Free To Trade

CHAPTER 16

We travelled to Las Vegas in style. Irwin Piper had laid on his own private jet for certain valued investors. To my surprise, I was one of them. Jack Salmon and Madeleine Jansen were there. There were also three or four other investors from some of the biggest money managers. Cash and Waigel were also present. So was Cathy.

Cash was having a whale of a time. The plane was kitted out to cater for the 'high-rollers' that Piper wanted to transport to his casino. There was a bar, including several bottles of chilled champagne. Cash lost no time in breaking into these, forcing everyone to take a glass. Within a few minutes the plane was buzzing with chatter and laughter; Cash had started his party.

Much to his delight, Waigel found himself a TV with a selection of pornographic videos, which he hastened to try out on the machine. Cathy, whom he had jammed himself next to, stared out of the window in disgust.

I was sitting next to Madeleine Jansen. The champagne made its way up the plane to us. Madeleine lifted her glass. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers.'

We both sipped from our glasses. The bubbles danced around my mouth and tickled my nose. Champagne always seems more active at altitude.

I looked out of the window down to the dry Arizona desert below. We were passing over a range of low mountains. Here the desert buckled up into folds of browns, yellows, oranges and blacks. Rock, sand and shadow from the strong sunlight. There was not a patch of green in sight. Just one dead straight man-made track bisected the landscape as far as I could see. Looking down from an air-conditioned aeroplane thirty thousand feet up, the landscape appeared cold and empty. The intense heat of the desert floor was difficult to imagine.

Madeleine glanced over her shoulder towards where Cathy was sitting. 'You seemed a little preoccupied in Phoenix,' she said.

My cheeks burned. 'Yes, I'm very sorry. I was a little rude, wasn't I? I hope you will forgive me?'

'Yes, of course,' she laughed. I was embarrassed that my absorption with Cathy had been so obvious. But Madeleine seemed to be no more than pleasantly amused.

'Have you been to Las Vegas before?' she asked.

'No, this will be my first time. I'm quite curious to see what it's like. And you?'

'Once or twice.'

'On holiday or as an investor?'

'No, I haven't been there on vacation,' she said, 'but I have been to look at a couple of investments in the city.'

'Are these junk bond investments?' I asked.

'Mostly,' she said, 'although we do have a couple of equity investments in casinos.'

'Really?' I said.

'Yes. In fact we own a piece of the Tahiti.'

At last! Someone who was prepared to be straight about what they owned.

'That's interesting. What do you think of the deal?' I asked.

Madeleine looked at me, amused. 'What do you think of it?' she said.

I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. This woman obviously knew what she was talking about and I didn't want to make a fool of myself. On the other hand I had never liked the deal, even before I had discovered Piper's murky past. 'I don't know much about casinos, so I may be wrong, but I am afraid I don't like it at all.'

'And why is that?' Madeleine said, a slight smile on her lips.

'I'm not convinced that casinos are immune from a recession, especially those that cater for the family holiday. In a recession fewer people go on holiday, it's as simple as that. And there isn't much leeway in the financial projections for rooms and tables to be left empty.'

She looked at me, interested. 'Go on,' she said.

'Well, the other thing is Irwin Piper. Sure he's a savvy investor. But I get the feeling this is an ego-trip for him. He wants to build the most spectacular hotel in the world, and will bend the finances to make it work.' I sighed. 'The real thing is I just don't trust him.'

She looked at me long and hard. 'I think you are right,' she said.

'But, if you agree with me, why did you invest?' I asked.

'Amalgamated Veterans invested, not me,' she said. 'One of the people who work for me put the idea forward and fought for it very strongly. It has a lot going for it. It will be one of the most celebrated casinos in the world, and Art Buxxy has a good reputation for getting the customers in the door. But I didn't really like the smell of it. There was nothing I could put my finger on. In the end my colleague insisted and we went ahead. It was, after all, only thirty-five million dollars.'

'What do you mean, only thirty-five million dollars?' I said. 'That's an awful lot to lose.'

Madeleine smiled. 'I am in control of over fifty billion dollars. It's very difficult to find enough opportunities to invest that much. We make a host of investments of fifty million or less in projects like the Tahiti.'

Although I was used to juggling with millions of dollars, I still found it difficult to comprehend the sheer size of the American insurance industry. Companies like Amalgamated Veterans Life, the Prudential and Aetna played with amounts that were bigger than most countries' gross national product.

'Anyway, it looks like we will be all right. We provided bridge-financing for the construction of the hotel. As long as the junk bond issue gets placed, we will get our money back, and make a nice profit on top.'

'How much of a profit?' I asked.

'Oh we should make 80 per cent or so,' Madeleine said. 'Not bad for a one-and-a-half-year investment.'

That 80 per cent matched Jack Salmon's claims that Phoenix Prosperity would be doubling its investment, allowing for some exaggeration on Jack's part.

'So why are you going to see the Tahiti if you are going to get your money back soon?' I asked.

Madeleine paused. 'I don't want to put you off, but since you seem put off already, it doesn't matter. I am not sure that the new junk bond issue will get done. I think people have some serious questions about Piper. We shall see.'

If investors knew what I knew about Piper, I thought, then they certainly would have some serious questions. And the shareholders in the Tahiti, like Amalgamated Veterans, wouldn't double their money, they would probably lose most of it.

'Who else has invested in it?'

'There is one other institution apart from Irwin Piper himself,' she said. 'I'm afraid I can't tell you who it is.'

'It's not a crazy savings and loan from Arizona, by any chance?'

'I'm afraid I can't say. Let's just say that the other institution doesn't give me any comfort that this is a good investment.'

Just then from the back of the plane Jack Salmon let out a whoop of laughter at something Cash had said, and Madeleine and I exchanged amused glances.

The Tahiti was located on Las Vegas's Strip, the area three miles from downtown which contained the glitziest casinos. There was no mistaking it as we approached. A tall white octagonal tower housed the bulk of the hotel rooms. The entrance was up a short palm-tree-lined drive. Big banners hung over the door announcing the Grand Opening. The first steps into the Tahiti were breathtaking. The foyer was a huge atrium reaching a hundred feet into the sky. The floor was broken up into islands connected by walkways. Salty water lapped up against the island shores, in small waves. On the islands were a variety of seating areas, bars, fast-food counters and the inevitable slots. As I walked through the archipelago, I was struck by the atmosphere, a mixture of warm flowers and slight salty tang which really did conjure up images of the South Seas. Brightly coloured fish and turtles swam between the islands, and coral reefs smouldered below the surface. On one side of the atrium, the water was fenced off. There, the thrusting triangles of sharks' dorsal fins ploughed through the pool. Beautiful women in grass skirts and garlands glided amongst the trees with drinks and change for the slots.

I went up to my room to have a shower and change. It was one of the high-roller suites, although probably not the best. But the opulence made my stomach turn. Purple velvet and gold everywhere. Ankle-deep carpets. A huge heart-shaped bath. A bed itself the size of a small room. Above the bed was a complicated control panel. I pressed a couple of buttons gingerly. The bed started to undulate in a very disturbing fashion. I pressed the buttons again and it stood still. I decided to leave these well alone, and hoped to God that it wasn't set on a timer.

I stepped out on to the small balcony outside the window. Directly beneath me was a sprawling swimming-pool of deep blue water. It too was dotted with islands, and swimmers were sitting in the water drinking and playing the slot-machines.

The sight of girls in swimming costumes brought Cathy to mind. I smiled to myself, and went back into my room to give her a call. There was no reply from her room, and so I left a message for her to ring me when she got back in.

I set out to explore the casino. For all Irwin Piper's talk about high-rollers, most of the floor space was devoted to parting the ordinary man in the street from his hundred dollars a night. There were a number of large rooms, decorated in various South Sea themes, with acres of roulette, blackjack and craps tables. With the exception of some of the craps players who seemed to like shouting a lot, most of the proceedings were conducted in a deathly hush. Gamblers solemnly gave their money to the croupiers, who quickly and professionally gave some of it back.

And then there were the slots. Row upon row of machines, each one in control of its own human being, who fed the machine in a dazed, mechanical rhythm. There were no windows. It could have been day or night, the machines didn't care, and the humans did what they were told.

After walking round the Tahiti for a couple of hours, my mind became a blur of flashing dollar signs, lights and faces, all devoted to the pursuit of money. It made me uneasy. As I had said to Piper half jokingly, gambling was my job. Somehow the rush of adrenalin came more naturally when facing the winking green numbers on the screens at my desk than the relentless passing back and forth of money in Las Vegas. But perhaps I was just as trapped as the sad-looking individuals feeding the slots.

In a despondent mood, I had a sandwich and went to bed.

It was a great double act. Piper looking relaxed but dependable in a conservative lightweight suit. Art Buxxy, the showman, doing what he did well. It was a big moment for both of them. They had to secure $200 million from their audience.

Piper warmed up the crowd. In a reasonable, persuasive voice he talked in abstract terms about the remarkable financial opportunity that the Tahiti presented. There was talk of numbers, strategy, competitive analysis. Enough to make us think that the Tahiti was in safe hands, not enough to bore us. Despite the outward reserve, as he warmed up to his presentation, Piper did let some of the excitement he felt for the project show through. Standing there, tall, tanned, elegantly but conservatively dressed, speaking in a manner which was more suited to the Harvard Club than a casino, he gave his audience reassurance. Despite appearances, the Tahiti must be a respectable, conservative investment, or why would someone like Irwin Piper be involved with it?

Then it was Art Buxxy's turn. Buxxy was a small man with a nut-brown face, longish blow-dried grey hair and bundles of enthusiasm. He was hardly ever still, and when he was, it was for a melodramatic pause, to let the full consequence of what he had just said sink in. His abrasive, rough-edged manner jolted his audience after the smooth Piper, but within a minute his energetic charm had already bewitched us all. Selling was his calling, and the Tahiti was the love of his life. He used all his skills. He told us about his childhood as a cardsharping son of cardsharping parents. His poor-gambler-made-good story neatly combined several elements of the American Dream. He then launched into the details of how to run a casino. How to prevent croupiers from stealing money, how to spot card-counters, how to use databases to analyse high-rollers' personality profiles, and which promotional spend worked best. We were captivated. And I think most of us were sold.

They took us on a tour of the complex. Seen through Buxxy's eyes, the tackiness and the loneliness of a big casino disappeared. We saw the glamour, the glitter, the amazing technological effects. He took us to see the private rooms where the high-rollers played, wallowing in sophistication, power and money. By the time we had returned to the conference room where he had started his pitch, I could feel that the majority of the audience would write out a cheque there and then.

'Any questions?'

Silence. No difficult questions about Piper's background. No tedious questions about percentage drop of slots against tables, high-roller comps, or blue-collar busing costs. Even the most cynical investor was under the spell of the greatest casino on earth. At least temporarily.

I had thought through this moment carefully.

I stood up.

Piper's eyebrows pulled together slightly, in the barest trace of a frown. 'Yes?'

'I have two questions for Mr Piper.' The audience were looking at me with mild interest. My English accent jarred in the glitzy Las Vegas surroundings. Piper was staring at me hard. 'First -has the Nevada Gaming Commission scrutinised your previous investments?' The audience stirred a little, but not much. Piper stiffened. 'Second-can you comment on an investment you made in a clinic for executive stress in Britain?'

I sat down. The audience reaction was mixed. Some faces bore disapproval; I was a spoil-sport to try and take cheap shots at these great guys and their great casino. A few, including Madeleine Jansen, sat up and took notice.

Piper rose to his feet. He was as unruffled and urbane as ever. 'I would be happy to answer those questions. First, the Commission checks out all applicants for gaming licences very thoroughly. Second, I have a large portfolio of investments. I believe a few years ago these included some properties in England, but I don't have the details of them at my fingertips. Any other questions?' He looked around the audience quickly.

This was a dangerous moment for Piper. Until now he had had his listeners eating out of his hand. But he hadn't answered my questions properly. If anyone pursued him on this, then doubts might creep in. But I wasn't going to push it any further. I had achieved my objective. He knew I knew, and he knew I would tell. I looked over at Madeleine. She opened her mouth as if to ask a question, but she was too slow. Piper was already wrapping up the meeting. She gathered her papers together thoughtfully and looked over towards me, trying to catch my eye. I avoided her glance.

Half an hour later, I was having a cup of coffee in the atrium, when a bellboy came over to me. 'Excuse me sir, Mr Piper would like you to join him in his suite.' That didn't take him long, I thought, as I put down my cup and followed the bellboy to the elevators.

Piper's suite was on the top floor of the hotel. It was completely out of character with the rest of the Tahiti. There were no lurid scarlet furnishings, no mirrors or gilded fittings. There were a number of pieces of English antique furniture: a delicate sofa, six straight-backed chairs with embroidered covers, a small writing-desk and two or three deeply polished small tables. These rested on a large predominantly light blue silk carpet criss-crossed with intricate ancient Persian or Indian motifs. All this looked out of place against a large floor-to-ceiling window which overlooked the tall white structure of the next casino along, and beyond that the dusty greys and browns, interspersed with neon, of the city of Las Vegas. The desert could be seen stretching away in the distance.

Piper was alone in the room. He beckoned me to a seat. I perched on the flimsy-looking Georgian sofa, whilst he sat in one of the high-backed mahogany armchairs. Gone was all the civilised politeness. Piper was angry.

'What the hell do you think you were doing out there?' he said. 'I am not some two-bit bond salesman you can play games with. I am a powerful man in this town. I've got money, and I've got lawyers. And if you mention Bladenham Hall one more time, or even allude to it, I will sue. I will sue you for so much that your great-grandchildren will still be paying off your debts a hundred years from now.'

Piper, angry, was impressive. For a moment he had me on the defensive. If I had upset such a powerful man, I had surely made a mistake. The moment passed.

'I thought you would be interested in this,' I said, untucking the newspaper I had been carrying under my arm. It was a copy of the Sun of several years ago. On page two, just opposite Bubbly Belinda Baring All, was the headline 'City Slickers' Saucy Retreat'. Under this was a photograph of Bladenham Hall and an article about how a Mr Irwin Piper was helping police with their enquiries. Lurid insinuations of businessmen indulging in sex orgies followed.

Piper went purple. 'If you dare show that to anyone, I'll have my lawyers right on to you immediately. That is if I don't tear you apart myself.'

Paradoxically, Piper losing control helped me stay calm. He didn't seem quite so powerful. 'By "your lawyers", you presumably include Debbie Chater?'

'Hah! She's the one who told you is she? I'll sue that toad Denny as well.'

'She no longer works for Denny Clark,' I said.

'I don't care where she works. If she breaches lawyer-client confidences, she is in deep trouble.'

'She's dead,' I said. 'Murdered.'

This did cause Piper to pause for a moment. 'She probably deserved it,' he said. 'I'm not surprised someone wanted to kill her.'

'Was it you?' I asked.

'Don't be ridiculous. And don't repeat that allegation either.'

'Do you know who killed her?'

'Of course not. I can scarcely remember the woman. I haven't seen her for years.'

I believed him. He was scared about what I might say about Bladenham Hall, but he didn't care what I said about Debbie, despite his bluster.

'You know the Phoenix Prosperity Savings and Loan?' I asked.

'I've heard of it,' said Piper, thrown off balance again.

'Is it true that that institution has an investment in the Tahiti?'

'That information is not available to the public.'

'Did you know that Phoenix Prosperity obtained the money it has invested in the Tahiti by fraud?'

Piper clearly did not know this. He frowned, not sure what to say next. With an effort he collected himself. In a much calmer voice he said, 'I don't respond to blackmail or lies, Mr Murray. Kindly leave, and if I hear any of this repeated you know what I will do.'

I didn't leave. I stood up from the delicate sofa, and walked over towards the giant window. We were a long way up. The darkened windows took away the noise, the glare and the heat of Las Vegas. The city floated away harmlessly below.

I turned to Piper. 'I don't intend to blackmail you. I am just concerned. Concerned that a colleague of mine was killed last month. Concerned that my firm has been defrauded of millions of dollars, which are now invested in your casino. This, I am sure, will concern an honest businessman such as yourself as well. After all, these things can be dangerous for one's reputation. It may be that I will need your help in future to find who is behind this. I am sure you will be delighted to give it. In the meantime, I will certainly not mention Bladenham Hall to anyone.' I smiled and made for the door. Just before I left, I turned and offered Piper my hand. He didn't take. I shrugged, and walked out of the room.

Piper had his own express lift that took me to the ground floor. I felt elated after my encounter with him. I had got him just where I wanted him. I crossed over into another lift and went up to my room to think.

After ten minutes or so, the phone rang. It was Tommy.

'I have found out some things that might interest you,' he began. I wrenched my mind back to the Tremont Capital problem.

'Shoot.'

'Well, first of all you asked me to find out about the acquisition of Phoenix Prosperity. I guessed that Waigel must have had something to do with it, so I got Jean to raid his files. Do you want the details?'

'Yes please.'

'It starts off with some correspondence from Howard Farber, the owner and chief executive officer of Phoenix Prosperity. It says that he is facing a bad year ahead, and that he probably has only two choices, either file for bankruptcy or sell the business. That's dated about two years ago.

'Three months later Waigel wrote back to tell Farber that he had found a buyer. Lo and behold, that turns out to be our old friend Tremont Capital. There is a whole sheaf of correspondence documenting the deal. Tremont put in forty million dollars of capital in return for 90 per cent of the company. Howard Farber remained CEO but someone called Jack Salmon was appointed liaison officer. His job was to liaise with the majority shareholder, Tremont Capital.'

'Very interesting.'

'Yes. And you know what else is interesting?'

'Tell me.'

'Bloomfield Weiss only charged a twenty-five-thousand-dollar advisory fee. I can't imagine Bloomfield Weiss doing anything like this for less than 1 per cent, which in this case would be four hundred thousand.'

'I suppose Waigel didn't want to charge himself too much,' I said. 'Talk about conflict of interest. That's great! Well done. Did you discover anything else?'

'I didn't. But the police did. They finally found Shoffman's body in a wood in Montclair, New Jersey.'

'Do they know how he was killed, or who did it?' I asked.

'No. It was hard enough to identify him after all this time. They are still working on it, but they are not very optimistic.'

'Damn. I was hoping there would be something to tie his death in with all of this.'

'There is.'

'What?'

'Dick Waigel lives in Montclair.'

'Really?' I said. I wasn't exactly surprised. 'OK, Tommy. Thanks very much for all you have done. Can you send copies of those documents to my office in London?'

'Sure,' said Tommy. 'It will be a pleasure. Let me know what you come up with.'

'I will. Thanks again,' I said and rang off.

Everything was falling into place. I had almost all the information I needed to piece together what was going on. I pulled out some sheets of paper, and spent the next two hours drawing as complete a picture as I could of Tremont Capital, the financing of the Tahiti, and the various people involved. After I had finished, there was still one key question left unresolved. Why had Debbie died?

That she had been murdered, I was sure. It seemed to me highly likely that the reason was something to do with Tremont Capital. Waigel seemed the most likely candidate: the discovery of Shoffman's body near Waigel's house in Montclair suggested he was certainly capable of it.

But Waigel's diary showed he was in New York that night. And it was Joe, not Waigel, whom I had seen just before she was killed. So what was Joe's connection with Waigel? There was none that I knew of, but perhaps Cash had put Joe up to it. I had no doubts about Cash's involvement in the whole thing. After all, it was he who had sold the Tremont Capital bonds to Hamilton in the first place.

As for motive, it looked to me as though Cash had somehow found out that Debbie had discovered the Tremont Capital fraud, and was going to see Mr De Jong about it. She had to be silenced.

And yet… I wasn't convinced. Joe had been adamant that he had not killed Debbie, and I believed him. It didn't quite make sense yet.

Still, I had got a long way. I called Hamilton. His voice travelled crisply down the phone lines. 'What have you got for me, laddie?'

'I think I have worked it all out, or almost all of it,' I said, trying not to sound too proud of myself.

'Tell me,' said Hamilton, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

'Well, I am pretty sure that Waigel and Cash are behind the whole thing. Waigel created the Tremont Capital structure, and Cash sold it to you.'

'Sounds plausible,' said Hamilton. 'We know that Tremont Capital raised the money under a false guarantee, but have you found out where the money went?'

'I think so.'

'Well, don't play games, tell me.'

'Uncle Sam's Money Machine was a savings and loan, Phoenix Prosperity Savings and Loan to be precise. Tremont Capital bought 90 per cent of the company with the money raised from the private placement. They are using Phoenix Prosperity to make a series of high risk investments funded with government guaranteed deposits. One of them is Irwin Piper's Tahiti Hotel.'

'Is he involved in Tremont?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'I am not sure who owns Tremont Capital itself. I expect Cash and Waigel are shareholders, perhaps Piper is too.'

There was silence on the end of the phone. I could almost hear Hamilton thinking it all through. 'Well, it all adds up,' he said. 'You've done an excellent job! Excellent. Now all we have to do is figure out a way to get our money back.'

'Don't we go to the police now?' I asked.

'Not when we are so close to locating the money. As soon as we have got it all back, then you can go to the police and tell them everything, but not until then, do you hear?'

I heard. And in truth I was enjoying this. I was a lot more confident that Hamilton and I would work out a way to get our twenty million back.

'I'll call Rudy Geer. I want to see how he is getting on in Curacao. With this information, we might be able to crack Tremont Capital in the Netherlands Antilles. I had better get out there again soon.'

'There is one thing I don't understand.'

'What's that?'

I told Hamilton about the questions I still had about Debbie's death.

'Yes, I see what you mean,' said Hamilton, his voice thoughtful. 'There is still a lot we need to find out. But maybe if we find the money, it will lead us to Debbie's killer.'

'OK,' I said, 'what's next?'

Hamilton's response was clear. 'I get hold of Rudy Geer. I go to Curacao again. And I do some thinking.'

'What about me?' I said.

'Don't worry, laddie, you've done enough. Put down the main points of what you have just told me on a fax, and send it over. Then just enjoy yourself, and I'll see you in the office on Monday.'

As I put the phone down, I reflected that Hamilton must be pleased with me if he told me to enjoy myself. And frankly, I was pretty pleased with myself. There was no doubt that I had impressed him.

I scribbled my findings on a couple of sheets of paper, and went down to the hotel 'business centre' to send the fax. Not surprisingly, the Tahiti was kitted out with all sorts of sophisticated computers, photocopiers and fax machines, as well as two secretaries who were available to type copy for the hotel's customers at any time of day or night. I declined their services, and insisted on sending the fax through to Hamilton myself.

It only took a couple of minutes. I strolled back to the bank of elevators, wending my way through the grass-skirted beauties who worked for the hotel, and the overweight punters who were its customers. Cathy was waiting in one of the lifts.

'Hallo,' I said, as I jumped in just before the doors closed. 'Did you get my message last night? Do you fancy exploring the town later on?'

She bit her lip and looked down at the floor of the lift. 'No, I think I should like an early night.'

'Oh, OK. Do you want to meet up for supper?'

'No, I'd better not. I promised I would eat with Cash and Dick. This is my floor.' With barely a glance at me, she stepped out of the lift.

I frowned. What was all that about? And since when was Cathy so eager to have dinner with 'the poisonous frog'? Odd. I walked down the landing to my room feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

The more I thought about it, the surer I was that her aloofness was deliberate. She had decided to avoid me, to put me off. There was no other explanation, I couldn't hide from that conclusion.

But why?

I lay on my back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I had no idea why. I couldn't think of anything I had said that might have put her off me. I lay there puzzled and afraid. It would hurt if I lost Cathy. It would hurt a lot.

I was damned if I was just going to let her drift away with a series of banal excuses about how she was too busy to see me. If she wanted to avoid me, I had a right to know why.

I dialled her room number. The phone rang five times. No reply. Even though it was obvious she was not there, I let it ring and ring, just in case.

Eventually I hung up. I leapt off the bed and paced around the room. I had to find out what was wrong. I had to.

I decided to wander round the hotel. There was a chance I might bump into her, and even if I didn't, at least I wouldn't be moping in my room any more.

She wasn't in the lobby. I looked in all the bars and coffee shops, wound my way through the palm trees, the islands and the machines. I walked slowly, to increase the chances of finding her.

This was ridiculous. I had no idea where she was. She had probably gone downtown or to one of the other casinos on the Strip. I gave up my loitering inside the building, and strolled round the gardens outside. Turf, shrubs and palm trees had been transplanted on to what two months before had been a building site, and sprinklers were on constantly. The foliage was a deep green, interspersed with flashes of purple. It all seemed unnatural in the desert climate.

I trudged around the gardens for half an hour, and then made my way back inside. As I walked through the lobby, I looked left and right on the off chance that I might see her. And I did. She was crossing the vast atrium, heading out of the hotel. I hurried after her. I caught her up on one of the bridges between islands.

'Hallo,' I said.

'Hallo,' she said, and quickened her pace.

'I want to talk to you.'

'I'm afraid I don't have time right now. I'm in a hurry. Perhaps later.'

I lengthened my stride and placed myself in front of her. 'Look,' I said, 'I have to talk to you. And I'm going to talk to you sometime. So you may as well get it over with now. Otherwise you won't get rid of me. OK?'

Cathy looked at me, frowning. She nodded. 'OK.'

We were standing on a small islet with some chairs and a table. We sat down.

'All I need is to understand,' I said. 'I felt I was getting to know you over the last few days. Getting to know you well. And the more I got to know you, the more I liked what I saw. You and I fit. I know that, and I think you know that. So I need to understand.'

Cathy was staring straight ahead. 'Understand what?'

'Understand what's wrong. Understand why you wanted to avoid me this morning. Why you don't want to talk to me now.'

Cathy reddened slightly. 'I'm not trying to avoid you. I had just agreed to do something else, that's all.' She saw the look on my face. I waited. Finally she sighed. 'You're right. You do deserve an explanation.'

She still wasn't looking at me, but rather staring at a transplanted palm tree ahead of her. 'I have grown to like your company. It's fun to be with you. When you are not around, I find myself looking forward to the next time I might bump into you.'

I smiled at her. She still didn't meet my eyes. 'I feel the same way,' I said. 'So what's the problem?'

'On the aeroplane coming here, I sat next to Waigel. We had a chat. About you.' She clasped and unclasped her hands, and resolutely looked away from me. 'He said he thought that there was something going on between you and me. He said he didn't like it. He said it was unprofessional, bad for my career.'

My anger was rising. 'Waigel hates me, you know that. What does it matter what he thinks?'

Cathy went on in a low voice. 'He said if it carried on I would be fired.'

I exploded. 'That's crazy. He can't fire you.'

'Oh yes, he can. He and Cash are old friends, remember? He said he would check with Cash to make sure I wasn't seeing you. He said that there was some doubt about my future at the firm, and some prompting from him and Cash would be all it would take to get them to sack me.'

'He's bluffing.'

Cathy turned towards me, anger in her eyes. 'No, he's not. You are quite right, he doesn't like you at all. In fact he hates you. And he will go to great lengths to get his way.'

'But with what he's said and done to you, you could get him fired.'

Cathy gave a shallow laugh. 'You would have to be crazy to bring a sexual harassment suit against Bloomfield Weiss. Even if I won it, I would be finished.'

'Well, then screw Bloomfield Weiss. After all, you hate the firm. You said it yourself. So screw them.'

From Cathy's reaction, I realised immediately I shouldn't have said this. 'That's easy for you to say,' she said. 'It's my career we are talking about. You know how difficult it is being a woman in this business. People don't treat you seriously. Men like Waigel assume you are a bimbo whose job it is to seduce clients for the firm. Well, I refuse to prove Waigel right. I have put a lot into this job. I have fought hard to achieve what I have achieved, and I'm just not going to let all that go to waste.'

'OK, OK, I'm sorry,' I said. 'But you've got to mould your job to your life, not your life to your job.'

'Oh yes, I see. So the moment I see a man and fall in love with him, I should resign and do a crash course in cookery and household management.' Cathy's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

'That's not what I mean,' I protested.

'Oh yes. Well, what do you mean?'

The argument had got out of hand. Waigel was blackmailing Cathy to stay away from me, and somehow we were arguing over a woman's right to a career. I searched for the words to answer her, but was too slow.

'Look, I thought I liked you, but I don't really know you at all,' Cathy continued. 'I am not about to jeopardise years of work for you. And that is that.' With that she stood up, turned away and walked quickly back to the lifts.

I sat on the chair, overcome with anger. All the muscles in my body were clenched tight. My fists were white and shaking. That bastard Waigel! My contempt for him had grown as I had discovered more of his role in the Tremont Capital fraud. He had probably murdered Shoffman. He might have had something to do with Debbie's death. He had pestered Cathy in the most unspeakable way. And now he had chased her away from me. That turned contempt into hatred. I would get him. I would nail him properly.

I was also angry with Cathy. The girl whom I had grown increasingly fond of had reverted to the arrogant Bloomfield Weiss executive woman I had first met. But perhaps I was being unfair. Perhaps it really was unreasonable to expect Cathy to risk her job for me. The trouble was, I didn't really feel like being broad-minded about this. I had lowered my emotional defences for perhaps the first time in my life, and Cathy and Waigel between them had trampled all over the exposed nerves.

I stalked over to one of the bars and ordered myself a beer. We were all supposed to be visiting a couple of other casinos that afternoon which issued junk bonds. I decided to give those a miss.

I finished my beer in a couple of minutes and ordered another. Slowly my fury began to subside. I looked around the large atrium at the assorted people milling about, some in a desperate hurry, most just hanging around. I recognised one of them. I choked on my beer as I saw a figure approaching me from the reception desk. It was Rob! What on earth was he doing here? He should have been at the office, or possibly at his own conference in Hounslow.

Then I focused on the large yellow bouquet he held in one arm. Oh no! I knew why he was here. He was making the dramatic gesture he had promised me that evening in the Gloucester Arms.

He walked with a determined stride. As he came up to me he didn't stop, but just grinned. 'Close your mouth, Paul, you never know what kind of insects they might have in a place like this,' he said as he strode past me on his way to the lifts.

I realised my mouth had indeed been gaping open. I shut it and watched him disappear into an elevator.

I propped up the bar, waiting for Rob to return. What would she say to him? After our conversation, she couldn't possibly accept his advances, could she? Or could she? The thought filled me with horror. I had to admit it was quite a dramatic gesture. But Cathy was a sensible girl. She wouldn't fall for that, would she?

An agonising ten minutes passed as I stared at the bank of lifts. At last I saw Rob emerge from one. He saw me at the bar, and wended his way through the island walkways to where I was sitting. His face was totally impassive. I couldn't tell whether he was elated or dejected. He was apparently deliberately suppressing his emotions. Why?

He walked up and stood right in front of me, silently. Say something! I wanted to scream at him. I needed to know what she had said.

Instead I just said, 'Hallo Rob.'

'You shit,' he said. He said it slowly and deliberately, looking me right in the eye.

'Why?' I said. 'What have I done?' I could hear my voice emerging weak and hoarse.

'You utter shit,' he said again. 'I meet the girl who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I fly six thousand miles out here to tell her so. And what do I find? My friend has got there before me.

'She told me all about you,' he continued bitterly. 'And the worst thing is you knew how I felt. You pretended you didn't like her, trying to put me off her, when all the time you had your own designs on her.' I saw tears begin to well up in Rob's eyes.

'Rob, it's not like that…' I started.

'Go fuck yourself,' Rob spat. 'I won't forget this. You won't get away with it. Neither of you. I'll kill her. And I will kill you too.' He stormed off, kicking a pile of coconuts out of his way, and sending a latex humming-bird spinning across the floor.

I gulped the rest of my beer and ordered another. What right had Rob to get so angry with me? He was crazy if he thought Cathy would have anything to do with him. She had told him what she thought of him before. And besides I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't intentionally chased after her. I had been completely honest when I had told Rob I didn't like her. Whatever had happened had just happened, that was all. There wasn't much I could do about it.

I had never seen Rob angry before, and he had looked very angry then. When he had threatened to kill Cathy and me, it looked as if he really meant it. I shuddered. With Rob, anger wasn't something that would be gone as soon as it had come, I thought. He had been deeply hurt, and he would not forget. I felt bad. I should have restrained myself. I should have realised Rob would not appreciate any relationship between Cathy and me.

Slowly, I began to feel sorry for him. Poor guy! The ticket to Las Vegas must have cost him a fortune. It was bad enough to be turned down after flying all that way. But Rob had been turned down before, he was used to it. It must have made it so much worse to find a friend there between him and his goal.

I thought about trying to find him to apologise. No, that wouldn't work, at least not for a while. He wouldn't believe my protestations. In fact, they would probably make his hatred of me deeper. It was probably best to avoid him, and hope that time would heal the rift between us.

But at least Cathy hadn't said yes to Rob. In fact he had said that she had told him all about me. What had she told him? She must have admitted that there was some sort of relationship between us, some sort of bond. Otherwise Rob would not have been so upset. Maybe she had decided to give up her fears of 'unprofessionalism'. Perhaps she had felt guilty about giving in to Waigel. I wanted to find out.

I went back up to my room and rang her number. She answered the phone. 'Hallo?'

'It's me,' I said. 'I wondered if you had thought more about our conversation. The invitation for dinner tonight is still open.'

'What is it about all you men at De Jong?' she answered angrily. 'You are all so persistent. No, I do not want to go out with you this evening. I just want to be left alone to get along with my life and my job. OK?'

'OK, OK,' I said. I hung up.

I had a miserable evening. Worries about Cathy gnawed away at the edges of my mind, and forced themselves further towards the fore. I could feel everything getting out of proportion; I had lost the ability to think clearly.

I ordered a steak and a bottle of Zinfandel from room service, ate the meat, drank the wine and went to bed. I lay awake for what may have been many hours or perhaps was just one. Finally, deadened by the alcohol and battered by confused thoughts and fears, my brain stopped churning and I drifted to sleep.