The Deadliest Option Read Online Free PDF Page A

straight brown hair neatly side-parted and round shiny cheeks, almost baby-smooth facial skin, and a small pink cupid’s-bow mouth. A crooked, bumped nose barely kept him from looking effeminate.
    Smith plopped herself down next to Johnny Hoffritz, of course. It was easy to see who the new fuhrer was. With Goldie gone, she might be able to make some personal inroads.
    The fat doctor, whoever he was, lowered his massive bulk into the chair next to Smith before Wetzon could, separating them. “I’m Dr. Ash, Carlton Ash.” He said it as if Wetzon should recognize his name. She smiled politely at him and he offered her a side of ham in the shape of a hand to shake. His breathing was laborious.
    “Let’s get going.” Hoffritz thumped the table with the flat of his hand. “Neil, will you get the fuck off the goddam phone.” He pulled a cigarette from a pack and stuck it, unlit, into the corner of his mouth.
    Neil Munchen, dark-haired, dark-eyed, sporting an early suntan and a bruised cheekbone, looked decidedly ethnic next to the others. He hung up the phone and sat next to Wetzon, giving her a nod. His heavy gold Rolex winked at her from under his crisp white shirt cuff.
    Reaching into a vest pocket, Dr. Ash removed a small inhalator and, pressing one nostril at a time, inhaled a mint-scented spray.
    Chris returned, followed by a white-haired black man in a black suit who carried a silver tray of cups and a large decanter of coffee.
    Looking around the room, Wetzon saw a particularly white-bread group, except for Neil Munchen. Quite a difference from the way Goldie Barnes had run Luwisher Brothers in his heyday, she thought. Goldie believed ethnics had more hunger in their bellies.
    “Get the door, Dougie.” Dougie was Douglas Culver, head of financial services, a thick-waisted good ole Georgia boy, with a slow smile and a quick mind.
    The particular, and most attractive, essence of Luwisher Brothers was that everyone produced; that is, everyone had clients and did the business of stockbroker-financial advisor along with his other duties. That meant partners, managers, department heads, all carried their own weight.
    “I’ll lay it out,” Hoffritz said after all the cups were filled except Wetzon’s, who passed on caffeine. “And y’all jump in where you will. Everyone here knows Smith and Wetzon. They’re supposed to be recruiting brokers for us, but we haven’t seen much from them lately.’’
    How attractive , Wetzon thought. All right. Smith wanted to talk, she’d let Smith handle this hot potato. And she had no doubt that Smith could, too. No one messed with Smith more than once.
    Smith looked around the table, flashing everyone a dazzling smile. “Gentlemen, I don’t have to tell you what the climate is like on the Street now. You want big producers? Pay them the upfront dollars that other firms are paying.”
    “We don’t buy brokers. It’s a privilege to be invited to work here.” Destry was spouting the company line.
    “There aren’t very many big producers anymore; they’ve become a rare and vanishing breed since the Crash in ’87, and they want to be rewarded for the fact that they’re doing so well in such an uncertain climate. Brokers are nervous, insecure. They are worried about making a move and not being able to transfer accounts.” She looked at Wetzon.
    “That’s right,” Wetzon said, picking up the ball. “I interview hundreds of brokers every week, and we know the quality you want at Luwisher Brothers. We would never show you anyone who wasn’t top quality.” She let her eyes float around the table. “Of course if you want to see brokers with problems on their U4s, or who build production by churning—”
    “That depends on the problem, doesn’t it? We can look at each case individually. I suppose, sooner or later, every broker is going to have a complaint of some sort.” Destry looked at Hoffritz, who nodded. It was rumored that Destry Bird had had his license