Jigsaw Lovers

  That was when he earned a regular salary, from full-time employment. In those days the amount that was paid into his account at the end of each month was approximately a third of what he had paid into the account in the first twelve months of working for himself. His business was going well and more and more money was coming in.

  The problem was the amounts didn’t come in on the twenty-fifth of the month, every month, and the assistant manager was too small-minded to realise this. It seemed to Hamilton that Smith would be more amenable to his request if he were earning five thousand regularly every month, than if payments for many times that amount came in randomly during the same overall time span.

  ‘That’s what’s happened in the past. Its no indication of what might happen in the future, especially as you say you need the money to play games.’ Smith was being obtuse.

  ‘Not play games, design games. There is a difference.’ Hamilton was becoming exasperated by the man’s stupidity.

  ‘Not in my eyes. The Bank couldn’t condone lending money for such an activity.’

  ‘And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?’ demanded Hamilton, his voice raised.

  ‘We wouldn’t like to be associated with the development of a product that causes so much time wasting, particularly amongst the young.’

  Hamilton looked at Smith in disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. ‘There’s a tremendous educational element in everything I design. Children will learn as they play. It will help them to become computer literate, and teach them about historical events.’

  ‘No matter. The bottom line is that at present the Bank is not prepared to advance you any money. I suggest you seek alternative arrangements for your financing needs. Now I have other customers waiting.’ He pretended to busy himself with files on his desk, rudely ignoring Hamilton’s continued presence.

  Hamilton gathered his papers, stuffed them into his briefcase and stood up. He resisted the temptation to punch this fool between the eyes. Instead he threw open the office door with such force that it bounced back on its hinges, with a resounding crack, which startled Smith. As he walked through it he turned,

  ‘And fuck you too, Mr Smith.’

  Ackermann was not pleased. In the last six months he had seen the overall value of his share portfolio decrease by almost eleven per cent. That represented a considerable amount of money.

  Years ago, when he had first started earning enough money to be able to put some aside for investing in the stock market, he had handled his own transactions. He had studied the companies that interested him, and, based on his own judgement as to how he thought they would perform, had decided when to buy and sell their shares. He had been reasonably successful, generally returning a slightly above average profit on his investments in relation to overall market trends. As his business became more successful and he had more money to risk, he employed the services of a full-time stockbroker to handle his portfolio. He no longer had sufficient time to devote to the necessary research and monitoring of a company, before making an investment decision.

  It had been a wise decision. His broker had spread his investments over a broader spectrum of companies; companies and sectors that Ackermann would never have contemplated buying into. The returns had been good, and the extra expenditure in commission had been fully justified.

  The broker he had used for many years had retired a couple of years previously. His place had been taken by a relatively young man, in his early thirties.

  The man, Ben Samuels, was representative of a breed of broker that believed very much in their own abilities and their own invincibility. He spent considerable amounts of money on material attributes and status symbols. The suits were hand-tailored, the shirts made to measure, the shoes Italian, the watch Swiss and the car German.

  Modesty and self-effacement were not characteristics of this particular type of broker. When a deal went well everyone would know about it. On the rare occasions when a trade didn’t go as well as could be expected, excuses were made equally loudly and forthrightly, holding everyone and everything responsible, apart from themselves.

  Ackermann didn’t like Samuels personally, but he didn’t allow that to interfere with their business relationship. There were many people whose company Ackermann didn’t enjoy, but he didn’t allow his personal likes and dislikes to disrupt the process of making money. If the person was exceptionally good at what he did, and Ackermann needed his services, then he would tolerate having to associate with them on those occasions when it was strictly necessary. Ben Samuels fell into this category.

  Ackermann had summoned Samuels to his office for a meeting to discuss the latest loss on some shares the man had bought him, with the assurance that they could only go up.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Ackermann.’ he said casually as he breezed into the office.

  ‘I asked you to be here at ten. That was ten minutes ago.’

  Looking at his watch ostentatiously, he cheekily replied, ‘Am I only ten minutes late? I didn’t realise I’d managed to get here that quickly. I thought it was much later.’

  Ackermann tried to control his irritation at the lack of punctuality and the latent bad manners of his subordinate.

  ‘The reason I’ve asked you here, today, is that I’m concerned about the losses I’ve been suffering in the last six months. Over the same period the market trend has been upwards, but recently, you seem to have an uncanny knack of managing to pick the few that go down. You seem to be buying at best and selling at worst. Why is that?’ Ackermann asked in an almost naïve fashion.

  ‘If I knew the answer to that Mr Ackermann, I would be a rich man now,’ he laughed, crossing his legs and flicking a piece of dust off his trousers.

  ‘You don’t seem to be taking my concerns seriously enough. Maybe I should find another adviser.’ The smile vanished from Samuels’s face. Ackermann had managed to gain his undivided attention.

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Ackermann. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’ He wasn’t ready to leave Ackermann’s employ just yet.

  ‘Then answer my question.’

  Samuels then proceeded to explain his strategy and how he interpreted the market, that he was anticipating medium to long-term gains that would far outweigh the losses that had been incurred in recent months. The man was convincing in his sincerity as to why they had gone down instead of up as he had predicted previously.

  ‘Well, I feel somewhat reassured by that. I’ll be keeping an eye on what happens in the coming months,’ stated Ackermann, looking closely at his broker opposite him.

  As he stared at Samuels he realised that there was something that was not quite right. The man’s explanation was too convincing, too well rehearsed, almost as if he had anticipated being asked to give an account of himself. Maybe he had, after all, he was a professional and very good at what he did. That was why Ackerman had chosen him originally. However, it was not something he was prepared to leave to chance. These feelings in the past had invariably proved to be correct.

  ‘You’re looking tired, Ben,’ he said with concern.

  ‘We have been rather busy. Lots of late nights recently.’

  ‘You should take a break.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, but I never seem to get around to it,’ agreed Samuels.

  ‘Yes, it is difficult. I was meant to be going to Tuscany for ten days, next week. We’ve rented a converted farmhouse in the hills above Siena. But I found out this morning that I’ve got to go to the States. There’s no way I can get out of it. I don’t know what my wife Caroline’s going to say. She has a lot to put up with in me. She never complains when I can’t make one of her charity events or social gatherings. She was so looking forward to this break, I’ll have to make it up to her somehow.’

  ‘She sounds very understanding.’

  ‘She is. Such a pity about this trip. And what’s more, at this late stage, I don’t get a refund.’ Then Ackermann looked up as though a thought had
suddenly struck him.

  ‘Why don’t you go instead? Seems a shame to waste it.’

  ‘I don’t know whether I could find the time,’ Samuels said hesitantly, hoping to be persuaded otherwise.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve just said you need a break. Here’s a perfect opportunity. And what’s more it’s on me. My treat.’

  ‘I couldn’t let you pay.’

  ‘I insist. I’ve already paid for everything anyway. It’s a thank you for all the good work you’ve done so far.’

  ‘It would be rude of me to refuse,’ he said ingratiatingly. ‘You’ve convinced me. Thank you very much.’

  ‘Come back refreshed, and hopefully I’ll see a big improvement in performance.’ Ackermann lead him to the door, with a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘You can bank on it, Mr Ackermann.’

  After he had shown Samuels out he called James into his office.

  ‘I’d like you to check Samuels for me,’ he stated without prevarication.

  ‘As I recall the initial checks we did on him were quite favourable. He came highly recommended from old friends of ours. Is there a problem with him?’ asked James.

  ‘I’m not quite sure. It’s just a hunch I have. I’ve learnt that it’s usually better to play safe. Maybe its nothing, but it will put my mind at rest one way or the other.’

  ‘What would you like me to do?’

  ‘I’ve given him the Tuscany house for ten days. He’s not married. I don’t know whether he’s got a girlfriend, but I was rather hoping you could arrange something with Diana.’

  ‘You mean come up with a situation whereby he takes her on holiday with him next week? I’m pleased you gave me so much notice.’ James spoke with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  ‘I knew I could rely on you, James.’ Ackermann smiled. He liked giving James a challenge. It stopped him getting too complacent.

  ‘Assuming, and its quite a big assumption, that I can organise things so that he takes Diana, what information do you want her to find out?’

  ‘Initially Samuels was performing very well. He was very in tune with and aware of what was going on in the market. He was good and now he isn’t. I just find it strange that he’s suddenly become so average. I want to know whether he’s just tired and in need of a rest, or whether he’s trying to screw me, and if so, how. Do you think she’ll be able to cope with that?’

  ‘She hasn’t failed us yet, has she?’ It always amused Ackermann at how defensive James was towards Diana.

  ‘I have every confidence in your abilities, James, which is why I want you to handle all of the details of this yourself. If anything does come up, the fewer people who know about it, the better. Let me know when things are in place.’

  After the meeting with Smith, Hamilton was extremely irritated. He was surprised by the man’s attitude towards him and his unhelpful point of view.

  One thing that was clear to Hamilton was that the coming months were going to be very difficult financially, and he best look at making whatever economies he could.

  He analysed his expenditure; the satellite TV terminated, he could restrict the usage of his cell phone, and by not eating out so much, some savings could be made. He could put his investment contributions on hold, and generally be more careful before he spent anything.

  There were certain essentials that he couldn’t do without, and would endeavour to maintain for as long as possible. Listed in this group were cigarettes, alcohol and the services of his maid. The thought of washing, ironing and generally tidying-up after himself was not one he cared to entertain, and besides he felt a sense of responsibility for her well-being.

  Having steeled himself for the onset of frugality he decided to have one last meal at his favourite restaurant, and begin the new regimen in the morning.

  James looked through the file he had on Ben Samuels. As of six months ago, when it was last updated he had no current long-term girlfriend. There were several bars and restaurants that he visited on a regular basis, as well as a couple of fashionable expensive nightclubs. Any of these would be a good starting place.

  He telephoned Diana and asked her to be ready for an evening of bars and clubs. When he arrived at her flat he found she had chosen to wear a respectable two-piece business suit, to give the impression she had just come from the office.

  He showed her photographs and parts of the file on Ben Samuels, so if they did manage to find him at one of the places he usually went to she would be able to recognise him. He gave her just a brief outline of the man, in order not to spoil the spontaneity of a supposedly chance encounter. He gave no details as to their overall aim, other than that he wanted her to secure an invitation to go with Samuels to Tuscany the following week.

  The idea appealed greatly to Diana.

  By telephoning the restaurants that Samuels frequented, pretending to be a friend, James had discovered that Samuels had a reservation in his name for that night, in a bistro in Covent Garden. There was a strong possibility that Samuels may well go to one of two cocktail bars, in the vicinity, before eating.

  They were fortunate. Samuels was sitting on a stool at a high table in the first of the bars they went into. The place was relatively crowded, with people having a few drinks after work, before going home or out to dinner.

  James looked around the place, as if trying to find somewhere to sit, then strolled over to the table at which Samuels was sitting.

  ‘Do you mind if we join you,’ he asked whilst gesturing at the empty stool on the other side from Samuels. He looked up from his evening newspaper, a slightly irritated expression on his face, which disappeared the moment he caught sight of Diana.

  ‘No, not at all. I was expecting someone, but they’re late, so they can stand, if they get here.’

  James pulled out the stool for Diana, and caught the eye of a passing waitress, from whom he ordered a bottle of Australian Chardonnay. Samuels returned to reading his newspaper, but allowed himself the occasional glance in Diana’s direction.

  James and Diana chatted away in a relaxed fashion about their respective days. After a while James excused himself and pushed his way through to the toilet. There he telephoned his assistant and told her to call him in ten minutes.

  He was just about to refill Diana’s glass from the bottle that sat in a wine-cooler in front of them, when his cell phone rang.

  ‘Hello, yes.’ There was a pause whilst he listened, then a frown appeared on his face. ‘Can’t it wait until the morning?’ Another pause. ‘Are you sure? This is the first free evening I’ve had in weeks. No, that won’t help at all. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, half an hour.’ He switched the phone off and turned to Diana, a helpless look on his face. He noticed that Samuels was paying attention, whilst pretending to read his newspaper.

  ‘I’m sorry darling, but I’ve got to go back to the office.’ He drained his glass.

  ‘What about dinner?’ There was an edge to her voice.

  ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to make it. It’ll probably take most of the night to sort out this problem.’ He was apologetic.

  ‘Can’t you get somebody else to do it?’

  ‘I can’t run the risk of it being screwed up. It’s too important a client.’ He waved for the bill.

  ‘Every time we’ve planned an evening recently this has happened. I’m becoming more and more fed up with you and your work.’ She sounded irritated.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you at the weekend.’

  ‘I’m going away this weekend, by myself.’ She was cross now, and Samuels couldn’t fail to notice the friction between the two of them.

  ‘I have to go. Come, I’ll get you a cab.’ James left money on the table to cover the bill.

  ‘I’m not ready to go yet. I’m going to stay and have another drink.’ She reached for the bottle.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll call you in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t put yourself out.’

  James tried to kiss her
on the cheek, but she shook her head. Saying good-bye he left.

  Samuels stood up, and moved slightly towards Diana.

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. Can I get you another drink?’ he asked with a smile that he thought was charming and concerned.

  Diana looked at him, as if noticing him for the first time.

  ‘I think it’s I who should apologise, making a scene in public like that. I’m very sorry, it must have been very embarrassing for you. Especially since you were kind enough to let us sit at your table in the first place.’ She smiled at him.

  ‘Some more chardonnay?’ he asked as he called a waitress.

  ‘That would be very kind, thank you.’

  ‘My name’s Samuels, Ben Samuels.’

  ‘Diana Johnston.’ She offered him her hand.

  ‘What does your friend do, that dragged him away so urgently?’

  ‘He runs a company that specialises in financial design and printing. Annual report and accounts, launch documents, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I see. That business can be pretty demanding.’ He sounded as though he understood about it.

  ‘I don’t care. I’ve had enough of coming second to his work all the time. That’s the third occasion we’ve tried to have dinner together in the last two weeks. And tonight I’m particularly hungry.’ She picked up her glass. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers. This may sound a bit forward, but would you like to join me for dinner. It looks like I’ve been stood up as well, and I’m also quite hungry.’ He said it with an air of modest resignation, and slight hesitation.

  ‘You’re right, it is a bit forward of you. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of having dinner with someone I’ve only just met, but under the circumstances I’d be pleased to.’ She smiled warmly at him.

  ‘I’ve got a table booked at a little place around the corner, if that’s all right.’ He was confident now.

  ‘Sounds perfect. There’s one condition though.’ she saw his expression change. ‘We don’t talk about James any more.’