18
On the drive to the office, Esther was struck by a sudden thought. She called Rachel, Patricia’s sister, and asked, “Don’t you have a teenage daughter?”
“Sure thing. Why, are you in the market for one?”
“No thanks.”
“We’ll let her go cheap. Today only, special price.”
“Actually, I’m calling for some advice.”
“Sugar, the only thing I can help you with is how to lose your temper.”
“I have an angry almost-fourteen-year-old and her eleven-year-old sister coming to dinner tonight.”
There was a longish pause, then Rachel asked, “Are these Craig’s girls?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Oh, wow, give me a minute to finish my dance around the kitchen.”
“You know they’re going through a tough time.”
“And putting Craig through it with them. Yes.”
“I want them to feel, well . . .”
“At home. How totally cool is this.”
“I’m just trying to help out a friend.”
“Yeah. Right. Whatever.” Rachel laughed. “Listen to me. I sound like my daughter.”
Esther stopped in the bus zone before the entrance to the bank’s parking garage. She didn’t want to lose the connection, no matter how much Rachel’s laughter embarrassed her. “What should I do?”
Esther started by walking across the back of the trading floor, reading the invisible signs. The atmosphere was highly charged as usual. What was different was the sullen rage she saw on every face, as though Jason’s latent fury had infected the entire floor.
Jasmine was up and moving as soon as Esther entered her department. “See what I meant about the mood on the floor?”
“What’s going on?”
“Soon as the bell rang yesterday afternoon, Jason was called to a meeting with Reynolds Thane. Two hours later, Jason came back in a rare state.”
“How are the markets?”
“As stable as when you called an hour ago.”
“Give me the rest.”
Jasmine loved being the center of attention, even when stressed by unknowns that crowded their space. “All I know is, yesterday Jason came back downstairs shouting and yelling and driving the poor admins crazy. I wouldn’t work in that man’s office for a million and change. Well, okay, maybe for a million. But I’d want it up front, because if I lasted thirty-six hours it’d be—”
Esther cut her off mid-sentence. “Any idea what got him so hot?”
“Jason spent most of last night poring over the division’s personnel files. The confidential files. Then this morning he called five staffers at home. Told them to show up pronto.”
“You know this how?”
Jasmine dimpled. “Me and Hewitt, we been getting friendly from time to time. I think he might even be a keeper. Long as he remembers to stop playing trader when he’s off the floor.”
“So Hewitt is one of them. Which other traders did Jason single out?”
“Gavin, Lenoir, Stett, and, let’s see . . .”
The MIT newbie offered, “Mandy Charles.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Her.”
Esther held up a hand, thinking hard. The five were all mid-level traders. Each had enough rank to be given their own book, the trader’s term for being assigned capital with which they made their own trades and formed their portfolios. Which also meant Esther tracked them. They were fairly successful, but mostly because they followed Jason’s lead. Other than that, she could not see an identifiable trend. “Go on.”
“Thirty minutes ago, all five of them went up to the board level with Jason. They’re still up there, cooling their heels in the reception area.”
“Think Hewitt would be willing to update you?”
“I already asked. He doesn’t have a clue . . .” The phone in Jasmine’s hand buzzed. She checked the screen. “They’re headed into the conference room. Sir Trevor’s in there with Reynolds.”
Esther turned to her Far East specialist. “The Asian markets are still holding steady?”
“Tokyo up a tick. Shanghai is still closed after the run.” He shifted screens. “Hong Kong reopened and is down two percent.”
Not important. “When does the portal close on yesterday’s trade?”
“Okay, let’s hang tight.” She swept the team together with both arms. “We’re after intel, people. Check with your allies inside all markets, see what you can find. We reconnect in an hour.”
Twenty-one minutes later, Jasmine stormed into Esther’s office and yelled, “The creep just dumped me!”
“Who?”
“Hewitt! He wouldn’t even say it to my face.” She shoved her phone into the space between them. “Can you believe? A text! ‘It’s over, ciao.’ What am I, chopped liver?”
Esther’s alarm bells started jangling. “Phone him.”
“I already did. Five times!” Jasmine stuffed the phone back in her pocket. “Voicemail!”
Slowly Esther rose from her chair, crossed the office, entered the division bullpen and looked around. “Anything?”
She got a unified headshake, a chorus of stable markets. Esther said to Jasmine, “Walk with me.”
Jasmine fumed beside her as they crossed the skyway and entered the trading floor. Esther stopped Jasmine with a touch to her arm. “How long do we have left on the trade?”
Jasmine looked at her. It was not like Esther to ask a question when she already knew the answer. “Nineteen minutes.”
“Right. And assuming the markets don’t tank, how much are they going to net?”
Jasmine shot her another look, then walked to the nearest empty station and drew up the Asian markets. She calculated swiftly and said, “Ninety two mil and change.”
“Making this the second biggest trade of the quarter.” Esther studied the gloomy faces below, none of which even glanced their way. “Do they look excited to you?”
Jasmine managed to see beyond her own distress. “They look . . .”
“Exactly. Go talk to your pals. Find out what they’re thinking.”
“What about you?”
“I think it’s time I paid Jason a visit.”