Man in the Middle
Authors: Ken Morris
| Man in the Middle | |
| Ken Morris | |
| Bancroft Press (2003) | |
| Rating: | **** |
### From Publishers Weekly
Morris's first thriller is a brisk, if at times predictable, story of international financial mayhem. The unlikely heroes are Oliver Dawson, an obdurate low-level attorney with the Securities and Exchange Commission's Enforcement Division, and Peter Neil, a young man thrust into an atmosphere of greed and temptation at a hedge fund. After Peter's mother dies in a car accident, her former lover and family friend, attorney Jason Ayers, offers the unemployed Peter a job with one of his clients, a hedge fund called Stenman Partners. The company is an epicenter of corruption-reaping money from the drug trade, among other things-but Peter gets swept up in the fast money and glamour. Morris paints a detailed picture of currency trading and the movements of billions of dollars around the world, spelling out the dire consequences for barely solvent developing nations. There are consequences as well for the poor working saps who threaten to reveal Stenman Partners' unscrupulous activities: they end up dead, frustrating Oliver's investigation of the company. For Peter, the good times come to an end when the mysterious circumstances of his mother's death turn out to be linked to Stenman. Before she died, she left Peter documents that incriminated the hedge fund, and now top malefactors at Stenman are framing him for murder. Peter teams up with Oliver and Ayers's daughter, Kate, in a dangerous scheme to unveil the company's doings. Though Peter's rise and fall and resurrection are boilerplate, the fast-moving action and high-stakes financial intrigue should keep thriller fans entertained.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.
### From Booklist
In 1992, the author, a successful stock trader, left Wall Street for California, where he devoted much of his time to writing. His first novel suggests that his literary talent may be as finely honed as his business skills. This financial thriller (naturally) begins with a mass homicide--and unintended suicide--at a San Diego securities office, then skips forward several days. Peter Neil, whose mother passed away a week earlier, has quit his high-paying job "pushing overpriced mortgage loans on unsuspecting clients." Now, with no income and plenty of debts, he's offered a job by Jason Ayers, a financier whose relationship with Peter's mother was closer then it ought to have been. But Peter soon begins to suspect the job offer may not have been purely altruistic and that the massacre at the San Diego securities company may be a lot nearer to home than he'd imagined. This is a crisply written, well-developed, and suspenseful tale of greed and deception. Recommend it with confidence to fans of financial thrillers. _David Pitt_
_Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved_
Baltimore, MD
Copyright 2002 and 2003 by Ken Morris
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote passages in a review.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published by Bancroft Press (“Books that enlighten”)
P. O. Box 65360, Baltimore, MD 21209
800-637-7377
410-764-1967 (fax)
www.bancroftpress.com
Cover and interior design: Tammy Grimes, Crescent Communications
www.tsgcrescent.com
• 814.941.7447
Author photo: Michael Campbell, Michael Campbell Photography
ISBN 1-890862-25-8 (cloth)
ISBN 1-890862-26-6 (paper)
LCCN 2002117219
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
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To my wife, Amelia, and my four sons Brett, Scott, Tim, and Colby.
I love you with all my being, and thank you for the lessons you teach me each and every day about humility and humanity.
PROLOGUE
B
LOOD
-
RED STRIPES RIBBED THE HORIZON WHILE AN OCEAN BREEZE
,
WED
to the scent of salt and seaweed, rustled past. Later that day—perhaps unaware of the morning’s tragedy—children would splash in the La Jolla Cove, playing Marco-Polo through peeking eyes. It was a setting that made San Diego’s North Coast so unique, validating citizens’ claims that this
was
“America’s finest city.”
Nicholas Zerets, however, cared nothing for clear skies, May sunshine, or the citizenry as he moved with effortless strides down this gold-plated stretch of real estate. Past a steak restaurant, a valet booth in front of an eight hundred-dollar a night hotel, and a newly built bank building boasting a hundred billion in assets, his heels click-clacked as if a ticking clock. When a San Diego City police car turned a corner and headed in his direction, he leaned back on his heels and slowed to a stop. He withdrew a tin box from a hip pocket, opened it with one hand, and removed a dark papered Djarum. He set the Turkish cigarette on its slow burn and watched.
Once the black and white accelerated and sped past, Zerets dragged deeply on the lit weed and continued his march. At his side, and chained to his wrist, hung a steel reinforced briefcase crammed with stock trade-confirms, notifications of maintenance calls, and final requests for additional funds—a substantial commemorative for those who would later investigate. Back at his apartment, on a computer monitor, was a screen full of stock symbols—each signifying a past trade—and nearly every one a miserable loser. It wouldn’t take a MENSA to understand the why of his actions.
Zerets continued across the street toward Jackson Securities’ branch office. He already knew the brokerage firm filled the ground floor of this six-story, two-year-old building. A half-dozen retail brokers were visible through glass doors. Some chattered on phones, others, like puppets putting on a show, sat face-to-face with clients. Sales assistants took notes at cramped desks outside their boss’s offices. And all of this took place in a tight area of less than two thousand square feet.
