Free to Trade (42 page)

I summed up. 'So, we don't know who killed Debbie. We can be sure that Waigel was involved, but he wasn't in the country when she was killed. I suspect Rob might have something to do with it, and I also think that the Tremont Capital fraud is important. But for the life of me I can't put it all together. In the meantime, I am in serious trouble. All it needs is for Powell to come up with one more piece of evidence, which it seems plenty of people would be happy to manufacture, and I will be arrested. Unless I can work out who killed Debbie, I will be facing a murder charge. Have either of you got any ideas, because I sure as hell haven't?'

Cash exhaled. 'Jeez. This is all a bit complex for me. I don't know.'

Cathy didn't say anything. She was thinking. I kept quiet, hopeful she would come up with something.

Finally she said, 'OK, try this. What do we know about Debbie's murderer?'

'Well, he must have been in London when Debbie was killed,' I said.

'Right. And he may well have been the man pulling the strings at Phoenix Prosperity.'

I nodded. 'That's true. Jack Salmon was certainly talking to somebody. And that somebody knows the markets.' I thought some more. That somebody had approved Jack Salmon's proposal to buy Fairway bonds.

I had told Hamilton I thought Fairway was a good investment.

My thoughts were interrupted by Cathy. 'Waigel was lucky that no one checked out the Tremont Capital guarantee. He was running a risk there.'

'It was a private placement,' I said. 'The documents didn't have to be filed anywhere, and there was a restricted list of customers.'

'Very restricted,' said Cathy. 'Two, in fact. De Jong, and Harzweiger Bank.'

'You said Waigel suggested Harzweiger, and you came up with De Jong yourself?' I asked Cash.

'That's right,' he said. 'After Hamilton had indicated his interest in high-yielding triple-As.'

'Well, we can be pretty sure that Dietweiler was working with Waigel; he probably stuffed the Tremont bonds in client accounts, hoping no one would notice,' I said.

'Which leaves De Jong,' said Cathy.

'Mm. It is very odd Hamilton didn't check the guarantee, or at least get Debbie to check it,' I said. 'A rare mistake.'

The inevitable conclusion was there, staring us all in the face.

Hamilton.

It couldn't be true. Hamilton might have sacked me, but he was still important to me. I admired the man; he was the one person who was straightforward in this whole filthy mess. It just didn't make sense. I wasn't prepared to believe it.

But, as soon as I accepted Hamilton as a possibility, things began to slip into place. In partnership with his old business school buddy Waigel, Hamilton had set the whole scheme up. He had bought the Tremont Capital private placement from Cash, knowing exactly what it was. He was responsible for Tremont's investment in Phoenix Prosperity, and for directing Jack Salmon's trading while he was there.

But worst of all, he had killed Debbie.

He had seen the appointment with Mr De Jong in Debbie's diary. He had seen the marked-up Tremont prospectus on her desk. He knew she was going to talk to De Jong about the fake guarantee and he had to stop her.

So he killed her.

I felt numb. In shock. My body was physically unable to accept that conclusion.

'Paul? What's wrong?' Cathy reached over to touch my hand.

Stammering, I told them what I was thinking, the words coming out with difficulty.

They both just looked at me, too stunned to say anything.

I pulled my hand away from Cathy, and walked over to the window of my little sitting room. I looked over the little street bathed in morning sunlight.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I felt foolish and betrayed. I wanted revenge, for myself and for Debbie.

'I don't believe it,' said Cash. 'Hamilton is as prim and proper as they come. He isn't my idea of a master criminal. He's too...' Cash searched for the word and then found it, 'boring.'

'Oh, I do,' said Cathy. 'I never liked him. He's not a human being, he's a machine. But I wonder why he did it?'

I had an answer. I knew how Hamilton's mind worked. 'Hamilton thinks life is all about playing the markets, and winning. He is obsessed by making money. It's not the money itself he likes, it's the act of making it. And he is a risk-taker. I think he got bored with straightforward trading, he wanted something a bit more exciting. This was the perfect crime. He would steal tens of millions without ever being discovered. I bet he got a great kick out of it,' I muttered bitterly.

'Why steal it, when the suckers give it away every day of the week,' Cash said, chuckling.

It was true, as long as there was one born every minute, Cash would never be short of money.

'So what about you?' Cathy asked. 'How come he let you nose around for so long?'

'I suppose he didn't have much choice,' I said. 'Once I was suspicious, he knew I would ask questions. He was probably better off knowing what I was doing and directing me, rather than letting me go off on my own. He did persuade me not to tell anyone what I found out, under the pretext of avoiding alerting the fraudsters before we had got the money back. I must admit I thought he would figure everything out. I suppose all that business about lawyers in the Netherlands Antilles was made up. Perhaps he didn't even go there.'

'But why didn't he kill you like he killed Debbie?'

I paused. 'I don't know why he didn't kill me. I suppose two dead employees in one month might have looked a little careless.' Perhaps he was too fond of me, I thought to myself. The pride of being Hamilton's star protege was difficult to shake. I felt a fresh wave of disgust for him wash over me. To think I ever admired a man like that!

He had tried to stop me though, and nearly succeeded. Suddenly the Gypsum investigation slotted into place. 'Berryman was right, Hamilton never did a deal with the TSA,' I said.

Cathy looked at me, puzzled.

'He used the investigation into my Gypsum share-dealing as an excuse to fire me. Once I had resigned, it was easy for Hamilton to spread a rumour around that I had been caught insider trading, which made me unemployable in the bond markets. Then, just to make sure, he got Rob to set me up as a murder suspect, and broke into my flat to plant one of Debbie's earrings, which had fallen off when he pushed her into the river.'

'But why did Rob help him?'

I had no answer to that one. Perhaps he just didn't like me.

'So what do we do now?' asked Cash.

'Go to the police?' said Cathy.

I shook my head. 'We can't. We don't have any proof. As soon as Hamilton realises the police are investigating him, De Jong will never see its money again. And remember, I am still the man Powell wants behind bars. He won't be thrown off the track that easily.'

Cathy nodded, worried. 'You are still on the hook for that. Powell won't be impressed when you try to tell him that your old boss, who fired you, is really Debbie's murderer.'

'Besides,' I said, 'I want to nail the bastard myself.'

'So, what do we do?'

'We get De Jong's money back.'

The other two looked at me blankly.

'We get De Jong's money back,' I repeated. 'And in the process we expose Hamilton's involvement in the whole affair. Powell will have to listen then.'

'Well, that's all fine and dandy,' said Cash. 'But how in hell's name are we going to do that?'

'I may have an idea. Let me think for a moment.'

They were quiet as I stared out of the window.

There was a way, I was sure.

I outlined the germ of an idea. We discussed it and refined it over the next couple of hours, until we had quite a workable plan.

I joined Cash and Cathy in their taxi back to Bloomfield Weiss. I waited in the reception area for an hour or so. Eventually Cathy came back with an armful of prospectuses, annual reports and computer print-outs. I took them from her and headed back to my flat.

To work. I had information on five American companies that were currently in deep trouble. I laid the collection of annual reports, price histories going back two years, and reports from Standard and Poor's, Moody's, Valueline and various brokers, in five neat piles. I began to work through them. I needed to pick one company that looked just right. I had to look at each one from three different angles: what I personally thought of the company's real prospects, what Hamilton would think, and what the market would think. I had to get the combination of these perceptions exactly right.

I broke off at three. I needed to make some phone calls. The first was to De Jong & Co. Karen answered the phone.

'Hi, Karen. It's Paul. How are you?' I said.

Karen sounded pleased to hear my voice. 'I'm fine, how are you?'

'Is Hamilton there?'

Karen's voice became much more serious. 'I'll just have a look.'

I waited a few seconds, and then Hamilton's voice came down the other end of the wire, 'McKenzie.'

I was not prepared for the response hearing Hamilton's voice would arouse in me. It was a physical revulsion; the blood rang in my ears, and the hairs on my skin suddenly became very sensitive, so that I could feel my shirt rubbing against them. A feeling of sickness welled up somewhere near my diaphragm. Rationally I knew Hamilton had betrayed me. I was not aware until then how deeply I felt it emotionally.

'Hallo, Hamilton. It's Paul.'

'Ah, Paul, how are you?'

'Fine, I suppose. I wanted to ask you something.'

I could almost feel Hamilton stiffen on the other end of the phone line. 'What's that?'

'I wonder if I could come in to the office to work out the rest of my
notice period? I haven't had much luck getting another job in the bond market, so I am applying for a number of banking jobs. I would very much like to brush up on my credit skills. Besides, I am getting bored sitting around at home.'

There was a second's pause whilst Hamilton thought this through. 'That will be fine. You will be very welcome. I am afraid I can't let you trade, of course, but we would be happy to have you. As a matter of fact, there are one or two analyses that need doing.'

'Good,' I said. 'I'll see you tomorrow morning.'

So far so good. Next was Claire. As I expected, that was no problem, she was positively eager to help. Denny was more difficult. I knew I was asking a lot from him. He would have to do a fair amount of legal work for which he might not get paid if our plan failed. I didn't think that what we were intending to do was actually illegal, but it was certainly close. We talked for half an hour before Denny eventually said he would help, to my intense relief.

Now, the call I had been positively relishing. I dialled a Las Vegas number.

'Irwin Piper's office,' said a secretarial voice, exuding cultivation, politeness and authority. I asked for Mr Piper. 'I am afraid Mr Piper is not here right now. Can I take a message?'

I had expected it would be difficult to get through to him. I had thought through my message beforehand. 'Certainly. Can you tell him Paul Murray called? Can you tell him that unless he calls me back in the next two hours, I will call the Nevada Gaming Commission to discuss Mr Piper's trading in Gypsum of America bonds through his Liechtenstein bank?'

It wasn't subtle, but it worked. Piper was on the phone within ten minutes. I didn't repeat my threat; I had made it once and that would be enough. I asked Piper politely for his help. I told him why it would be in his interests to give it, that helping me would solve his problem as well as mine. I explained what I wanted him to do.

I was surprised by his reaction. He was enthusiastic. 'Sure, why not?' he said. 'I went to a lot of effort to make sure the Tahiti is as clean as a whistle, and this Tremont Capital business nearly screwed all that up. It sounds fun. I was planning to come to England soon anyway. And it would be nice to get you off my back.' I assured him I would forget all I had ever learned about him. We discussed dates and details for a few minutes and then hung up.

I dialled Cash. 'How did you get on?' he asked.

'Everyone agreed to help. Piper even seemed to relish the idea,' I said. 'I think I have found the company we are looking for.' I told him the name. 'Can you check out how it is trading? Who owns bonds, whether there are any sellers likely to emerge in the next few days, that sort of thing?'

'OK. Talk to you later.'

It was good to be in a suit again. As I walked into the Colonial Bank building and took the lift up to the twentieth floor, I felt tense but ready.

The small trading room froze as I walked in. Jeff, Rob, Gordon and Karen all stared at me for a second or two, before putting their heads down to paper and telephone. Hamilton took no notice of my entrance. There was a young man with glasses sitting at Debbie's desk. Her replacement. I was glad that Hamilton had not yet found a replacement for me.

I strode into the room. 'Morning, everyone,' I said loudly. There were a few murmured responses. 'Hallo, Karen. Miss me?' I shouted across to her. Karen, at least, smiled. It was something.

I walked over and introduced myself to the young man at Debbie's desk. He said his name was Stewart. 'My name's Paul. I work here,' I said. I saw Jeff stiffen out of the corner of my eye. Stewart was thrown into complete confusion, and blurted out something incoherent. He clearly knew who I was. He was torn between natural politeness and not wishing to be seen consorting with a criminal.

Hamilton finished his call, and came over. He was friendly enough, at least by his standards. 'Morning Paul. Nice to have you back. You can sit at your old desk.' The word 'old' jarred. 'A couple of ground rules. I would rather you didn't have any contact with the market at all whilst you are in our offices, so don't answer the phone, and don't make any calls to any salesmen.'

'You don't mind if I use the phone to ring headhunters, do you?' I asked.

'No, that's fine.' He dropped some papers on my desk. 'I have got a couple of US regional banks I would like you to take a look at. They have just been downgraded to triple B, and their bonds are yielding almost 12 per cent. If they are safe, I would like to buy some.'