmosphere, a mixture of warm flowers and slight salty tang which really did conjure up images of the South Seas. Brightly coloured fish and turtles swam between the islands, and coral reefs smouldered below the surface. On one side of the atrium, the water was fenced off. There, the thrusting triangles of sharks' dorsal fins ploughed through the pool. Beautiful women in grass skirts and garlands glided amongst the trees with drinks and change for the slots.

I went up to my room to have a shower and change. It was one of the high-roller suites, although probably not the best. But the opulence made my stomach turn. Purple velvet and gold everywhere. Ankle-deep carpets. A huge heart-shaped bath. A bed itself the size of a small room. Above the bed was a complicated control panel. I pressed a couple of buttons gingerly. The bed started to undulate in a very disturbing fashion. I pressed the buttons again and it stood still. I decided to leave these well alone, and hoped to God that it wasn't set on a timer.

I stepped out on to the small balcony outside the window. Directly beneath me was a sprawling swimming-pool of deep blue water. It too was dotted with islands, and swimmers were sitting in the water drinking and playing the slot-machines.

The sight of girls in swimming costumes brought Cathy to mind. I smiled to myself, and went back into my room to give her a call. There was no reply from her room, and so I left a message for her to ring me when she got back in.

I set out to explore the casino. For all Irwin Piper's talk about high-rollers, most of the floor space was devoted to parting the ordinary man in the street from his hundred dollars a night. There were a number of large rooms, decorated in various South Sea themes, with acres of roulette, blackjack and craps tables. With the exception of some of the craps players who seemed to like shouting a lot, most of the proceedings were conducted in a deathly hush. Gamblers solemnly gave their money to the croupiers, who quickly and professionally gave some of it back.

And then there were the slots. Row upon row of machines, each one in control of its own human being, who fed the machine in a dazed, mechanical rhythm. There were no windows. It could have been day or night, the machines didn't care, and the humans did what they were told.

After walking round the Tahiti for a couple of hours, my mind became a blur of flashing dollar signs, lights and faces, all devoted to the pursuit of money. It made me uneasy. As I had said to Piper half jokingly, gambling was my job. Somehow the rush of adrenalin came more naturally when facing the winking green numbers on the screens at my desk than the relentless passing back and forth of money in Las Vegas. But perhaps I was just as trapped as the sad-looking individuals feeding the slots.

In a despondent mood, I had a sandwich and went to bed.

It was a great double act. Piper looking relaxed but dependable in a conservative lightweight suit. Art Buxxy, the showman, doing what he did well. It was a big moment for both of them. They had to secure $200 million from their audience.

Piper warmed up the crowd. In a reasonable, persuasive voice he talked in abstract terms about the remarkable financial opportunity that the Tahiti presented. There was talk of numbers, strategy, competitive analysis. Enough to make us think that the Tahiti was in safe hands, not enough to bore us. Despite the outward reserve, as he warmed up to his presentation, Piper did let some of the excitement he felt for the project show through. Standing there, tall, tanned, elegantly but conservatively dressed, speaking in a manner which was more suited to the Harvard Club than a casino, he gave his audience reassurance. Despite appearances, the Tahiti must be a respectable, conservative investment, or why would someone like Irwin Piper be involved with it?

Then it was Art Buxxy's turn. Buxxy was a small man with a nut-brown face, longish blow-dried grey hair and bundles of enthusiasm. He was hardly ever still, and when he was, it was for a melodramatic pause, to let the full consequence of what he had just said sink in. His abrasive, rough-edged manner jolted his audience after the smooth Piper, but within a minute his energetic charm had already bewitched us all. Selling was his calling, and the Tahiti was the love of his life. He used all his skills. He told us about his childhood as a cardsharping son of cardsharping parents. His poor-gambler-made-good story neatly combined several elements of the American Dream. He then launched into the details of how to run a casino. How to prevent croupiers from stealing money, how to spot card-counters, how to use databases to analyse high-rollers' personality profiles, and which promotional spend worked best. We were captivated. And I think most of us were sold.