Chapter 16 Chapter fifteen

An hour later, Sarah was returning from lunch when she heard her name being called across the trading floor.Her cheeks were flushed from the champagne. Line two.Simon.said Wilson, a German.Sarah ran to the trading desk in three steps in two. Sarah glanced at Wilson and pressed number two.It's Manfred.Abingen, he cut to the chase. Did you know there is a G7 meeting today?he asked smugly. Sarah smiled, I don't know.That's strange, isn't the next meeting scheduled for two weeks? is very strange.There was no prior arrangement, no public announcement.I only found out because I was picking up a friend for lunch at Commonwealth Bank.I went in the car, intending to drive into the country with him for a drive.Anyway, I nearly ran into a convoy of six cars when I was driving in, all tinted glass, big car antennas, you know.I didn't know who they were, so I asked the guards, and they secretly told me that they were the finance ministers and central bank governors of the Group of Seven.

What do you think they want to do? Abingen laughed, what do you think? Well, it's unlikely to be a matter of financial policy.That will be discussed at the next scheduled meeting.Certainly related to some kind of market intervention.She paused for a moment, weighing the various situations.But there was no need for a special meeting.If it wasn't really high stakes, something contentious, they could have done it over the phone, so I think that's unlikely.There is no country whose currency is too outrageous. That's right.Abingen agreed. The same is true for interest rates.I don't see them making any dramatic moves.

I don't see the point of meeting, that's for sure.I guess we'll all have to wait and see.Sooner or later we will find out. Sarah thanked Abingen for the information, hung up, and slowly placed the handset back on the trading desk.It is useless in the market to say how sooner or later it will be.You must discover something now, anticipate the conclusions and reactions of the market one step ahead of others, and determine your own countermeasures accordingly.Sarah's brain started racing. She stood up and walked over to the automatic coffee machine.It was in an alcove just off the main hall at the far end of the trading floor.It was lighted and isolated, and you could go there to have a casual chat with someone, or, as you are doing now, to think alone without being noticed.Curiosity is a common problem in the trading floor. Traders are all good at trying to figure out the secrets that are brewing in the hearts of their colleagues, and then will mercilessly reveal the secrets.Sarah had no intention of revealing her inner workings to her colleagues, but she was able to avoid their questioning and scrutiny.It is impossible to think without error if two sharp eyes are watching your every move.

Staring at the automatic coffee machine, she took a moment to ponder the buttons before finally pressing one hundred and forty-six: coffee with milk, frothy, medium strength, one sugar.Suddenly the machine made a hiccup-like gurgling and then chugging sound, a plastic cup dropped into place, and the cup was filled with a rush of steaming liquid. Sarah carefully sipped her coffee, ruminating over the developments, her eyes fixed on the bonsai scattered on the floor of the main hall.Last Thursday, Scarpirato decided to buy one-week sterling-dollar futures, selling dollars for sterling: a plausible but highly speculative move to build a position.Four days later, an event occurred that would have made this entry profitable, and it did so in secret.Now there is no doubt that the pound will start to rise.Hopefully it's some kind of coincidence, Sarah thought.

Insider trading is one of the quickest ways to make money that the City is known for.It may explain Scarpirato's astounding profitability.It is also one of the most difficult forms of fraud to detect and prove.Tracking down the ins and outs of inside information is like trying to catch quicksilver. Sarah took a cigarette from her shirt pocket, struck a match, and took a deep drag.If Scarpirato is trading on inside information about G7 intervention in currency markets, he has a mole behind him.The monetary policy of the G7 is one of the best kept secrets.Because a leak is so damaging, it rarely ends up in black and white.It first negotiates among the finance ministers, central bank governors and prime ministers of the member countries and reaches a consensus, and then the central bank is responsible for implementation.The specific executors are the trading desks of central banks, but Sala thinks it is unlikely that the news leaked from there.Traders will only be notified at the last minute.They have far less time passing on inside information than their immediate bosses, finance ministers and central bankers.And traders have more exposure.All their phone exchanges have been recorded.Any violations will be exposed.Sara was sure that if someone leaked the secret, it might come from the upper echelons of the cloud.

Sarah puffed on her cigarette.If her theory is correct, a high-ranking politician or central banker could be the perpetrator of a multi-billion-pound fraud.The possibilities are almost incomprehensibly great.For one can spend huge sums of money.To foreign exchange traders who operate under the cover of normal trading in the foreign exchange market, having a mole inside the G-7 is like having the keys to the central vault at Fort Knox. When Sarah thought of the meaning, it was like being punched in the face.If such a conspiracy exists, the participants will not easily give up high positions and huge sums of money without a fight.

Sara dropped the cigarette into the coffee cup abruptly, threw the cup into the waste bin, and turned toward the women's room.She shut herself in the cubicle, put the lid on the toilet bowl, and sat on it.She hunched over, resting her chin on her palm, lost in thought.She sat there for ten minutes, the chill of the cold marble floor seeping into her feet through the thin soles of the leather shoes, and the strong cold air from the air-conditioning system made goose bumps on her arms.The pinched nerve caused severe discomfort in her abdomen. Even when her rational mind presented her with options, as if she had a choice, she knew she had made a decision.

She stood up and rubbed her arms quickly.Or maybe it's just her imagination running wild.This is not the first time.For these mysteries, she will continue to trace the source of the matter and get it to the bottom of the matter.She gets upset when there are unintended consequences. As she walked back to the desk, she was surprised to find that instead of panic, she felt a rush of desperate excitement.It reminded her of Alex.He had used those words to describe the sensations that surged through him as he climbed the cliffs and fell into the abyss.He said that whenever he faced a dangerous cliff, his courage doubled.Sarah laughed to herself.Alex would poke fun at the disparity between them in his peaceful way.He risked his life every time he scrambled up a cliff with his fingers and toes.Sitting at a trading desk in central London is hardly the least dangerous job.

Sarah went back to the trading desk. I figured I'd take part in this little gamble. Arnott, who was sitting lazily, suddenly cheered up.Wilson grinned as if he had heard a great joke.Sara sneered that she could do it with that money.She couldn't afford to take that kind of risk, but after thinking about it, she was sure that the risk was minimal.This is what they often say in the trading floor: Bo stupid. She decided to enter the market and establish a spot position.She has £200,000 in cash.The money would enable her to engage in deals of up to £3 million.The funding shortfall will consist of borrowings.If there is a loss in the position, she can continue to operate until the loss reaches 200,000 pounds.She will then be forced to liquidate her position and her £200,000 will be wiped from her account to make up for the loss.But Sarah is very confident that there will be no losses.Her funds are safe.She called Johnny.McDermott's phone call.People like McDermott usually deal with orders from large institutions, and private account transactions are not accepted, but he opened three sides to Sarah and took special care of him.

McDermott started his career executing private account trades, and Sarah was one of his early clients.After he switched banks and began executing institutional transactions, he dropped most of his private account clients but kept Sarah.The watchdogs at their respective banks didn't like the connection: it might appear to be old.But they tolerated it anyway.They accepted the reasons cited by Sarah and McDermott.They just loved doing deals together, it was a lot of fun, they had a great time, and more importantly, Sara and McDermott were big winners, big money for their employers.They gain a little leeway in this way.

When the market was rough, the two would spend hours on the phone sometimes a day, chatting and laughing, amusing themselves, and sometimes speaking abruptly. Johnny, what's your dollar-to-sterling spot price? one.Four five sixty, seventy. I bought three million pounds at seventy, private account. make a deal.But you're kind of adventurous, aren't you? Don't worry, Johnny.I know what I'm doing. I hope so. This is the largest private account transaction Sarah has ever undertaken.When she was at Finlays Bank, she had operated transactions that were more than a hundred times larger than this amount many times, but they were operating other people's money. different.That's just a commodity.Just a string of numbers moving one way or another.It will bring you excitement, and pain when a position is opened that turns out to be against your wishes, but it will not bring the direct and anxious emotional collision that runs in the blood at all.Other people's money is just a fleeting glimpse. Sarah filled out the transaction registration form, stamped it, put it in the settlement tray, and lit a cigarette.She experienced the mixed joys and sorrows of a gambler's excitement.If that decision is wrong, her funds will be wiped out and most of her guarantees will cease to exist.But if she gets the trade right, she can make tens of thousands of dollars and watch her intuition get validated by the market.It wouldn't prove that Scarpirato was engaging in insider trading, but it would show that her suspicions were well founded.She leaned back in the chair, looked up at the ceiling, and let out a loud breath.Arnott observed her every move and looked at her with strange eyes. A few minutes after Sarah completed the transaction, the central banks of the Group of Seven countries entered the market at the same time, and began to buy pounds and sell dollars.The word spread like wildfire, on exchanges around the world: someone, somewhere, was buying a lot of pounds.Big banks and money funds were the first to buy sterling for their own benefit, followed by those small and medium-sized buyers. At 2.15pm London time, ten minutes after Sarah opened his position, the pound turned bullish.Sarah watched the flickering green numbers that seemed to be dancing more than usual after her liquid lunch.She squinted her eyes, feeling the first thrill of excitement.The British pound is rising in small steps, and the price is changing every minute.She closely watched the trend of the market, her brain was completely focused on this, and she ruthlessly shut down all other thoughts.She watched the market, talked with the market, and felt the rise of the market.For every basis point, or one hundredth of a penny, the pound rose, her paper profit increased by three hundred dollars.Profit from the proprietary trading department would increase by $50,000. Proprietary traders are watching and waiting.Dante.Scarpirato left his little world and sat down at his trading desk next to Arnott's, staring at the monitor.As the pound rose bit by bit, a restrained excitement was condensed in the muscles of his face.By three o'clock in the afternoon, the pound had risen three-quarters of a cent against the dollar, allowing the proprietary trading desk to sit on a $4 million profit.They put aside their old feud and got together excitedly.They agreed that it was too early to clear their positions and turn a profit.The trend is still picking up speed, with the pound gaining more and more with each passing minute. At 3:20, the pound has risen by a full cent against the dollar.None of the market people they spoke to on the phone knew why.No new statistics have been released, but some people, somewhere, are buying, big bucks.The news everyone got was to buy the pound, and there were all kinds of rumors in the market.Sarah only listened to one of them: central banks, led by the Deutsche Bundesbank, were buying sterling.This was exactly what she expected.She turned sideways in her seat and saw the silhouettes of Arnott and Scarpirato.They both looked very pleased with themselves.Apparently she wasn't the only one who wasn't surprised. She was both terrified and excited when her suspicions were confirmed by the numbers on the monitor screen in front of her. At 3:30, the exchange rate between the pound and the dollar rose by one.Twenty-five cents.Sarah's own profit was thirty-seven, five hundred dollars; not small by the standards of private trading, but pale in comparison to the profits of the proprietary trading department.Sarah did a quick mental calculation: close to seven million dollars. She watched Arnott and Wilson carefully.A pent-up tension filled both of them.The profits are huge, astronomical in anyone's account.It would be foolish to continue to hold positions.The foreign exchange market is the most volatile market in the world, and if the prime minister suffers a heart attack, the pound will fall on the ensuing uncertainty.All kinds of different situations can happen.The variables are infinite and the ending is inevitable.They have to get out now and make a profit. Sarah turned a deaf ear to the commotion around her and concentrated on it.She holds the position. Scarpirato sat there, puffing on his cigar, staring motionless at the monitor.It also appears that he is expecting a bullish market.Wilson and Arnott jointly dissented him, urging him to clear the stock.He raised his hand, which meant to tell them to stop talking.That posture looked like King Canute was blocking a large number of petitioners back then.Sarah saw it and said nothing. By four o'clock, she decided it was time to sell.She's going to call McDermott. Johnny, what's your dollar to pound price? one.Four six nine five, one.Four seven five. She sold a sum and made forty thousand pounds in an hour or two.For the first time, she tasted the taste of making black money.She savored the feeling of the moment: something unpleasant, unreal.She felt like she was losing herself.She felt another line had been crossed.She was putting herself to death.From a legal point of view, she told herself, it was a crime.Some intermittent memories came to mind involuntarily.She dispelled these memories. Scarpirato noticed her clearance.Then he was moved too.He turned to Arnott, Wilson, and Johnson and told them to ship quickly, including futures and spot positions.They sniff out like rattlesnakes, grab the phone, and two minutes later, they're out.The position has been liquidated and the profit has been realized: $6.8 million. They filled out the registration form, slumped in chairs exhausted, and grinned happily at each other.Sarah was also affected by their emotions.It felt almost like lust.They feel groggy and carried away.They turned off the monitors and went to the Coney Barlow Bar on Old Broad Street to celebrate. There was also a celebration at Via Antica in Epiia|Antica.Antonio.Fieri put down the phone with a bang.He made over six million dollars.Leaning back in his chair, hands folded on his protruding belly, he yelled for his self-appointed personal assistant, Moreau.A few seconds later Moreau appeared, obeyed his orders, and hurried away, returning two minutes later with Madame Fieri, with a bottle of chilled champagne and two glasses in his hand. Fieri filled two wine glasses and toasted with his wife.They are a loving Italian couple who have been married for thirty-one years and have always been faithful.Antonio had enough vices to keep him happy.But he could not tolerate the indulgence of disloyalty.Apart from other factors, having mistresses is not a good thing: they are demanding and always misbehaving.Neither he nor his assistants could afford the luxury of a mistress. Sarah sat at a table in the corner of the Coney Barlow bar, fiddling with the stems of champagne flutes.Arnott and Wilson were long gone.She twirled the stem of the glass with her fingers and watched the bubbles keep bubbling.She knew Scarpirato's eyes were on her.She raised her face and met his gaze.They stared at each other, playing the same game, neither giving way.Sarah became curious about the man in front of her.He was neither handsome nor attractive by conventional standards; he lacked a sense of humor and was ruthless.He had wit, which was pretty much all you could say in his favour, though Sara admitted he was very well dressed.Not that she cared much about such things, in fact she tended to have a prejudice against men who were overdressed, especially handsome men who were overdressed.But somehow, she developed a crush on him.Maybe it's her own fault, maybe it's her self-indulgence.Trials, risks, hazards, challenges, and all elements of impact.As ever, she was thrilled by her risky behavior.It hardly matters what characteristics the other person has, unless those characteristics are inappropriate, defective, damaged but not yet fragmented.Why she was attracted to this kind of person, she couldn't figure it out, and she was unwilling to analyze it.She had thought, ever since she had John.Carter, now with Eddie, that side of her life was over, she had matured for it.But when she stared at Dante, every sense was sharpened, and the irresistible impulse of the past swallowed her again, and everything in front of her eyes became blurred except her desire for him. . He finally spoke. Do you want to have dinner? Her eyes moved to the watch, it was already nine thirty.The four of them drank four bottles of wine, and she paid for hers.Yes, she should have something to eat.She almost laughed out loud.If you say no, who are you kidding? Yeah, I think so. He stood up, took out four fifty notes, touched her shoulder lightly, and led her out of the bar. Twenty minutes later she was at Ancontelo's on the Pinlico Road, where she was sitting again at a dimly lit corner table.She ate very little, pushing food back and forth on the plate. Do you always get what you want? He laughed, not always, but in big things. Did you always know you had no doubts maybe this time you would fail? His face is down, but it's still that mocking look, relaxed but ruthless, that's up to you.What are your thoughts? I think Sarah didn't answer his question directly. You are a cold person. I don't know what drives me to love you, and you can close your feelings at will. He laughed again, yeah, they don't like me like that, do they.Why is this so? Sarah almost made a face, which they didn't like because it shattered any illusion they might have had about feeling like you couldn't live without them.They will feel that they are nothing more than a flash in the pan and will not leave any influence at all. He leaned across the table, am I responsible for that? His arrogance was menacing.But there was a hint of desire in those dark eyes, a crack in his manly mantle.that's enough.Sarah's hands moved involuntarily across her bare inner thighs, sparking a shock that shook her whole body.She felt her self-control fading.She felt a tightness in her stomach and couldn't eat anymore.She forced her gaze away from him to the couples at the next table.She tried to observe them, to listen to their conversation, but it was as if her soul had been taken by him. He watched her and called someone to pay the bill.They stood on the street and waited for a taxi.A few taxis drove by, but they didn't stop them.He then held out his hand and flagged down a taxi. Sara sat down with one buttocks pressed against the car door, looked at Dante across the way, and then looked out the window, looking uneasy.He looked at her with a smile on his face. His apartment was very dark, even with the lights on, the light was dim.There was an odor in the room that she could not describe, and it bored her.Maybe it was cigar smoke, or cognac, or something else, she couldn't figure it out.He gestured for her to sit down on the sofa.She sat down.She felt as if she was holding her breath.She sits stiffly, as if restraining herself, or waiting to fend off an opponent's blow. After watching her sit down, he walked into the kitchen.He came back with two glasses of vodka.The outside of the cup has been covered with frost, and the surface is coiled with thin ice vapor.He put the glass on the table and sat down beside her.She picked up the wine glass, felt the coldness of the glass with her fingers, and then took a sip slowly.The liquid slowly trickling down her throat gave her a burning sensation. She fumbled in her handbag for a cigarette, pulled one out, and held it to her mouth.There is a lighter on the table.He picked up the lighter and lit the cigarette for her.She smoked the cigarette almost in one gulp, barely pausing for breath, holding the cigarette to her lips defensively.Finally, she stubbed out her cigarette and turned to face him. He threw himself on top of her, with his lips on hers, grabbed her shoulders with both hands, and pulled her towards him.He fumbled on her clothes, his hands trembling.They stood up, embraced tightly, trembling.He carried her out of the room, down the corridor and up the stairs.She walks in the dark.She felt a door against her body.The door opened behind her.After walking a few steps, she felt herself falling on his soft bed.He grabbed her shoulders and pressed down on her.She lay across the bed.He lifted her skirt from her waist, ripped the inner fabric aside, pressed his lips against her lips, tasted her, kissed her tenderly, and finally with a dazzled Passion made love.But what shocked her and touched her the most were those words he said.Words of poignant vulnerability, words of demand.After the mask was removed, what was revealed was a blank space.She'd seen a man's need before, but never with this brazen, desperate need.She put his face in her hands and answered him, saying what he longed to hear.He listened to her in the dark with a smile on his face: joy mixed with fear