Trader Jack -The Story of Jack Miner (The Story of Jack Miner Series) (37 page)

It was Sandy, her expression, a mixture of shock, grief and anger.

'Sandy what are you doing here?'

'That's a question I should be asking,' she shouted,throwing her bag at me and then pummelling me on my chest. 'How come you're back so early?'

'I missed you. Wanted to be here, you bastard. The play finished early and I felt lonely, so I came home.'

'Hey what's going on?' shouted Pearl, who had just woken up. 'It's not what you think.'

That was the worst thing Pearl could have said. Sandy was out of the door. I went searching for her, but it was a waste of time. She probably found a taxi and went to some hotel. The next morning I made sure that Pearl was soon out of the flat, changed the sheets, cleaned up the place and went to the various hotels in the area to find Sandy. Nothing. When I returned later I found a note on the bed with a box full of the jewellery and gifts that I had given her.

Dear Jack,

We've both known for some time that it's not working. Good luck with Pearl. I've decided to go back home to finish Uni.

Take care

Love

Sandy

That's all it said. I opened the cupboards and drawers. Her clothes were gone. Dazed, I phoned the airport about flights to Perth, but couldn't trace her. Maybe it would be a good idea to get in a taxi and rush to the airport. We would kiss and make up. I went to the fridge, opened a bottle of beer and thought about it. I would do nothing. That would put Sandy off guard. Make her regret that she had left me. She would probably phone me. I waited for her call for a couple of hours and phoned the airport. Then at last I tried her mobile but there was no response. So I went to a movie on my own and a pub later. She would be home when I returned. That's how deluded I was.

*   *   *

Dr Klugheim is pacing up and down his room when I come in. I haven't seen him for months. He's lean, with a flat tummy and a thinner face. Also has a very short haircut. Makes him look younger. He's pensive, as he pages through my manuscript: 'Leash Grobnick. What do you really think about him?

'He was a sociopath.'

'Beware of labelling people, Jack.'

'I'm not saying that he's a psychopath who injures or kills people, without any conscience . I've come across plenty of those guys in this place. He didn't beat people up. Far too cunning for that. He sought and found weaknesses in people and played on them.'

'That doesn't necessarily mean he's a sociopath,' says Klugheim, half smiling. Personalities are far more complex than that.'

'From what I understand, sociopaths are superficially charming, until you annoy or anger them, or are of no use to them.' I respond, getting carried away. 'They enjoy the power to control and humiliate people. Some are exponents of "Schadenfreude". They gloat when people are in trouble. Take pleasure in people's misery.'

'Aren't you really talking about a bully, Jack? Wasn't Leash a corporate bully? Many bosses are like that.'

'He didn't have any empathy; didn't care about anyone or have genuine feelings. He was cold and contemptuous. The more money he made, the worse he became.'

'From what you wrote Leash wasn't all bad. He genuinely wanted to help his children.'

'OK, nobody is all bad,' I say, standing up and looking outside the window.' Do you see any parallels with me?'

'I'm not sure, Jack. Is this something you would like to talk about?'

'Let me tell you what happened. . .'

20 - PERFORATED PRIDE

It was a virtual car show. Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Porches, Aston Martins, Daimlers and convertible Mercedes, drove into the circular entrance of London's Dorchester hotel. Hotel drivers took the keys and went off to park the cars.

The hedge fund crowd flowed into the foyer and shuffled down the passage to a huge, ornate room where cocktails were served. Later they moved into the ballroom and took their places around the tables. The stock and commodities boom was in full swing. This was the Hedge Fund Autumn Awards evening.

Each firm paid £100,000 for a round table and the money would go to charity. The biggest hedge fund managers had several tables and the smaller ones, such as ours, one. I had booked a room at the hotel, so that I could have as many drinks as I wanted. Jane Lazenby-Faulks, a daughter of one of our clients, was with me. She was a lingerie model and wore a tight black cocktail dress that showed off her curves. She towered over me and everyone stared at her. The organisers of the event had found a brilliant band and I looked forward to dancing with Jane until the early hours. It was our second date and she had already indicated that she would spend the night with me.

I had taken out a string of girls since Sandy had left me; had phoned her in Perth, pleading with her. I sent her long emails swearing that it was she who I loved; even offered to go to Perth, but she wasn't interested. So I decided to move on and find another girl, but so far no-one matched Sandy.

Jane and I sat between Elaine and Cy. It was his last function with the firm. He and his family were leaving for their new home in Sausalito, across San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge. Leash was across the table with a much younger woman. He had dropped poor Maisie, who had left the firm. It was the first time that I had met Aram's wife, Annushka. She was Russian, with dark eyes and curly black hair. Both were in their late forties, but she looked younger. The new marketing director, who was replacing Cy, was also there.

Amanda Brockenspruit, who was in her mid thirties, was striking rather than beautiful. She had dyed red hair and a great figure. Amanda was a multilingual career woman from Amsterdam and Leash was over the moon that she had joined LeashTrade.

The food was standard hotel stuff. After the coffee and liqueurs, the awards ceremony began. The market had soared in the previous year. Hedge funds had done brilliantly and investors had placed multi billions in them.

Hedge funds that performed the best in the past twelve months were given awards. The editor of AlphaBeta Plus magazine and her panel of judges chose Aquarium as the top commodities and resource macro hedge fund. The citation was 'Outstanding consistent performance'. Aram and I strutted up to the podium and accepted our certificate and bottles of champagne. When we came back to the table, Leash was beaming.

'Pity you aren't staying with us, Cy. This will help Aquarium go well over a billion,' said Leash.

Cy shrugged his shoulders. I hadn't seen him for a while. He had gone to California to help Elaine buy a house and find a school for their girls.

'What are you going to do Cy?' I asked.

'I've formed a foundation to educate disadvantaged kids,' said Cy.

'Your charity can invest in our funds,' shouted Leash across the table.

Cy ignored him: 'We're starting small. Expenses will be low. We want to make sure that almost all the money goes to the kids.'

'Surely that is what charity is all about,' said Jane snootily.

'Yes, but many charities have huge expenses. Their executives get large salaries. Lots of money is wasted on expensive events, advertising, mailshots and administration,' said Cy. 'The people who need the money are left with a small proportion of donors' cash.'

'So you think that this event is a waste of time?' snapped Jane.

'No. It's a means to an end. Unfortunately many of those charities have high expenses and as I've said the beneficiaries can receive very little,' Cy said. 'Money for African charities, for example. Africa is rife with corruption. There's no guarantee that most of the money won't land in Liechtenstein bank accounts.'

The awards were finally over and the charity fundraisers started an auction. Sponsors offered a Harley Davidson motorcycle, holidays in the Caribbean, South Africa, Mexico and Australia. Other items on the list were jewellery, paintings, tickets for Chelsea and Arsenal football games and the SuperBowl. The bidding began with each table doing their best to beat the others. Eventually a trumpet blared and the charity organisers announced that more than £5 million had been raised. There was a loud cheer and the hedge fund crowd thumped their tables.

I glanced at Cy and Elaine. They weren't enjoying themselves.

When the noise abated a few decibels, Jane turned to Cy: 'Come on! They'll probably raise ten to twenty million. Maybe even more. Even if the children get half of that, it's still a lot of money!'

'Yes you're right,' replied Cy. 'But look around you and take a guess. How much do you think all the people in this room are worth?'

'I haven't a clue,' said Jane.

'Several billion. You still think that they're denting their bank balances?'

'Yes I do, actually,' said Jane. 'I'm sure that they give to other charities. I've helped organise events. A lot of time and effort goes into them. They do a lot of good.'

'I'm not disputing that,' argued Cy. 'All I'm saying is that everything is relative. A poor person who's donating twenty pounds can be sacrificing a lot more than a wealthy guy. Others spend hours each day, helping the sick and old. Thankless tasks, for low wages or no money. They don't get their names in the paper. Photos in
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'Come off it Cy. It's the amount of money that counts,' shouted Leash across the table. 'Are you seriously saying that a hundred bucks counts for as much as a million? I'm sick and tired of people who envy and preach to the rich. The British media in particular are always having a go at us, cynical about these events. It's nothing less than bigotry. Prejudice against the wealthy. People here are doing good. That's all that counts. If they're enjoying themselves, good on them.'

'Are you a priest or a hedge fund manager, Cy?' laughed Linda, Leash's girlfriend. 'You mean, rabbi,' I joked.

'Rabbi? He doesn't have a beard,' said Jane puzzled.

'Promise you, Jane, he's the real thing,' I said in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

'I agree with you Leash. This event will help the poor,' said Cy. 'How could I possibly think that it's a show, a big ego trip, a public relations exercise for hedgies?'

'I knew we were on the same wave length!' exclaimed Jane eagerly, failing to detect the sarcasm. Cy and I smiled at each other.

'You should have stayed with Sandy,' said Cy, shaking his head.

'I blew it Cy,' and I told him the whole sorry story.

'Why don't you go to Perth and propose to her.'

'Doubt if she'll trust me now.'

Aram had slipped away, when we were talking about charities. I noticed that he went to a table at the far end of the room. He was joking around with someone who had his back to me. Aram waved to me. I walked over to the table and the man he was facing, turned around. It was Yevgeny Faramazov. Pearl Fleecer was at the same table. I knew that Faramazov was involved in mining, oil and other Russian raw materials businesses. What was he doing at a hedge fund event? I shook hands with Faramazov and Pearl jumped up and kissed me on both cheeks. She looked a lot better. Hopefully she had sorted herself out.

Faramazov introduced the others on the table. They looked like gangsters and I soon realised who they were. Managers of Borodino and Veruschka, the Russian hedge funds! Suddenly the room started spinning. I couldn't focus properly and almost lost my balance. They pulled up a chair for me and I sat down to re-orientate myself as soon as possible.

'I'm OK, just slipped,' I lied as I sipped some water and did my best to relax. 'What's your view on the markets?'

They were smart and very knowledgeable about oil and gas and the mining industry. The boom would continue for at least another year, they said.

I wanted to get away as soon as possible and swiftly took the opportunity when the band began playing: 'I better go and dance with my girlfriend.'

When I was about to leave Faramazov's table, someone tapped me on my shoulder.

'You're sitting in my chair, Mr Miner,' said the voice.

I turned around. It was Hal Humford. I thought of asking him whether he was happy with his investments in our fund. Instead he turned away from me and began talking to Faramazov.

'Why didn't you tell me that you knew those guys?' I asked Aram, when Jane and I returned to our table during a band break.

'How was I to know that you were interested?' replied Aram. 'Yevgeny has been a client of mine for years. He doesn't want everyone to know what he's doing.'

'Is he in the hedge fund business?'

'Yevgeny has his fingers in all sorts of pies: mining, energy, banking, funds, anything that makes money.'

'You seemed to be speaking Russian to them?'

'Yes, when I was at school in Estonia, we had to learn Russian.'

'And Hal Humford of Banque Discretione? Why's he with them?'

'He's a banker. Yevgeny knows a lot of bankers.'

I was a little concerned. Discretione was a big investor in Aquarium and Humford was friendly with Faramazov. Jane grabbed my hand and pulled me on to the dance floor. We danced until two thirty in the morning and then fell into bed.

*   *   *

I was so busy during the next two months that I lost track of time. Pearl went into rehab and I lost contact with her. Jane took me to some celebrity functions and introduced me to some of her friends, but our relationship was fairly superficial.

The energy boom continued and oil and natural gas soared far beyond the wildest expectations of dealers and analysts. Aram was in charge of Aquarium's trading, with a little input from me. I had meetings with him twice a week, when we discussed what we would do in the market. At the end of each month, I co-signed the monthly returns showing how the fund had performed. Everything was going well. We were making big money.