The Devil's Deal

chapter

8

Chinese walls come tumbling down

Jerry Witts loved to display his collection of deal toys. These are

the trinkets that clients award bankers after a successful deal.

Jerry showed me a succession of tombstones, thick blocks of

Lucite with the details of each deal encased in the middle. Some

of the toys were a little more imaginative: carriage clocks in solid

silver and a scale model of a Rolls Royce handcrafted in gold.

Pride of place went to a rather arty platinum paperweight. That

came from a grateful oligarch who had landed a state-owned

mining company for 4 per cent of its true value.

But there were two deal toys that were always kept hidden from

clients who visited his inner sanctum. Jerry would take the key

he kept hidden in his desk drawer and unlock the simple safe he

used for condential papers. When he was feeling tired – and

Jerry was looking more and more exhausted with each day that

passed – Jerry would show me the pig and the truck.

The pig was so heavy I needed both hands to lift it. It had been

made from melted-down coins. I could make out 50p pieces,

pesetas, drachmas and francs. Worst of all, the pig had been

painted bright pink by the currency-brokers who had made a

fortune from turmoil in the markets.

‘Why don’t you throw that ugly thing away?’ I asked Jerry.

‘I can’t. It’s the eyes.’

The pink pig had staring eyes the size of tablespoons. Had the

stress got to Jerry? Had he nally cracked? ‘Do you think they are

following you around the room?’