The Last Hedge (10 page)

The moonlight gleamed through the window; he could see that the door was open to the patio. Dylan stepped outside for some fresh air. He then realized Marbella was standing there, gazing at the sea, dressed in a pair of black silken pajamas. He called her name softly, but she did not hear him. She jumped when he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Oh!” Marbella said. “You frightened me.”

“I’m sorry. I called your name, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you. I couldn’t sleep. I guess I needed some fresh air.”

“It’s hard not sleeping in your own bed? There’s no one to keep you warm?”

“I could ask the same of you. Where’s Jonathan?”

“In his room, I suppose.” Marbella looked at him for several seconds before speaking. “Who are you anyway?”

“I thought we were introduced already.”

“That’s not the question I was asking.” They both turned when a voice came from the distance.

“I hope I’m not disturbing anything.” It was Ray Corbin, in his pajamas and a silk robe. Startled, Dylan and Marbella both turned towards him.

“Ray,” Dylan said. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Then I wasn’t. I came down for the same thing you two did. Some fresh air.”

“Right,” Dylan said. Marbella walked towards Ray and extended her hand. “Mr. Corbin. It was very nice seeing you again.”

Ray took her hand, and shook it. “Please, call me Ray.”

“Yes. Goodnight Ray.” Both men watched her as she entered the house. Ray walked towards Dylan at the edge of the balcony.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Uh, no Ray. What could you possibly be interrupting?” Ray laughed.

“Young guy like you, full of testosterone, I would try to get it on with ‘you know who’, if I were you.”

“Woah, she’s Jonathan’s woman, and this is his house. I’m not stupid.”

“Stupid? You think Jonathan cares about something like that. He’d probably give us two hundred million more if he thought you had the balls to sleep with his woman in his house.”

“I guess you know him better that I do.”

“I do. And I can tell you, Dylan, he likes you.” Ray was grinning from ear to ear, like the cat that had just devoured the canary.

“He said he wanted to think on it tonight. But all signs looked good.”

“That’s good to know. Maybe we can take his hundred million to Vegas if our trades fail.”

“You are not going to fail, Dylan. We are not going to fail. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I want to make sure everything is alright between us.”

Dylan said nothing for a moment as he stared out to sea. “Obviously, this isn’t what I had in mind when I jumped onboard, and I don’t mean to be a wise-guy or smartass, though I sometimes come off that way. I just want to be told the truth. No lies, no bullshit. That’s all I ask.”

“You will be. I promise you, when we turn this thing around, you will be taken care of. Loyalty is now
my priority
.”

Dylan laughed. “I think I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“And you’ll hear it again soon enough. I promise you.” Ray extended his hand, and Dylan slowly and reluctantly shook it.

“Looks like no one can sleep tonight,” a voice said, from behind them. Jonathan Kay was wearing slacks and a smoking jacket. A highball glass was in his left hand. “Jonathan,” Ray said.

“Nothing like the sea at night to stare off into and dream upon.”

“Yes,” Dylan said. “Your home is very beautiful.”

“Thank you, Dylan. I gave a lot of thought to your presentation, and I am impressed. I would like to move forward with additional funding.”

Ray looked at Dylan, then at Jonathan.

“That’s great, Jonathan” Ray said.

“I’m willing to inject another two hundred million into the fund, but there’s one condition.”

“Okay,” Ray said, hesitantly. Jonathan stepped forward as he began to speak.

“As you know, the Asians love to gamble, and Allegiance is looking to move into the Far Eastern markets. But setting up operations there requires heavy, shall we say, negotiations with the Chinese government. At the conclusion of these negotiations, I’m going to transfer over two hundred million into a state-owned account in Beijing to show good faith. Now currently, this money is sitting in a shitty escrow account in the Cayman Island earning virtually nothing. I anticipate a “go live” date in thirty days. I’d like you to put some money at work in the markets for thirty days. Can you do that?”

“No problem.”

“But there’s one catch. Between the bribes to the Chinese and the operating costs, I’m already out twenty million, and I don’t even have a contract. That’s not good in this economy. So Dylan, my question to you is, on two hundred-million, how much money can you make me in thirty days?”

“Jonathan, I can’t guarantee you an amount.”

“No guarantees, Dylan, but what do you think you can do?” Dylan shook his head.

“I’m a trader, not a speculator.”

“Ray’s fund here is at stake, and you can’t even throw out an estimate?” Jonathan laughed as he shook his head. “It boggles the mind.” Ray stepped in before Jonathan could say another word.

“Jonathan, how much money are you looking to make?”

“I’m looking to recoup most of the twenty million that I’ve invested with the Chinese.”

“You expect me to make ten percent in thirty days?”

“Ray tells me you’re the best.”

“This is nuts,” Dylan said.

“We’ll do it,” Ray said. If he can’t make ten percent, I will personally make you whole.”

“That’s very generous of you, Ray, but you would be using my own money to make me whole. I want to see what Cash is all about. We’re all friends here. Will you give it a shot? Ray told me you pulled in ten percent this week.”

“We’ve had some good trades, but in these markets, I can’t guarantee an amount with those kinds of dollars.”

“But will you give it a shot?”

Dylan looked into Jonathan’s beaming and confident face, and could tell that he was a man who relished making a hundred million dollar bets on the drop of a dime. Dylan then looked at Ray Corbin and saw the dreary and haggard face of a man that was almost down for the count. Dylan was about to say no to Jonathan’s proposal when it struck him. This was the end of Ray Corbin’s hedge fund, and probably the end of his trading career. As much as Dylan’s head was telling him to say no, his heart was telling him to say yes. He stuck his hand into Jonathan’s and agreed to make the trades.

Binky and Dylan had begun trading full throttle after the trip to Antigua. Ray had authorized them with a trading limit of up to one hundred million, and Dylan had quickly begun to put that money to use. The statistical arbitrage model was running at full capacity and was exceeding Dylan’s expectations. Even in choppy waters, they were making profits hand over fist. By Dylan’s estimation, it was possible that they might generate a million dollars of profits a week.

Their success had not gone unnoticed by the other traders. In an abrupt change of policy, Ray had begun posting trading results on the fund’s intranet site, and the numbers were now available for everyone to peruse.

Though Steve Wong had begun to speak to Dylan about trading and strategy, it became quickly apparent that they would not become friends. Dylan would drop by Wong’s desk asking him if he wanted to pop out for a sandwich. On both occasions, Wong enthusiastically agreed to take Dylan up on his offer. A half-an-hour later, however, there sat Wong munching on a Big Mac and washing it down with Diet Coke. After the third time, Dylan stopped asking.

Martha had become their biggest cheerleader. She dropped by on a daily basis to see if they needed anything. “Hello, Dylan.”

“Martha, how are you?”

“Just checking in. How’s your equipment? Do you need anything?”

“The PC’s are fine. Everything is working great.”

Each day she was as elegant as ever, dressed in either Chanel or Dior. Her black hair was always perfect. Though she was getting on in years, Dylan could tell that she was a stunner when she was younger. She was doting on Dylan as if he were the high-school quarterback. She had stopped by that morning with a box of cookies.

Martha lingered for a second as she stood over Dylan’s desk. She leaned towards Dylan to shield her comments from Binky.

“I just wanted to let you know that Ray came by with your revised compensation numbers. I’d like to review them with you, when you get a chance.”

“I will Martha. I appreciate that.”

“If there is anything you need, let me know.” She turned and made her way back towards her office.

Based on the Antigua meetings and preliminary trading results, Ray had decided to move some of Dylan’s bonus from the escrow account into a second cash bonus. It was very generous of him. After the stunt with the trading limits, Ray had every reason to be skeptical of Dylan and his motives, though the same could be said of Ray and Antigua. It was an irony of Wall Street that bonuses were being paid despite the fact that the company was losing money.

Though it still made Dylan nervous that a major investor was involved in Internet gaming, Jonathan Kay was, after all, one of many investors. With market conditions being what they were, many hedge funds were struggling, and had to go to the well to seek additional funding. Dylan now had more of a cushion for the gallery, now that he had the extra cash that Ray had given him. For the first time in a long time, he felt out of the woods on the are front. Though he was now feeling at ease in his new role firm, however, his antennas were still raised for other oddities.

The morning’s trading had proceeded profitably. The algorithm had produced about fifteen hundred trades, for a profit of over one hundred thousand dollars. The volume going through the trading system was enormous, compared to the few hundred trades that the Corbin Brothers traders had typically done in the past. Josh had not built the trading database for this volume of trades, and Dylan and Binky, much to the chagrin of the other traders, were beginning to see a lag in the system. Timing was crucial as positions often opened and closed within minutes. The arbitrage opportunity flashed like a match. It was the one cog in the machine that Dylan had not accounted for. Binky was already starting to beat his head against a wall.

“How slow is it?” Dylan asked.

“It’s slow. And it’s not getting any better.”

They were still only trading at half-capacity. By the time the model was fully utilized, the trading system would have slowed to a crawl.

“Well, we have our meeting with Ray now. I’ll broach the subject.”

Since Antigua, Ray had been in the office every day. Often, Binky and Dylan would huddle around the table in the center of Ray’s office. Josh had strangely been excluded from their meetings. The challenge of turning the fund around seemed to motivate Dylan more than ever. Dylan now believed that he could resurrect the fund from the dead.

“So now, how much money you guys made for us today?” Ray asked. Dylan noticed that Ray liked to use ‘Us’ when discussing favorable profitability.

“Up around 100K.”

“Already?” Ray asked with a smile.

“That’s what we do,” Dylan said. “But, as we mentioned before, we are having some trouble with slowness on the trading system.”

“Josh not helping you?” Ray raised one eyebrow.

“I’m afraid not,” Dylan said. “He’s changed the password numerous times, given us incorrect information, and refused to answer our emails.” Ray raised one eyebrow.

“Josh did all that?”

“I hate to bring it up.”

“I saw this coming,” Ray said. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. “Josh feels threatened.”

“Well,” Dylan said, hesitantly, “I guess I can understand that. I know what it’s like when the new “flavor of the month” comes to town.”

Ray picked up his phone and dialed Josh’s number. “Josh, we need to talk. Do you have a moment? … I’m on my way.”

“Dylan, let’s me and you speak to him in his office. Let me make a quick phone call,” Ray said. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Dylan said. Binky headed towards his desk, and Dylan headed down towards Josh’s office.

Dylan had not been inside Josh’s office in several weeks. Josh rarely stepped on the trading floor, though he could often be seen behind the glass walls in his office, glowering at the news screens or tickers. When they needed information from each other, they sent message back and forth via email. It was a cold and cynical way to communicate, but it was what it was.

When he entered Josh’s office, Josh refused to look up. His desk was situated in the corner of the office, diagonal to the door and next to the window. Josh seemed to be half-way through a hoagie that was sitting in the middle of his desk. Dylan stood in the doorway for a minute before Josh even acknowledged him. The acknowledgment came in the form of an instruction. “Will you close the door please? I’ll be with you in several minutes. I just have to finish something.”

“Sure,” Dylan said, “No problem. Take your time.” Dylan went to the door and closed it.

Dylan looked around the office. Josh seemed to have a fondness for models of the human brain. Several head-size models were scattered across various shelves. Josh continued typing. After a minute or so, he got up from his desk and walked towards Dylan. He moved with the grace of a tugboat, and the chair seemed to heave as Josh placed himself upon it. He gave Dylan a smug smile.

“Sorry that email took me so long.”

“Hey,” Dylan said, with a sarcastic smile, “I’m sure it was important. I was just admiring your brains here.”

Dylan was looking at an elaborate glass brain on Josh’s shelf. It was about the size of a coconut, and the different parts of the brains, had been marked by different colors of glass.

“I made that when I was fifteen.”

“Very cool,” Dylan said. “You mind if I look at it?”

“Sure,” Josh said. Quickly he added, “Just be careful.”

“I will.”

Dylan picked up the glass model and began to examine it. Josh watched him closely. For the first time in weeks, Josh seemed to smile.