Free To Trade

In a few seconds I told them what had happened. Deane had some questions.

I didn't answer them. I needed to know about Cathy. 'Did the FBI get Waigel?' I said. 'And had he made the phone call to the hit-man? Can you find out right now?'

'All right,' he said. He left me on the speakerphone. I could hear muffled radio conversation, but I couldn't make out the words. Two of the policemen handcuffed Hamilton and bundled him out of the trading room, still wheezing. I was glad he was out of my sight.

A very long minute later, Deane's voice came back on the phone. 'They've got Waigel,' he said.

'Had he made a phone call?' I said, my hopes raised.

'He was just putting the phone down when they entered his office.' Deane's voice was grim. 'He won't say who he was calling, but from the way he is acting, the FBI men there think it must be the hit-man.'

Oh God. I had blown it. Oh Cathy, Cathy, Cathy!

'Mr Murray?' It was Deane's voice, insistent. 'We need to know where she is.'

'Right. I'll find out.'

I hit the cancel button and called Cash.

'Y'allo.'

'Cash. It's all going wrong. Waigel has put a hit-man on to Cathy. Do you know where she is?'

'What's up? I thought you were going over to Denny's this afternoon. What happened?'

'Look, I have no time to talk. Just tell me where Cathy is, will you?'

'OK, OK. I've got her itinerary here. Let me see.' Come on. I willed him to hurry up. 'Here it is. She has a meeting at nine o'clock at Arab American Investment. That's at 520 Madison Avenue. She's staying at the Intercon. Knowing her, she's probably walking there right now.'

'Thanks. Talk to you later.'

I hung up, and got back to Deane. I told him what Cash had told me. 'Right,' he said. 'It's ten to two our time, that's ten to nine in New York. She should be almost there. I'll get the FBI on to it.'

I put down the phone. I sat hunched at my desk staring at the screens. I didn't take in any of the green figures and letters in front of my eyes. I was looking at a New York street, searching for Cathy.

The clock ticked loudly. The police radios behind me crackled. I was in my usual position, sitting at my desk, waiting for the phone to ring. But this time it wasn't paper money at stake. It was Cathy's life.

How could I have been so stupid? Why had I taken the risk? This wasn't some damn trade. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The phone flashed. I picked it up. Down a fuzzy line, I heard the sound of traffic.

'Paul! It's Cathy.' I could hardly hear her voice, it was an urgent whisper. But she was alive! So far.

'Yes?'

'I'm scared. There's a man following me, I'm sure of it. He's followed me all the way up from the hotel.'

'What's he doing now?'

'He's leaning against the wall of a church, reading his paper, acting as if he hasn't seen me.'

'Is it crowded?'

'Yes. I'm right off Fifth Avenue. There are people everywhere.'

'Good. Now, where are you exactly?'

'I'm in a phone booth on Fifty-Third Street, just by the entrance to the subway station.'

'Hold on.' I turned and gave this information to the policeman behind me, who relayed it into his radio.

'Now, Cathy, just stay where you are. The police will be with you in a few minutes. Stay on the phone.'

'Who is he? What's he doing?' asked Cathy, sounding really scared.

'Waigel put him on to you. But don't worry, there's nothing he can do in a crowded street.' I tried to make myself sound as confident as possible, and I hoped I was right, but I really didn't know.

We stayed on the phone, too tense to talk, waiting. The bustle of Fifty-Third Street crackled down the phone lines: the noise of traffic, snatches of conversation from passers-by.

I watched the second hand crawl round the clock above me. Where had the police got to? Images of a gridlocked midtown Manhattan flashed before me. It could take ten minutes to go three blocks in the rush hour.

I started. Where was Cathy? I couldn't hear her. 'Cathy?'

'Yes, Paul, I'm here.'

Relief.

'Has the man moved?'

'No, he's still over by the church.'

'Good. Tell me if he does move, won't you?'

'All right.' A pause. 'Paul, I'm scared.' Cathy's voice sounded very small, very far away.

'Don't worry, it won't be long now.'

Then I heard them. The wail of sirens, getting louder.

'Oh my God!' she said. 'He's crossing the road. He's coming right towards me.'

'Drop the phone and run!' I shouted. 'Run!'

I heard the clatter of the phone banging against the booth. Then a crack and the sound of splintering plastic.

Half a second's silence.

Then screams. Women shrieking, men yelling, the sirens getting louder. A shout: 'She's been hit!' Another 'She's bleeding!' The sirens getting very loud. Large police voices ordering people to move back, make way.

'Cathy!' I shouted. 'Cathy!'

Then her voice. Cathy's sweet voice. Strained, sobbing, but still her voice. 'Paul?'

'Are you OK?'

'Yes. A woman's been hit, but I'm OK. I'm OK.'

CHAPTER 23

I watched the screen in front of me with satisfaction. There had been a brisk rally in the treasury market during the morning; it was now a point and a half up on the day. Hamilton, as usual, had positioned the portfolio perfectly. We were going to make some money. I had heard rumours of a big new issue for the World Bank, due out in the afternoon, and I wanted to make sure I got a piece of it. With the positive sentiment in the eurobond market, it would fly.

I looked up at the clock. Twenty past twelve already! It seemed only an hour or so since seven thirty, when I had arrived back at my desk for my first full day's trading since I had been sacked. It had felt good. Jeff was nominally in charge in Hamilton's absence, but he had made it clear that he would allow me quite a lot of latitude. I was confident I wouldn't misplace his trust.

I was due to meet Denny, Cash and Cathy at Bill Bentley's at twelve thirty. Denny had offered to buy us all lunch. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the lifts. As I got out of the lift at the ground floor, I saw Rob waiting for someone. I ignored him and walked across the foyer to the revolving entrance doors.

'Paul!' I stopped. He was calling me. 'Got a minute?' He nodded to some chairs in a quiet corner of the entrance hall. I hesitated and then went over to join him.

We didn't sit down, we just stood by the chairs. Rob shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. I wasn't going to make it any easier for him. Finally, he screwed up his eyes and his courage and said, 'I'm really sorry I lied to the police about you.'

I didn't say anything. I would find it impossible to forgive Rob. As far as I was concerned, our friendship was over.

'I've been through a bad patch these last few months,' Rob went on. 'A very bad patch. I've done a lot of things I wish I hadn't. I just wanted you to know I am truly sorry for what happened.'

'OK,' I said, neutrally. I knew Rob was in trouble. The TSA were investigating his purchase of Gypsum shares, and the police were not at all happy about the way he had given them misleading evidence. However, Rob had promised to testify against Hamilton and had been instrumental in his arrest, which would help. Whatever happened, he would probably lose his job at De Jong. I was glad about that. In my eyes, Rob was weak rather than evil, but I certainly didn't want to see him every day. 'How's Cathy?' asked Rob.

'Fine. She's fine.'

'Good. She's a wonderful girl. Don't lose her.'

It must have been difficult for Rob to forgive me for Cathy. I was surprised.

'I've got to go,' I said, and headed for the exit. As I walked out through the revolving doors, a very tall, blonde-haired girl of about twenty walked in. She was wearing a skimpy T-shirt, no bra, and very short denim shorts which showed off miles of golden brown leg. Heads turned all around, including mine. I paused just outside the building to watch as she bounced over to where Rob was sitting. His face lit up with that expression I knew of old, as he stood up and gave her a kiss.