Fiddlin’ Share Prices

There is crime, and there is white-collar crime where, they say, there are no victims. Not true; there are victims. Share prices move up and down all the time according to the market’s view of the stock. If you watch the trends carefully, you might jump in and place a bet. You might make money; you might lose money; just depends if you got lucky and spotted the trend.

The market rules are all about fairness and openness, where all information is known to all at the same time. But this is not always the case. Some know more than others. Some know when important information about a stock’s value is going to be publicly available. Some know when to buy or sell.

This is “insider trading” – access to privileged “what” and “when” information. It gets more devious when a real smart person knows how to move the market, manipulate the share price. Privileged information, good or bad, can be leaked onto a trading floor by a casual comment, a tip, picked up maybe over coffee, in the wine bar, over a beer. In the febrile atmosphere of trading, rumours are picked up and acted on quickly to buy or sell. If you are “in” or “out” first, you make money.

And so it was for Verona Pharmaceuticals’ stock value – it seemed to be moving up and down sporadically for no reason. VP’s fraud investigator, Mr. Paris, working with the Financial Services Authority’s investigators, watched the share price movements and speculated on the “who,” and possible motives. Was someone moving the stock? Who was making money? This was no amateur job; someone, an insider, was using privileged information.

The investigators suspected one, or more, of the trial centres as the share price movements seemed to be driven by whether HGH141 was showing positive results. Success in the trial pipeline could mean the award of a licence and a big future cash flow for VP from its prescriptions. St. Angela’s was suspected as being one of the leaky centres. Mr. Paris, and the investigators, went to see the weary Chief Executive, Alex, to agree an undercover investigation. “Spying?” Alex exclaimed; he was horrified as he nervously signed the approval forms and directed his ever-trusty servant Sue to oversee the operation.

Star-crossed Lovers — so unhappy

In those days, there were no mobile phones, texts or emails. Communication was frustratingly slow, by post, or by calls on clunky old-fashioned telephones. Not easy in such circumstances to manage a long-term relationship. Ronnie, isolated in God-forsaken Manthaven 200 miles away, spent his time wishing away the hours until 8.15 pm when Jules would ring on the doctors’ residence phone in the hallway. It was the highlight of his day.

Jules too whiled the hours away until her meal break at 8.00 pm when she could slip away for half-an-hour to make that call. She, like all youngsters, was always short of funds, so, to save money, she worked out that she could make her calls from the Clinical Trials Unit where there was a direct line phone. Such luxury – a private uninterrupted, and free, call. Creeping along the corridor, she would let herself into the inner sanctum with her pass key and call her Ronnie.
Ring Ring… Ring Ring… Ring Ring… 

“Hello; Jules I’ve been waiting for your call” said Ronnie as he eagerly lifted the receiver from the very public hall phone.

They missed each other so much, they cried down the phone; they resolved to be together. Jules, desperate, went to see Mr. Lawrence Fryer, the Chief Pharmacist, about a transfer to Manthaven. He said he would see what he could do but “no promises.” He was an officious sort of chap who did seem over-promoted but, in those days, this was not so unusual if you had the right connections. “Trust me,” he said reassuringly, and, as he left the room, his rather trendy sheepskin jacket fell off the peg.

Once again, Jules went to the switchboard and picked up her bleep ready for another night on call. At the allotted time, when it was quiet, she scurried along the corridor to make her call. She turned the corner, as usual, and stopped in her tracks. A shaft of light shone from under the door; could someone be in the Unit? Bleep… Bleep… Bleep… Bleep…  Bleep… Bleep…  “Jules report to A&E” squawked the contraption loudly.

Horrified, and frightened, Jules ran off to answer the bleep. The mysterious light went out. Nothing was stirring; all was quiet. Jules was puzzled as it was a 9-5 operation so why would someone be in the Trials Unit at night? Jules couldn’t tell Miss Nurse as she would then ask why Jules was in the Unit at night.

A Suspect

Before the modern day sophisticated surveillance techniques, investigators had few tools to spy on someone; this was no James Bond movie. Mr. Paris had a camera secreted into an old boxy computer on Miss Nurse’s desk. He and Miss Nurse went through all the entries with a fine tooth comb, checking and re-checking the HGH141 submissions.

They also went through the direct line phone logs and noticed a regular call pattern to persons unknown in another town. They cross-correlated the timings with the on-call rotas; they tapped the phone, and they inspected the corridor camera records.

Miss Nurse and Mr. Paris stared in disbelief at their findings – it was Jules. Jules? Did she have motive? Was she smart enough? Was she connected enough?

With weary Alex’s blessing, Sue, with her legal hat on, organised a hearing and Jules was summonsed and confronted with the findings. Jules was speechless. Rather naively, she thought she was going to discuss her transfer to be with Ronnie in Manthaven. They looked stony-faced; the atmosphere was frozen as Miss Nurse and Mr. Fryer looked on as Sue suspended Jules from duty and her training rotation while further investigations took place. “No, no, no” Jules cried; “it can’t be; listen, I can explain…..” They weren’t listening.

Jules, in floods of tears, cleared her locker and was escorted off the premises. Disbelief and sadness pervaded the pharmacy as everyone cried at her departure. Miss Nurse was distraught. Mr. Fryer made the comforting pot of tea for everyone and reflected on his disappointment in Jules. The proof, after all, was pretty conclusive; drip, drip, drip – that sound again; drip, drip, drip.

Alex, relieved that the initial investigation was drawing to a close, had a debriefing session with Mr. Paris and Sue. Was that it?, they pondered. It just seemed too simple but further investigations were in train, including my work for Sue with the undercover team to map the players and who was connected to who, and who owed favours for what debt. This topography of power is sometimes used in dysfunctional organisations to identify the complex web of relationships that drive the covert power systems. Back to our dear cake-lady, Maria, and her network of invisible “little people”; could they help fill in the blanks?

Got to get a message to you …..

Ronnie did his best to cope with the deprivations of Manthaven but he was a St. Angela’s man at heart. Manthaven was a drudge; cold and rainy all the time; nowhere to go, and no friends either. He got updates from his pal Dr. Goodwill, and he heard Jules’s tender voice each evening. Standing in the cold residence’s hallway, Ronnie waited for his call. Nothing; he waited but no call came.

He waited and waited. Where is she?; What’s happened?; has she found someone else?, he fretted. She did not answer her bleep. Dumped! It can’t be; Jules said she loved me. In tears, he fled the building, and resolved to go to St. Angela’s that night.

Dr. Goodwill tried to phone Ronnie to tell him the dreadful news but to no avail. Ronnie had gone AWOL. His consultant was furious – “where is the boy?”, he shouted. Noone knew. He was not in the doctors’ residences; he was on a train back to St. Angela’s to find Jules.

Dr. Goodwill, in the meantime, concerned about his friend, travelled to Manthaven on the first available train. Prof Jett, his consultant, allowed Goodwill to visit his “sick mother,” although he had his suspicions. On his arrival, Dr. Goodwill found an empty room; no message; nothing. He guessed Ronnie had returned to St. Angela’s and he did his best to calm the furious consultant – a friend of Prof Jett. Oh dear, a lot of anger in the atmosphere so there was no rational thinking that day.

Prof Jett and Prof Sharkey were distraught enough at the unfolding events to agree to meet for tea at the Rowing Club. As Maria served the tea, they discussed Ronnie – a very disappointing boy, and Jules – a very silly little girl. They cared for neither but were concerned about the “noise” all this conflab was creating. What was that Mr. Paris up to? They agreed to have words with Mr. Fryer.

Power Systems and Networks

The topographical map of St. Angela’s power systems was coming along nicely. My old Prof had taught us well, and, indeed, the subject was so captivating that I did my PhD in medical power and conflict. Hence the brief for this case. You have to identify the key players, their alliances and connections, their histories and levels of indebtedness for past favours. You find clusters of power players and hangers on, and power trades – a complex market system of favours which have varying currencies depending on the circumstances.

The forgotten army of “little people” is a good starting place to find out what has gone on in the past. Maria, the cake lady, and her pals who discuss the latest goings on at their monthly shindigs. Jean, and the “girls” on the switch, who listen into many calls if there isn’t much to do – it relieves the boredom and helps pass the time to the end of the shift. Juan and the drivers who ferry everyone around the different campuses – they hear all and say nothing. And the “girls” who run the admin systems and act as secretaries to the Bigwigs – they see and hear much as they prepare the letters and papers for signature.

While the investigators were checking various personal bank accounts and tax returns, I strolled along the parked cars with my old friend, Helen. She was always good at digging around and could identify the owners from the allocated parking permit list. Ah yes, that Alfa Romeo – top of the range – belongs to Mr. Fryer; and those Jags and BMWs – they belong to various Consultants and Profs. Helen was requested to get their addresses and membership details of golf clubs etc. so we could match them with the investigators’ findings. And my job? — to check where and when they had trained.

Meanwhile, things had gone quiet in the Clinical Trials Unit. Nothing was picked up on the surveillance cameras or the phone logs. Jules had disappeared in utter shame. Ronnie had sneaked back in the night to find Jules gone. Dr. Goodwill had arrived back from Manthaven the next day to find Ronnie had gone too from Maria who had comforted Ronnie as he cried on hearing the dreadful news.

Prof Jett was twitched on hearing Ronnie had gone AWOL from Manthaven. It was even worse when he found out that Ronnie had been seen at St. Angela’s. He wanted him blacklisted – a fatal step for a junior doctor still trying to make his way in life.

Meanwhile, over a nice cup of tea at the Rowing Club, I thought about the questions for Mr. Fryer when Maria brought a message. It was from Mr. Paris — “the share price is moving again.” …..

Come back next time to find out what’s going on; who is making money; and what happens to Ronnie and Jules …..