Chapter 11 chapter Ten

James.Bartrop is sitting in his office in the Century Building, sipping a cup of extra-strong Italian black coffee.This unassuming 20-storey building is located at 100 Westminster Bridge Road, southeast London.Designed in 1961, it was a typical office building of the era: dull, lacking in character, rigid in appearance, drab and unpopular with users.The only difference is that in order to protect the safety of the bottom eight layers it installed anti-bomb netting. MI6 will soon be relocating to a new building on Vauxhall Road on the south bank of the Thames, less than half a mile diagonally from the Houses of Parliament.The new building cost two.400 million pounds, the contrast with the Century Building is almost to the point where it cannot be added.It is a product of the self-exaggerated style that prevailed in the architecture of the 80s.The media jokingly called it the Babylon Building, which gave it a slightly absurd tinge.Though it was designed to not blend in with its surroundings and to be highly individual, every buttress, every tower, every greenish window loudly announces its presence.It may not have been the most appropriate home for MI6, its formerly titled SIS, but SIS was about to be made public, in other words, its existence would soon be publicly recognized by an Act of Parliament.The new building seems to be brazenly announcing this fact to every passerby, even the uninformed.

SIS was scheduled to relocate in 1994.Bartrop watched the new building go up, initially displeased with its vulgarity, but soon found it acceptable, and even looked forward to enjoying its efficiency, modernity and spectacular views environment.But he doesn't care too much about the working environment.He had ascetic tendencies, relying more on interior scenes to provide the comforts he allowed himself to enjoy.He is happy, or at least performs his duties well, if some overriding purpose gives him the structure of his life, the shape of his thoughts. However, this image is not what he gave to the world.Outwardly, he was a pleasure-seeker like most single men of forty-five with a rich inheritance.He eats delicious food and drinks old wine.During the working days of the week, he lived in a spacious mansion near Chelsea Square.On weekends, he drives two and a half hours to his country house in Gloucestershire, or depending on the season.Flying to the South of France or to the Alps, almost always in the company of a woman; professional distractions aside, his life was one of bohemian regularity.

It didn't matter that no woman would last long with him, there were always enough to fill the void.Middle-aged single men were clearly dangerous, but that only narrowed the options, because Bartrop was physically attractive in addition to his money: six feet tall, strong, gritty His pale face, his curly brown hair, and his blue, though less intense, eyes.There's a sense of humor and sarcasm in his eyes, at least in public.He has been trying to hide his natural pessimism. There is also the psychological appeal, the challenge of an unattainable historical experience, all enhanced by the mystique of the profession.In short, he is attractive to women, or specifically to certain types of women: women with high ambitions, or women who may not be cautious about themselves, and there are many such women in the world. Bartrop's life would be described by many as an enviable one, and as such, he lived it with gusto.

The problem is, this life doesn't satisfy him.That's just a distraction.His occupation is also a distraction, but it provides some value and he clings to it.He is not a career fanatic, that kind of fanatical quality will make him dangerous, maybe he is not suitable for working in the intelligence agency, but he has his own goals, and in order to achieve his goals, he will not hesitate to sacrifice the presumed married life. The stability and fulfillment that life brings.Simply put, this is the philosophy of life he created for himself.It seems to be working. Sometimes his work gave him a quiet, intellectual pleasure.That morning, he thought of Sarah.When I was with Jason, I found myself in a rare mood of contentment mixed with hope.He tends to feel this way early in a relationship, but it is always overshadowed by the really unpleasant emotions and emotions that inevitably follow: Impatient, disillusioned and resentful; while he lets the other relationship take its course.But as far as covert operations are concerned, as far as Jensen is concerned, there is no such certainty now.Although this kind of relationship is separated by a layer and established under the guise of others, it doesn't have to end with tears.Not like this, the problem is to operate properly, to see whether it is good luck, at least not too bad luck.He admitted that the relationship was tricky for him by any measure, but as he assured Barrington, it was manageable.

He initially chose Sarah.Jason was reserved because he didn't trust pretty women.Too many suitors and too many choices often do not help their stability.Despite her tragic childhood, she seems to be reliable on the whole.And her good looks might help in getting close to the suspect. Bartrop found himself wondering what she looked like.Of course, he will not meet her.For her, he didn't exist, and if he did, he was a distant, insignificant figure, irrelevant to her role as undercover detective.Bartrop snickered.He gave his deputy Miles.Forshaw called. I'd like some pictures of Miss Johnson.Please tell the surveillance personnel.

Monday morning.The metal statue of the Intercontinental Bank Tower greeted Sarah icily.Jason's arrival.Her high heels echoed loudly in the off-white marble foyer, and her face, reflected in the elevator mirror, looked tense.At 7:30 in the morning, the trading floor was already full of people.Many unfriendly faces watched her move.She sat down in the empty seat between Arnott and Wilson with a sigh of relief. Wilson looked up and smiled at her, good morning.You are welcome to join. Sarah smiled back. Good morning.Thanks. Arnott, who was sitting on her left hand, raised his head reluctantly, here we come.You are welcome to join.

Before she could answer, he turned his face to watch the market on the monitor.At this point, Scarpirato came out of the office and walked over to the trading desk.Arnott and Wilson turned their attention from the monitor to him.He looked down at Sarah. group meeting.he announced.Sarah watched him briskly walk toward a conference room off the trading floor, noticing at the same time that he was adopting a bossy, proprietary business boss in his tone and demeanor.Arnott, Wilson and Sarah all stood up and followed behind him. Unlike the main body of the trading floor, which is shrouded in dull green, the conference room is bathed in natural light from a window overlooking the Thames.If you stick your head out, you can see Tower Bridge.Sarah leisurely admired the scenery outside the window.Several others were already seated around a scratched conference table with a black top, and Arnott and Wilson sipped steaming milk-cream coffee.Sara turned with a smile on her face and sat down across from Scarpirato.

Arnott and Wilson successively analyzed the market conditions of last week, and tirelessly outlined the trading strategies for the next few weeks.Sarah wondered if they were always talking like this on paper.Scarpirato stared at the Thames outside the window without saying a word, and when Wilson finished speaking, he turned to Sarah.If he had hoped to put her at a disadvantage by letting her speak next, he was going to be disappointed.Sara leaned back in her chair and smiled at the three people across the table. I'm not particularly interested in off-the-wall strategies.I advocate trading on intuition.That was exactly the comment Scarpirato himself might have made, so there was a burst of giggles from across the table, complimenting Sara.

Then it's best not to bind your intuition.You can start trading today.The position limit is $200 million. Sarah hid her surprise.She had hoped to start with $50 million.If she could use two hundred million dollars, she would make them all dumbfounded.Scarpirato was laying a trap of astonishing allure.Sara suppressed a smile and pretended to be nonchalant.Scarpirato went on matter-of-factly: Stick to the usual staggered transactions; hold off on any unusual transactions for now.If you want to engage in other types of transactions, or want to break through the $200 million limit, then come to me.

Sarah nodded. Buy and sell at your own discretion, but keep Matthew in control of the situation. He started to speak slowly, the words were almost bursting out, if I wanted to, I could overturn your decision, as I can with everyone else, but in most cases, you can do what you want.He showed a kind smile. I like to let my people trade independently, so that they can benefit from their own successful transactions, and at the same time swallow the bitter fruit of their own mistakes.He puts particular emphasis on the word bitter fruit.He stood up, nodded at her, wished her luck, and returned to his enclave [note] his office.

[Note] Enclave: It is a concept of human geography, which means that there is an area belonging to other places in a certain geographical division. Sarah was still smiling when she returned to the trading desk.Intercontinental Bank's reputation is big, but they are not treated fairly.Obviously, it is impossible to pretend to be the chief trader everywhere here.Unbridled arrogance is not only tolerated, but rewarded.She hadn't expected her to be tested so quickly, so sloppily.Her limit at Finlays Bank was also $200 million, but she was a top trader there, and she had been proving her talents in those four years.She came to Intercontinental Bank with enthusiastically admiring references, but she still had to take a risk.The market believes in this: your outstanding performance can only explain the last transaction.There is a lot of pressure in this line of work that you have to prove your talents every day.It seemed that Scarpirato was deliberately betting on her.It was her arrogant attitude that made him show his cards. Sarah rubbed her chin in thought.It is unreliable to make trading decisions based on personal intuition.If you do it too many times, you will fall into a loss and never turn over.But she reasoned that this approach might not be Scarpirato's signature.Wilson was surprised by the large amount of her transaction.It was almost certainly much higher than his limit, but he showed no envy.However, there was a malicious smile on Arnott's face.If she messed up at the critical moment, he would never hide his gloating, and he obviously hoped that she would.Sarah smiled sweetly at him and reached out for a Marlboro. As she smoked, she pondered Scarpirato's trading strategy.The aloof head trader retains the power to operate on her own, but otherwise enjoys complete autonomy.A hothouse for big money, it's a paradise for the talented as well as the unscrupulous.She stubbed out a cigarette in a deep-mouthed glass ashtray emblazoned with Intercontinental Bank, and grabbed the phone in front of her.Time to chat with her regulars and test market sentiment. Sarah is on the phone with about ten traders at other banks every day, most of whom have been dealing with her for the past four years.They were all desperately hopping back and forth in the City, climbing the ladder of positions.The only changes are the salary, the surrounding scenery and the trading limit. Sarah checked the control panel. It was about a foot square and housed more than two dozen telephone lines, some of which were direct lines to other trading houses.To get in touch with them is just a button press away.The system works as efficiently as an intercom system.A button (called a line) on the other side would be labeled Intercontinental Bank, and that button would light up when she called.After three flashes, the line begins to ring audibly.The first three silent flashes are designed to reduce the cacophony on the trading floor.Answering the phone after it rings is seen as unprofessional, so traders and salesmen are constantly looking back and forth between the three or four tickers and control panels in front of them in order to answer incoming calls in time. Sarah finds a button labeled Paribas, where a good friend of hers works. Fifty yards away, on the north side of Lower Thames Street, Johnny C.McDermott, a irascible Irish foreign exchange trader, saw the Intercontinental line on the control panel flickering.He grinned and connected the line. Let me take a guess.It's Sarah.Jason. Good morning, Johnny. So you and Matthew.Arnott went to work together.Johnny's tone was particularly mischievous. Yes. He is a jerk.Johnny was very happy when he said that last word. Um. And Dante.Scarpirato? Yes. He's an amazing jerk. Sarah tried not to laugh, eh.I also work with Simon.Wilson. Johnny was getting excited, he was a nice guy. Um.Thank you, Johnny. You're welcome, Sarah.Nice to hear from you, you bunch of bastards. Sara laughed, Johnny, you brat.You wait and see.They both knew that Scarpirato, and perhaps his confidant Arnott, would listen to the recordings of her phone calls during the first few days of the deal, probably for fun, but also to get a glimpse of her personal secrets.In the trading floor, every call is recorded, as a measure to prevent trading disputes, but also for regulatory purposes.Unsolicited access to such tapes is a privilege widely abused by senior management. Anyway, Johnny.Sarah's laughter stopped, did you see what happened? An hour later, Sarah spoke to all ten regulars.According to the usual practice, these people told her some false, true and false information, and occasionally a little blunt information, which confirmed her own feeling that at least today's market is in an unclear direction. In theory, the traders at the other banks were adversaries, designed to do what the market says: cheat each other.Everyone expected this to be the case, so it was a pleasant surprise when it wasn't the case, even in doubt.Within certain limits, this is their work, and at the same time a little pastime outside of work.Sarah understood this, so she didn't have many questions about it.But the competition with outside traders was nothing compared to the cold reception she received inside Intercontinental Bank.From the first time he met her, Arnott expressed unabashed hostility towards her.At least she had no illusions about him from the start. She realized that Arnott would love to see her capsize, and so would Scarpirato, only a little more restrained.He used a large trading limit as bait, hoping that she would use up the limit quickly to show that she was a master.Well, he and Arnott would be disappointed: she had no intention of trading just for the sake of the deal.Just let them think she's intimidated by the huge transaction limits and let them laugh at her for not getting anything done.All this is just part of the game. However, one fact that cannot be concealed is that they play this game very seriously.This is the characteristic of this kind of place.Sarah knew the game was famous, but she had to wonder why she was chosen, she didn't know the reason behind it.She couldn't help laughing at herself.The City is full of conspiracy theorists.She never imagined that she would be one of them. The market conditions were quiet that day, and at 5:30, Sarah was ready to leave work.Arnott, who had been in Scarpirato's office for most of the day, swaggered over to her when she turned off the monitor and picked up the tote bag from under the trading desk. Is there a deal?He asked knowingly.She had been instructed to report to him every sale she made.Sarah grinned and did nothing.She slung the bag over her shoulder and said goodnight sweetly.She waved to Simon.Wilson said goodbye, and then merged into the 5:30 rush hour flow of people.Leaving get off work before the boss leaves is not a good strategy, but it is important to set a precedent early on.Sara stepped briskly into the elevator as if nothing had happened, and the elevator door closed as soon as she entered. After watching Sarah leave, Arnott got up and walked into Scarpirato's office.The two exchanged a few words, then Arnott poked his head out the door and beckoned Wilson to come in.Wilson slipped a copy of the Racing Post under a stack of newspapers and went into the office.Scarpirato leaned back in his chair, the second cigar of the day between his fingers.Arnott lights a Marlboro.Wilson, running the marathon, wrinkled his nose.Occupational hazard.The two men leaned forward towards the boss, eager to please.Scarpirato smiled at them. How about it? Arnott took a thoughtful puff on his cigarette, sort of a diva, no? However, I think she feels that she is well-known and entitled to do what she wants.Wilson said. Yeah, she's definitely trying to show that, right?Arnott said disapprovingly that she hadn't done anything all day and walked away at half past five. Scarpirato raised his hands above his head and stared at the ceiling for a moment.His eyes fell on Arnott along the wall, have you made a deal today?He asked casually. Arnott shifted slightly in his seat, and yes, I made a few dollar-to-sterling trades.Wilson chuckled to himself. Scarpirato leaned over to Arnott, raised his eyebrows and asked: So you made money? Arnott's chin protruded slightly, his neck retracted into his shoulders, and his voice became low and muffled, no, I lost fifty thousand dollars. Then shut your mouth, Scarpirato snapped, and save us all some money and go home. Arnott's cheeks were flushed, and he strode out.Wilson followed him, smiling, and when he was out of Scarpirato's hearing, Arnott snarled at Wilson: What the fuck is so funny?Didn't you just make some money today?Who do you think you are, you little bastard from the north? Wilson can't stop laughing, go home and throw a tantrum at your dog.You are being harassed by Sarah.Jason is stunned, whether you admit it or not.Arnott cursed and swears all the way to the elevator. Sarah caught a cab on Cannon Street.She dozed off and on in the car, and did not wake up until the driver stopped the car slowly on the side of the King's Road near Carlisle Square amid a squeal of brakes.She paid the fare, got out of the car and walked across the square to her apartment.She didn't notice the glances of a scruffy, unremarkable woman.After she entered, she went upstairs, poured a glass of whiskey, and poured it on the bed.The woman outside turned and walked toward Sloane Square.She was an MI6 agent, a so-called surveillance officer.There is a camera hidden in the suitcase she carries, which has taken twelve pictures of Sarah.Jason's photo.The photos will soon be developed and handed over to James.Bartrop. When Sarah came to work the next day at Intercontinental Bank, she was determined to make a few deals at Intercontinental Bank.Luckily for her, the market became active.The market started fairly quietly, Sarah thought, almost too calmly, beyond the expectations of the group in her circle.It was the second day in a row that things were quiet and they were tired, dangerously tired and wanting to do something.It's not too much of a stretch to get them hooked today because they're so gullible at rumors.Sarah just had to be one step ahead and capitalize on those rumors before anyone else did.She started calling those closest to her.With the exchange rate mechanism on the verge of collapse, currency markets are more volatile and susceptible to rumours. It was ten thirty.The market was in a state of numbness, and at this moment she had an inspiration.Her old friend at Cambridge University, Manfred Manfred, who is now a reporter for the Frankfurt "Times" magazine.Abingen called to chat with her. Just got off the phone with Finlays and kept your mouth shut and told me you went to Intercontinental.The words are not very nice.He said and laughed, they are not the most popular bank in the City, I mean your new employer. True, but with some compensation.But then again, who goes there just to be welcomed? You're right, bankers are as hated as journalists are. We are a pair of pariahs.Sarah joked. Untouchables, Manfred's voice is getting louder, don't talk to me about untouchables and not untouchables.I was trying to gather material for a story on economics, and I had a hard time interviewing members of the Federal Banking Committee, but no one would share a word.I am not greedy.As long as I have a little information, I will be satisfied, but they are all tight-lipped, have no comment, serious and self-satisfied. He continued to criticize, but Sarah didn't listen to what he said next, she was thinking about his previous sentence.After a while, she found that there was no voice on the phone.Manfred has stopped talking, are you still listening? Sorry, Manfred.The boss was hanging around here just now, distracting me. who is he? Ah, Manfred, I'm glad you think the boss is a man.It seems that Germany has not been affected by the feminist movement too much, which is a good thing. Well, well, he interrupted her, sorry, who were you talking about? Italian.Dante.Scarpirato. Manfred let out a scream, aha, it's a monster.A lunatic.I have a friend who worked with him in the early years.Oh my god, you really joined in! But Sarah was deaf.She's thinking of a deal.After she said good-bye, she put through the line of BNP Paribas.Johnny.McDermott picked up the phone right away. Johnny, what's your spot price in dollars to marks, in hundred? She meant to say: What is the dollar-to-mark exchange rate for a transaction of $100 million, settled in two days?Her words would have been baffling on any other occasion, but on the trading floor they were commonplace.Traders are all schizophrenic characters. Sometimes they call and chat for half an hour, and sometimes they talk about business as soon as they open their mouths. one.Seven seven four five, fifty five, McDermott said aloud.What he means is that he takes one.Sell ​​Deutsche Marks and buy dollars at 7745 (pay 1.7745 Deutsche Marks, get 1 dollar), and exchange 1.7745 Deutsche Marks for 1 dollar.Buy Deutsche Marks at an exchange rate of 7755 (pay a dollar and get 1.7755 Deutschmarks).In this case, the difference between buying and selling, that is, the price difference, is ten basic points, which is the profit of buying and selling.McDermott is a market maker whose job it is to buy and sell currencies.He had to quote buying and selling prices, but he had no way of knowing the intentions of other traders.So blind trading has become one of the factors that constitute the unique unpredictability and fun of doing this business.Sarah, who is a proprietary trader, does not make markets in currencies.She could buy or sell as much as she wanted.She would never be at the mercy of other traders like McDermott did, but the risks she took were far greater than McDermott's.He buys or sells currencies throughout the day, but rarely takes positions (i.e. only engages in very short-term speculative trading).Sarah sometimes has to build positions for several days or even weeks, and engages in huge currency trading in a short period of time. I will give you one hundred.Says Sarah, meaning she sells $100 million and buys the equivalent in Deutsche Marks. OK, deal.I take one.Buy one hundred at the rate of seven seven four five.McDermott repeated. make a deal.Sarah said. The tone and wording of their conversations sounded simplistic.In fact, almost every word used has been carefully considered and has a clear, legally recognized meaning.Misuse and misinterpretation of words can cost hundreds of thousands of pounds, so their focus is high. After the transaction was completed, Sarah meticulously entered the settlement process.First, she registered in the ledger, which contained all her transaction records.The registration form includes all the details of the transaction: currency, price, amount, counterparty, transaction time, settlement method, and settlement date.Then she tore off the top half of the registration form, a thin pale pink slip of paper, and inserted it into the input of a small machine to stamp the time.Then, she put the registration form into the settlement file tray.Five minutes later, the settlement department sent someone to take away the registration form.The ministry would guarantee to settle the transaction by depositing $100 million into the relevant account at BNP Paribas within two days.At the same time, their counterpart at BNP Paribas would transfer 177.45 million Deutschmarks to the Intercontinental Bank account within two days. At this time, Sarah held a heavy position in the German mark.She eats the mark because she believes its value against the dollar will rise.If this is the case, she will clear her position and sell the Deutsche Marks, eat US dollars and make a profit from it. Even if there is a slight fluctuation in the exchange rate, the profit amount will be huge.After her recording procedures were completed, Arnott was notified of the transaction as instructed. Is there any particular reason?he asked with a sneer. Sara laughed it off and patted her belly with feminine intuition.He couldn't understand it at all. For the next two hours, she stared at the monitor and waited for the Deutsche Mark to ascend.Nothing happened.The exchange rate is stubbornly hanging at one.Seven seven four five, near fifty five. Sarah hoped that lunch would loosen the impasse.Wilson observed her trance.It was obvious that she wasn't going to move at the moment.I'll go to Burleigh's.He said something aloud to himself.Scarpirato walked out leisurely half an hour ago, and then Arnott walked out.Sarah was left alone at the trading desk.Ten minutes later, Wilson came back with two paper bags in his hand.He put one of the bags on Sarah's desk. Avocado and prawns, and orange juice.He smiled without scruple, I think your appetite will not be small. Sara smiled happily, tore open the foil wrapper, took a big bite, and you'll be amazed.She reached for the bag and pulled out her purse, but he stopped her with a quick wave.It is also customary to take new colleagues out to a decent lunch.He had been invited once when he first arrived a year ago.Buying a sandwich from Burleigh's was the least he could do, and he was embarrassed to see her asking for money. He watched her gobble it up, and ate the sandwich in a few mouthfuls. So you made a deal? Sarah nodded, sipping her orange juice. It seems that the trading volume of the dollar against the mark is not small, right? Sarah nodded again.Wilson tilted his head to one side, looking at her inquiringly.She laughed and told you.I think inflation in Germany is a bit better than the statistics would suggest.I think this may be revealed to the market this afternoon. Why? Well, the statistics will be released tomorrow morning, and from what I understand, the Deutsche Bundesbank seems a little complacent. Wilson laughed, a little smugly?You mean more complacent than ever. Sarah said with a smile: I didn't say that.Regardless, I thought it was worth the bet.Hopefully Mark will go up a little bit this afternoon, and I'll sell it. If the statistics will not be announced until tomorrow, why are they thrown out this afternoon? You pay attention to observe.The ups and downs of the market often occur on the eve of the release of numbers.For some reason, someone always has the foresight. Wilson was curious, stared at her for a while, then carefully looked at his monitor, picked up the phone, sold 10 million US dollars, bought 17,755,000 German marks, the exchange rate was 1 ．Seven seven five five.He put the phone back on the trading desk and smiled at her.I also found the feeling.They laughed together as Scarpirato and Arnott returned from their lunch stroll. At 2:30, just as Sarah felt a little restless, the exchange rate of Mark against the dollar began to rise little by little.For every one percent pfennig appreciation of the Mark against the U.S. dollar, for example, the exchange rate changes from one.Seven seven four five rose to one.Seven seven four four would bring her a nominal profit of five thousand six hundred and thirty-six dollars.This means that if she immediately decides to sell her Deutsche Marks at the spot rate and take in dollars (clearance), she will receive $105,636.Since she paid $100 million for the Deutsche Mark, she netted a profit of $5,636. [Note] Finney: (German: pfennig, abbreviated as: Pf) is an old German currency or banknote unit, one mark ∥ one hundred Finney. Five minutes later, the exchange rate reached one.7700, ten, and after another ten minutes, it reached one.Seven six fifty, sixty.Three hours later, the exchange rate of the U.S. dollar against the mark has climbed eighty-five basis points in her favor, and she has been able to collect a profit of nearly half a million U.S. dollars.Four hundred and eighty-one thousand three hundred and fourteen dollars, to be exact.She felt Wilson watching her nervously.All he wanted was to sell, to get out and make a profit.But the market trend is not bad, Sarah is still in the position, so he still wants to hold on as long as possible. Sarah waited, watching the monitor patiently.The minutes ticked by, and the adrenaline in her body was pumping.At three thirty, she took one.The exchange rate of 7640, 50 was cleared, and the profit was 538,243 yuan.Seconds later, Wilson followed her and was out for $59,490. When Sarah reported to Arnott, he had been watching her every move.He said well done, but smiled unnaturally. Sarah thought it was time to celebrate.She hung up the phone to Masami Matsumoto of Sany Securities Company.It was one of her colleagues who answered the phone. Please call Masami Matsumoto.Sarah said that and waited for her friend to finish the call.Arnott, who sat two feet away, listened with interest.Matsumoto Masami, he is familiar with this name.Come to think of it: it was his girlfriend's friend.The world is too small. Matsumoto answered the phone, hi honey, sorry.It's all those nasty businesses. Sarah laughed, yes, me too.Listen, how about a drink or two tonight? Hurrah.I haven't made any arrangements yet.She was silent for a while, and then asked sharply: Is there any reason? Sarah smiled, news.celebrate.Is that enough? enough.Matsumoto said suspiciously. At 5:30, Sarah turned off the monitor and got ready to leave work.She thought she saw Scarpirato watching her through the blinds as she bent over the bag.She glanced at the blinds.Arnott had been in and out of his office all afternoon.It was impossible for him not to tell Scarpirato about her successful deal.Any normal boss would come out and congratulate her, then at least take her out for a meal.But Scarpirato sat in the office, huddled behind the blinds, indifferent.She would not ask for his praise.She slung her handbag over her shoulder and walked straight outside