‘Eduardo has his uses, though,’ Jamie continued. ‘He’s intelligent. Cunning. And he can get things done.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Things. He can make important people change their minds about things. He can influence people.’
‘What, you mean bribery?’
‘I’m not sure that it’s as straightforward as that,’ said Jamie. ‘Ricardo’s squeaky clean on bribery. In our market, either you’re incorruptible or you bribe everyone. These days, it’s better to have a reputation for being incorruptible. Less risk. But Eduardo has his methods, and Ricardo is probably happy not knowing exactly what they are.’
I resolved to have as little to do with Eduardo as possible.
I stayed late again that evening. I was engrossed in my reading: research reports and back copies of IFR, the bond market gossip sheet. Beside me was a pile of materials to read for the SFA exam, which I would have to pass before I could sell any bonds myself.
Eventually the room began to empty. Jamie said goodbye at eight thirty to go back to Kate. Isabel drifted off at nine, leaving a trace of musk in the air around my desk that quickened my pulse. By ten thirty, Ricardo was the only one left. He put down his phone, and strolled over to my desk. I looked up from my research, and smiled at him nervously.
He still looked as fresh and cool as he had at the morning meeting, although at some time during the day his top button had come undone, and his shirt cuffs had been rolled up once. He lit a cigarette. ‘Coffee?’
God knows how many I had had that day. But it was good stuff. I nodded. ‘Please.’
He strolled off, leaving me waiting uncomfortably. The boss was getting me coffee. Shouldn’t I be fetching it for him? In a moment he was back with two cups.
‘Well, what do you think? Fun, isn’t it?’
‘I didn’t realize this stuff could be so intellectually interesting.’
Ricardo chuckled. ‘You thought it was all screaming down telephones.’
‘I suppose so.’
He looked at what I was reading, a piece panning Mexico. ‘What’s your view on that?’
‘It’s well written. Persuasive. It makes sense to me.’
‘I know. Charlotte has that rare ability as an analyst to take facts and speculation, mix them up, and come up with an opinion that will make money. And I can assure you I value that opinion.’
He took a drag on his cigarette. ‘Take Mexico. Charlotte’s worried about it. She sees another currency devaluation coming in the next month or two, and she thinks this one will scare investors almost as much as the last one. And I agree with her.’
‘So you sell Mexico and buy Argentina?’
Ricardo smiled. ‘You’re catching on. That would be the right trade. Argentina’s a good choice, too. The bonds are much too cheap. But it’s not that simple.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Mexico want to borrow a billion dollars. And that’s a deal we have to win.’
‘I see. But you don’t want to sell a billion dollars of Mexican bonds to investors when they’re scared about a devaluation?’
‘Dead right.’
I thought about it. ‘Can’t you let someone else do the deal, then?’
‘Normally I would consider it. Of course, we’d have to be involved. This is our market, we’re always involved. Those are the rules. But maybe we could share the transaction with a couple of other houses and reduce our risk. The trouble is, Bloomfield Weiss are bidding for the whole deal. And I just can’t let them win it.’
‘They’re the people who stole your Eastern European team, aren’t they?’
‘That’s right. They’re aiming for us. They want our number-one position. Until recently they couldn’t give a damn about emerging markets, but in the last few months they’ve changed their ideas.’
‘You can see them off, surely?’
‘Not so easy. They’re the top trading firm on Wall Street when it comes to the conventional markets. And they have ten times our capital. They’ll use that to buy their way in.’
‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘I really don’t know.’ He pulled on his cigarette thoughtfully. I let him think, flattered that he felt able to share a problem like this with me on my second day.
Eventually, he spoke. ‘So you like Argentina?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Why?’
I took a deep breath and answered him. ‘Their policy of fixing the peso to the dollar really seems to be working. And the bonds have come off a few points just because a big American money manager has been selling. They’re good value.’
‘Uh-huh. And which bond do you like in particular?’
‘The Discounts.’ These were one of the classes of Brady bonds that had been exchanged for old bank debt when Argentina had renegotiated its borrowings a few years earlier. ‘Am I right?’
Ricardo smiled. ‘Did you know my father was Argentinian?’
‘Jamie told me.’
‘Well, I have an old rule. Never let a trader trade his own country’s bonds. He can’t be objective. Now, I usually break my rule in my own case, but this time...’
He picked up the phone.
‘Who are you calling?’
He looked at his watch. ‘US Commerce have a San Francisco office that should still be making markets. Hold on. Brad?’ Pause. ‘Ricardo Ross. Where are you in Argentina? The Discounts... In twenty million?... Of course, I’ll wait.’
He grinned at me. ‘The guy’s panicked. But I know him. If I ask him to make a market in size, he’ll do it. He has to prove himself. Especially to me.’ Then back to the phone. ‘Sixty-seven to a half? That’s a wide market, isn’t it, Brad?... OK, I know it’s late. I’ll take twenty at a half.’ He hung up and turned to me. ‘Now, you remember to tell me when to sell, won’t you?’
I nodded, my heart suddenly beating rapidly.
‘It’s about time you went home, isn’t it? We start again in eight hours. Don’t you sleep?’
‘Not much. Do you?’
‘Not much.’ Ricardo grinned. We were kindred spirits. It was rare to come across someone else who genuinely didn’t need a full night’s sleep, and it was a pleasure when it happened. I was used to staying up into the small hours reading, or researching. Five hours’ sleep was all I needed. Especially when I was absorbed in something.
‘Get on your bike,’ he said.
So I did. I pedalled home fast, my emotions neatly poised between fear that my first bond position would all go wrong, and excitement that it would all go right.
4
Wednesday morning was foggy. I couldn’t see the Tower as I rode my bike through the East End. Old warehouses loomed up on either side of Narrow Street. With London’s haphazard modern skyline obscured, I could almost believe I was in Victorian England, until a van ran a red light and forced me on to the pavement.
But the trading room was surrounded by blue sky. I was drawn to the window. We were just above the fog, a choppy white surface stretching out on all sides beneath us. The tip of the NatWest tower broke through the clouds like a rock a few miles out to sea. We ourselves were an island far from England, closer to New York and Buenos Aires than Primrose Hill and Shoreditch. I looked around at my colleagues. We were a small band of colonists, immigrants from all over the world, come to seek our fortune in this strange new land.
Well, that was fine, but where were the Argy discos trading?
I switched on Jamie’s screen. Sixty-seven and a quarter bid. I wasn’t in the money. The rest of the market was up a point, leaving my bonds behind them. Oh, God. Maybe I’d picked the wrong issue, after all.
Jamie was out that morning. He had to make a presentation to a large insurance company that was considering investing in emerging-market bonds. It was an important meeting; as Jamie had put it, when these boys played, they played in size. So I spent the morning at my desk.