Three women struggle to escape the clutches of the past, having to come to terms with their genetic inheritances. Cass Evesham is a city trader whose world has fallen apart, Livia Claughton is in a safe house under an assumed name and Julia Gainsborough stars in a cycle of revenge plays.
Clutch of Phantoms
By Clare LaytonFirst World Publication
Copyright © 2001 Clare Layton
All right reserved.ISBN: 9780727856944Chapter One
`If you screw me on this one, Cass, you're dead.'
Cass did not react. Gary, even more irritated by her coolthan usual, banged his head on the edge of his desk. Still sherefused to look away from her screen.
`Let's hope the earth moves for you both, then,' Sam saidfrom the other side of the row of desks. He was momentarilybetween phone calls and thoroughly enjoying the prospect ofCass's disaster and what it would do to her team leader. Garymuttered an unintelligible insult and gave him the finger.
Cass ignored their antics. All her attention was on theReuters' screen in front of her. Her heart was thudding, and shecould feel the sweat trickling down her back and arms underher shirt. But her face was calm and her breathing even; therewas a small, confident smile lifting the corners of her lips.
Neither of the men had any idea of the willpower she neededto keep the smile in place as she controlled her fear, ridingit, refusing to let it beat her. She was aware of Gary's angerand Sam's Schadenfreude, just as she was of the phones ringingand the voices that flung mockery like snowballs from deskto desk, but she was blocking them out.
Silence spread as news of her deal rippled through the room;then the voices started again. Jokes spluttered like sparklersall around her. The insults were riper than ever, and thelaughter more manic. Even Sam thought he might last theday without stuffing something up his nose.
It was the biggest gamble Cass had yet taken, writing 15million put options, at ten pence per option, on sterling droppingagainst the Deutschmark when the Chancellor madehis announcement about the Euro.
Each option was for a thousand pound's worth of sterling,entitling the client to sell at 2.90 and buy back at 2.65, sothat he had the chance to make a profit of nearly #150 millionat a cost of only one and a half. If the client turned out to bewrong about which way the Chancellor was going to jump-asCass believed he must be-he stood to lose his one and ahalf million. But if he were proved right, the bank wouldhave to write a cheque for his profit, and Cass would havethrown away her future. She'd be out of Stogumber's withoutany right of appeal, and she'd never get another job like it.
She couldn't think about the future now. All she could dowas watch her screen and keep her fear under control andout of sight.
`Cass,' said Gary, moving up behind her to look at herscreen instead of his own, as though that could make it anybetter.
She did not answer, surprised he was letting himself soundnervous. It was bad for morale-and for his reputation.Letters appeared across the top of her screen: `Chancellor'sannouncement expected 11:05.'
Gary's eyes flicked upwards so that he could see the clockshigh on the wall above the rows of dealers' screens, findingthe one that showed UK time. There was still a whole minuteto go. Cass's gaze had not wavered. He could feel the heat ofher body from where he stood, but for once he couldn't findthe words to mock her for it.
When her client had phoned to say what he wanted, shehad asked him to wait and swung round on her chair to checkwith Gary that the team was prepared to write options atthat level. She'd had to ask him; he was the team leader andshe was still on probation. Not for the first time, he cursedthe system. It wasn't only her career she was risking; it was afair chunk of the team's profits and probably the whole ofhis bonus, if not his job.
He'd have stopped her if he could, but only yesterdayMichael Betteridge had told him to give her more freedomto deal. It was make or break time, he'd said, and the directorsneeded to know which before they took their gamble onher. But she was on Gary's team and her losses would be hisresponsibility. He loathed her for that even more than heloathed her for her cleverness and her legs and her exasperatingaura of success.
Cass wished he would move away, but she couldn't sparethe energy to say so. There were only seconds to go. Herhands were lying relaxed on her short black skirt, but insideher smile her teeth were clamped on a small piece of lip. Hereyes lost their focus just as the words at the top of the screenbegan to change. She blinked, once, twice, brushing fluidover her dry eyeballs. And then she saw it:
`No intention of taking Britain into Euro in first phase,says Chancellor.'
Gary put his hands on her shoulders to hold her down inher chair as they waited for the currencies to move. Sterlingwas still at 2.90 against the Deutschmark as the Chancellor'sannouncement appeared.
Cass wasn't sure if the trembling of the numbers on thescreen was real or something happening to her eyes. Her teethwere still clamped together with part of her inside lip betweenthem. She could not feel the pain. The figures flashed andmoved upwards. And then upwards again. Gary's tight fatfingers dug deeper into her shoulders, through the pale-pinkshirt that was plastered against her back. At 2.98 the figuresstopped moving-and held. When they'd stayed rock steadyfor long enough to confirm that Cass had won, she let herteeth unclamp and felt the blood flooding back into thepinched flesh.
Gary's hands left her shoulders to punch the air as he yelledout her triumph, but she sat almost still, just allowing hermuscles to relax and her lungs to expand. Her back straightenedinto its normal shape. Her breathing quickened slightlyand she licked her lips.
`Shit, Cass, you bloody did it,' said Gary, wanting a morevisible reaction.
`I know, but it's all in a day's work,' she said, her voice noteven quivering, although she felt as though there was awashing-machine drum in her gut, churning and screamingon its ball bearings.
`You're a fucking psychopath, you know,' he saidadmiringly. `Aren't you even a little relieved?'
`Relieved?' Cass shook her head. `No. Why? I knew we'dbe OK.'
As she slowly came down, she began to feel again, to noticethe wetness of her back and the pain in her lip, to hear theexcited buzz all round her, and to feel the ache of adrenalinewithdrawal in her taut legs and hands. At last she let herselfpush the flyaway dark hair out of her eyes. She smiled.
`One great step for womankind,' said red-headed Sally,from the other side of the bank of screens. She was the nearestthing Cass had to a friend on the dealing floor. `That wasreally cool.'
Cass grinned at her, then turned to look up at Gary.Foreshortened, his neck and chin looked even fatter thanusual, and his eyes piggier. There were black hairs pokingout of his nostrils.
`See?' was all she said, and even that was redundant. Sheknew he had seen what she-or any other woman-coulddo. They weren't wimps or girlies, and they wouldn't crack.There was relief in his expression, but disappointment, too.He'd taken against her from the start and had done hisdamnedest to scare her off with his sexist jokes and his savagecriticism. But his bonus depended on her performance, sohe had had to hold on to the cruellest of his impulses.
Cass had occasionally wondered whether that was whyshe'd been put in his team. Not that the directors would havecared about his attitude if they hadn't been slapped with ahuge sex-discrimination suit from one of her predecessors.
`Not bad for a girl,' Gary said, trying to sound as casualas she, then adding, `I suppose.'
A door at the far end of the dealing room opened andMichael Betteridge yelled: `Cass! Get in here.'
She pushed her chair back, knowing it would ram intoGary's fat gut if he didn't move quickly enough.
`Fuck it, Cass,' he said. `There was no need for that. I letyou do it. I supported you.'
`Didn't realize you were so close, Gary. Sorry. Got to go.Michael's waiting.' She was flinging the black jacket of hersuit around her shoulders. The phone rang. Tempted to leaveit unanswered, she knew her client might want somethingmore. She tucked the receiver under her chin and thrust herright arm into the jacket sleeve.
`Cass Evesham.'
`Cass, I ...'
`Alan.' Her lips curved into a far sweeter smile. She tookhold of the receiver again and held it comfortably againsther ear, thinking he must have a spy at Stogumber's to havegot on to the news so fast. `How did you ...?'
`Cass, not now. There isn't time, but I must see you. I ...'
`You're going to see me tonight and all day every day forthe next two weeks.' There would be hot sun and crisp seaand time to bask alone together without any risk of callsfrom work for either of them or demands from his ex-wife topick up the children or write ever bigger cheques to pay forher uncontrollable greed. Cass couldn't wait; nor could Alanby the sound of it. `What's the rush?'
`I'll explain when I see you. I've booked a table at theBlue Print Cafi for one o'clock.'
Cass had loved the Blue Print Cafi ever since their firstlunch there and wished she could say yes.
`Al, I can't. Not today. There's just too much on. Can't itwait a few more hours-till this evening?'
`No. Be there. Don't be late.'
Even more than the Blue Print Cafi, she loved the urgencyof his need. She loved him, too, cynical and hardened-andoccasionally a little rough-though he was. Perhaps evenbecause of that. The contrast between his outward spikinessand the depths of vulnerability she knew it concealed reallygot to her. She would have done anything for him.
`OK,' she said, longing to be in a place where she couldtell him how much she cared.
`Cass!' yelled Michael. `Where the hell are you?'
`Got to go, Alan.' She put down the receiver and slid herother arm into the jacket, buttoning it as she walked downthe length of the dealing room.
As she went, noticing that her right kneecap still wobbledfrom the slackening tension, she heard her friends' andenemies' voices, deliberately audible despite the whispers:
`That was a grade-A killing.'
`Beginner's luck.'
`Sexy isn't she? Look at those legs. No wonder she got the job.'
`Pity about the tits though. Raisins on a pastry board ifyou ask me.'
`Seen them, have you?'
`Not yet, worst luck.'
Cass paid no attention. It was the sort of thing they allsaid every day. She rarely let it worry her, any more thanthey let jokes about big swinging dicks bother them. Todayshe'd taken a risk as big as any of theirs, and won. Nothing,not even skiing the sheerest, iciest black run had ever givenher anything like the same high.
`Hey, Cass, you did great,' called a voice she did notrecognize. She turned and smiled generally at the line ofanimated twenty-something clones in striped shirtsleeves, notknowing which of them had said it.
With the accolade ringing in her ears, she moved into thedirector's grey office and shut out the frenzy. There was silencenow, and a calm that was no more real than her outward coolness.
`Have a seat, Cass.'
`Thank you, Michael.' She sat down, remembering not totuck one long leg under her bum, and smiled confidently.
`I thought I ought to tell you that we've decided to cutyour probation short.'
Sadist, she thought, watching a flicker of pleasure in eyesthat were almost as dark as her own. He smoothed his alreadypristine hair back from his high forehead and exuded all thesleek satisfaction of one who has scoured every rust-like patchof weakness from his public persona.
`And confirm your job.'
`Great, Michael. Thank you.' Cass hoped her voicesounded gracious as well as grateful. Then, just in case it hadsounded too grateful, she added: `Salary?'
When he told her, she couldn't stop her eyes wideningmomentarily and wished she'd had more self control.
`Yes, I thought you might be pleased.' He looked amused.`It should make for a good holiday. Going somewhere nice?'
`The Seychelles. We wanted somewhere that would stillbe hot.'
`Yes, it's a tricky time of year, October, but we couldn't letyou go any sooner. Had to be sure of you, you see.' Michael'ssmile loosened a little and for a moment seemed more real.`And now we are. You did well this morning, Cass. Confirmedwhat I've been telling the other directors ever since I pickedyou out: you've got a real killer instinct and a nice icy nerve.'
Cass just nodded; she'd already thanked him and she didn'twant to gush.
`I've a feeling this is the beginning of something good.You could go all the way.'
`I bet you say that to all the girls,' she said, laughing at him.
`Aren't you supposed to call yourselves "wimmin" orsomething even more liberated?' he asked, sharing the jokewith an air of equality that was new.
`You know what I mean.' She looked him in the eye. `Arewe talking main board director or what?'
`I don't see why not.'
She laughed again. `But Stogumber's has never promotedany women beyond subsidiary board level.'
`I could say there's always a first time,' Michael startedand then shrugged.
`But?'
`But I won't. Such a clichi, Cass. I've often wondered:why did you choose us? I know you had other offers from banksthat have shown themselves much more woman-friendly.'
Hoping she looked as sleek and killer-confident as he, andnot nearly as mischievous as she felt, she said languorously:`Impossible challenges turn me on. Hadn't you heard?'
`Isn't that what they call sexual harassment, Cass?'
`Not unless I've been sexually harassed every day since Iarrived,' she said tartly, remembering her second interviewand the answer she'd given when one of Michael's co-directorshad asked her how she would stand up to `the joshing roughand tumble' of the trading floor. She'd told them that shealways gave as good as she got and wouldn't faint at beingcalled a tart or sue if someone tried to feel her up.
But she hadn't realized then how much she would cometo detest it from people like Gary.
`It's time I had a turn, Michael.'
`Determined to have the last word, aren't you? OK. Justthis once-as a reward for a good piece of work. But don'tforget, it's only one piece of work. You've got to do it overand over again every day for years. Think you can hack that?'
`I think I might like it.' Cass licked her lips seductively asshe stood up, laughed at his mock-furious expression andaligned her chair neatly with his big desk.
* * *
She was five minutes late getting to the cool white restaurantwith its low ceilings, excited clattering noise and spectacularview, and she still tingled from the morning's charge. Herjob had been confirmed; she was about to start earning a vastlyincreased salary; and Alan couldn't wait even a few hours to seeher. There was nothing else she wanted in the world.
Continues...
Excerpted from Clutch of Phantomsby Clare Layton Copyright © 2001 by Clare Layton. Excerpted by permission.
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