The Legacy (21 page)

It seems coincidental that Bennett Smith just happened to be in Manhattan when Cole Egan got hold of the tape, Magee pointed out.

Doesnt it? Seward asked dryly.

Do you think there is a connection?

I think we should assume so. I think we should assume that Smith delivered the tape to Cole Egan. Seward tapped the end of his cane on the floor. Smith is a loose cannon at this point. He was very close to Jim Egan. Theres no telling what he knows, or what hell do. Seward paused. He needs to be apprehended in light of his sudden appearance in Manhattan, and what you found in Colombia.

Yes, Magee agreed. But if hes AWOL, how will I find him?

That wont be hard, Seward replied. Smith hasnt allowed Cole Egan out of his sight since that night in Manhattan.

How do you know?

Seward smiled. Because we havent let Cole Egan out of our sight either. We regained contact with him in Wisconsin. And by regaining contact, Im not talking about Lewis Gebauer saying good morning to Cole on the Gilchrist trading floor. Im talking about a professional following Coles every move.

Why did you continue following Cole? I got the tape.

Ive been shadowing Jim Egan for almost four decades. I thought it might be a good idea to stick with Cole a little longer, even after you got the tape, in case there was another copy. Seward raised a bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrow. Which was why I ordered you not to harm Cole in Manhattan.

And? Magee didnt want to dwell on that issue.

Seward shrugged. And we followed him from Wisconsin to Minnesota, then home to New York, but we didnt observe anything unusual. We even had someone in Wisconsin drug him and go through his possessions, but she found nothing suspicious. However, were still watching him. Seward took a deep breath. And Bennett Smith is still watching Cole too, although we arent sure why. Seward pointed at Magee. Which is where you come in. I need to know why Smith is sticking so close to Cole.

COLE GRABBED THE receiver and punched a button on his phone bank marked TUCKER TRAVIS. This line was a direct intercom to one of the largest government securities dealers on Wall Street. Pick up Gilchrist! he yelled, eyeing the six message slips cluttering his desk. It was only 8:30 A.M. but CNN and Fox had already each called three times this morning. Tori Brown had been just one day ahead of the pack. Come on! he shouted. This is Gilchrist!

Yeah, Gilchrist! someone shouted back over the line almost instantly this time. Its Chris Tessorio at Tucker.

Chris, this is Cole.

Hey, Cole, baby. Sorry I took so long, but its crazy out there this morning. Lots of securities are swapping hands. It had been all of ten seconds since Coles first request for service, but that was aeons in the trading business. In those ten seconds Cole could have pushed a button for one of the other five dealers on his phone bank and Chris would have lost a large commission. What can I do for you? Chris asked.

Cole had met Chriss boss once, but never Chris. He wouldnt have been able to pick Chris out of a police lineup if his life depended on it, but they spoke at least five times a day and over the last few years had executed thousands of transactions together. But that was the trading side of Wall Street. It was strictly a phone business.

Make me a market in the two-year. With the words make me a market, Cole committed himself to a transaction. A billion dollars worth, he said calmly.

Chris whistled through the phone. A billion, huh?

Yes, Cole replied evenly. If interest rates continued to decline the way they had over the past few days, a January bonus might still be a possibility with this trade. If rates rose back up to last weeks levels, Gilchrist would lose millions on the trade and Cole wouldnt have to worry about a bonus because hed be looking for another job.

Do you know something the rest of the market doesnt? Chriss curiosity was aroused.

Maybe. Cole chuckled to himself. Nicki knew him so well. Bet the ranch, and why the hell not? In this city you could be shot to death minding your own business, doing your best to stay out of trouble. He was about to go looking for it.

Talk to me, Cole. Chris was digging. Whats going on?

Chriss questions annoyed Cole. Salesmen were supposed to take orders and give information, not try to pry it out of their clients. He had no intention of telling Chris that this trade was part of a scorched-earth, the-hell-with-it-all strategy that had nothing to do with some insider tip. Let him wonder. Are you going to make me a market or what?

Yeah, yeah. Chris heard Coles irritation. Nine plus ten.

Cole checked his screen to make certain that Chriss price was fair. It was close and he didnt have time to bicker. At ten I buy a billion dollars of the two-year. This trade was a bet that the market interest rate of the two-year U.S. Government issue would decrease and the price of the note would rise.

Done at ten, Chris confirmed.

Good. Cole hung up and reached for a stack of blank yellow order tickets sitting atop the bulkhead behind his row of computer screens. For an instant he gazed at the papers. They were almost the same color as Bennetts hair.

What the hell was that? Lewis Gebauer had overheard Cole place the buy order with Tucker Travis.

None of your damn business, Lewis. Cole picked up the top ticket from the stack, filled it out quickly and tossed it into the out box.

Whats your problem this morning? Gebauer asked through mouthfuls of a Bavarian cream donut.

Cole pushed his chair back and stood up. Did you get that donut from Dinos, the little shop on the corner? Cole gestured at the bag on Gebauers desk. The delis name was on the bag.

Yeah, Gebauer responded hesitantly. Why?

Somebody told me they closed that place down a half hour ago. One of the employees has hepatitis. As he turned and walked away, Cole could hear Gebauer spitting out the donut.

Cole threaded his way through the trading floor toward Barry Nelsons corner office. Nelson was the senior managing director in charge of all bond trading at Gilchrist. Through the offices glass wall, Cole saw that Nelson was deep in conversation with two other traders, but he knocked anyway. Nelson waved Cole off, but Cole yanked the door open.

This better be important, Nelson snarled, glancing up from the desk over half-lens glasses.

It is. Cole moved directly to Nelsons desk. Im taking a week off. Cole dropped a manila folder on Nelsons desk. Inside was a summary of all of his investments. He had penciled in the price of the Tucker Travis trade as he walked to Nelsons office. Craig Leone will handle my portfolio while Im gone. Leone was one of the traders who sat on the other side of the bulkhead from Cole. Ive already spoken to him about it.

Leave us, Nelson barked at the man and woman seated in front of the desk, who were updating him on overnight losses in Gilchrists London office. They were gone in a heartbeat, only too happy to be off the hot seat. Nelson removed his glasses and dropped them on the manila folder. Whats going on, Cole? You just took a week off.

I have a family emergency.

I dont give a crap. Tell whoever it is not to die yet, or hold off on the funeral if theyre already in the morgue. The markets are going insane. A week after the Fed raises rates, suddenly theyre coming down again. Its nuts out there. Nelson gestured toward the trading floor. Were coming close to the end of the year, and the senior people are going ballistic. The firms had a great year so far, and the execs are worried sick that were going to give all our gains back now, just as were all about to get bonuses. He pointed at Cole. Listen, I want you on the desk every morning bright and early until December thirty-first.

I cant, Cole snapped. Ive got to go.

Cole, youre on the bubble here after last year. You know that. I would think youd want to be here to personally protect your trading positions, not trust them with Leone.

Ill be back in a week, Cole said firmly.

Christ! Nelson picked up an autographed baseball from his desktop and flung it against the wall. The ball smashed into a picture of the 1927 Yankees, shattering the glass. You are one stubborn son of a bitch sometimes, Cole.

Cole reached the office door.

I need to talk to you about something else, Nelson yelled.

There was an edge to Nelsons voice that made Cole turn around. What is it?

Nelsons expression was grim. About a week ago a Gilchrist security guard was stabbed down in the lobby. It was after hours, around eight oclock at night. He died yesterday evening without ever regaining consciousness. Weve kept this very quiet.

Thats terrible. Cole blinked slowly, trying hard to convince Nelson this was the first hed heard of the incident. But why are you telling me?

Your name was on the night register. You had signed in only a few minutes before the guard was found.

Cole had forgotten about that. He glanced out through the glass wall onto the floor and noticed Gebauer rifling through the message slips on his desk. So?

So the police want to talk to you. They want to know if you saw anything suspicious.

I came back that night to pick up some personal papers. I didnt see anything.

One of the front doors in the lobby was smashed, Nelson pressed. The police think it might have been shot out.

I didnt see anything, Cole repeated. If I had, I would have already told someone.

Tell them that, Nelson urged.

I dont have time.

Make time.

Cole shook his head. He felt compassion for the guard, but the police would never solve the crime. If Bennett was correct, the investigation would pit the New York City Police Department against a covert operation buried so deep in the DIA no one was going to find it. If the police want to arrest me, I guess Ill have to talk to them. But you better convey that to them soon, because Im leaving. Cole turned and walked out of the office.

Cole! Wait a minute!

But he didnt. He moved quickly across the floor, which was breaking into chaos as the morning session started to heat up again, pausing only long enough to check an up-to-the-second two-year government interest rate quote on one of the Bloomberg terminals at the corporate bond desk. The rate was down five basis points, which meant that the long position he had put on only a few minutes ago with Tucker Travis was already up almost a million dollars.

Gebauer was still rummaging through papers on the desk as Cole made it back to his seat. Can I help you? Cole asked sarcastically, ripping the message slips out of Gebauers hand.

Why the hell are all these news people calling you? Gebauer demanded.

I won the lottery yesterday, Lewis, didnt you hear? Cole stuffed the messages in his shirt pocket. They want my story.

Seriously! Gebauer yelled.

But Im taking a week off to enjoy myself before I give any interviews. Im going back to my room at the hotel, pack a few things and fly to Bermuda to enjoy some sand and sun. Cole watched Gebauer taking mental notes. So the bastard really was involved somehow. Or am I flying to Hawaii? He put a finger to his forehead as if he were thinking hard, then picked up his overcoat from the chair, slipped it on and headed for the door. Maybe its Rio, he called over his shoulder.

Gebauer cursed under his breath. Finally he headed for the door too. He needed to make a call quickly and couldnt do it on a trading room phone. All conversations over these lines were recorded.

At the reception desk, Anita smiled as she saw Cole coming toward her. Hi, Cole.

He leaned over the desk, took her face gently in his hands and kissed her on the cheek. See you in a week, he whispered in her ear. I may need your help. Okay?

She nodded, uncertain what that meant. Okay.

Thanks. He turned abruptly, moved across the reception area into an elevator and was gone.

For several moments she gazed at the silver metal doors that had closed behind Cole. Then Lewis Gebauer came puffing out of the trading floor. She watched the fat man move into one of the small conference rooms off the main reception room and slam the door. What a jerk he was. Not once since she had come to work at Gilchrist had he even so much as acknowledged her presence.

Cole stepped out of the elevator and moved quickly through the lobby. It was a sunny day in Manhattan and the air was crisp and cool. As Cole walked through the doors, he pulled sunglasses from his inside suit coat pocket and wrapped the curved stems behind his ears.

Hey, stranger.

Hed recognize that gravelly voice anywhere, even after only one lunch. He glanced to the left. Tori Brown was leaning against the building wall, putting her cell phone back into a large black bag slung over her shoulder. Her brown hair was down todaythere was no black velvet bandand she was wrapped in an ankle-length blue overcoat decorated with gold buttons.

Hi, Cole.

Tori suddenly seemed to emit an aura of affluence he hadnt noticed at lunch yesterday, but maybe that was just because of what Cole had found out about her. Hi, he said, making certain his voice was devoid of emotion.

She moved to where he stood and looked directly up into his eyes. I know youre angry with me, and you have every right to be. What I did at lunch was inexcusable. I put my career goals in front of what was the right thing to do. She searched his face. I want to make it up to you.