Julia O’Connell hurried out of the BP tower and crossed Broadway. Zuccotti Park was busy at lunchtime on nice days like this one, and she hoped that no one from the firm would be here to see her.
She stopped for a moment to look for any familiar faces, but so far as she could see there were none, and that was a good thing. But for some reason Joie de Vivre—Joy of Life—the massive sculpture of two bloodred twisted steel beams, made her feel anything but joyful.
Betty Ladd had phoned from her office at the NYSE and asked to meet at the park. Masters had just told her that Cassy was still putting the finishing touches on her anti-virus program.
But he’d also told her that Butch Hardy had disappeared without a word, though he’d left one of his security people to keep watch on the young woman.
All of it was getting to be too much for Julia, and in some ways she wished that she were shed of the entire Abacus scheme, but it was too late for that now. And she had a dark feeling that Betty’s call had something to do with the insane scheme.
When she came around the right side of the sculpture, she spotted the NYSE president seated on one of the park benches, a Starbucks coffee container in her left hand, and she walked over.
Betty looked up, a warm smile on her narrow face. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
Julia sat down on the opposite end of the bench. “What’s up with meeting in public?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to come to my office. I get the feeling that you’re afraid of something or someone.”
“What makes you think something like that?” Julia asked. She was almost sorry that she’d agreed to meet.
“Just a feeling,” Betty said. “Anyway, my question still stands. You’re afraid of something. What is it?”
“Reid,” Julia said. She had no idea what Betty knew or had guessed, but she figured that mentioning Reid’s name might throw the woman off track.
Betty shrugged. “You were seen on the floor this morning. You and Reid, and of all people, Spencer Nast. I want to know what’s going on.”
Julia’s insides were churning. “I can’t discus company business, especially not with someone in your position.”
“This is just an innocent question,” Betty said. She reached across and touched the back of Julia’s hand. “We’ve got history together. Just answer me as a friend.”
Julia looked away for a moment. “We were supporting Rockingham’s IPO, and Reid asked me to tag along. You know, show the flag.”
“Oh, come on. Since when is the technology director of any major investment bank on the floor for an insignificant IPO?”
Julia had nothing to say. Betty was her cousin, twelve years older, and had been there in the early years after her parents had been killed in a car crash. She’d almost been a mother, helping with college, helping with Julia’s early career.
“Everyone knows that Reid wants to screw Rockingham’s daughter. But I know the bastard well enough to understand that something else is going on.”
Julia shook her head, her eyes moistening. She was afraid, but she definitely couldn’t tell her cousin what the trouble was. It was too late for that now, and she was sorry that she had come here.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble at work. Tech and especially finance are in the men’s world. But you’ve come nearly to the top in both.”
Unspoken was that Julia would not have gotten so far up the food chain without Betty Ladd’s help.
When Julia was in college she’d gotten involved with a group of boys who were ace hackers. To show them up and maybe gain a little respect, she’d hacked into the local electrical power grid and blacked out the entire town for thirty minutes.
She was good, even then, and had covered her tracks, except that the boys she’d wanted to impress gave her up.
She would have gone to prison, her scholarship in computer science revoked. It would have been the end of her brilliant career even before it started.
But Betty Ladd, who by then had been a rising star on Wall Street, persuaded the town, whose bonds her firm floated, to drop the charges as a mere schoolgirl prank. Next she talked the college into not canceling Julia’s scholarship after she pledged a substantial donation. And she’d paid for a very good lawyer to make sure that the charges were expunged from the public record so that not even a hint of criminal activity would be connected with her cousin.
“Thanks to you,” Julia said.
“I always know a good bet when I see one,” Betty said. “But my question still stands: What’s going on?”
So far as Julia knew, Treadwell had no inkling that Betty Ladd was her cousin, and she wanted to keep it that way. Betty had recommended her to Treadwell’s predecessor, who’d hired her on the spot. But considering the history between Betty and Reid, if the truth came out, Julia was almost certain that Reid would dump her.
Right now she felt as if she were the proverbial idiot caught in a bear trap with the bear closing in.
“Reid wanted to get Seymour’s take on where the economy is heading, and he thought coming for the IPO would kill two birds with one stone.”
“He could have called Schneider into his office after the closing bell.”
“Seymour has a special status with us, and he hates to leave the floor, so Reid leaves him alone. Anyway I’ve never been on the floor for one of our IPOs, and I asked to tag along.”
“Okay,” Betty said after a beat. “I’ll buy that, for now. But what about Farmer’s economic adviser?”
Julia shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Betty sipped her coffee and watched the passersby for a few moments. “I’ve heard that BP is moving into cash. That right?”
“Above my pay grade. Right now I have my people beefing up cybersecurity protocols for our clients.”
“A little bird whispered in my ear that you had breakfast in a private room at Kittredge, along with Reid, his lap dog, Dammerman, and Spencer Nast. What was that all about?”
Betty had eyes and ears everywhere. “Nothing about going into cash.”
“I didn’t ask what you weren’t discussing.”
“It wasn’t about BP policy, I can tell you that much. Spencer is no longer an employee, and Reid would never bring up something like that in front of an outsider.”
“Give me a break, Julia. Nast is in one of those classic Washington revolving-door jobs. Once Farmer loses reelection, Nast will come tootling back up to his old berth at BP, only with a bigger pay package. BP is like the Mafia: Once you’re in, you never leave.”
“We talked about the ‘debt bomb,’ as Spencer calls it. There’s nothing to prevent a fed from sounding out people on Wall Street about an important issue.”
“You make Nast sound like Mr. Nice who gives a damn about what other people think.”
Julia noticed a large man dressed in an ordinary business suit out of the corner of her eye off to her left. When she looked at him he turned away. He was one of Hardy’s goons, checking up on her. It was exactly what she was afraid of happening.
“I have to get back,” she said.
“Wait a minute, please. I think Reid is trying to pull some kind of a fast move. The China situation is scary; in fact, they could be on the brink of collapse. They might even try to dump our T-bonds. That would tear the hell out of the market. And today’s Treasury auction is undersubscribed, the last I heard, which is another bad sign. I get all that. But for Reid to take BP to a one-hundred-percent-cash position is way over the top.”
“Maybe he’s only being prudent,” Julia said. “The two of you have issues, but he’s done a good job managing the firm.” She got to her feet. “I really have to get back.”
“Reid’s taking the firm into an all-cash position has been noticed by the bond buyers. For them it’s just another vote of no confidence.”
“I’m a technologist, Betty, not an economist,” Julia said. She glanced to her left, but the big man was gone.
Betty sat back. “You should talk to Tyler Wren. He’s the reporter who dug up the dirt on Reid that he wasn’t allowed to publish. In fact he was fired, courtesy of Reid. He can tell you a lot about your Mr. Treadwell.”
“I’m going now,” Julia said.
Betty got to her feet and hugged her cousin. “Something’s up, Julia. Be careful you don’t get crapped on. Reid has a habit of doing that to the people around him.”