The Insider: A Novel

JUNE 1999

How much do you make "

"Salary or total compensation " Jay West asked deliberately. He never disclosed sensitive information until he absolutely had to, even in a situation like this one, where he was expected to answer every question quickly and completely.

"What was the income figure on your W-2 last year A W-2 is that little form your employer sends you each January to let you know how much you have to report to the IRS."

"I know what a W-2 is," Jay answered calmly, displaying no outward irritation at the interviewer's sarcastic tone. The young man on the opposite side of the conference room table wore a dark business suit, as did Jay. However, the other man's suit was custom-made. It was crisper, was crafted of finer material, and followed the contours of his muscular physique perfectly. Jay had purchased his suit off the rack, and it bunched up in certain spots despite a tailor's best efforts. "The commercial bank I work for provides me certain fringe benefits that don't appear on my W-2, so my income is actually more than--"

"What kind of fringe benefits " the interviewer demanded rudely.

For a moment Jay studied the unfriendly square-jawed face beneath the strawberry-blond crew cut, trying to determine if the confrontational demeanor was forced or natural. He had heard that Wall Street firms often made prospective employees endure at least one stressful interview during the hiring process just to see how they reacted. But if this guy was acting, he was giving an Academy Award performance. "A below-market mortgage rate, a company match on my 401K plan, and a liberal health insurance package."

The man rolled his eyes. "How much can those things be worth, for Christ's sake "

"The amount is significant."

The man waved a hand in front of his face impatiently. "Okay, I'll be generous and add twenty thousand to the figure you quote me. Now, how much did you make last year "

Jay shifted uncomfortably in his seat, aware that the figure wouldn't impress the investment banker.

"Hello, Jay." Oliver Mason stood in the conference room doorway, smiling pleasantly, a leather-bound portfolio under his arm. "I'm glad you could make time for us tonight."