Moneychangers by Arthur Hailey

Author:Arthur Hailey [Arthur Hailey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-02-16T16:00:00+00:00

10

"This is First Mercantile American Bank," the FMA money trader snapped crisply into the telephone; he had it cradled expertly between his shoulder and left ear so his hands were free. "I want six million dollars overnight. What's your rate?"

From the California West Coast the voice of a money trader in the giant Bank of America drawled, "Thirteen and five eighths." 'that's high," the FMA man said. 'Tough titty."

The FMA trader hesitated, trying to outguess the other, wondering which way the rate would go. From habit he filtered out the persistent drone of voices around him in First Mercantile American's Money Trading Center a sensitive, security-guarded nerve core in FMA Headquarters Tower, which few of the bank's customers knew about and only a privileged handful ever saw. But it was in centers like this that much of a big bank's profit was made or could be lost.

Reserve requirements made necessary for a bank to hold specific amounts of cash against possible demand, but no bank wanted too much idle money or too little. Bank money traders kept amounts in balance.

"Hold, please," the FMA trader said to San Francisco. He pressed a "hold" button on his phone console, then another button near it.

A new voice announced, "Manufacturers Hanover Trust, New York." "I need six million overnight. What's your rate?" "Thirteen and three quarters." On the East Coast the rate was rising.

"Thanks, no thanks." The FMA trader broke the connection with New York and released the "hold" button where San Francisco was waiting. He said, 'I guess I’l1 take it."

"Six million sold to you at thirteen and five eighths," Bank of America said. "Right."

The trade had taken twenty seconds. It was one of thousands daily between rival banks in a contest of nerve and wits, with stakes in seven figures. Bank money traders were invariably young men in their thirties bright and ambition, quick-minded, unflustered under pressure. Yet, since a record of success in trading could advance a young man's career and mistakes blight it, tension was constant so that three years on a money-trading desk was considered a maximum. After that, the strain began to show.

At this moment, in San Francisco and at First Mercantile American Bank the latest transaction was being recorded, fed to a computer, then transmitted to the Federal Reserve System. At the "Fed," for the next twenty-four hours, reserves of Bank of America would be debited by six million dollars, the reserves of FMA credited with the same amount. FMA would pay Bank of America for the use of its money for that time.

All over the country similar transactions between other banks were taking place. It was a Wednesday, in mid-April.

Alex Vandervoort, visiting the Money Trading Center, a part of his domain within the bank, nodded a greeting to the trader who was seated on an elevated platform surrounded by assistants, the latter funneling information and completing paper work. The young man, already immersed in another trade, returned the greeting with a wave and cheerful smile.

Elsewhere in

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