“Were these OK?” asked Jo.
“No doubt,” replied Bray, “I didn’t actually read them, but I think we’re both confident in your ability by now to dig out any information you need,” he gave Jo a sideways glance, “assuming the information is out there.”
Bray used the key pad to open the trading door floor, and marched in ahead of Jo.
Bray took care of the introductory gambit, explaining the purpose of the briefing to the gathered traders. He then handed over the floor to Jo who gave an eloquent overview of the sector and its investment opportunities and risks, followed by a brief summary of each company she had reviewed, including financial and trading data. Several traders fired technical questions at her that Jo adeptly fielded. She didn’t once refer to her notes.
“Bravo,” whispered Bray in her ear when she came to stand back next to him, “you showed remarkable poise in front of this bunch of sharks.”
“Thank-you. It’s a skill I’m acquiring,” whispered back Jo.
Bray then continued the briefing dropping liberal and unflinching references to his department’s proprietary trading model which had been used to identify specific investment opportunities within the nanotechnology sector. Jo noticed that the references were backed up by complicated, but often unrelated, mathematical and financial theory jargon.
Bray concluded the meeting by distributing lists of the publicly traded nanotechnology firms in the various markets around the world in which Butterfly was going to take investment positions. Some were identified as long positions, reflecting the expectation that the stock price would rise, while others were shown as short positions, with the firm wagering on a fall in the share price. Still others were marked for the derivatives desk, so that the firm could employ leverage to increase returns, where the market volume was available and the risks were considered justified.
“Your indefatigable leader, Ms. Conner over there, has the monetary amounts that we will be committing to each trade. She will distribute the information that is relevant to each desk. Now let’s do what we do best. Trade so we win, and, let’s not forget, so others lose!”
The floor responded with a battle cry from the herd of loyal troops.
Before leaving the floor, Jo took the opportunity to stop by Serge’s desk. He still looked discontent with his intellectual relegation.
“Will you get a copy of the investment amounts for the trades that Bray just gave Conner?” asked Jo.
“Not upfront,” replied Serge, “but I’ll know as the trades are made.”
“Can I stop by at the end of the day to get that information? I know that Bray’s going to want a detailed report on it once the nano trades have played out and I don’t want to wait for the end of the week reports to process all that data at once.”
“OK, sure, if you want.” Serge appeared disinterested.
Jo turned to leave and then thought of another question.
“Serge, does the word ‘Hougoumont’ mean anything to you? It sounds French.”
“Yes, it was the scene of Napoleon’s last battle. Why?”
“Oh, nothing important. Bray was discussing the name of a new conference room they’re adding in our department and it came up. I guess I should have figured the Napoleon connection.”
Serge observed Jo as if reassessing her level of intelligence. “Yes, the pattern is not particularly obscure.”
Jo raised her hands as if equally surprised by her own denseness. In fact, the oversight did bother her slightly. It was a fact she could easily have looked up and the Napoleon reference would have alerted her to the importance that Bray and Wright were attaching to the project. She wondered if the pair were in fact preparing for their last battle.
Even with this new information and the impending trading activity, Jo was frustrated that she had nothing immediate to act upon. In addition, Bray had taken to keeping his laptop in his possession at all times.
Jo also witnessed an unpleasant scene during which Bray berated Amanda for failing to follow his instructions the previous day regarding the forwarding of an important call. Amanda sat stoically until Bray’s anger was dispensed. When Bray left, Amanda shot a glance toward Jo, which left Jo in no doubt that Amanda’s friendly disposition toward her was fading more rapidly than the secretary’s tan.
Jo took a break and went outside to speak again with Amy. Amy sounded tired, but enthusiastic about what she had accomplished.
“I had to go through a boat load of files and data from Whitfield Bowes,” said Amy, “but I think I have what you need, and I’ve put together a detailed report on all the special purpose companies and accounts relating to major Butterfly transactions. Just let me know when you want to go over it.”
Jo smiled to herself. She had absolutely no doubt that Amy’s report would be meticulous, accurate and superbly compiled and that Amy had worked many hours over the previous few nights preparing it.
“Have you come across anything related to Project Hougoumont yet?” asked Jo.
“No, I haven’t had time. I’ll try and get to it when Chris comes back from work tonight. Or tomorrow, if it can wait.” Jo could sense the sheer fatigue beginning to eclipse the enthusiasm.
“Well, that’s the thing; I don’t think it can wait, unfortunately. I think the next big deal is about to be executed. I hate to ask, but is there any way you could do some research now, I mean even before Chris comes back?”
Amy sighed and Jo could hear the nervous tapping of fingers, “Jo, you know that is way too risky. If I use Chris’ login and he’s already logged in at work, someone could detect dual usage of the same account and start looking into the information accessed.”
“Amy, please, I feel like we’re getting so close and there may not be a second chance to finish.”
Amy caved. “OK, I’ll call Chris and to see if he can stay off his computer at work for an hour. But he’s not going to like it.”
“Thanks Amy! I know your powers of persuasion are superb.”
“Well, what little I have left after our coercing of him the other night, I was hoping to use for something a little more gratifying. Like maybe a trip to Tuscany.”
“Surely trawling through legal and finance documents comes a close second?”
“Let me think about that. Um, no. But I’ll get back to you anyway.”
Amy called back two hours later with an exuberant Jack in the background sounding as if he was trying to grab the phone. Jo closed her office door and hunched over her desk to hear Amy’s findings. Amy didn’t disappoint.
“I found some details on vehicles and accounts set up in the past couple of days on behalf of Butterfly for a project HGT. That can’t be a coincidence right?”
“Unlikely,” agreed Jo.
“Well,” continued Amy, “it appears to be a standard offshore set up designed to do the usual, minimize tax and diminish reporting requirements. The documentation shows that the account is anticipated to receive up to fifty million in funding with no specific information on where the funding will come from.”
“Excellent work,” congratulated Jo, energized by her sister’s findings. “I’m thinking that we might need to finalize plans for the Jersey trip sooner rather than later. Is Chris any more open to the idea of arranging to send you as the Whitfield Bowes representative?”
“Chris open to the idea? Are you kidding?” replied Amy, almost laughing, “we have avoided all discussion of that topic. All discussion of anything related to you in fact.”
“Nothing like turning into the family pariah. Well just bear it in mind.”
“OK, I’ll try and choose an opportune moment to broach the subject again, as long as you bear in mind that getting through all this safely is what’s most important here.” Jack’s playful cries had now turned into protests at the neglect. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Call me when you want to collect the documents.”
Jo remained tense throughout the rest of the day. She monitored Bray’s every move while he was in his offic
e, and even braved the icy demeanor of Amanda to surreptitiously enquire about Bray’s whereabouts and scheduled meetings for the upcoming days.
At her desk, Jo made a halfhearted attempt to answer some practice questions for the CFA Program exam that was less than two weeks away. Given Jo’s lack of preparation she would ordinarily have considered the fact alarming, but she found that crises had taken on a relative quality under the current circumstances. She declined to grade her multiple choice answers and opted to leave the office at the early hour of 7.00 p.m.
Before leaving the building, Jo stopped by Serge’s desk again. He obligingly printed off the trading report for the day. Jo asked if he’d detected anything unusual.
“Like what?” asked Serge.
Jo noticed that the limited space on Serge’s desk was piled high with open study materials. She surmised that Butterfly could have mounted a hostile takeover of Goldman Sachs, and Serge, together with the rest of the first year analysts might not have noticed a thing due to their current state of mind.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Have a good evening.”
Serge raised his eyebrows and looked toward the mound of study materials. “I suppose we’re not all as prepared as you. Bon soir.”
Walking home, Jo scanned the trading print out.
Jo’s mother was away in New York attending a course in conscious manifestation given by Rajiv Singh. Jo spent most of the evening sitting with her father in a silence that appeared to be comfortable, but masked Jo’s agitation. Joseph made handwritten notes on his book manuscript while Jo feigned memorizing the US government’s schedule for the issuance of treasury bonds; information that Jo deemed as irrelevant to her probable future role as it was dull.
Finally giving up the pretense of study, Jo logged onto her computer. She scanned the Internet and newspaper websites for unusual news on any of the nanotechnology companies she has been researching. Her searches failed to reveal anything.
Jo vainly tried some cross searching on Hougoumont. She tried “Hougoumont nanotechnology Butterfly.” No direct hits came up. Jo entered “Nina Hasleet Hougoumont.” Again nothing. She came across numerous articles on the battle at Hougoumont and how Napoleon was later banished to the island of St. Helena.
Jo wondered once more whether Wright and Bray’s last battle was imminent and if they already had their respective islands picked out to live the evasive life, in wealth rather than in disgrace. By the end of the evening, Jo wasn’t any further advanced. She was left asking herself what Nina Hasleet’s phone message about the party had meant; an event that could well be taking place as Jo remained mired in speculation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jo was awakened just after 4.00 a.m. by the loud buzzing of the intercom phone in hallway of the apartment. She jumped out of bed, but her father beat her to the handset.
“The porter says that there is a Ben waiting downstairs for you and this Ben says it’s urgent. Do you know him?”
Jo quickly took the phone from her father. Ben skipped any greetings or apologies for the early hour.
“Get dressed in business clothes. Meet me downstairs. And hurry,” he barked.
Jo rushed to get dressed. Her father stood outside her bedroom door and asked for an explanation. Any aura of detachment was gone, replaced by open concern. Jo attempted to bring calm to her voice.
“I have a business meeting that I had completely forgotten about. My colleague, Ben, is here to pick me up so we can catch the train together. That is who’s waiting downstairs.”
“Why didn’t you just meet him at the station?” asked Joseph, uncharacteristically concerned with the details.
Jo was hesitating over her choice of shoes to wear.
“The firm just booked one taxi for both of us.” She knew she had to go with the Louboutins. They were impractical, but fitting for what Jo was sure was going to be the grand culmination of her time at Butterfly. She opened her door and came face to face with her father clad in his dressing gown.
“What, are Butterfly trying to cut down on their expenses?” he enquired dryly. Jo grabbed her laptop bag and cell phone.
She stopped with one foot already outside the apartment’s front door, knowing that explanations would have to wait.
“Look Dad, I just have to go.”
Joseph Lavelle kissed his daughter’s forehead. “Be careful, princess.”
When the elevator door opened at the end of its descent, Ben took Jo’s hand and her laptop and forced her to run. He shot a derisory look at her choice of footwear as Jo’s shoes clattered on the brick floor of the Barbican complex, but he let it pass.
“I’ve been trying to call your bloody phone for the last hour and your home number is unlisted,” he admonished.
“Sorry, I fell asleep searching stuff on my phone. It died.”
Ben shook his head as if her excuse failed to pass journalistic muster.
“Never mind now. Listen, something huge has happened. I was working late up at the BBC and had the news streaming on my computer. Anyway, around two thirty there was news of a huge explosion at Extron Laboratories, you know the big nanotechnology company?”
Jo did know. It was one of the firms she had researched and it happened to be the second largest publicly traded UK company in the sector. It had also appeared on the list that Adam had downloaded from Bray’s laptop.
“Reports are still coming in,” continued Ben, “but the company’s laboratory and corporate headquarters have been completely destroyed. Fortunately, it is located on the outskirts of an industrial park so the damage was pretty localized, no nearby houses or anything. Firemen were pretty quick on the scene too.”
“Any casualties?” interrupted Jo, trying to keep up.
“So far, they don’t think so. The premises were deserted at that time of night.”
Ben’s car was parked in a nearby side street. They arrived both out of breath, and scrambled inside. Jo fumbled around with the charger connected to the car’s cigarette lighter and plugged in her phone. Ben started the engine and news from the radio blared out of the vintage stereo system. There was the chaotic noise of a live news report set to the background of an apparent scene of carnage and with several fire engines sounding their sirens.
Jo was concerned, but still confused by Ben’s urgency.
“You think this is all linked to Butterfly?” she asked.
“Since you told me to look out for anything unusual in the news to do with nanotechnology, when the news broke I did some searches for recent news archive on the company.” He paused for effect. “Well it turns out that our friend Ives paid a visit to Extron three weeks ago in his ministerial capacity. It’s the only nanotechnology company he has visited in the past month. While he was there, he did the whole government minister press routine, dressing in laboratory uniform, talking with employees, giving a piece to the press about the great potential of the sector, great economic and employment prospects for the region blah, blah.”
It suddenly all fit together for Jo. She went through her thoughts out loud, each one tumbling over the previous one.
“Obviously they singled this one out based on some criteria, and sent Ives down to make a deal with someone on the inside. Even though we don’t have the proof yet, if Adam’s theories are right, there’s going to be another money trail. But engineering an explosion, don’t you think that’s extremely bold, not to mention dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than an afternoon’s sailing wouldn’t you say? Anyway, we have to get to Jersey as soon as possible. If my instincts on this story are correct, I think your friends may have just engineered their last deal.”
“It seems they wanted to go out with a bang, literally.”
Ben suddenly motioned for Jo to stop talking and he turned the radio volume up. More live news reports were coming in and there had been a terrible development. It now appeared that there had been an employee in the building at the time of the accident. A young lab tech whose body had just
been recovered and he had apparently caught the full force of the blast.
The news report switched to interviews with employees. They were all in shock, especially following the latest tragic update. All were telling the same story of how, at the time of the accident, they had been at a company event to celebrate their latest technology breakthrough which had sent the company stock price, and the value of employee shares and stock options soaring.
Jo was jolted from any vestiges of tiredness by the mention of the company event. The words, ‘Look, just tell him that the party is scheduled for tomorrow,’ echoed in her mind. She was sure this wasn’t a coincidence.
All doubt was shattered as the station aired an interview with a female employee. She was identified as Lisa Brown, head of the laboratory group at Extron. Jo immediately recognized the hesitant voice. The interviewee appeared reluctant and eager to get away. Jo virtually screamed and turned the radio volume up so high that Ben made an emergency stop. Fortunately they were the only car on the deserted street.
“That’s her. That’s Nina Hasleet!” Jo screeched.
“What are you talking about,” asked Ben, disoriented, “didn’t they say Lisa someone? And did you have to yell like you’d been shot?”
“Sorry, I’ll explain later. Just keep going.” Jo’s adrenaline was now fully engaged. “Where are we going, by the way?”
“To your sister’s house. Hampstead isn’t it? Just tell me where to get off the North Circular. And now would be about the right time to call Adam. Tell him to meet us at City Airport, the Exec Co. Jet hanger.”
“We’re getting on a plane?”
“No, we’re taking an educational tour of the airport. Look, it’s war zone reporter privileges. I’m allowed to use a certain number of flying hours on standby jets, no questions asked, just explanations afterwards. I’ve already called ahead and the plane is waiting. I think if we’re right, the explanation will warrant the expense.”
Jo woke Adam up. He sounded surprisingly alert and Jo remembered he was used to being on call. Jo updated Adam on the plan.
The Girl Inside Page 24