The Broker

By Clive Lake

The Broker tells the story of Rodney MacConachie and how he navigates the insurance market which is centred around Lloyds of London. It is based in the heady days of the 1980's and everything that era displayed by way of excess and attitude. Along the way he finds love, loss, criminal activity and danger and yet still manages to learn some important lessons in how the market operates, and how not to lose money.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clive Lake
• Release date: Dec 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223358459

Book preview

CLIVE LAKE

CLIVE LAKE

Copyright © 2018-2024 Clive Lake

All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

London March 1988

He wasn't sure whether it was the train jolting or the blonde falling into his lap that woke him up. One thing was for sure. The hangover from hell was getting worse.

What a night though. The boys from work always knew how to party, and party hard.

After a number of apologies, Rodney's lap was vacated by the blonde in the not so subtle dress, and on any normal day without a foggy brain, he would have said something that would have resulted in phone numbers being exchanged. This time though he couldn't care less and figured she was probably a regular on the train line, and hopefully he could rectify that dilemma later. This headache's a killer and the nausea overwhelming. The methodical click clacking of the train as it sped along the London Underground system only made it worse and was like a thump, thump to the head.

Finally arriving at the station, he found himself dragging his body out of the seat and followed the crowd like a Zombie out of the carriage and up the stairs to Liverpool St Station's concourse. Arriving at street level the chill in the air hit him, causing his shoulders to lift and his hands to wedge into his pockets as he squinted through bloodshot eyes. A few short minutes and streets later, Rodney was in the warmth of his building and flashing his pass at Duncan on reception with a half hearted nod and smile. He then joined the crowd into a packed lift, exiting at the 15th floor of Burston and Cameron, Insurance Brokers at Lloyd's. One of the oldest and most prestigious Insurance Broking houses in the world.

Slumping down at his desk and a pre- emptive Fuck Off aimed at Ben Cooper was enough to shut up his drinking comrade from last night, even though it didn't remove the Cheshire grin from the bastard's face. It was that same silly grin Ben exhibited at around 2.30am in the morning as he was convincing the auburn beauty with what looked like a push up bra and an ass you could crack an egg on, that his place was a lot safer than trying to make it home alone on the tube. The fact that her place was on the same line as his and a few stops before, didn't even register as an argument. She still had to walk from the tube station to home and who knows what trouble she could get herself into. There were some mean and nasty guys out there just waiting for the chance to take advantage of a pretty girl.

Rod's computer beeped as it fired up and a quick couple of taps on the keyboard made it look like he was starting to get in the groove, and on the road to satisfying something that could considered working. Hopefully the hangover would only last until lunch and then he wouldn't have to worry about any of the Account Directors hassling him to get down the road to have a quote slip signed. They will all be in the process of their own inebriation with their insurance company friends, or Underwriters as they were more commonly known in the game.

At least his boss was still away on business. He would hate for Adam to see him like that. The guy who had effectively sponsored him to becoming a Graduate broker for the firm in front of so many other candidates, deserved his protege to at least be capable of stringing two sentences together that didn't sound like Gaelic, notwithstanding his heritage. Adam Montgomery, Partner and Senior Account Director of Burston and Cameron gave Rodney the opportunity of a lifetime. The thirty five year old, six foot one inch, dark hair, Porsche driver with the movie star looks and chiselled face, had effectively become his meal ticket. Sponge everything there was to know about Insurance Broking from this guy and the rest would be history. Overseas holidays, huge house, gorgeous wife and bratty kids coupled with his own European sports car would await him with a little patience and a reasonable degree of hard work. That was of course on the proviso that his brain still worked as effectively as it had at University.

Burston and Cameron in the '80's was the only place to be on the street. No one wanted out. It was the largest partnership in Britain outside the Lawyers, Engineers and Accountants and anyone making partner was automatically a millionaire.

Rodney MacConachie was only slightly shorter than his boss. A little height in this business helped to intimidate, hence why the shorter guys were usually smart arses or bastards. Oxford educated with an honours degree in Commerce and high distinctions meant that he had a chance. Unlike most of the other graduates in the firm though he didn't come from money and status, meaning he had to get the position on merit. Adam understood that, as he was from the same background and hence why he had chosen him as his own candidate. As far as the other partners were concerned, the boy's background really didn't matter provided he was capable of helping them secure their hefty annual bonuses so they could get their wives off their backs. The Partners also felt a twang of pride knowing that it was always nice to help the great unwashed get a start in life. Made sleeping at night a little easier.

It was at that moment a pile of papers about an inch thick hit his desk with a thump.

This slip needs another 26 percent completed and we have until close of business to do it Rod looked up and Stanley Burridge just stared at him with a hand still holding the bottom edge of the Insurance Placement slip.

Stan continued, Rod, if you can't get it done in time, tell me now and I will get Jeremy on the job

Rod felt as though he had been slapped across the face even though Stan hadn't displayed any animosity or callousness in the direction. He just needed the job done and if one person couldn't do it then it had to be done by someone else. You always have to complete on time otherwise another Broking house would be more than happy to do it, earn the commission, and in the process get one over you.

Consider it done Stan came the reply with every bit of confidence Rod could muster even though he had no idea whether it could be achieved.

Stan looked at him and smiled. Good. I managed to get the Timmons Syndicate to lead with a 17 percent line and so far everyone seems to be falling into place, even though I ran out of time yesterday. Mind you, lunch got in the way and the couple of bottles of Bolly with the Drysdale boys didn't help. They just landed the Eurohotels account and decided to share their cheer with some of their more friendly competitors in the Ram and Shackle.

With that, Stan hot footed it and went back to his office, slamming the door in the process.

Rod looked down at the pile of papers. The Placement slip had half a dozen signatures on it with a variety of stamps beside the names. Each of the signatures had a percentage committed and a quick addition told him that they had achieved 74 percent. At the top of the pile was the Timmons Syndicate stamp in all its glory with Tom Pickering's signature beside it. It wasn't as though you could read the signature scrawl, it was just that everyone in the market recognised that famous John Hancock as it was as good as having the Bank of England sign off on your home loan. If Timmons did it, then you would be mad not to follow. Underneath the Timmons stamp were the other Syndicate stamps and signatures comprising the other Underwriters.

Only 26 percent to fill and Rod knew where to go. Hammer was always good for 10 percent, Bryan was also good for 9 percent and then there was Fable for another 9. That made enough with 2 percent left over.

Quickly grabbing a coffee and in the process contributing to some small talk in the kitchen with a number of the cute secretaries, Rod thought he should probably read the documentation so he at least knew what business he was supposed to be placing. Ordinarily he would spend some more time chatting the girls up and providing some quality advice on how to deal with their boyfriends, however due to the fact he was still trying to cope with the cotton wool filling his head, he made a quick exit. One thing he knew. They weren't employed for their ability to type or their grey matter but they were certainly good for the male morale and added to the scenery. The Christmas parties were always a blast and usually wound up with one of the girls apologising to her boyfriend the morning after and the Broker at the centre gently suggesting that she should still stay with that boyfriend, even though the previous night he did mean what he said in the passion of the moment.

Empire Utilities was the largest water provider throughout Britain and had total assets of 10.5 Billion. Timmons Syndicate had set premium terms for their Property Insurance using a rate of 0.05 percent, or a premium of £5,250,000 This meant that with the normal 15 percent commission, Burston and Cameron would make £787,500. Not bad for a few days work and a couple of lunches. Even better, Empire hadn't made any claims in the last few years and the limit under the policy was only £1 Billion, which was the most they could claim. No different than insuring a house, just the numbers were bigger and you needed more than one insurer. Only 26 percent to go.

Too easy.

CHAPTER TWO

The looks on the faces of the young Brokers and Underwriters was always priceless when he crossed the footpath on Lime Street to park underneath the parking building. He actually didn't need to drive but the buzz he got from the new Aston Martin Vantage always made the few short miles to work a pleasure, even with the crap London traffic. A quick tap and completely unnecessary burst on the accelerator as he entered the ramp to the car park always got the desired result from the young turks as they stared in a trance like state.

It had been a good week for Will. He had written over £5 Million in premium and decided to keep all of it. Reinsurance was for wimps. Any idiot could Underwrite a risk and then give 90 percent of it to reinsurers, like laying off a bet at the horse races. The problem with that though is that the reinsurers also got 80 percent of the premium which meant he would only have £1 Million in the bank, and not £5 Million. The Syndicate members would thank him and he would get a nice healthy bonus to keep. Everyone's happy.

Leaving the silver Vantage in his dedicated car spot beside the two lifts, he took one up to the ground floor before stepping out into the foyer. Some drizzle was falling as he left the building on Fenchurch Street so he quickly dashed around the corner into Mincing lane, and gazed up at the imposing brown gothic Minster Court building which housed his office. Will always found it funny that in the centre of a very conservative British Insurance district, they would build something that looked more like it should be out of the 1970's television show The Munsters. He then made his way through the open foyer and entered the building's lift, taking him up to the 15th floor. As the doors opened and he was greeted with the rich smell of varnished wood and a reception attended to by someone's spinster aunt. Efficient and definitely not the type to entice the couriers to hang around longer than was necessary to drop off their letters and parcels.

Will made his way through the doors and down the corridor toward his own office. A wink at Julie his secretary was enough to make her blush, which he always thoroughly enjoyed observing. She was mid 20's and desperate for a young executive to sweep her away from her drudgery and the tiny flat in the East End. Every time he looked at her, all he could see were her breasts bouncing wildly in rhythm and her panties around her ankles as she was spread over his desk. He liked the fact that she went to the gym and looked after herself with a cute blonde bob and skirts a little too high above the knee to suggest any degree of respectability. Will would keep stringing her along at least until the sex got boring, she said no, or his wife found out. Shorter than her and somewhat on the plump side, he figured she was as good as he was likely to get at least for the foreseeable future.

Any messages Julie he asked more loudly than necessary in an attempt to hide from anyone hearing, that they were in a relationship, of sorts.

No Mr Gainsborough she replied at the same level of decibels. Her low cut lime green dress rode up slightly as she responded, high enough to give him a peek at the white lace cheap panties underneath, that were no doubt purchased in a 4 pack from

Marks and Spencer. That was enough to get him going.

I need to see you in my office immediately, as I have some typing and we also need to rearrange my calendar, due to something urgent that has just come up The urgent something was simply the fact that he wanted sex.

Yes Mr Gainsborough was immediately followed by her accentuated hip movement as she entered his office and sat down in one of the visitor's chairs opposite his workspace.

Looking around the office she admired, as she had before, the deep mahogany desk and the lounge upholstered in the Chesterfield style with maroon leather. The bookcase was filled with all kinds of Insurance related books, particularly those on managing risk and Property Insurance. All gobble de-gook to her and they may as well have been on Nuclear Fission. She wouldn't understand any of it, and frankly didn't particularly want to.

As Will entered his office and grinned at her, she knew there wasn't going to be too much typing involved, and was just grateful she always kept a spare pair of panties in her handbag. Julie started making a point of always carrying a spare pair now that she had found William. The other girls were going to give her a hard time at lunch however she couldn't care less. As far as Julie was concerned, it will be all worth it when he finally leaves his bitch of a wife and she can announce to the world that she will be the next Mrs Gainsborough. A smile came over her face at the thought.

As Will entered the door and looked at her smiling, he misread it for desire. Shutting the door behind him he grinned back at her and unzipped the fly in his pants.

Life is good he thought.

THE LLOYD'S OF LONDON building is one of the most famous buildings in the World. Located at 1 Lime Street, London, it houses all of the Insurance Underwriting syndicates and was completed in 1986. Locals refer to it as the Refinery due to the silver exoskeleton structure which houses all of the air conditioning and building services wrapping around the core. There are also a couple of external lifts which give their occupants a view of the surrounding area as they are whisked away up the side, courtesy of the floor to ceiling glass windows.

The Underwriting Syndicates are made up of a group of business people or ‘members’ who effectively provide the money and backing to the insurance being offered to Insurance Brokers and their customers. The ‘Underwriter’ is actually an individual who accepts the business on behalf of the Syndicate. The old saying was that the members were individually liable for any losses incurred by the Syndicate they were a part of, right up to the shirt on their back.

Rod made his