Free Rigged by Ben Mezrich Page A

how we could make the place more—what’s that faggy word you HBS guys are so fond of? Oh yeah, efficient. ”
    There was real laughter now coming from the traders, and Gallo seemed to be enjoying the moment. He rolled his eyes, black marbles spinning in the center of those ominous, dark circles.
    “Well, let me save you the trouble, kid. I’ve been trading heresince it was potatoes and Reston over there was a gleam in some bull-riding, whiskey-drinking Mick’s eyes.”
    David had already figured out that there was a divide between the heart and the brain of this place—but was shocked at the outright hostility coming from the man Reston had called the Don. David had barely said a word, and already this guy seemed to hate his guts.
    “You want advice?” Gallo continued, finally taking the cigar out of his mouth to jab it like a knife in David’s direction. “Keep your ass up on the fifteenth floor, and your head in Giovanni’s lap. That’s the best way for you to stay out of trouble.”
    With that, he waved David away. David stood there for a brief second, stunned. Then the raucous laughter from the traders broke his trance, and he quickly made his way back to Reston’s table. Reston was grinning as David shakily lowered himself back into the seat.
    “Don’t worry,” Reston joked, obviously getting the gist of what had gone down from the look on David’s face. “His bite is way worse than his bark.”
    “I don’t think he likes me very much,” David managed.
    “Hah. That old fuck doesn’t like any of us, but me and Giovanni—and by extension, you—have a special place in his heart. See, we’re not just suits fighting a turf war with the traders; we represent something even worse—change. Gallo has built up his fiefdom for fifty years, he’s made a fortune, and his family has had this place all to themselves for three generations. Now he thinks we’re threatening all that. Modernizing the exchange, going international, automating trading—hell, one day, if we have our way, there won’t even be a trading floor, and guys like Gallo will have a hell of a time adapting. You think the Don knows how to work a fucking Mac? This is his home, he understands it—and he thinks we’ve come here to take his home away. And you know what? Maybe he’s right. But that old fucker won’t be around forever.”
    Just long enough to make my life miserable, David thought tohimself. His hands were trembling under the table. He’d never been overly intimidated by assholes before, no matter how powerful they were. But something about Gallo scared the shit out of him.
    “Maybe you can think of a comeback by the board meeting tomorrow morning,” Reston suggested. “Gallo will be there, you can bet on that. And from the looks of things, he’s gunning for you right from the start. Usually he gives Giovanni’s kids a week or two to get acclimated before he knocks ’em down a peg. So consider yourself special.”
    Reston seemed more than a little pleased, and David questioned for the first time if he’d acted a bit impetuously, shifting jobs without doing a little more research. He reminded himself that Giovanni was in charge here, not Reston or Gallo. And he was here to work for Giovanni—his idol, the man he one day wanted to be.
    Still, looking over at Gallo and the laughing, zebra-jacketed hyenas, David wondered what it really took to thrive in an environment like this. With his first board meeting less than twenty-four hours away, David had a sinking suspicion he’d find out soon enough.

Chapter 9
    S EPTEMBER 15, 2002
    T he view was like something out of a science fiction movie. A veritable forest of massive cranes, spanning as far as the eye could see, each one attending to futuristic monsters of concrete and steel, rising up toward the heavens like fingers reaching for God. Lush greenery interspersed with sweeping glades of sand, man-made fountains and waterfalls and beaches mingling with