Coffee (11 page)

They
stepped in to an open elevator. Marion continued. “The fifth
floor houses all our International Currency desks. We have five to
fifteen traders and analysts assigned to each of the twenty five
currencies we have positions in. When a currency moves a penny
relative to the dollar, we either expected it or can explain exactly
why it happened.” The rapid elevator already opened at the
third floor. Marion showed her out, then stopped to finish her
description.

“The
fourth floor is our Bond and Consulting floor. We have a number of
bond teams focusing on U.S. Treasury issues, Corporate Bonds, other
government debt, on and on. I can’t keep track of all of them,
but I know there are many.” Marion paused to acknowledge the
receptionist, who nodded back. “But this floor -this is where
we do our most exciting work.”

Etty
thought, ‘Yea, like manipulate the markets.’ She
wondered if she would see the people whose plans she’d ruined.
They walked past what seemed like an endless row of computer rooms,
offices prickling with screens and keyboards, and a few well dressed
men and women doing weekend work. Marion towered over her,
especially since Etty wore no shoes. But Etty retained a sense of
smugness knowing that she, this little woman in a crumpled suit and
stocking feet, had out smarted this impressive area, preventing them
millions in illegal profits.

They
entered an auditorium-like room through double doors. “This
is the Coffee, Sugar, and Cocoa Trading Desk,” Marion
announced like a proud band leader. The desk itself formed a large
“E” shape, filling most of the room, with small trading
stations placed every three or so feet on the circumference. The
“E” must have had 50 stations, each equipped with two
monitors, two keyboards, a calculator like device, two file drawers,
a wheeled chair, a phone, and a trash can. Marion continued. “The
backbone of the ‘E’, is where our customer contact
people sit. Buyers and sellers call their orders in here. The
requests are then given to the traders sitting on the three ‘bars’
of the ‘E’. The top bar has Coffee traders, the middle
for Sugar, and the bottom for Cocoa. They either use our own
inventory or deal with our contacts at the CSCE Exchange in New
York.”

“They
also buy Coffee Options for WIC, right?”

“Yes.
WIC has it’s own sizable portfolio, which includes Options.”

Etty
studied the little stations, imagining with pleasure the frazzled
traders last Tuesday watching their screens with horror as an
outside buyer ruined their Option buying plans. Marion went on, “You
should hear it during trading - all the yelling is rather
invigorating.”

“Yelling?”

“Oh
yes. It’s too bad it’s Saturday, you’d be
amazed.” Marion pointed at the far wall. “See those
speakers up there?”

Etty
nodded.

“They
are connected to microphones that hang down into the middle of the
actual trading pit at the CSCE in New York. Those things crackle
out noises all day.”

“Why
would they do that? How does anyone concentrate?”

“Sometimes,
Harriet, there is no better market information than to listen to the
people yelling on the trading exchanges. If a major buyer knows
something or makes a bold move, you’ll hear a chorus of
shouting from traders trying to change their positions. When we
hear a commotion on the speakers, we immediately react. The
computer screens might take minutes to reflect a big swing in
prices, way too late to do anything about it.”

“Impressive,”
Etty said sincerely. Although her thoughts were dominated by escape
planning, she couldn’t help being interested. “You have
more rooms like this?”

“Oh
yes. Two more, and one of them is about twice this size - the one
that ties into the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. There they trade
grains such as Corn, Soy, Wheat, on and on. The CSCE is only a
fraction the size of the ‘Merk.’”

“Must
be high burn out.”

“Good
point, this is an issue for us.” With a peppy stride, she
returned to the hallway. “Follow me, I’ll show you our
lounge and quiet rooms.”

At
the end of the corridor, a large recreation room looked like the
front lobby of an expensive health club. Ahead were large picture
windows facing south. On the right, comfortable chairs, two TV’s,
racks of newspapers, a little library. On the left, a food bar for
sandwiches, juices, coffee. Marion opened a set of doors near the
entrance. “You have to see the quiet rooms, they’re
something else.”

On
both sides of a short hallway were two odd looking doors, thick with
big handles and small cloudy windows for peering in. “These
are completely sound proof.” Marion opened one, and Etty
could tell by the ‘frumping’ sound that it was tight
fitting. Marion gestured her in. “You turn this wheel here,
throw this switch, wait about three minutes, and
viola
-
absolute quiet.” The room had a small bed, a TV, a little
fridge, and a sink. “It’s a vacuum lock. Once
activated, the room is entirely surrounded by a near perfect vacuum,
probably the best sound barrier possible.”

“Seems
claustrophobic to me,” Etty said, reminded of her prison cell.

Marion
bubbled on. “It’s a great place to unwind. You can
close the little window on the door, and have total peace in here.
Traders come to get regenerated. You can even scream your head off
about anything or anyone, and no one will know.”

Etty
looked at Marion’s unusually animated expressions, and
wondered. “So, Marion, have you ever come in here with a man
and screamed your head off?” Marion immediately blushed and
pulled back to leave. ‘Bingo,’ Etty thought to herself,
‘no wonder you like them so much.’

Back
to the elevators, Marion returned to her more mechanical self.
“Next, we go to the second floor. This has the main entrance,
and our Library.”

“What’s
on the first floor?”

“Just
hallways and storage rooms. Nothing worth seeing.” Images
popped into Etty’s mind of torture chambers and mad scientists
mixing colorful liquids in elaborate tubing.

The
elevator ride took seconds, leaving them back on the formal lobby
area. Marion led the way to a beautifully decorated Library. Puffy
leather chairs, cozy nooks for reading, a soft quiet in the air.
“Although printed journals still get some attention, most
research is now done by computer. We have an extensive CD Rom
library, and a set of five CD juke boxes that can each hold 250
CD’s. The little rooms along this wall have computer access,
and offer a little privacy.”

Etty
peered through the glass into one of the rooms. A PC and laser jet
printer sat on top of a shelf-like desk. Marion continued,
“McKinsey has a real thing for up to date equipment. He
changes the computers in here about twice a year. We always have
the fastest processors on the market.” Marion looked at Etty,
“So this is where you will do your work?”

The
question surprised her, since she’d forgotten the tour was
really a ‘new job’ orientation. She made a courtesy
smile, “Yes, I guess so.”

Marion
relaxed her shoulders a bit, and faced Etty. “So, now what.
You want some food? Go shopping?”

“Shopping.
I need a few things. This suit is terrible, I need some shoes, and
I don’t have anything casual that isn’t filled with
holes.”

“You
got it.” Marion allowed Etty to lead the way. Etty turned in
her visitor’s pass at the Security Gate, and they entered the
Rotunda.

The
smells of food rolling through the open space reminded her she was
quite hungry. “What time is it, anyway?” Etty asked.

“About
3pm. Have you eaten lunch?”

“No,
but that’s okay. Let’s get some clothes first.”

They
headed across the marble floor toward some apparel shops in the
north east corner of the circular room. Marion provided more tour
information. “These are not full featured stores. McKinsey
and the other executives worked out a deal with these store chains
to have them open limited selection storefronts. What they don’t
have, they can get in one day, often less. We employees register
our measurements and basic tastes in a main computer, so if we call
ahead a day or so, they can look us up and bring in special stock.
It works out great.” They approached three store fronts.
“Where should we start, we have
Women’s Apparel
,
Sports
....”

“Women’s
apparel. I feel like an idiot without shoes.”

Etty’s
mind started racing, and her heart beat increased. She knew that
this semi-public area provided the best cover for escape. Just
realizing this made her tense up.

The
store was thin, with only five racks of clothes. Instead of a full
dressing room area, there were four small curtained closet-like
places along the back wall for trying on clothes. The single sales
lady was helping a woman near the front of the store. In the far
corner, she noticed a closed door. Outside access, she thought, a
way to allow deliveries and avoid the Rotunda.

Marion
stuck to her like a dog on a leash. “What size are you, Etty?
You want some help picking stuff out?” A plan gelled in
Etty’s mind. She noticed a rack of
75% Off
clothing
right in front of the fourth dressing room, nearest the closed exit
door. She quickly scanned the rack in front of her, and pulled out
two dresses her size. “No, Marion, thanks. I’ll try on
these.” She walked to the far wall, and disappeared behind
the curtain. Marion positioned herself, back to the
75% Off
rack, facing the little room.

Etty
laid the dresses on the small sitting shelf, with no intention of
trying them on. She wished she’d grabbed a pair of shoes, but
she was acting spontaneously and hadn’t thought out all the
details.

She
moved her head from side to side until one eye could watch Marion
through the tiny crack between the curtain and the wall. Etty could
see Marion’s right shoulder, some of her hair, and her right
ear. She avoided her eyes, fearing Marion would see the sparkle of
light off her eyeball. She whispered ever so softly to herself,
‘Com’on now, Miss Personality, 75 Percent! There must
be
something
in there that you need.’ Etty stared
intently and yelled in her mind at the woman, almost hoping Marion
would get the message through brain waves. ‘Turn around!
S-e-v-e-n-t-y F-i-v-e P-e-r-c-e-n-t! Com’on girl. Loooook!’

Marion
fidgeted at her post, transferring weight back and forth between her
feet. She stared at the curtain, but then began furtively checking
out the other women as they worked the racks. In a feigned stretch
maneuver, she glanced back at the rack behind her, just for a second
and then returned. Something must have caught her eye. ‘That’s
it, girl, there
is
one there, you saw it, so
cheap, so perfect, com’on, just a little check. How much was
it?’

Suddenly,
Marion turned full around, and pulled back the dresses to expose the
one she had seen. She bent over and curled up a tag to read the
price.

Etty
ran for it. The soft curtain and her stocking feet helped her
escape without a sound. Before leaving, she quieted the waving
curtain with her hand, and then darted to the door. ‘Unlocked!’
she shrilled to herself. Door open, out, door closed, all silently.

The
hall on the other side obviously provided access to delivery people
dropping off goods to the stores in this quadrant of the Rotunda.
Black splotches and small holes speckled the walls, from all the
heavy carts wheeled back and forth. The buffed and waxed floors
made it difficult to gain traction with stocking feet. On her
right, she passed more doors leading back into the stores, each with
drab block lettering of the store name.

‘Go
go go!,’ she chanted to herself to build speed and confidence.
She had no specific plan, just run, find a way out. She remembered
the tall razor wired gates from the model in McKinsey’s
office. Whatever her reservations about taking such a risk, it was
too late. Her only hope was to find some kind of loading ramp door,
and use it to get outside. In the fresh air, she could think again.
If the gates were impassable, maybe she could hide in some bushes,
wait for night fall, and sneak out with a delivery truck.

As
she ran toward the third store access door on the right, it suddenly
swung open in front of her. She nearly slipped into it, and had to
drop backwards on her hands, flopping down on the hard floor, to
stop herself. Her toes actually passed under the door a few inches,
but the large man negotiating his two wheeler cart over the
threshold didn’t notice. She stood and bolted in the other
direction, slipping wildly trying to gain speed.

She
ran until the curve in the hallway blocked her from his view. She
stopped and edged back to see him. Her chest pumped for air - her
head bobbed. The man wore a blue union suit with embroidered
letters, and a matching visor cap. He tugged callously at his red
cart. Once on the hard floor, he bent over and jammed a small
object at the foot of the door to keep it open. Then he wheeled
down the hall, away from Etty.

‘There
must be a ramp open!’, she thought. And a truck for his
goods. She tiptoed excitedly behind him. She stayed a safe
distance back, keeping both hands on the walls for added grip in
case she needed to quickly pull away. The man continued around, and
finally turned left down a short hallway. Etty crossed to the other
side of the hall, and peered around the corner.

A
large metal cargo door opened before her, only a few feet away. The
man was already in the truck, down an aluminum ramp. Through the
space between the truck and the wall of the loading dock, she could
see through to daylight. Balmy fragrant air caressed her face. But
there at the front of the truck stood an armed guard. He was facing
left, talking to someone else, laughing. That meant two guards.
She saw no bushes, only open grass lawns bathed in bright sunlight.