resigning," he moaned.
The girls laughed again.
"I don't know why you are so obsessed with the guy. He might look alright and be worth half a billion but you are too scared to look at his file.
"Now, with a guy like me you get what you see. No secrets."
"Oh Adrian, darling, you are taken," said Kerry.
"That is true. But – this might surprise you – I can't be relied upon to be totally faithful. So don't give up ladies."
He walked to the shredder wearing a T-Shirt that read, "This is what cool looks like."
"I don't know, Kel, Adrian's right, I'm too scared to look at the guy's file and I'm having lunch with him tomorrow. I'm worried that the man who runs the company that has given us our biggest contract might be...well, dodgy. Shouldn't I find out, for sure?"
"The only reason you think he might be dodgy is because of the text you received and whoever sent that...well, sending strange texts in the middle of the night is hardly the work of someone who you are going to trust with your kids," said Kerry.
"Good point," said Alex, reflecting. "Maybe I'm just blowing things out of proportion. Just do the job and let the Hensen people worry what might be going on with their company or their boss. We're clean and have done nothing wrong."
"Bar take the piss out of Adrian for a few years," joked Kerry.
Alex, good to her promise, then got down to checking on her 'other' clients, phoning them in turn. With Adrian's help, Kerry worked on the upcoming pitch for supplying directors' share dealings to a financial website.
When Alex got home that evening she sorted out her best underwear. "Feel successful, be successful," she thought. She hung her dress on the wardrobe door and then sat down on the bed to preen and paint her nails.
On the iPad she listened to music from the New York band the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Cheated Hearts she put on repeat.
The phone went. It was Tavis. She wondered whether to answer. It continued to puzzle her why they barely knew each other and so soon he was treating her like a best buddy. But he might have some advice for tomorrow, she supposed, and already she was feeling nervous.
"Hi Tavis, sorry wet nails, hold on a minute..." she said, turning off the music.
She put the speaker on her phone. "Hi, how's tricks?"
"Great, he said," in his soft Scottish accent. "Hope you don't mind me calling you again so soon, just wondered whether there was anything you wanted to know for tomorrow."
"Oh, yes please. You could give me a quick, dummies' guide to the life of Nick Hensen...or would that be cheating?"
"Ha, no, if you promise not to let on that I have briefed you."
Alex heard how Nicholas Hensen was born in Highbury, North London, 36 years earlier.
His father was was a retail worker in the west end with a modest salary, but he had an interest in the stock market and dabbled buying and selling small parcels of shares. His eldest son became interested in his father's hobby and they used to compete against each other picking out stocks to see which of them would have made the most gains had they actually bought them. Nick invariably won and hence his interest in the financial markets grew.
"He was reading The Times business section before he was a teenager," explained Tavis. "And he didn't even think about university. He finished school at the earliest opportunity, leaving on the Friday and starting work on the Monday as a clerk at a bank in centre of London. A month later he was flat-sharing.
"He was fiercely ambitious. While others of his age went to discos and chased girls, he chased only one thing, money. And I don't think it was the money itself, he just wanted to prove himself.
"Boy did he do it. He was, I think, about 24, when he was trading commodities for a big bank and making a fortune in bonuses. And then of course, he sets up his own hedge fund, and, such was his track record, that every millionaire in the country – and other countries – wanted a piece of the action.
"The rest, as they
The girls laughed again.
"I don't know why you are so obsessed with the guy. He might look alright and be worth half a billion but you are too scared to look at his file.
"Now, with a guy like me you get what you see. No secrets."
"Oh Adrian, darling, you are taken," said Kerry.
"That is true. But – this might surprise you – I can't be relied upon to be totally faithful. So don't give up ladies."
He walked to the shredder wearing a T-Shirt that read, "This is what cool looks like."
"I don't know, Kel, Adrian's right, I'm too scared to look at the guy's file and I'm having lunch with him tomorrow. I'm worried that the man who runs the company that has given us our biggest contract might be...well, dodgy. Shouldn't I find out, for sure?"
"The only reason you think he might be dodgy is because of the text you received and whoever sent that...well, sending strange texts in the middle of the night is hardly the work of someone who you are going to trust with your kids," said Kerry.
"Good point," said Alex, reflecting. "Maybe I'm just blowing things out of proportion. Just do the job and let the Hensen people worry what might be going on with their company or their boss. We're clean and have done nothing wrong."
"Bar take the piss out of Adrian for a few years," joked Kerry.
Alex, good to her promise, then got down to checking on her 'other' clients, phoning them in turn. With Adrian's help, Kerry worked on the upcoming pitch for supplying directors' share dealings to a financial website.
When Alex got home that evening she sorted out her best underwear. "Feel successful, be successful," she thought. She hung her dress on the wardrobe door and then sat down on the bed to preen and paint her nails.
On the iPad she listened to music from the New York band the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Cheated Hearts she put on repeat.
The phone went. It was Tavis. She wondered whether to answer. It continued to puzzle her why they barely knew each other and so soon he was treating her like a best buddy. But he might have some advice for tomorrow, she supposed, and already she was feeling nervous.
"Hi Tavis, sorry wet nails, hold on a minute..." she said, turning off the music.
She put the speaker on her phone. "Hi, how's tricks?"
"Great, he said," in his soft Scottish accent. "Hope you don't mind me calling you again so soon, just wondered whether there was anything you wanted to know for tomorrow."
"Oh, yes please. You could give me a quick, dummies' guide to the life of Nick Hensen...or would that be cheating?"
"Ha, no, if you promise not to let on that I have briefed you."
Alex heard how Nicholas Hensen was born in Highbury, North London, 36 years earlier.
His father was was a retail worker in the west end with a modest salary, but he had an interest in the stock market and dabbled buying and selling small parcels of shares. His eldest son became interested in his father's hobby and they used to compete against each other picking out stocks to see which of them would have made the most gains had they actually bought them. Nick invariably won and hence his interest in the financial markets grew.
"He was reading The Times business section before he was a teenager," explained Tavis. "And he didn't even think about university. He finished school at the earliest opportunity, leaving on the Friday and starting work on the Monday as a clerk at a bank in centre of London. A month later he was flat-sharing.
"He was fiercely ambitious. While others of his age went to discos and chased girls, he chased only one thing, money. And I don't think it was the money itself, he just wanted to prove himself.
"Boy did he do it. He was, I think, about 24, when he was trading commodities for a big bank and making a fortune in bonuses. And then of course, he sets up his own hedge fund, and, such was his track record, that every millionaire in the country – and other countries – wanted a piece of the action.
"The rest, as they
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