Room 119 Read online

  “I hope she was worth it, Dean. I gave my life and career up for you and this is how you repay me.” Sarah would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She fought the tears back and added, “You’re in the spare room tonight and you can stay in London for a bit. I need some space. I don’t trust you, and I never thought I would say this, but I’m not even sure if I love you anymore.”

  “Sarah…”

  “I can just about cope, but you let Jodie down all the time, and because she loves you, you get away with it. I’m sick of picking up the fucking pieces.”

  Dean tried one more time. “I would never cheat on you, Sarah…”

  “Really? You could have fooled me. Night, Dean. Don’t even think about coming to our bed.”

  Dean nodded in reluctant agreement.

  “I love you, Sarah.”

  She gave him a last look, shaking her head as she did so.

  “Not sure if that is enough anymore. Maybe you need to try and find the man I fell in love with.”

  She left the kitchen and headed off to bed, alone.

  Sunday morning, Dean was up early, cooking a peace offering breakfast.

  “Jodie,” he called, “breakfast.”

  Jodie knew that if she didn’t get up now, she would be shaken awake and fireman lifted downstairs by her dad. She was tempted not to get up as she hadn’t seen her dad laugh or smile for ages, but she was worried in case this time he didn’t bother. She wanted to keep that memory without it being spoiled.

  Jodie walked in, giving her dad a kiss.

  “Morning, Dad, thanks for yesterday, it was fab.”

  Sarah then walked in too and gave Jodie a kiss, blanking Dean. Obviously she had not forgotten what she had said.

  Dean dished up breakfast, loving being with them both and realising that all he’d been bothered about recently was his work and himself.

  “Dad,” Jodie said.

  “Yes, JoJo,” he replied, topping up three glasses with fresh orange from a jug in the middle of the table.

  “Are you leaving us, Dad?”

  As Jodie tucked into her scrambled egg on toast, Dean looked at Sarah and gave her a ‘we could have told her together’ stare. Sarah shrugged her shoulders back at him. Dean was sick of telling lies and thought his daughter should know why he wouldn’t be around for a bit.

  “I might have to go away for a while, just to let your mum have some time on her own, but I love you both very much and will still be there for you. Why do you ask, Jodie?”

  “I had a dream last night, Dad. A nasty dream about a clown coming to see me and telling me that you would be leaving in the morning and you might never come back.”

  Dean again looked at Sarah, who shook her head in a ‘nothing to do with me’ way.

  “That was just a nightmare, Jodie. If that nasty clown comes to see you again, make sure you let me know.”

  “OK, Dad, but he did say you might never come back.” Jodie stared across the table at her parents.

  “I will always be there for you, Jodie, whenever you need me. Don’t listen to nasty clowns in nasty dreams.”

  After breakfast, Dean packed a bigger bag than normal and gave his wife and daughter a kiss.

  “I’ve been an idiot,” he said to Sarah. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”

  “It’s just not good enough, Dean. Make sure you keep phoning Jodie. She needs you.”

  Dean drove off, fighting the tears until he was out of sight around the corner. Then he could no longer hold them back.

  Chapter 6 – Back to Work

  Dean got back to the London apartment, thinking about Sarah and how she thought he was having an affair. Nothing could be further from the truth, but he could see why she had jumped to that conclusion. He’d been a dick and he knew it.

  He looked in the fridge and shook his head, turning down a beer he’d not even been offered. Instead, he thumbed through the training course he was delivering tomorrow to ensure he was prepared, not really taking much of it in as his mind was on other things. Then he looked up the share price of a steel company up in the north-east on his boards. He’d had a big tip off and was going to make Dexter a very rich man tomorrow, and hopefully make himself enough to be able to jack it all in.

  It was only 8pm, but his body felt like it was later. He still felt a bit groggy from Friday night and needed to sort himself out. Tomorrow was where it would all start.

  Bed time, he thought, prep done. He texted Sarah I Love you both to bits… :)) then put his aching head onto the pillow and was out like a light.

  Dean’s two bed apartment, with its giant kitchen and a breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living area, was enormous. The kitchen had all the mod cons, and the living area included two screens above the TV with all the trading data for him to wake up to.

  The TV was on Sky News, reporting on the Chinese leader’s visit to the UK where the Prime Minister was to show him round before a banquet at Buckingham Palace tonight. This was followed by a report on the floods in the north-west, and then came the news Dean was waiting for.

  Another steel company in the north going down the pan. It was in Redcar this time, near where Dean had grown up. Some of Dean’s school friends worked there, but Dean had a feeling they would be OK. In fact, it was more than just a feeling. Dean smiled at the TV and turned it off.

  Monday morning in London was the same as it was in any other major city in the world. From his apartment, Dean was watching people milling around, all with somewhere to go, all of them ignoring everyone else. Their heads down, they were rushing along on the commuter express like they were on tracks. Dean was one of the lucky ones who could walk to work without having to endure a Tube ride from hell where everyone was in a world of their own, elbows tucked in, tackling their Sudokus or listening to their music on full blast in case anyone around them had forgotten their iPod.

  Dean looked at his phone. There was no response from Sarah, so he thought he wouldn’t push it and would give her the space she’d asked for. He got ready, once again looking razor sharp. The swelling round his lip had gone down and his nose wasn’t feeling as sorry for itself as it had been yesterday.

  Dean set off on the short walk to the office, having a quick chat with the girls on reception before he headed into the lift. He entered his office and turned on the boards to see how his open trades were panning out. They were up, as usual – well, of course they were. That’s what Dean did: make money. Today, though, was all about training other people to do what he did. This was difficult as there are so many variables in trading, and he couldn’t really teach intuition. Dean felt intuition; it lived and breathed inside him. This was another reason he was so good at chess – he was unpredictable, and that along with intuition was a lethal combination.

  Dean entered the training room, which was empty. He loved training, probably because, like most other things, he was very good at it. He logged in and checked his email to see who the lucky trainees were today.

  Martin Samson, John Davies, Oliver Steadman-Fisher, Laura Green, Gary Bond, Steven Spencer, Lisa Hanson.

  Not a bad bunch, he thought, although he still couldn’t remember much about Friday night and needed to catch up with Martin and Oliver to work it out. He prepped his PowerPoint and went to grab a skinny latte from the Costa franchise in the canteen, again checking his phone. There was still nothing from Sarah, or from anyone else for that matter.

  When Dean walked back into the training room with his coffee, most of his trainees had arrived and were sitting quietly flicking through the exercise books that had been left for them on the table. Dean gave a nod to Martin. Martin nodded back just as Oliver strolled into the room.

  “Come on, Oliver, you have just broken your first rule of the day. You’re five minutes late.” Dean tapped his watch and then pointed to the clock on the wall.

  “It’s not ten am yet, Dean, so I’m not late. Got two minutes.”

  “Oliver, I start training at ten am, but
it’s going to take you two or three minutes to log in and I’m sure you’ll want to grab a coffee, so by then you’ll be late. If you’re on one of my courses again, you’ll turn up ten minutes before the start, and that goes for all of you.”

  Dean looked each of them in the eyes, scanning the room like a viper. First rule of training, he thought. Take control of the strongest early on and the rest will follow.

  Oliver stared straight back at him without flinching, thinking better of having a petty argument he wouldn’t win. He had to spend the rest of the day under Dean’s control and they both knew it.

  “OK, a couple of pointers for anybody who’s not been in a training room with me before. Listen, learn and join in. You might not want to be here, but you are, so you might as well have a bit of fun along the way. You never know, you might just leave the room today with a little more knowledge than you came in with.” He scanned the room again before adding, “And looking at some of you, that should not be too difficult.”

  Dean got a couple of laughs from his already captive audience.

  “So, boys and girls, let’s get this party started.” Dean used the clicker behind his back to bring in the first couple of housekeeping slides covering fire alarms, toilets, breaks etc., then the fun could begin.

  Click. The projector beamed a picture of a statue of the two symbolic beasts of finance, the Bear and the Bull, in front of the Frankfurt Stock Exchange. The Bear and the Bull were fronting each other up, ready to commence battle.

  “We all know this is a game between the Bears and Bulls,” Dean announced. “Bullish markets are going up and bearish markets are going down. Well.” He paused and looked around his trainees. “Well,” he said again before continuing, “Well, I hope you know this. If not, there’s the door.”

  Dean let out a laugh and a few of his trainees joined in.

  “So how hard can it be to predict a two horse race?” He left a pause, not waiting for a verbal answer but for visible thought. “Well, if it was easy, everyone would be doing it, right?”

  Click.

  The next slide showed some historic bubbles and crashes with a title of ‘Be Aware’. Dean challenged the team on each of the bullets on the slide in turn. If they had been to university, they should know about at least six or seven, and on the whole, they did. It was Oliver who stood out, though. Dean had to give it to him, Oliver knew his stuff, to the point where Dean would ask everyone but Oliver to answer his questions.

  Second rule of training – engage your learners with questions and don’t speak if you can get them to speak for you, but shut up anyone who is a smart arse.

  Dean took the trainees through each of the historic events, picking out the signs that had been there for all to see before they’d happened, and that was the point. The signs had been there and nobody had spotted them. Why?

  “Lessons learned are important,” Dean concluded. “History won’t tell us everything, but what it does tell us is that nothing happens without a reason. It’s action versus reaction. If you can read the signs, it’s all laid out in front of you. Knowing where to look and what to believe is important. It is what makes a good trader.”

  Dean paused again to let the trainees absorb that statement into their fatigued grey matter.

  “Any questions?”

  The trainees all looked mesmerised at how much knowledge they had gained from one lesson. It was more than university had taught them in three or four years. Dean was conducting a masterclass and they had free tickets for the show.

  “No questions?” There was silence. “OK, see you after lunch. Martin, Oliver, just hang back a sec, will you?”

  Martin’s lip started quivering as usual. The room emptied with the trainees still engaged, mumbling about what they had just witnessed.

  “Did you enjoy that, boys?” Dean said, smiling at Martin and Oliver who were looking as if they were on the naughty step. Oliver’s straight blond hair was flopping over his eyes.

  “Yes, great, Dean. What’s up?” Oliver replied confidently with a flick of his disobedient hair. Martin was busy looking everywhere but at Dean.

  “It was a good night Friday. Can you tell me what happened as I think my drinks may have been spiked in the strip club? Oh, and while we are on the subject, how did I get a bust lip?”

  Dean stared through the centre of Oliver’s head without blinking. Oliver’s body language started to let him down. He was fidgeting and feeling uncomfortable, his fingers occasionally flexing into a fist.

  “Well, Dean, as we got up to leave, you went crazy and attacked the stripper.”

  Oliver smirked at Dean, knowing he could not contradict this statement. If Dean could, he wouldn’t have asked the question.

  “Oliver, if I find out this has anything to do with you, you’ll be making tea in the post room for the rest of your career.” Dean focused on Oliver’s eyes through the gaps in his hair. Oliver didn’t flinch; this was not the time for one of his trademark flicks. He just returned the stare with interest.

  “Dean, I don’t know what happened to you. I guess, as you say, you may have had a drink spiked. Happens a lot round that area of town. Are you OK now?”

  “I’m fine. Mind how you go, Oliver.” The ‘mind how you go’ was accompanied by a cold smile that clearly meant ‘watch your back, Oliver’. “See you after lunch, don’t be late. Oh, and Martin, thank you. Where I’m from, it’s always good to know when someone’s got your back.”

  Martin nodded and said, “Any time, Dean,” trying not to draw more attention to himself than was necessary.

  Dean watched them leave for lunch. He could read people like a book. Oliver was as guilty as sin, and he knew it. Martin was like Oliver’s little brother, who would get a good kicking if he told his mother what he had been up to after school. But it could wait. Dean had to invest some time in putting his life back together.

  Chapter 7 – Inside Information is King

  Dean picked up his iPhone and ordered some flowers for Sarah. He knew it would not change anything, but did it anyway. He then made a call to one of his contacts in the government offices.

  The steel company in the north of the UK which was just about to go bust was going to be saved by the government. Another UK firm would take it over with incentives from the government to save jobs and boost the economy in the area, which was on its knees. History and intuition were all well and good, but inside information took away the guesswork. Dean already had £400 million put aside, signed off by Dexter, which was the biggest trade he had ever had the authority to place. Of course Dexter had taken some convincing, but Dean had a way of making Dexter think that everything he did was a sure thing. And this was a sure thing.

  Dean picked Stewart B from the contacts in his phone.

  “Dean, let me call you back in two mins. I’ll just pop outside for a fag,” said Dean’s contact on the other end of the phone. A couple of minutes later, Dean’s phone rang.

  “Stew, what’s happening? Is it still on? I’ve got a lot resting on this one.” There was a nervousness to Dean’s voice rather than the usual confidence. He had just spent the morning telling his trainees about Barings Bank and a rogue trader called Nick Leeson taking it down on the blind side of the company. But he could take comfort in knowing that he was no Nick Leeson and that his trade was authorised.

  “Yes, the rescue package has all been signed off by the PM. It’s getting released on the three-thirty pm news conference.” Stewart panted as he managed to get the sentence out in one breath.

  “Did you take the stairs, Stew? Think you need to lay off the fags.” Dean’s confidence had gone up a notch or two on hearing the deal had been confirmed by the PM.

  “I know, Dean.” Stewart panted again and took in enough oxygen for his next sentence. “Killen Steel are being given the site for peanuts if they keep it running with no loss of jobs, so everyone’s a winner, Deano. I’ve seen the paperwork myself.”

  “OK, Stew, I’ll see you alright on this one.
I’ll meet you in The Barley Mow sometime next week. Thanks again, and love to Karen. Bye.”

  Dean allowed himself a fist pump as he hung up the phone, then headed off to see Dexter to pick up the authority paperwork to buy £400 million worth of Killen Shares. He’d watch them soar after the announcement that only he and a few others knew about. He had been planning to take a month off after this, but after what had happened at the weekend, he might jack it all in, maybe take Sarah and Jodie somewhere hot and give them some of the time he had been depriving them of lately. With this deal, he could get out for good and start enjoying life with all of its benefits. Life was good, but could be better.

  Dean told Dexter the news and received the trading authority code, then headed off to his office. At 13.05pm, he set up the trade to buy £400 million of Killen Steel shares. Looking at the picture of his wife and daughter, he said, “Here goes,” and pressed the ‘place trade’ button followed by the authorisation code Dexter had given him. The trade was confirmed on the screen.

  He looked at the boards for a reaction. That transaction was obviously news to the market. In under a minute, the impact of that much money being pumped into a company that had been struggling began to show. Dean could see the Bulls wrestling the Bears to the ground in front of him as the rest of the world tried to catch up and not miss out on the fight.

  The shares were already up 10% in the twenty minutes that had elapsed since Dean had pressed the button. The phone rang; it was Dexter.

  “Dean, you’re a fucking genius. Take the afternoon off. It’s going through the roof…twelve per cent up already.”

  Dean afforded himself a smile. “I’m OK, Dex. I might take some time off next week. Anyway, I’ve got that training to do. I’ve got to make you some more trading stars, remember?”

  “Fuck the training, Dean.” Dean could hear the joy in Dexter’s voice. He was ready for retirement and this would probably do it for him.