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effectively, since it would be in a form that humans could intuitively understand. As usual, he was right.
    I described in detail how Bondscape had performed. Richard listened closely for a couple of minutes, but then he interrupted me. ‘I’m just leaving to catch a plane to London. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon. Do you mind if I drop by later on? There’s something I want to ask you and Karen.’
    I was intrigued. ‘Of course, Richard. What is it?’
    ‘It’s a bit awkward,’ said Richard. ‘I’ll tell you then, if you don’t mind. Where shall we meet?’
    ‘Let’s have a drink at the Windsor Castle at seven, and then you can have supper with us. Stay the night if you like.’
    ‘Thanks. I will. See you at seven.’
    I was glad I would see him in the evening. I had enjoyed working with him on Bondscape, and I missed the frequent contact. His company, FairSystems, was based in Glenrothes, a New Town in Fife. But despite the physical distance between us, we were close. We always saw each other every month or two, usually in London, although I would occasionally travel up to Scotland to stay the weekend.
    I smiled to myself. Bondscape’s success under fire had pleased Richard, and I liked to please my big brother.

    On the way out, I told Greg I wanted a drink of water. He chuckled, and we loitered by the water-cooler. All was not well on the equity desk.
    A wiry man in his forties was standing at his desk, shouting at a much younger woman a couple of spaces along. ‘Jesus, Sally! I know those Scottish assholes own Caremark. They’d be crazy not to sell at this price. All you gotta do is get them to sell to me!’
    It was Jack Tenko, a burned-out, grizzled old equity trader, who had been sent to London from New York because they didn’t want him there any more. His mouth was working furiously on some gum as he stared at the woman.
    She was in her early twenties. She had short dark hair in a bob, and glasses. She looked scared. Karen was sitting next to her, talking on the phone, but keeping an eye on what was happening.
    ‘But Jack, they won’t tell me what they have in their portfolio. They say they don’t give that information away,’ the woman protested. She looked close to tears.
    ‘Well, how the fuck do you think I know then?’ the older man demanded. ‘Get on the phone, and get that stock!’
    Sally looked at her phone in misery. She knew if she called the client again, he would be angry. If she didn’t, Jack would be. She reached for the phone.
    Karen hung up, and held out her hand. ‘Wait a minute, Sally!’
    Tenko glared at her.
    ‘Jack, you think you know what Sally’s client owns because someone told you in a pub at lunchtime. Right?’
    ‘I have my sources,’ said Tenko, gruffly.
    ‘Well, you know these guys are difficult at the best of times. They only deal with a small list of brokers, and we’re not on that list. You can shout at Sally all you like, but it won’t change that.’
    ’Well, she should get us on the fucking list.’
    ‘Maybe she will, maybe she won’t,’ said Karen. ‘But you’ve got to give her time. And encouragement.’
    Tenko glared at Sally and Karen, and turned back to his desk. ‘Yeah, well one of you get me some Caremark,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve got a big order to fill, and the market’s bouncing.’
    Greg and I exchanged glances, and left.

    We propped up the bar of the Windsor Castle, and tucked into our second pint of IPA. It was a small, old pub in Kensington with three cramped bars and enough genuine drinkers to prevent its warm atmosphere deteriorating into olde worlde charm. Greg had said that he wanted to be introduced to Richard, and so I had brought him along. We had arrived slightly early. We were thirsty.
    I saw the tall figure of my brother push into the crowded bar, and waved to him. ‘Pint?’
    ‘Yes please,’ he said. ‘I need it. I’ve just spent two hours with one of our Japanese customers. God, it was tough. The guy