Chapter 8 Chapter VII

Sarah waited for a long time on Lower Thames Street without a taxi.Five minutes later she crossed Suffolk Lane to Cannon Street, where she was trying her luck.It's Friday night.For a long time, all the taxis seemed to be busy ferrying working people home from the City or the pubs, cinemas, theaters and restaurants of the Upper West End.She finally saw a taxi with an orange empty sign, so she couldn't wait to beckon it to stop, and got into the car with a sense of relief. Please come to Mayfair, South Audley Street.She leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes to doze off. She got out of the taxi after a short drive on South Audley Street.She was walking in the afterglow of the setting sun, feeling warm on her face.She loves the area.It has claustrophobic streets, brimming with antique shops, impressive town homes, and secrets hidden behind thick curtains.It's very quiet at the moment, people are off work.The office workers have all gone home, or to the pubs closer to Piccadilly Circus, and it's not too early for the bejeweled and heavily made-up women.They don't show up until after nine o'clock, stepping out of their homes down the side street, into the back seats of limousines, and roaring away seconds later.

Sarah stops outside a deli to admire the rows of salami that hang like stalactites from the ceiling.The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee lured her into the shop.Rows of Italian pastries unfolded before her eyes.She bought two bars of Bassie (delicious brownies from Perugia in central Italy) and a pound of shiny coffee beans.She took the bag and turned right onto Mount Street, walked a few hundred yards down the street, and turned right onto Hayes Lane.She stopped in front of a rather large side street apartment.Its bright white façade is covered with climbing roses.She rang the bell and waited there.She felt herself being watched, and then the door swung open.

Standing at the door was Masami Matsumoto, Sarah's closest girlfriend.She works in Japan's Yamaichi Securities Company in the Financial City, and she is on the same team as Sarah.She is wearing a folded white linen outfit, barefoot and smiling. Sarah met Matsumoto when she was a student at Cambridge.Both were undergraduates at Trinity College.Both are charming, intelligent, and forthright, but what binds the two is more of a dormant loneliness that has somehow been immune to the richness of college life. Influence.Both see poise and independence in the other, and more importantly, a strong sense of flight from fate.Matsumoto's pursuit is very clear: get married and live like an ordinary housewife in Tokyo.This is what Japanese society expects of her fate.Although she was highly educated at Cambridge, this could only be seen as a temporary hiatus, like a bout of tuberculosis, at best a means of gaining the desired freedom from the system.Sara has no obvious destiny or history to escape, but Matsumoto still sees in her signs of an eagerness to escape: fierce ambition, restlessness, lack of calm, always striving, adventurous and free. Destroy as long as this kind of damage means progress.Too much work, too many men, and occasional travel are forms of these signs that come in wild waves, then disappear, disappear, and reappear weeks later.Now that five years have passed, the two women each have a stable career in the City of Finance, and there is some kind of calm, or some kind of fantasy.As long as this fantasy exists, it is probably the product of weariness, of habitual experimentation and lack of discovery.Both were still drawn to adventure, and each was watching closely for signs of that reappearing in the other.They talk on the phone every day and usually meet once a week.This weekend will offer special pleasures for the two of them: they have arranged to spend two days together, usually with a lot of shopping, and a lot of food and drinks.

They kissed each other passionately.Sarah hands you a tube of Bassie chocolates, you like sweets. Matsumoto tore off the wrapping paper and took out a few pieces of chocolate. Fantastic and my favorite to eat.She handed Sarah the tube of chocolate, and here, have a piece for yourself.You look a little skinny, doll. Oh my God!Sarah yawned and said, why is everyone so worried about my weight? Matsumoto gave her a sour look, and you knew exactly why.Now shut your mouth and eat quickly. The two walked into the kitchen with a smile, and Matsumoto opened a bottle of wine. How are you doing recently?As Matsumoto asked, he handed Sarah a glass of red wine.Sarah took a sip and went back to the living room.Matsumoto followed with a bottle and glass.

Well, I always feel a little weird when Eddie and Alex are gone.Sara shrugged, taking some getting used to.Sometimes I really don't know why I should bother.Maybe I should err on the side of caution and choose an accountant next time. cautious!Matsumoto snorted and said, do you think that is prudence?You'll be crazy in five minutes.You know yourself. Yes.I can't tell.but still i know darling.This is very difficult.don't mind.We're going to have a sweet, relaxing, manless weekend.I came up with a lot of plans for both of us. Sarah smiled: You are such an angel. I know.Let's not talk about it, Matsumoto wants to liven up the atmosphere, is there any other news?

Sarah paused.Hmm, I'm thinking about switching jobs.She waited for Matsumoto to react. Why? It has been four years.It's time to change lanes, you know that. Is this the reason? That's enough. Matsumoto thought, what a nuisance, then stood up and poured another glass of wine. Weekends are spent in a daze of self-indulgence.Sarah returned to her apartment on Sunday night.She crossed the quiet room, sat down at the dictaphone, and played back the recording, expecting to hear from Eddie and Alex.They didn't call, nothing exciting.Only Hugh.Banks left a message asking her to call back.

Sarah looked up the number in her book and dialed. Hugh, this is Sarah. Oh Sarah.hi how are you doing very good.It's been a long lazy weekend.And you? As always, dreading Monday mornings. You are not alone. Now listen to me.Intercontinental Bank. Uh-huh. What do u mean? Uh, I guess what I mean is, oops, to hell with it.I don't think I can go there. Why can't I go? Come on, Dante.Scarpirato gave me a total of thirty minutes and then kicked me out, that's why. Hugh laughed, and listen, Sarah, if he doesn't like you, he'll tell you to leave in five minutes.He has done his research.He trusts me.He also knows that you are capable.All he has to do is see if he'll like you.He does like you.She paused triumphantly.

It's an odd expression.Sarah murmured. Hey, don't lose your temper.You don't expect everyone to fawn on you. What are you losing your temper with?I'm almost Hugh hushed her voice: Listen, Scarpirato just called.He is at home right now.He wants you to call and arrange a meeting with one of his staff. That's a little out of the ordinary, isn't it?Sarah said, I mean direct contact.A little unorthodox. Oh come on, Sarah.You don't need me as a guardian. Sara laughed, yes, no need.What about his phone number? Xio reported it casually.Sarah said good night and dialed the number.She noticed that it was a number in Chelsea, on the same exchange as hers.So they are still neighbors.

Dante, I'm Sarah.Jason. Good evening, Sarah. His voice sounded muffled, incoherent, and even more aggressive than in person, with a sneering tone.Sarah ignored this, and silently gnawed her nails, waiting for the other party to speak. Can you come to my office tomorrow at six o'clock? OK Goodbye then.He hung up the phone after saying that. The brief call made her feel uneasy.There is indifference in this brevity, a disregard for conventions of conversation.A lot of traders look like this on the phone, but it's not out of disrespect or lack of sincerity.Oddly enough, he seemed to be avoiding clichés.

Sarah spent the next day in a state of idleness, wanting to get home early and wait for six o'clock.When the moment finally came, she hurried off the trading floor and headed for Intercontinental Bank's offices. Same dim office, another impeccable suit.Scarpirato saw her come in, walked slowly towards her, reached out his hand, and squeezed her hand tightly.His eyes were fixed on hers.He was smiling, not out of friendliness or welcome, but out of something else Sarah couldn't quite identify.She turned her face away.There were two other people in the office, reclining on cloth-covered chairs by their desks.Scarpirato nodded at them.

Sarah.Jason, come and meet Matthew.Arnott and Simon.Wilson. Wilson stood up suddenly, smiled, and shook her hand enthusiastically.Arnott lazily half stood and half sat, shook her hand, and sat back heavily on the chair, without looking at her again.Scarpirato dragged a chair from behind the desk and sat between Arnott and Wilson, who immediately made room for him.They were to his left and right, looking at him as if waiting for instructions.Sarah looked at them as if they were novices.Sarah sat down in an empty chair across from them and put down her bag.She sat back, unbuttoned her blouse, took out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one casually. She smiled at the faces looking at her, don't you mind? Scarpirato shook his head and handed her an ashtray. I want to have a cigarette too.After Arnott said that, he left the office and brought a pack of cigarettes from the trading desk when he came back.He lit a cigarette, and wisps of smoke drifted toward the ceiling. Sara drew on her cigarette and looked casually at the two novices.Arnott looked as if he should be advertising shirts in the glossy pages of Esquire.He was a handsome American in his late thirties, square-jawed, blue-eyed, with straight hazel hair cut short and impeccably blown.Sarah noticed that his accent had changed quite a bit, too.The New Jersey twang has been corrected to a Boston drawl, though some words still slip through.If it weren't for the shape of the eyes and mouth, even if his image is a bit contrived, it can be called healthy and uplifting.His eyes were hard and cynical, every expression tinged with cynicism.The lips were pursed slightly, showing a contemptuous look.He was not the most likable person Sarah knew, nor would he be able to hire her. In contrast, Simon.Wilson appeared genial and willing to please.He was younger, about twenty-four.He had only been working in the City for a year or two, according to Sarah's surmise, and so far had avoided displaying the almost habitual tendencies toward bored complacency shared by many of his colleagues.Unlike the other two, he had light brown hair, few freckles, and wore a wrinkled suit that he had bought off-the-shelf.He got her attention, and he smiled as she looked at him.She smiled at him, then looked at Scarpirato, waiting for his opening words.He just looked at her blindly, without saying a word, without any intention of speaking.He half turned to Arnott.The two men exchanged glances, then Arnott sat forward and asked: So what do you think about the dollar-sterling exchange rate? Sarah smiled smugly. What time period are we talking about?Five minutes into the future, twenty-four hours, a week, or a year? next five minutes. I don't know much about this.Sarah smiled heartily and said, the last time I watched the quotation was at 6:50, when the exchange rate was at 1.Four thousand nine hundred and thirty, forty.I don't know what the market has been doing for the past forty-five minutes, and I don't have a habit of quoting wildly.I can say though that the dollar is a little bit stronger. Arnott quickly pulled out a Reuters pager from his pocket, a three-by-two device that provided round-the-clock updates on major financial quotes and news.He tapped an instruction lightly, and then carefully watched the small screen. one.Four nine ten, twenty.I think the dollar is going up.he said in a drawn out voice.He changed the method, why did you leave Finlays Bank? Who said I was leaving? But aren't you here? I am here as a human being, but for you to know more about me, and for me to know you more. Arnott glared at Sarah.She stared back at him calmly.A tense silence followed.Wilson interjected with a smile: You and David.Work with Reed? Yes.I'm sitting next to him, am I your friend? We played football together, laughs Wilson, or at least we worked hard.He is always wounded most of the time. Tell me.He seems to be limping most of the time, and there is always a cast on some part of his body. What a nuisance.Arnott said. Sarah watched him silently, then turned away after a moment.She met Scarpirato's gaze.He took a cigar from his pocket and methodically lit it, glancing at her between puffs.He leaned back in his chair, looked her in the eye, played the role of a detached observer, and looked a little amused.Sarah turned away annoyed.She became the happy object of the night.In her view, the purpose of this meeting was only that.Wilson liked her, Arnott hated her.As for Scarpirato, she couldn't figure out how he felt, and at the moment she didn't particularly care.She looked at her watch and said calmly, "I said, it's all been fun, but I have to go to another place in fifteen minutes, so if you don't mind The faint smile on Scarpirato's face suddenly changed to one of surprise.He jerked around in his seat, of course.I'm sorry that we didn't give you a little advance notice about this meeting. He stood up.Arnott silently raised his head and watched her walk out of the office.Wilson walks her to the door. goodbye.Nice to meet you.He shook her hand. Sarah smiled, and I was happy too.She and Scarpirato walked across the floor to the elevators without speaking.He shook her hand as the elevator doors opened. Thank you for coming.We'll get in touch.he said with a smile.When the elevator doors closed, he turned and walked away. You bastards.Sarah whispered