Free to Trade (40 page)

And I was sure Powell usually got his way.

Murder! Insider dealing had seemed a bad enough crime to be accused of, but it was nothing compared to murder. And of Debbie as well, of all the injustices.

As soon as I got home, I called Denny. Luckily he was working late. His advice was clear. Treat Powell's suspicions seriously. However, it was unlikely that Powell had enough evidence to charge me yet. If Powell wanted to talk to me again, I should refuse unless Denny was present. Until then, all I could do was wait and see what happened.

CHAPTER 20

The bar was cool, dark and almost empty. It was still quite early. I nursed my pint of Davy's Old Wallop, whilst I waited for Cash and Cathy to arrive.

I heard Cash before I saw him. His voice echoed round the empty cellar as he came down the stairs from the street above. 'Jesus, Cathy, it's like a morgue down here.'

I had selected somewhere quiet to meet. Perhaps that was a mistake. Cash's voice would carry much further in an empty bar than a full one. I looked round. Three sets of canoodling couples, who were also looking for quiet and darkness, and a group of men in their early twenties, swiftly getting drunk. It should be safe.

I was apprehensive about meeting Cash; he did not seem at all apprehensive about meeting me. He bustled into the bar and headed straight for me, hand outstretched, and a big smile on his face. 'Paul! Good to see you. How have you been?' He pulled up a chair. Cathy followed him a couple of steps behind. She gave me a discreet but very sweet smile as she joined us at the table. 'Boy, that was really rough what happened to you. Cathy told me all about it. I can't believe they did that to you.'

I found myself warming to him. His concern did seem genuine; it was nice to hear somebody believe me. Watch out, I warned myself, trusting Cash is a dangerous business.

'Hallo, Cash,' I said coldly, briefly shaking his hand. He looked hurt at my coolness. I relented. 'Can I get you a drink?' I said trying to be polite, if not exactly friendly.

'Sure, I'll have whatever it is you've got there,' he said, pointing to my tankard of Davy's. It took me only a minute to get it, together with a Perrier for Cathy.

There was a distinctly awkward atmosphere at the table as I returned. I didn't say anything as I set the drinks down.

Cash took a sip, grimaced, and said, 'Interesting.' He was uncomfortable with the silence, as was Cathy. I found I didn't really want to talk to Cash, and regretted agreeing to the meeting. 'You haven't missed that much these last two weeks,' Cash said to break the silence. He chattered on for five minutes about the market, with me giving him minimal help.

As this one-way conversation petered to a halt, Cathy interrupted. 'I got you two together, because I think you have a lot to say to each other. So why don't you start, Paul,' she said firmly. 'Tell Cash about the TSA investigation.'

I hesitated a moment, and then I told him. Cash listened closely all the way through. At the end he said, 'It sure seems flimsy to me. It doesn't look like they have any direct proof.'

'Were you interviewed by the TSA?' I asked.

'Yes, I was,' he said. 'That whole thing scared the life out of me. First you tell me that Bowen's on to you. Then I get grilled by Berryman. And then you get the sack for insider trading.'

Cash took a gulp of his beer. 'That really worried me. I mean, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but firms like Bloomfield Weiss are happy to look for fall guys if there is any dirt flying around.

'Then suddenly last week, I got called into a meeting with the head of the London office. He told me that evidence had been found that Joe Finlay had been buying large amounts of Gypsum of America stock for his personal account, based on inside information. He had also built up a sizeable position in the bonds for Bloomfield Weiss, but the authorities were now convinced that no one else in the firm was involved. I can't tell you how relieved I was.'

Cathy listened with interest to this, her brows knitted in concentration. 'What I can't understand,' she said, 'is why Paul isn't in the clear. If the TSA think Cash had nothing to do with it, then unless they think that Joe and Paul were in regular contact it should prove that there was no channel for Paul to get the information.'

'You're right,' I said.

Cash nodded. 'She is right. You should see someone about it. Either De Jong or the TSA. I'll back you up.'

I smiled, 'Thanks, Cash.' And I was thankful. Having escaped unharmed, there was probably nothing Cash would rather do less than reopen the whole question. It was good of him to offer to do so. 'I'll phone the TSA in the morning.'

I sipped my beer. 'I wonder if Joe knew Debbie was on to him?'

'What do you mean?' said Cash.

'Well, Debbie tipped Bowen at Bloomfield Weiss off that something funny was going on. If Joe found out about it he would have been quite upset.'

'You mean he might have killed her?'

I raised my eyebrows. 'Maybe.'

'Jesus, maybe he did,' Cash said. 'But I am not so sure that Joe was acting completely alone in all of this.'

'Why is that?' I asked.

'Well, he had to get the information from somewhere. I mean a German company taking over an American target. How would a bond trader in London hear about that?'

'Careless talk?'

'Maybe. Maybe not.'

I thought for a second. 'What about Irwin Piper? He specialises in just that sort of thing, doesn't he? Did Joe know him?'

'I was just thinking along those lines,' said Cash. 'Yes, he did. I'm not sure how they met, but somehow or other they had gotten to know each other pretty well.'

I rubbed my chin and thought about it some more. 'It is possible. But how can we find out?'

'We may be able to work out something from his trading tickets!' said Cathy. 'They should still be around somewhere. I'll have a look tomorrow.'

'It's worth a try,' I said.

'Well, I am glad we are getting somewhere,' said Cathy. 'Now there is something else we wanted to talk to you about, Cash.'

I looked sharply at Cathy. I was prepared to believe Cash had nothing to do with the Gypsum insider trading, but that did not mean I trusted him on everything else.

'Paul, I think we should tell him,' she said. 'Trust me.'

I hesitated. I was tempted to accept Cathy's plea to trust her. I found it difficult myself to believe that Cash was the brains behind the Tremont operation. What the hell, I thought. Why not confront him with it? I had been dodging around for weeks trying to get answers from people without alerting them. I was getting impatient. I wanted to know. Now.

'OK,' I nodded my head. 'Let me get you another drink, Cash. You'll need it with what I am about to tell you.'

So I bought Cash another drink, and told him more or less everything that had happened from Debbie's death on. It was the first time I had ever seen Cash at a loss for words. His jaw literally dropped as I went through my story. When I finished it, I looked him straight in the eye, 'Well?' I said.

It took a while for Cash to collect his thoughts. 'Christ!' he said. Then, 'Jesus!'

'Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?' I asked.

'No, sure, go ahead,' said Cash absently, his mind still going over the implications of what I had just told him.

'Did you know that the Honshu Bank guarantee on the Tremont Capital bonds never existed?'

'No, I didn't,' he said. Then his eyes flared up with anger. 'You think I'm involved with this, don't you?'

Cash's response seemed genuine enough, but his ability to bend the truth was legendary. I didn't know whether he was lying now or not. 'The thought had crossed my mind,' I said.

In a moment the anger was gone. 'Yeah, I suppose it would,' he said. He paused. 'Look, you've had a rough time and I like you.' He saw my eyebrows move up at this but held up his hand, 'No, honestly I do. Some of my customers are jerks, and some of them are smart, and I rate you as one of the smartest. I'm not schmoozing you; after all, you are hardly my top client right now, are you?' I had to agree with that last statement.

'Anyway, I'd like to help you in any way I can. I wasn't involved in any of this. I know you don't believe me, but that doesn't matter for now. Between the two of us we ought to be able to figure out who is really behind all this. Until we do that, you can keep me on your list of prime suspects if you like.'

I could feel myself wanting to believe Cash. It was difficult not to. His offer certainly seemed worth a try at least.

'OK,' I said. 'Let's start with the launch of the Tremont Capital bond.'

Cash smiled. 'Good. Let me think. It was Waigel's deal through and through. He had the relationship with the issuer, and he was the only one working on it in New York. He gave me a call one day, described the deal, and asked me whether I could place it. I remember he said it had to be done quickly.'

'How did you decide who to approach?'

'Come to think of it, Waigel suggested I should try the Harzweiger Bank. De Jong seemed a natural as well. This sort of thing is right up Hamilton's alley. A little complicated, a little obscure, a nice yield if you are smart enough to get it.' I nodded, it was the kind of bond Hamilton would like to buy. 'In fact, the week before, Hamilton had asked me to look about for high-yielding triple-A deals for him. In the end the deal was easy. All placed in a morning. No need for anyone else on the sales desk to get involved. Sweet deal.'

'And very convenient for Waigel. The fewer clients and salesmen involved, the less chance of discovery.'

Cash sighed. 'I guess you are right.'

'Now, what about Phoenix Prosperity? Did you know that it was owned by Tremont Capital?'

'No. I had no idea who owned it. But something very strange was going on there. Come to think of it, it all started quite soon after we placed Tremont Capital.'

Cash took a sip of his beer. 'I had been doing great business with Jack Salmon. He would buy and sell bonds all day, taking a profit whenever he made an eighth of a point and sitting on big losses whenever he got it wrong. A salesman's dream. Big-buck commissions.

'Then, suddenly, things changed. He was still active, so I was happy, but he started to make money. He would put on these large, very risky trades. You know, junk bonds, derivatives, CMO strips, reverse floaters, all kinds of complicated stuff. Some went badly wrong, but he was certainly making more than he was losing.'

'It seems a bit odd that Jack Salmon made money out of those things,' I said.

'It certainly does,' said Cash. 'But it wasn't him. He never took any major decisions himself. Of course he pretended it was him deciding what to do, and I went along with it, but I always made sure he had time to put the phone down and consult with whoever he needed to before coming back to buy my bonds.'

'That makes sense,' I said. I told Cash how I had seen Jack consult someone before buying the Fairways.

We were silent for a bit.

'I knew Dick was a bastard, but I didn't know he was that much of a bastard,' Cash said, mostly to himself.

'You knew him when you were a kid?'

Cash sighed. 'Yeah, I did. We weren't real close. I guess I was a bit more popular than Ricky. He didn't call himself Dick until much later. He looked like a nerd, and acted a bit like one. He used to get a hard time from the other kids until...' Cash tailed off.

'Until?' I said.

'Until he started selling drugs. He teamed up with two big mean apes, and supplied all the drugs to the kids in our neighbourhood. Oh, Ricky never sold the stuff personally. He was too smart for that. But he was behind it all.

'I remember there was another kid who tried to muscle into Ricky's territory. He ended up with a knife in his kidneys. Everyone knew it was one of Ricky's guys. I guess Ricky must have been behind it.'

'But you are still a friend of his.'

'Oh yes. I mean, Ricky was smart. He realised there wasn't a great future in peddling drugs in the Bronx. So he got himself into Columbia and then Harvard Business School, and a top job in investment banking. It doesn't take just brains to do that. It takes a lot of dedication.

'I told you how I was proud of putting guys on to Wall Street. Well, Ricky was one of the most successful of us, and I guess I kind of admired him. Sure, I knew he sailed close to the wind, but you have to get things done somehow. And we did some sweet deals together, so I could overlook the odd misdemeanour. But killing Debbie Chater, and Greg Shoffman?' Cash shook his head.

'We don't know who killed Debbie,' I pointed out. 'It looks like it wasn't you, and Waigel was in America. But the police think they know.'

Cathy and Cash looked at me enquiringly.

'Inspector Powell is convinced that I killed her,' I continued. 'He says he has a witness.'

Cathy looked horrified. 'That's ridiculous. He's not serious, is he?'

'He's very serious.'

'But he hasn't got proof.'

'I don't think he has got all the evidence he needs yet. But I am afraid he might find it,' I said.

'But how could he?' Cathy asked.

'Someone could feed him some more. Or I wouldn't put it past Powell to make it up for himself.'

'So who's his witness?' asked Cash.

'I suspect it's probably Rob,' I said. 'Cathy mentioned he saw me with Debbie that evening. But why he would lie to the police is beyond me.'

'Perhaps he killed her,' said Cash.

'Perhaps he did.' It could have been him. Or it could have been Joe, or Waigel or even Piper. But Rob was in love with Debbie. Joe had denied that he had killed her. Waigel was in New York at the time. And Piper had seemed genuinely unaware of Debbie's death. We just didn't know. It could even be someone totally different, a professional hit-man hired by Waigel, who, once he had dealt with Debbie, had disappeared into the dark and rain.

We discussed all this for an hour without getting anywhere. Finally, we gave up. We drank up and headed upstairs into the dusk of the September evening. Cash bade Cathy and me good night as he got into a cab. His almost lascivious grin suggested that the latest development in our relationship had not escaped him. Cathy and I walked the mile or so to a romantic little Italian restaurant near Covent Garden, and had a very pleasant meal, washed down with a bottle of Chianti. Afterwards, we tossed a coin, I lost, and joined Cathy in a taxi headed for Hampstead.