The floor was in near-total meltdown. Traders were shouting back and forth even though almost all of their trades were done on tablets. Television monitors were showing continuing stories on the Chinese financial mess, as well as the failure of the Treasury auction.
For several seconds she merely stood on the outskirts, trying to take it all in. It seemed like the panic of ’08 all over again. She felt in her gut that somehow this was Reid’s doing, and yet intellectually she knew that wasn’t possible. This was simply a meltdown, not the result of some virus in BP’s system.
She spotted Seymour Schneider near his post, where he was talking to someone on his cell phone—almost certainly someone at BP. She walked over, and when he looked up and saw her, he said something else and broke the connection.
“We’re just about at twenty percent,” he said.
He almost looked frightened, and it was something Betty had never seen before. “I know,” she said, and it sounded stupid even to her own ears. “But I have a question.”
“Not now.”
A computer-generated voice came over the public-address system: “Trading is suspended for the day.”
Monitors showed that Standard & Poor’s had just crossed the 20 percent threshold, and a large moan went up from the floor.
“A train wreck,” Seymour muttered. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow.
A Fox News reporter and cameraman started over, but Betty held up a hand for them to give her a minute, and they pulled up short.
“I’ll make this quick,” she told Seymour. “Has Reid, or anyone else from BP, mentioned something called ‘abacus’?”
“Julia said something about it when they were on the floor this morning. Something to do with the Rockingham IPO, but it didn’t sound good to me. Anyway, Reid seemed pissed off, and he told her to shut the fuck up.”
“And?”
“When I got a chance, I asked him what ‘abacus’ was, and he said he wasn’t sure. He thought it might have been a joke about how Keith Rockingham was so stupid he couldn’t count without using an abacus. The ancient Chinese beads-on-strings computing machine.”
“Did he seem on the level to you?” Betty pressed.
Seymour’s eyes narrowed. “If this is about your feud with him, I’m staying out of it.”
“Okay,” Betty said. “I was just curious, is all.”
Seymour glanced up at the monitors. “I knew we were in for a ride, what with China’s debt and ours,” he said. “I hate to tell people I told you so, but I told you so.”
He moved off, and the Fox reporter and cameraman came over. “What happens next, Ms. Ladd?”
“I wish I knew,” Betty said, and before he could ask a follow-up, her cell phone rang. It was her secretary.
“Keith Rockingham’s daughter is here.”
“What does she want?”
“She says she has a secret recording of Reid Treadwell that you need to hear.”
“I’m on my way,” Betty said, trying to keep the grin off her face.