Climbing the Ladder 3 - Climbing Higher

January 23, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

The adrenaline rush had made me slightly light-headed and nauseated, but I recovered quickly and picked up the phone, which had clattered to the floor when I'd dropped it.

"Jonny?!"

"Sorry," I said. "I dropped the phone. I'm not sure what to say."

"I've made a real mess of things," Bev said, "and I don't know what to do."

"I'm not sure, either," I replied. "Let me think about it, please."

"You promised you wouldn't tell anyone!" Bev said frantically.

"I won't. Let me call you in a few days, OK?"

"But I can't talk if my parents are home!"

"Then we need to find a way to talk soon. Figure something out, please."

"I will."

"It's OK to call me at work to arrange a time to talk."

"Thanks for being here for me, Jonny," Bev said. "I'll call you soon."

We said 'goodbye', I hung up, and took some time to take stock of the situation.

I had given my word to Bev, and my word was my bond, but given my mom's relationship with Glen, I wasn't sure I could keep the information from her. I had no idea how she'd react, but no matter what, I couldn't let her marry Glen without knowing he'd not only slept with Bev but was also Heather's dad.

I did some quick math in my head and thought back to what I knew. Glen had started at Goshen in August 1980, Bev had become pregnant in September 1981, and had given birth in June 1982. My mom had started working at the High School in July 1982, had met Glen at some point after that, and they'd had their first date around the beginning of October 1982.

On the plus side, that meant Glen's relationship with Bev had been over for a year when he started seeing my mom. That was, though, the only plus I could see. He was a teacher, he was something like thirty years older than she was, and he'd gotten her pregnant. I had to assume the circumstances were as Bev had said -- that she'd been on the Pill and had taken it religiously.

A thought crossed my mind that I actually couldn't trust anything Bev had said about what had happened from the time I told her I was moving until, well, I actually wasn't sure I could trust anything she'd said about her relationships. That concerned me, and before I could move forward with her, we'd have to sit down and talk. In a sense, I didn't care about who or what, but lies and deceit were a massive obstacle to overcome.

Thinking further about it, though, it might be the case that Bev hadn't actually deceived me. If she'd been positive that Bob Leahy was Heather's dad, then the only thing she'd done with regard to me was conceal that she'd had a relationship with my mom's future fiancé. If Heather weren't in the picture, that wouldn't matter so long as the relationship wasn't continuing. Ultimately, who Bev had sex with was her business, not anyone else's.

As I analyzed the situation further, I felt Glen had to suspect that Heather might be his, as I was positive that my mom would have told him about what had happened. I tried to think about how I would respond and considered my reaction to the fact that Huifen might have been pregnant. If she had been and had chosen to have the baby, I would absolutely have stepped up and taken responsibility. What that meant would have been negotiated between Huifen and me, with the best interests of the baby paramount.

But what if one of the other girls turned up pregnant? With very few exceptions, they weren't monogamous, and I wasn't expecting them to be, as I sure wasn't. If one of the girls who hadn't made a point of saying she was only sleeping with me discovered she was pregnant, it would be far more complicated. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Glen might suspect, but couldn't know, because it was entirely possible Bev had been with other guys. Again, that was her business, except with regard to naming Heather's dad.

Of course, she didn't have to name him and could simply forego child support, but I wondered how her parents would react to that. She was living at home, and her parents were paying for school, and that put her in a position where they could pressure her. Following the same path my mom had followed was not easy, and I had no idea if Bev had friends who could take her in and how she would make ends meet while raising Heather and trying to finish her degree.

In the end, everything depended on what Bev chose to do, and I could only offer suggestions and support with one caveat -- I felt strongly my mom had to know. And that presented me with a dilemma of which 'right thing' to do -- honor my relationship with my mom or my word to Bev. Doing both would be possible if Bev either allowed me to tell my mom or told my mom herself. If that didn't happen, I'd have a tough choice to make.

Despite my conversation with Bianca earlier, I begged off being together, as I simply wasn't in the mood.

January 24, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday morning, after breakfast and a shower, I put on one of my new custom shirts and tailored suits, along with a red 'power tie', as Beth called it. I checked myself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, then went downstairs.

"WHOA!" Shelly exclaimed. "That suit is amazing!"

"Thanks."

"If you walk into a bar, every chick in the place will be ready to drop her panties for you!"

"That already happens!" Bianca interjected. "Well, at a university dormitory or party!"

"Now all he needs is the American Express Card and Rolex!" Shelly declared.

"I applied for an Amex card," I said, "but the $5,000 watch is going to have to wait until I make a lot more money than I do now, and I'm not sure spending that kind of money on what amounts to a fashion accessory makes sense! My Casio does just fine, and with a metal band, it doesn't look out of place."

"Well, you certainly look the part of a high-flying stockbroker!"

"Which will mean nothing if I don't actually make money for Spurgeon!"

"Are you going to change before class?" Bianca asked.

"I actually mentioned to my new friends in class that I would probably be in a suit when I came to class if I don't change. I actually didn't think about it this morning until you just asked. I'll probably start taking a bag and changing into more comfortable clothes. That said, Violet will appreciate seeing me in a suit because I told her about them. She was curious about what they'd look like. Anyway, I need to go."

"You start earlier now, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "7:00am so that I can have my daily 'analyst report' on Mr. Matheson's desk before the opening bell at 8:30am Chicago time."

"What goes into that?"

"I'll explain later, OK? I don't want to be even thirty seconds late for my first day!"

I left the house, got into my car, and drove into the city. I parked, then instead of getting into the freight elevator as I had every day for the past nineteen months, I climbed the stairs to the lobby, then got into one of the regular passenger elevators. When I reached the 29th floor, I stepped off the elevator, walked down a short hallway, and used my keycard to enter the office.

"Morning, Rich," I said to the overnight trader who had started at 10:00pm the previous evening. "Anything of note in the markets?"

"A relatively quiet night," he said. "No big movements in Asia or Europe."

"Any news that happened overnight?"

"Italy sentenced twenty-five Red Brigades terrorists to life imprisonment, but that was basically expected. Otherwise, not much."

"OK," I replied. "Let me get to work on my daily analyst report."

I put my lunch in the fridge, started a fresh pot of coffee, then went to my desk. I turned on my Bloomberg terminal and my Apple II, hung my suit coat on a hanger, which I hung on a hook on the cubicle wall, then sat down to begin work.

"Morning, Jonathan," Tony said, sitting down in his chair.

Paige would be in her orientation for the morning, something I was very happy not to have to do again.

"Morning," I replied, not even looking up from my Bloomberg terminal.

I'd looked over a dozen reports Tony had written to get a feel for the style and tone, then pulled up the Bloomberg News service. It was extremely handy and made me instantly wish for the ability to search the Wall Street Journal, Barron's, and Crain's the same way I could search news articles on Bloomberg. I was aware of a service that might provide that, but I didn't know enough about it.

With no major news events, there weren't likely to be huge currency fluctuations for the day, so I looked instead at future risks. The ones that stood out were the ongoing Soviet military intervention in Afghanistan; the labor unrest in Poland and the continuing imposition of martial law; the conflict between the Sandinistas and Contras in Nicaragua; Cuban regulars fighting in the Angolan Civil War; the concerns over the runway being built in Granada; and the serious drought in Ethiopia, combined with insurgencies.

None of those specific conflicts would have any major bearing on precious metals or major currencies, and at the moment, none of them looked set to escalate. I decided on a format for my report which would grade the global climate in four areas: war risk, trade, economy, and political stability. Each would receive a letter grade from A-F, though I'd need to work out some system for making those decisions. For my immediate report, I'd just write prose.

As I was gathering information, I noticed an offhand comment in the article about Nicaragua about the Venezuelan economy, and I decided to dig in further. The Bolivar was a strong currency and was, in effect, the benchmark for Latin America. Venezuela had significant oil reserves, though they were heavier grades, rather than the 'light, sweet' crude of Saudi Arabia or the 'West Texas Intermediate'. Venezuela also mined significant amounts of bauxite, the main source of aluminum, as well as coal, gold, and iron ore.

All of that was a sign of a strong economy, but there were serious mismanagement problems, especially in the nationalized oil company Petróleos de Venezuela, S.A., or as it was known, PDVSA. That, combined with the oil price slump, indicated potentially rough economic times ahead.

Of course, 'slump' was relative, as benchmark oil was trading at $90/barrel, but that was down from $141/barrel at its height in 1980 following the Iranian revolution. Venezuela's reserves, being heavier, traded at a discount to that.

The more I researched, the more I saw that the Bolivar was overvalued, and at some point, possibly soon, the government would have to devalue it, and if they didn't, the market would force them to do so. Their ability to raise interest rates to counter pressure on the currency was limited, as was true for every central bank.

While I'd been researching, Anna, the pretty blonde Swedish secretary for the team, arrived, followed by the two assistant brokers, Kent and Lee, and shortly after them, Norman Monroe and Harry Foulks had come in. All of them had said 'good morning', and I'd replied without even looking away from my work.

I typed my report, looked up the current rates of exchange for a dozen major currencies, as well as the spot gold, silver, and platinum prices, and then wrote my first ever daily recommendation -- short the Bolivar. I reviewed the report, printed it, and then took it to Mr. Matheson's desk and put it in his 'In' box.

I checked my watch and saw that I had about ten minutes before he arrived, so I poured myself a cup of coffee and used that time to review my own portfolios. I decided to move out of a few positions, so I turned on the IBM terminal, signed on, then entered the trades I wanted to make, which would be executed by either Mr. Steinem or Mr. Jackson when the market opened. I also entered an order for my Cincinnatus Fund for puts on the Bolivar, where a small amount of capital could control a huge position.

Mr. Matheson came into the office and walked past without acknowledging anyone. But five minutes later, my phone buzzed, signifying the intercom was open.

"Kane, get in here!" Mr. Matheson growled.

"On my way!" I replied.

I got up and went to his office.

"Two things," he said. "First, I need to know how to use this Bloomberg machine. Second, what the fuck? Short the Bolivar? The single strongest currency in Latin America? And one of the most stable in the world?"

"The analysis backs it up," I said. "They're going to have to devalue or default. Either they'll do it voluntarily, or they'll be forced to do it. They don't have any room to raise interest rates to defend their currency. The only thing that could save them now is increased oil prices, and the commodity reports say that's not going to happen. In fact, the price of oil is likely to decline significantly, to a small premium over pre-1973 prices."

"Your report disagrees with every other analyst report I've seen, both ours and independent analysts."

"I'm sure that's true," I replied. "But may I make two points?"

"Go on."

"First, as I said, the data backs it up; second, somebody has to be first, and you yourself told me being first is the way to make serious money."

"Would you short the currency? In your own account?"

"I sold two standard April Bolivar contracts and protected them with call options in my Cincinnatus Fund."

Call options meant I had the option of buying Bolivars at a specific price. If the Bolivar was devalued, as I expected, I wouldn't exercise the call options and would buy at market. If, for some reason, the Bolivar strengthened significantly, then I'd exercise those options to cover my short. I'd pay a few percent for the privilege of protecting myself, but I felt the Bolivar would devalue significantly.

"Two hundred thousand Bolivars?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My worst-case scenario is I lose a few percent to insurance; the upside is potentially huge."

"You're that sure? The loss would amount to almost the entire amount of your special bonus."

He was right. I was betting around $7,000 to make anywhere from five to ten times that amount in three months. And, if the devaluation was even more severe, it might be as much as fifteen to twenty times.

"It would. I am in no way uncertain. I, as they say, put my money where my mouth is."

"How'd you twig to this?"

"A comment in an article about the Contra insurgency in Nicaragua mentioned that oil-dependent Latin American countries were suffering with the lower oil prices, which are down by more than a third from their 1980 highs. They specifically mentioned Pemex, but I know Venezuela is dependent on oil exports, so I did some research. You have my analysis, and you'll see my trade on your screen when you sign on. It's your call."

"Jesus, Kane! It's your first day!"

"So I should put my wingtips up on my desk, drink coffee, and flirt with Anna?"

He laughed, "No! But telling me to short a strong currency less than an hour after you started your new position is gutsy."

"Isn't that what you pay me for?"

"It is," he replied with a smile. "I'll order lunch, and you can show me how to use the new terminal."

"OK."

"You found the Bolivar, so find me other currencies that might be in the same boat and which haven't weakened yet."

"Will do."

I went back to my desk and began my research. Just after the markets opened, I received trade confirmations for the trades I'd entered earlier and updated my portfolio spreadsheets to indicate the changes. I had to create a new formula for the protected short I'd created in the Bolivar, but that didn't take much time away from my research.

At noon, Mr. Matheson called me in for lunch of breaded steak from Ricobene's, and I explained how to use the Bloomberg terminal and gave him the 'cheat sheet' I'd created that listed the important key combinations and sequences he would need.

"This is a real game-changer," Mr. Matheson said when we finished.

"When I used it this morning, I began wishing for a way to search the Wall Street Journal. Heck, even an index of Journal Articles would be helpful. We have back editions in the archives, but they're kind of useless without an index. The only way I'd know where to find something is a reference in a research report or analyst note."

"There is Dow Jones News/Retrieval, but when we looked at it two years ago, it wasn't very good. It was also expensive, at something like $2.50 per minute, plus a monthly fee, plus phone charges."

"I've heard of another service," I said, "but I don't know anything more than that it exists. There's a company that offers the ability to search all federal court rulings, and at least some state rulings, called Lexis. They also have a service for journalists called Nexis, but I don't know anything at all about it except that it exists."

"How did you hear about it?"

"My attorney friend told me about Lexis and how his paralegal uses it. It works similarly to our Bloomberg terminals but uses IBM terminals. It can be used to search for anything in federal or Illinois court cases. He mentioned the same company has a similar service for newspapers."

"Do me a favor, check to see if Dow Jones News/Retrieval has changed their pricing model and has more information, and also look into the service you mentioned. Get pricing, and maybe arrange for a demonstration. If you think it's worthwhile, let me know, and we'll figure out what to do from there."

"Will do. Did you move on the Bolivar?"

"Yes. About thirty times what you did, and the same way, with a protective call. It kicked off a mini-trend of others who saw the trades and figured we knew something. That could snowball and might even force the outcome you predicted. You know how that works, right?"

"Yes, shorting the currency puts pressure on the central bank involved to do one of three things -- buy defensively, raise short-term interest rates, or devalue. Buying defensively requires significant outlays of foreign reserves, and Venezuela doesn't have enough to fight for long, especially with oil prices falling. Raising interest rates won't help because investors who see the risk will fear default or devaluation. A G7 country could defend its currency, but basically, no other country which didn't have massive gold reserves could do it for long. That leaves exactly one option."

"You've paid attention!" Mr. Matheson said approvingly. "That's something for you to watch for. You want to see who's selling and what they're selling each day. The key is finding the trend as early as possible so that we ARE the trend, not riding it. We can make money riding the trend, but the real money is being the trend."

"The elephant parade analogy," I replied. "Is there any currency you wouldn't put under pressure?"

"No. Granted, the combined assets of every trading firm in the world couldn't budge the US dollar if we tried, but almost any other one is vulnerable. What moves the dollar?"

"War, oil prices, trade imbalances, and interest rates, none of which gives anyone much leverage. We'd need to be OPEC."

"Those fuckers have screwed with us too many times, but it's hard to do anything short of invading the entire Middle East."

"World War III."

"That is the problem, and the bastards know it. Anyway, I have a call I need to make."

"Then I'll get back to work. Thanks for lunch."

I left and went back to my desk and spent two hours finding information on both Dow Jones News/Retrieval and Nexis. Both services would be useful, especially Dow Jones, as they had searchable articles from the Wall Street Journal on their computers. I collated all the information for both services in a spreadsheet and made a comparison list. I had to set it aside so that I could do further research for my morning analyst note, and by 5:00pm, I was mentally exhausted.

I had known hard physical labor from the time I was fourteen but had never realized, even taking classes, how tiring mental exertion could be. That had surprised me, as I'd never considered thinking to be hard work. I wasn't physically tired because I'd basically been sitting on my butt all day, and thinking about that reminded me that I needed to start going to the gym in the Hancock Center three times a week, or I'd start gaining weight and be really out of shape in no time.

I left the office, rode the passenger elevator down to the lobby, then took the stairs to the garage. I drove to University Village, parked just down the street from Violet's house, and walked to the door. I rang the bell, and she opened the door almost immediately.

"WOW!" she exclaimed. "You look really nice!"

"Thanks. This is one of the new suits I told you about."

"It's awesome! Come in; dinner's almost ready."

I went into the house and sat down at the kitchen table while Violet put the finishing touches on dinner.

"Did you speak with Bev?"

"Yes, and while I can't go into details, you were right in that there is someone involved she didn't want anyone to know about."

"I may be naïve, but even I know it takes a boy and a girl to make a baby!"

I laughed, "Yes, of course! It wasn't that there was another guy, it was that she kept that completely secret and wants to continue to keep it secret."

"Why?"

"It's complicated, and I really can't go into it because I promised Bev not to reveal anything."

"But who would I tell?" Violet asked.

"It's not about you," I replied. "It's about my promise. If I made a promise to you, you'd expect me to keep it, right?"

"Yes. And you're right; I shouldn't have asked."

"It's OK."

We had a nice dinner, and after I helped with the dishes, we headed to class. I walked Violet to her classroom, then walked to mine.

"WOW!" Teri gasped. "You look really nice in that suit! Even better than the one last week!"

I almost laughed because nobody at Spurgeon had said a word, but basically everyone else had noticed. It really was a uniform at work, and I'd have been noticed if I hadn't been wearing one. Tony didn't wear expensive suits, but he had, as far as I was aware, no desire to trade or manage money and, as such, didn't have a reason to spend the money.

"Jesus, Teri!" Troy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Drool much!"

"As if you don't drool over Laurie Newsome! And not just drool!"

"Sis!" he growled in protest.

I did laugh at that because her implication was clear.

"Tailored, right?" Troy asked. "It fits perfectly."

"Yes," I replied. "I started my new job today, and this is basically the dress code for anyone who wants to move up."

"Remember us little people when you become a zillionaire!" he requested.

I smiled and nodded because the professor chose that moment to step up to the lectern. I quickly pulled my notebook from my bag, along with my textbook and calculator, grabbed my mechanical pencil, and began taking notes. Just over an hour later, class ended, and I gathered my notebook, textbook, calculator, and pencil and put them in my satchel.

"See you on Wednesday," I said to Troy and Teri, then headed to meet Violet for our usual coffee and pie before heading home.

January 25, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Tuesday morning, I wrote my daily analyst report based on the data I had gathered on Monday afternoon and my assessment of the world condition. What I'd discovered so far was that Chile would continue to devalue their currency, though not as severely as had happened the previous September; that the Philippine peso was vulnerable and likely to come under increasing pressure; that Zaire was certain to have a shock devaluation at some point; the Tanzanian shilling was under pressure; and, in the opposite direction, the Mexican peso would strengthen against the dollar.

"There's no play in Zaire," Mr. Matheson said when he called me into his office later in the morning. "The official rate is around 6.5 to 1, while the black market rate is 30 to 1. Nobody is buying. I made a move on Chile last year, before the big devaluation, and there isn't much play there. Keep an eye on the Philippine peso and the Tanzanian shilling.

"Your analysis of Mexico is spot on, and I'm going to change the mix of our basket of currencies to reflect that. Keep a very close eye on that because as oil prices come down, it's going to put pressure on the government as the current account balance weakens. I want you to take a look at gold and silver, please; the run-ups seem out of line with market conditions."

"You're considering large short positions?"

"Yes. I need an analyst note to back my play."

That indicated that he had some kind of information he couldn't use to justify a trade, very likely from someone in London. And that information was not actionable, perhaps because it was 'inside'. If I could independently develop a case for a large short counter the market, he could act without risking regulatory scrutiny.

"OK," I replied.

I had lunch with Haley, then spent the afternoon researching and analyzing the run-up in gold and silver prices and discovered exactly what Mr. Matheson needed. First, the gold price was a surrogate for the interest rate on Eurodollars, and financing rates for bullion were calculated based on the Eurodollar rate.

Those rates ran about ten percent on an annualized basis, which meant the spread between spot bullion and a one-year futures contract should be about ten percent, which compensated the party holding the bullion for the cost of holding it. The spread was widening, which indicated the market expected prices to rise, as investors were paying a premium -- around 12% instead of the 10% indicated by the Eurodollar rate.

The fundamentals didn't support that, and at some point, the spread would narrow, which was the signal to get out, but anticipating that signal was the way to make significant money. Looking at trading patterns, I saw significant retail sales, mostly in coins, which indicated the masses were buying the trend. That was a normal pattern in any run-up and was usually the sign a run-up was about to peter out.

I wrote an analyst note and took it to Mr. Matheson just before 4:00pm.

"This is excellent work, Kane, and it'll keep the CFTC off my ass. I'll have Chamberlain, Vandenberg, and Warren start selling gold and silver futures tomorrow, but in a way that won't attract attention. If we make too big a move, too fast, it'll spook other traders. Some will catch on, and that's OK, as long as the herd doesn't figure it out for a month or so."

"Not likely," I observed. "They only look at the prices and see them rising. They don't look at the spreads, and by the time the price signal is there, the only thing that will happen is the herd will stampede right off the cliff."

"Every fucking time."

I left his office, returned to my desk, and spent the last forty-five minutes gathering data for my morning analyst report. I was very happy I'd been assigned currencies and precious metals, while Tony was focused on equities and Paige focused on fixed income. All three of us looked at various aspects of commodity prices, as those affected literally everything from the price of a box of cereal to international exchange rates.

Most of the trading done by Mr. Matheson's team was in FX, but literally every aspect of the financial markets, politics, the economy, and weather affected exchange rates and had to be taken into account. Tony was an excellent equities analyst, and having access to his reports would help me build value in my Cincinnatus Fund.

The last thing I did before leaving for the day was put in an order for my fund to sell five standard May gold contracts and five standard silver contracts. If everything went the way Mr. Matheson expected with precious metals and the way I expected with the Bolivar, I'd turn the $150,000 in my fund, about a third of which was mine, into close to $500,000. That would make it possible to earn even larger returns, as I'd be in a position to take advantage of opportunities that weren't possible with less capital. Of course, that paled to what Mr. Matheson would make for his clients and for the Spurgeon FX fund.

"How was your day?" Haley asked when we met in the lobby of the Hancock Center after work.

"Busy," I replied. "Yours?"

"Routine. You can pick up your gym pass tomorrow."

"Great! The only downside is three days a week, I'll eat lunch at my desk while I work so I can spend my lunch hour in the gym. What are we doing tonight?"

"How about The Berghoff? I checked, and there's nothing interesting playing at the theatre, but there's live music at Checkerboard Lounge in Bronzeville."

"Not to be 'that guy', but is it safe to go there?"

"That specific area? Yes. The Rolling Stones played there with Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, and others about two years ago for the album Live at the Checkerboard Lounge, Chicago 1981. There are some very bad areas just north of there between 35th Street and 41st Street. You know IIT's campus extends to 35th, right?"

"Yes. I've met some people who attend school there."

Which reminded me to try to get in touch with Anala again. I really wished she had an answering machine because the times I'd called, the phone had simply rung without being answered, which meant she didn't know I'd called.

"Are you game?" Haley asked.

"Sure. Can we get in?"

"Nobody is going to card you in that suit!"

"Then let's do that," I said.

"What's the plan for Friday?" Haley asked as we walked down the stairs to the garage.

"Kristy will meet the three of us here, we'll have dinner at Connie's, then see a band called Batteries Not Included at Loyola."

"What do they play?"

"A mix of 70s covers and their own stuff," I replied.

"Have you overcome your discomfort with dating someone from the office?"

"I'm still cautious," I replied. "But I did ask you out for Friday with Jack and Kristy, which will be our first 'public' date, in the sense anyone will know about it. I mean, unless you've told anyone."

"Only Mrs. Peterson because it's a rule in Personnel that if we date someone from Spurgeon, we have to let her know. It makes sense, if you think about it, given what we have access to."

"It does. Out of curiosity, do you have some specific destination in mind, or are you in 'one day at a time' mode?"

"You mean, am I ready to marry? Not even close! Ask me in two or three years!"

"And until then?"

"Stages, right? Casually dating and seeing where things lead."

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

"I've been on a few dates over the past few months, but nobody has held my interest for more than one date."

"Except me?"

"Obviously! You're dating, too, right?"

"Yes. There are a few girls I go out with casually, but none of them are serious. You know I'm still trying to sort out the situation with my friend Bev."

"Which is why things are still just completely casual. Until you figure that out, it would be foolish to get too serious with anyone. Have you heard anything more from her?"

"No. I expect her to call in the next day or two to set up a time when we can have a private call. It really is a complicated mess."

"But there's absolutely no way the baby is yours, right?"

"Correct. It's impossible. I was here in Chicago when Bev conceived and had been for four months."

"And you have no idea who the father is?"

I did, but I felt it was better to demur, given my promise to Bev.

"And that's where I have to say that I can't -- at Bev's request -- reveal anything that she has or hasn't told me. I gave my word."

"That's really important to you, isn't it?"

"It is. Honesty, keeping your word, and loyalty to your friends are the standard I use to measure people. I really don't care about what they do or how they live their lives, so long as they aren't deceitful, keep their word, and help their friends."

We reached the car, and I opened the door for Haley. Once she was in, I shut the door, went around to the driver's side, and got in. I started the car, backed out of the spot, and headed for the exit so we could go to The Berghoff.

"What about a moral code?"

"What about it?" I asked. "For me, the only rules are that whatever you do has to be consensual and doesn't intentionally hurt anyone. I have zero use for busybodies trying to tell me what's right or wrong."

"The SEC?" Haley asked.

"Their rules are mostly about reporting, but also about not cheating. I wouldn't cheat anyway, but it's good to have the rules laid out clearly, so there isn't any question. In a way, it's no different from baseball or football. If I want to play, I have to follow the rules of the game. It's about ensuring everyone knows what is and isn't acceptable, not about moral judgments. Calling balls and strikes or confirming a first down or calling out of bounds have no moral value, it's a matter of defined rules.

"An example from work was buying Johnson & Johnson stock after the Tylenol debacle. I had someone accuse me of acting immorally and of profiting from death. I countered that what I was doing was showing my faith in J&J to solve the problem and recover. Nothing I could do with my money could bring those people back to life, and J&J didn't deserve to be punished for something that was done to them not by them. Buying or not buying the stock had nothing to do with morality."

"But would you make decisions based on morals?"

"You mean, for example, if I discovered a company was behaving unethically? Absolutely, because that behavior affects public perception and 'good will' and can drive down the value of a stock."

"So it's all about money, then?"

"Always! It was drilled into me both in my licensure courses and by the Spurgeon training materials that, above all else, I have a fiduciary duty to our clients. And that's legally enforceable against any of us with licenses and against Spurgeon as a firm. It would be unethical to do otherwise."

"I think I understand where you're coming from, and if you don't subscribe to any moral system, why do you object to what goes on at Spurgeon?"

"First, my main statement is that I won't do it for the reasons we discussed. What other people do is their business. I have two main objections. The first is that a good part of it is cheating, which calls into question someone's honesty and integrity, as well as their ability to keep their word. The second is that I know of at least one case where a secretary was fired for refusing to 'put out', and that calls into question whether or not it's truly consensual. I'm fairly certain you object for those same reasons."

"I do. Cheating is the uncrossable line in my book. You can never, ever trust a cheater. Never. I also think there are serious questions of consent, even if most of the girls say they're willingly sleeping with their bosses. But we've never had a single complaint, even from secretaries who have left."

"I'm curious, but are they paid off?"

"If they are, I wouldn't be told about it, and it would happen off the books."

"I suspect they are."

"I suspect you're right."