Ullswater Lake

Chapter 2

"Keep the stop in. Rebalance the commodity plays but sell the direct exposure stuff, Rio, Kazahamys, and keep the ETFs – but dump BlackRockGold and General." He killed his screen as he wound up the instructions. "And everyone," he said slowly, pausing for effect, "tomorrow we start the switch. Hong Kong prepares the ground while we sleep. Tight"

Known for both his melodrama and ruthlessness, Justin de Poitier also had a calmer collegiate side. It usually depended on who he was communicating with. Saying Justin talked to or spoke with people doesn't capture the necessity of space he required between subject and object. A distant man you might say. Again, it depends who he's talking to. In the case of the little de Poitiers it was different. They were dear to his heart, although mutuality was sometimes lacking.

Justin didn't excel so much as drift at school and to a lesser extent took the same approach at uni. Loved playing and watching sports, often being at his most animated when conversing about rugger at Twickers. As a keen member of the Combined Cadet Force, firing guns and executing orders had also appealed to him.

However, there was more to this money man than a fascination with leather balls and uniforms. He was a devotee of military history, although this trait could also of course be considered as of a piece with the jock sports science undergraduate profile. Catching the bug when he started his GCSEs – inevitable reference point the second world war – he started to devour volumes of the stuff. American civil war and the English civil war were favourites. In his present work – amassing wealth – he felt, in his own mind at any rate, that he was bringing to bear his competitive, martial bent and allied pretensions of generalship from an apprenticeship earned on the map pages of many a book.

"OK all. Go eat, drink and be merry, but be back here ready for war at 7.00."

'Ready for war' was one of his catchphrases but the 7.00am part was all brand new. Everyone needed to be at their desks before the rest of the City. "You've had the email. Rob's running the show while I'm in New York." Justin went back to his office confident of his own abilities and in the plan. If it didn't happen tomorrow, at least the troops were ready now. The order of battle had been set.

He was the boss but he also wanted to come over as one of the team, getting down and dirty with the plebs. With that in mind, he tended to leave his office door open while showing an understanding of how to party, painfully.

Justin lived at the bankers' hillside retreat, otherwise known as Highgate. Standing tall over the city appealed to him, as it had to the Victorian bourgeoisie. Something to do with staking out good ground, having an overview, a panoramic perspective. A panopticon world view. Highgate was also his haven in a frazzled world. A place where all around slowed down; where even the McDonald's facade was forced to conform to a pretence of village life characterised by independent traders and shop owners. 

And at times like this, the calm before the storm, Justin could plot in peace and execute remotely. In truth he would be able to get by without ever having to visit the office. After all, money matters these days could usually be transacted without leaving the digital domain – a blessing and a curse. An unimaginable amount of trickery and stealth could be achieved, seemingly at little cost, and putting the most discrete Swiss bank to shame to boot. 

Complications, on the other hand, could develop at unbelievable speed with layers of complexity to confuse the most attentive pure mathematician turned quant boy. In fact mathematicians were highly sort after in financial circles, in the hope that they at least might have some chance of unravelling the tangle created by 'product innovation', in plain English – the increasingly esoteric packaging of novel financial instruments, typically seeking to build out risk.

So as Justin drove up the hill and through the 'village' he began thinking about price signals and wishing they could become as reliably predictive as the traffic lights near the bus terminus ahead. In the calculation of known unknowns confronting Mayfair Partners most of the risk was either ultra controllable or had been eliminated entirely. Nothing is a sure thing in betting but piling in behind the favourite often comes up trumps. Understand that and you could make it in the hedge funds world, and if you can make it there you can make it anywhere.