The Last Hedge Read Free Page A

soon.”
    “Yeah,” Dylan said, with a laugh. “They better, or else we’ll all be living in a government camp eating corn and raising chickens.”
    “I don’t like corn.”
    “You get the idea,” Dylan said.

Chapter 2
     
    The hedge fund operated by the Corbin brothers had moved into their new headquarters just three months after 9/11. The move had already been in the planning stages; the company had grown tenfold in the previous year and the tragedy of the towers only hastened that move. Their latest digs, two floors and a penthouse, were strategically located in a newer tower just off of East 57th Street and East River Drive. Though the view was not nearly as spectacular as their previous one, a majestic sixtieth-floor palace, the corner office of Ray Corbin towered high above the river with sweeping views of Manhattan and Queens. More importantly, the building itself was surrounded by taller buildings, which seemed obscure in comparison to the towers. Safety was a primary concern. It had taken them nearly a year to rebuild what terrorists had destroyed in a morning.
    Ray Corbin got up from his desk and strolled towards his full-height window overlooking the East River. He then turned and stretched his thin, six foot two frame towards the ground. Due to the magic of arthroscopy, he could still touch his toes. Though he was only forty-seven, a decade of marathon running and lesser triathlons had reduced the cartilage in his knees to a mound of bacon drizzle. Rail-thin with a wiry physique, his slightly gray hair and tan-lined face indicated a life of leisure and lack of protection from the sun. His custom suits exuded power through and through.
    Ray turned and gazed back down on the East River before him. The summer heat had left a haze in the sky, and he watched as a helicopter landed off in the distance. In the summer, he frequently commuted to the Hamptons by copter, and contemplated the danger of flying in this haze. It was only then that he realized his brother Josh had entered the room.
    If one had seen them from a distance, one would not have even thought the Corbin Brothers to be friends, much less brothers. Ray’s runner physique made his younger brother Josh’s full frontal obesity comic. He was a very heavy boy. Late night programming sessions on the newest trading models had reduced his diet to a steady stream of pizza, diet cokes and Krispy Kremes with chocolate filling. Many guessed his tonnage to be around three and change, but most estimated it to be quickly reaching four. Like many men of his size, the weight did not look bad on Josh, though you might pray if you saw him on an airplane. Ray often encouraged Josh to exercise, as a client-based business demanded attractive staff. It was a double-edged sword, however: Ray would have tolerated the circus fat man, if he could produce mathematics and strategy on the level of Josh.
    “Are you sure he’s the right man for the task?” Ray asked. “I feel a little funny.”
    “How do you define funny?” Josh asked.
    “I don’t know. It’s been so long since we hired a new trader. I guess I’m just gun shy.”
    “We all are,” Josh countered. “But we’ve interviewed this guy four times. We can’t just keep bringing him back at our whimsy. We have to make a decision.”
    “You’re right, we do. Okay,” Ray said hesitantly, “Bring him in.” Josh left the office as quickly as he entered.
    Dylan sat in the waiting room to review his notes on Ray Corbin’s firm. He had taken copious notes on the firm’s history, performance, and on the life and times of Ray Corbin. To many, Ray Corbin was somewhat of an enigma in the financial community; a man possessing an unquestionable intellect, but whose performance at times had seemed somewhat checkered. Dylan had interviewed with the firm four times now, and was growing impatient with the length of the process. In better times, he might have already punted, but the job market was shaky to say the