‘Did you check with him whether you could talk to Todd?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Benton said. ‘Successful men often have complicated families. Martha was Cornelius’s second wife, I believe. He has a third now. And Edwin, the son from his first marriage, works for him. I have no idea what the tensions are in that family, but I know I don’t want to find out. And if I’m not going to discuss these things with Todd van Zyl, I’m certainly not going to discuss them with you.’
Calder had been expecting this. ‘Todd’s in hospital in a coma at the moment. He was involved in an aircraft accident a few days ago. We both were.’
Benton frowned. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he’s going to be OK.’
‘So do I,’ said Calder. ‘But his wife is anxious to get an answer to his questions. Which is why I’m here.’
‘It must be a very trying time for her. But I’m afraid I can’t help.’
Calder took a deep breath. ‘You remember Jennifer Tan?’
Benton sighed. ‘I wondered when this would come up. I’ve discussed the whole business with Sidney. It’s over now. It’s in the past.’
Sidney Stahl was Bloomfield Weiss’s chairman. To Calder’s disappointment, he hadn’t fired Benton after Jen’s death.
‘It’s not in the past though, is it, Benton? There isn’t a week goes by that I don’t think about her.’
Benton glanced at Calder quickly. Calder knew he had hit a nerve. Benton might have been misguided, callous even, in the way he had treated Jen, but Calder didn’t believe he had intentionally driven her to her death. Whatever his protestations, however well he covered his arse, Benton knew he shouldn’t have suspended her when she brought the sexual harassment suit against her previous boss. The boss in question was a jerk, everyone knew that, he was just a jerk who made the firm a hundred million dollars a year. So when one of them had to go, Benton had made damn sure it was Jen.
‘The answer to my question is important to me, and it’s important to people I care for. I really would appreciate a reply.’
Benton shifted in his chair. Calder waited. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘As long as this doesn’t get back to Cornelius. What’s the question?’
Calder described the letter that was found in Todd’s grandmother’s papers, and its mention of Benton. Benton listened intently. ‘So. What was it that Martha wanted you to tell her mother?’ Calder asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Benton. ‘I really don’t know. The old woman came to see me right after Martha died. It was a shock, Martha’s death. I didn’t know her well, I’d only met her once or twice, but to die like that. Ugh.’ He scowled. ‘South Africa was a sick, sick country. Still is, probably. I won’t go back there.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘I told her I didn’t know what Martha meant. I wracked my brains. My only guess was it was something I let slip when we were having dinner in Cape Town. I was sent down there shortly before she died to do some due diligence on Zyl News’s South African newspapers. The plan was to sell them off or close them. I found South Africa a loathsome place and she took pity on me. I guess I implied, probably not much more than that, that Zyl News was running out of cash. I think Martha assumed Cornelius’s businesses were worth tens of millions. Well, they were, of course, but then so was his debt. He was finding it tight meeting the interest payments. The acquisition of the Herald, bringing with it yet more debt, was a brave move. I guess when a rich man’s wife discovers that her husband’s net worth is close to negative, it comes as a bit of a shock.’
Calder stared hard at Benton. ‘Was that all?’
Benton shrugged. ‘It’s all that I could think of.’
‘What was Martha’s mother’s reaction?’
‘She was disappointed. I think she expected more.’
‘Did she ask about a diary?’
Benton frowned. ‘It was a while ago. She might have done. I really don’t remember.’
‘You didn’t see a diary anywhere? Martha didn’t give you a diary to look after?’
Benton snorted. ‘I really didn’t know her that well. I liked her, but I have no idea if she kept a diary and she certainly wouldn’t have shown it to me if she did.’
‘And finally, does the word “Laagerbond” mean anything to you?’
Benton shook his head. He drained his coffee and put his napkin on the table. ‘If that’s all, I need to get on to the office.’
‘Thank you, Benton,’ Calder said.
‘That’s OK. Just make sure Todd or his wife don’t tell Cornelius that I spoke with you. And I hope Todd recovers soon.’
Calder and Tarek watched Benton stride out of the dining room. ‘Did you get what you wanted?’ Tarek asked.
‘I asked the question. He answered it,’ Calder said.
‘Do you believe him?’
Calder glanced at his friend. ‘Don’t know. Do you?’
Tarek shrugged. ‘Actually, I’m not sure. But I think that’s the best answer you are going to get.’
‘Was Zyl News in trouble back in 1988?’ Calder asked. ‘This was all way before my time.’
‘And mine,’ said Tarek. ‘If you’ve got a moment we could talk to Cash Callaghan. I’m pretty sure he was selling junk bonds back then.’
The two years since Calder had left Bloomfield Weiss was long enough for him to feel a sense of nostalgia as he followed Tarek into the familiar dealing room on the second floor of their Broadgate offices. There were many faces he knew who smiled and nodded to him, but there were just as many he didn’t. Young, fresh-faced, intense-looking men and women, sucked into the Bloomfield Weiss machine to replace those that had been spat out or tempted away by six-figure guaranteed bonuses from other firms. As he caught glimpses of the screens crammed with rows and columns of figures, Calder couldn’t repress a surge of excitement, a tingle of curiosity. What was going up? What was going down? What was happening out there in the markets? And in here in the Bloomfield Weiss trading room? Who was making money, who was losing it, who was riding the big positions, who was sitting on the big losses? And the biggest question: was it really possible for him to walk away from all this for ever?
They threaded their way through the maze of desks, computer equipment, chairs and bodies to the Fixed Income sales desk and paused next to an overweight American in his fifties leaning back and talking. Talking fast.
‘OK, Josie, you’ve got close to five hundred million in asset-backeds, right?’ The man was in full spiel. ‘You switch those into five hundred million Treasuries. You give up yield but you get convexity, right? Oodles of convexity. The markets bounce the way you’re telling me they’re gonna and you got yourself a rocket-fuelled portfolio. I mean you’re going to the moon, Josie. Top-quartile performance, investment manager of the year, promotion, big bonus, new car, new Jimmy Choos. Think of the Jimmy Choos, Josie.’
Calder and Tarek could hear the female laughter on the other end of the line.
‘OK, you think about it,’ the man said. ‘But think fast. ’Cos if you think about it for a week, that’s not thinking, that’s sleeping, know what I mean?’
He put down the phone and turned to Calder. ‘Hey, Zero, my man! How are you doing?’ He leaped to his feet and held out his hand. Calder took it.
‘I’m very well, Mr Callaghan. What was all that about convexity?’
‘It’s Josie’s new word for the week. Every now and then your clients learn a new word and you gotta pay attention. She’s a nice kid, but I doubt she’s seen her first bond mature. You still out in the boonies playing with model airplanes?’
‘More or less.’
‘You getting him back to work for us, Tarek?’