The Inner Sanctum (16 page)

She had heard of Cafe Royal. It was one of the most popular new places in the Baltimore area--and one of the most expensive. "Very nice." The doors opened and they moved inside the car. "Can I ask you what might be a personal question?"

"You can ask anything. I may choose not to answer." He pushed the button for the lobby. "Especially in an elevator."

"There's no one in here but us."

"Doesn't matter. It's one of the first rules of business. Never talk about anything important in an elevator."

"Why did you lock your office door when we left?" She wasn't going to be put off by some silly insecurity.

"Did I?" he asked indifferently.

"Yes."

"Just force of habit I guess."

"Don't you think it's unusual to lock your office?"

David chuckled to himself. Elizabeth Gilman was right. This one was smart--and observant. "No. Don't you lock yours?"

"No, I don't even lock my file cabinet. I trust the people I work with."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

The elevator doors opened and they headed across the lobby toward Cafe Royal. The tables, covered with white linen and set with sterling silver and gleaming china, were spaced far apart, some in private nooks. The place was crowded but didn't seem so because of the spacing. The lighting was dim and a man played softly on a piano in a far corner of the room.

"This is kind of romantic," Jesse said as they neared the maitre d' stand.

"Yes, the place has a wonderful atmosphere, doesn't it?" David smiled slyly.

Jesse tried to translate the smile. Was he simply playing the good corporate employee by entertaining someone the boss was interested in hiring? After all, Elizabeth had been the one to mention dinner. Or did he have another motive? For the first time she realized Todd might have been right about David.

"This way, please." The tuxedo-clad maitre d' motioned for them to follow and led them to a small table off to one side of the room. "Madame."

The maitre d' held the chair, and Jesse sat down. "Thank you."

The maitre d' took David's briefcase to check it and was gone.

David sat down, picked up the wine list, and began to peruse it immediately.

"Limousines, offices with more priceless antiques than the Baltimore Museum of Art, and now dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in Baltimore. What's a woman to think?"

"What can I say?" David didn't look up from the wine list. "Sagamore does things right." He said the words matter-of- factly, not as if he was trying to make an impression.

"David, how long have you been at Sagamore?"

He found the wine he was looking for. "Is red all right with you?" he asked, ignoring her question for the moment. "This Opus One is delicious."

She was impressed by him. There was no denying it. He was refined and articulate, obviously earned a great deal of money, and carried himself with an air of indifference she found alluring. He would go several minutes ignoring a question, but would always circle back to it at some point in the conversation without being prompted. She had noticed that habit several times today as he had accompanied her on the interviews with the other people at Sagamore. And then there was that glint in his eye she had noticed at the cocktail party. It was there, ever present. The bad-boy look, she and Sara called it. A look that was sometimes difficult to resist. "Yes, Opus One, that's a nice wine." Jesse moaned quietly to herself. God, now she was trying to act like a wine connoisseur to impress him. She so rarely drank wine she wouldn't know a zinfandel from a Beaujolais. But was she trying to impress the individual or the portfolio manager? Before he picked her up this afternoon she could have answered quickly and definitively. Now she wasn't certain.

"So you've had Opus One before?" David asked.

She hesitated, trying to decide how to handle this. It was either wade in deep now and possibly be embarrassed later, or admit she was no wine expert up front and give him a window into her less than privileged upbringing. Maybe this was her first etiquette test. "No, I haven't, but I like the sound of the name." She wasn't going to try to be someone she wasn't just to get a job.

David smiled. So she could work her way out of a tight conversational situation gracefully. He motioned to their waiter, who approached the table immediately. "A bottle of Opus One, please."

"Very good, sir." The waiter moved away.

David watched the man until he had disappeared through the kitchen doors. "I've been with Sagamore four years."

There it was, his ability to circle back to a question asked minutes before. "And you've had a good experience?" she asked.

A pained expression crossed his face. "That's a student question if I ever heard one."

"Well, I am a student." She was suddenly on the defensive.

"Ask me something specific, something difficult, something that will give you real information to help you make an informed decision if they offer you a job. You'll appreciate this opportunity later."

He had become abruptly businesslike, and the change in demeanor caught her off guard. "Fine. How much can someone make at Sagamore?" She would put him on the defensive. She was sure he wouldn't answer that question.

"Last year they paid me a bit over three hundred thousand dollars all in." He had no problem being open about his compensation. He was proud of how hard he worked and what they paid him. "My salary is one-fifty and Elizabeth gave me another one-fifty as bonus in January." He unfolded the linen napkin and laid it across his lap. "And I didn't even have a very good year compared to some of the others." He said the last few words as if he could not comprehend why they would still pay him so well. "Some people would say I was rich."

"I certainly would."

"That's all I ever wanted to be," David said softly. "Rich."

Three hundred thousand dollars. That certainly rivaled Wall Street. People always heard about the million-dollar Manhattan whiz kids, but Jesse knew the reality was that most people David's age working for investment banks in New York earned six figures, not seven.

"And there's the opportunity to make much more," he continued. "I know some of the portfolio managers regularly pull down seven figures."

"Have they all been at the firm longer than you?"

He nodded. "All more than five years."

"Well, I don't know much about pay scales at money management firms, but those numbers seem kind of high."

"They are. It's nosebleed territory, especially when you consider the fact that Sagamore is in Baltimore, where things are a lot cheaper than in New York. That's why no one ever resigns from Sagamore. The money is addicting. People are fired when their performance isn't acceptable, but no one quits."

"Are people fired often?"

He played with his knife for a moment, thinking. "Elizabeth would probably kill me if she knew I was saying this, but I will anyway. I told you to take advantage of the opportunity, and you've gotten to the heart of the matter." He put the knife down. "Typically you don't find out about this until you're inside the firm. I didn't." He laughed cynically. "The key is your first five years. No one ever actually says that, but everyone knows it. The pressure to perform is immense during that time, and if you don't, they fire you on your fifth anniversary. If you make it past that day, you're in the club. No one's ever been fired after making it past the fifth anniversary at Sagamore. Not that I know of, anyway."

Jesse shook her head. "God, that sounds incredibly stressful."

"It is, and the execution is almost a public event. People are obviously fired behind closed doors, but everyone at the firm is aware of impending five-year anniversaries. When the condemned is called in to meet with the executive committee, work stops and people joke about the lights dimming. You know, how the electric chair saps the juice."

Jesse nodded. "How many portfolio managers have been fired at their five-year anniversary since you've been at Sagamore?"

"Two. And one made it."

"Are you worried?"

David thought about the A-100 for a moment, about his deal with the godfather. "You always worry until you get past that fifth year."

"But you said you earned a hundred-and- fifty-thousand- dollar bonus last year. You must be doing fine. They wouldn't pay you that kind of money if they didn't like you."

David tapped his watch a moment before answering. It had stopped, and he made a mental note to get a new battery. "That's why it really hurts when you get fired. You become hooked on the money. They pay very well no matter what. Then they cut you loose if your performance is below par and you fall off a cliff."

"So you catch on with another firm," Jesse reasoned.

He shook his head quickly. "Senior people at the other big money management firms know Sagamore canned you, so they won't touch you either. And it wouldn't surprise me at all if Sagamore management actively puts out the word on people once they've been fired. That guy Art Mohler you met, the one Elizabeth said was such a great guy. He would do that. He's a bastard. She just doesn't see it. She's too nice." David reached into a linen-covered basket, withdrew a hot dinner roll, put it on his butter plate, then offered the basket to Jesse. "Of course, she still seems to be able to fire people if their results aren't what Sagamore requires. That's the thing about the firm. It's all about making money, nothing else. That's what you have to understand. Don't get me wrong--there's a huge upside to accepting an offer from Sagamore. But there's a huge downside too. If you don't perform, you lose your high-paying job and you can't get another one. Then you go flip burgers at McDonald's for a living."

Jesse took a roll from the basket and put it on her butter plate. "And if you can't handle that, you commit suicide, right?"

David's eyes flashed to hers as he put the bread basket back down on the table.

"Your wine, sir." The waiter leaned down to display the label.

"Fine, thank you."

They sat in silence as the waiter opened the bottle and put it down on the table to breathe. David picked up the cork, sniffed it, and nodded approvingly.

When the waiter had gone, David leaned close to Jesse. "What did you mean by that suicide crack?" He didn't take his time circling back to this question.

"I did a Lexis search this morning. I found news articles about two portfolio managers at Sagamore who had committed suicide in the last few years."

Things weren't always as they appeared. Jack Finnerty's words. "Those two were older. They hadn't been fired," David assured her. "I told you, no one is fired after the fifth year." He picked up the wine bottle and poured the dark, rich liquid into her glass, then into his. "Cheers." He touched his glass to hers.

"Cheers." Jesse picked up her glass and drank, closing her eyes as she swallowed. It had been so long since she had let herself go, since she had forgotten about the pressures of work and school and simply enjoyed herself. Finally she opened her eyes. "Why have you told me all these things about Sagamore? As you said, I'm sure Elizabeth wouldn't appreciate it if she knew."

"Because I wish someone had told me before I joined. I probably would have accepted the offer anyway, because the money is incredible. But I would like to have known."

Three hundred thousand dollars a year, millions if you made it past year five. Jesse could hardly imagine what it would be like to earn that kind of a paycheck, hardly imagine the freedom and peace of mind that kind of money would provide--even with the performance pressures David had described. And from what he had said, the odds were one in three that you'd make it past year five. That didn't sound too bad. And Elizabeth seemed to like her. That ought to make the odds even better.

David pushed his glass against hers again. "And I've told you these things"--he hesitated--"because I like you."

Todd had been right on target about David's intentions, Jesse realized now. She could see it in David's eyes, and under normal circumstances she would have been flattered. He was handsome, wealthy, and seemingly nice--quite a catch for someone. But any kind of romance with him was out of the question. It might put her opportunity to join Sagamore in jeopardy. Elizabeth probably wouldn't make an offer if she thought David and Jesse were involved. "To the start of a wonderful business relationship," she said firmly.

"Right," he answered, recognizing the meaning of her words. "To a business relationship." But his smile betrayed him.

** Chapter 15

Despite the steady rain he was enjoying his walk through Georgetown University's campus. The students had returned from their summer break, but at this late hour the grounds were empty, providing him a short respite from the constant crush of telephone calls received at the office and at home. He appreciated solitude immensely but was rarely able to find it these days. Life on the Hill was hectic. And the more senior one was, the more frenetic the pace.

Senator Webb tilted his wide green-and- white golf umbrella forward to hide his face as a lone couple approached from beneath the maple canopy swaying over the walkway in the gentle breeze. But there was no need to worry about recognition. They weren't looking around. They were huddled together, heads down beneath a small umbrella, trying to reach their dormitory as quickly as possible.