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Levine. Ford. We're back for our second part of our journey into the staid stiff upper lip world of Britain's oldest bank. I'm ready. I'm comfortable. Let's go. I'm telling you now, you're going to feel less comfortable very quickly. Oh no. Because of the story. I don't have any like horrible shocks. I was going to say, what are you going to do? I'm going to take my shirt off. Singapore Stock Exchange, October 1994. It's 12.40 on a Thursday afternoon.
Nick Leeson runs across the trading floor. He pushes past groups of traders, everyone shouting and jeering. In the middle of the crowd, George Hsu is arguing with an American from a rival bank. Leeson needs to stop them before it comes to blows. So George is the soggy, cig and cream cake face guy? That's the one. But he's too late. Leeson hears a sickening crunch as George Hsu headbutts the American.
Blood splatters everywhere. Okay, so George is also the punchy, punchy, fighty, fighty guy. For a second, there's complete silence. It's broken by the shouts of hundreds of angry traders. It takes the best part of an hour to sort medical care and calm the other traders down. Sue's the best trader he's got, but these fights need to stop. They waste time and cost money. Sorry, I shouldn't laugh. But they are two very important priorities, obviously.
For Leeson, both time and money are in short supply right now. He needs to be in profit by the end of today. But when trading starts again, George Sioux has disappeared. Nick marches into the off-key bar. It's one of Sioux's favourite places to unwind. Perched over the Singapore River, it looks like a 1920s ocean liner. That sounds lovely. But there's no sign of Sioux anywhere.
Leeson heads for the door. He'll have to deal with him later. Right now, he needs to get back to making money. He's just about to leave when a young guy approaches. Nick, fancy a drink? It's Loy, a young guy who works at Reuters.
Nick usually avoids the press, but Loy is persistent. Leeson doesn't have time for him now. He's got to get back to the pit, then start his shift at the back office, closing the day's contracts. That's because he signed up for these two jobs for some reason. Well, three jobs, if you include breaking up fights. Yes. And when we say he's got to get back to the pit, it may sound like a coal miner, but his other job...
after the market closes is to do the back office stuff, settling the futures and options trades. And that is very important because if you don't close the contracts at the end of the day, they keep running. It's like leaving your car at a parking meter with the handbrake off. And we learned that last episode because if you don't close it, you can come back, disastrous consequences. So basically, he really needs to not be distracted right now. You would think so, yes. Yeah.
Leeson pats Loy on the shoulder. Sorry, mate. Another time. Pity. I really wanted to spend time with Singapore's financial genius. Plus, I've got a good expense account. Okay, I'm listening. Loy's already bought a bottle of Jack Daniels. Leeson doesn't want to drink spirits. Not at this time of the day. He needs to stay in control. But that fight's unnerved him. Buy me a beer instead.
Five hours later, Leeson's so drunk he can hardly stand. I just want to say, I called this in my head and I wish I'd called it out loud. He can see Lloyd's grinning face swaying in front of him. Lloyd shouts above the music, tells him how much he admires him, how everyone looks up to him. Oh God, that's the worst on a night out. It's like stopping so sycophantic. Let's just dance. What's your secret? Leeson swigs his beer.
His secret is the last thing he wants to talk about. The truth is, he's been making a few small losses recently, and he's gone back to hiding them in the Five Eights account. He's broken his promise to himself and to Lisa,
But it's only a small amount. If tomorrow is a decent trading day, he'll be in the clear again. I can't live like this. I'm so tense. He changes the subject, but Lloyd's not listening. He's staring at a group of women who have just walked in. Air hostesses? What do they want? Flight attendants. The women look around nervously.
Leeson has an idea. Why don't we give them the Watford treatment? Oh, no. What does that mean? He undoes his zip and pulls down his pants. Loy grins and copies. They bend over and moon at the women. CHEERING
No, that's not a thing that actual grown men do. Present their bums to women in bars. No, I mean, if you've ever gone past a couch of football supporters on a motorway, you still might see it in this country. That is just so gross. I just can't imagine a scenario where somebody would do that. I mean, you've just mentioned two, but it just makes me feel sick. We both grew up in Nottingham. You must have seen this kind of thing. Do not take our city's name in vain. This is called a Watford treatment, thank you. Fair point.
That's disgusting. I'm going to call the police. Leeson hands her his mobile phone. Fine, do it. She looks at the phone, then at him, then walks out. The other women follow. The whole bar erupts in laughter and cheers. Leeson's halfway through his next beer when Loy nudges him. Looks like they're back for more. The women are back, but they're not alone. They're with two Singapore police officers. The crowd parts to let the policemen through.
Leeson protests, but the police march him outside and push him into their car. He's under arrest. And he still hasn't closed down any of today's contracts. Oh, for God's sake. This arrest is going to cost him a fortune. I wish I could say I feel sorry for him, but that would be a lie. My dad works in B2B marketing. He came by my school for career day and said he was a big ROAS man. Then he told everyone how much he loved calculating his return on ad spend.
My friend's still laughing at me to this day. Not everyone gets B2B, but with LinkedIn, you'll be able to reach people who do. Get $100 credit on your next ad campaign. Go to linkedin.com slash results to claim your credit. That's linkedin.com slash results. Terms and conditions apply. LinkedIn, the place to be, to be.
As summer winds down, let your imagination soar by listening on Audible. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, expert advice, any genre you love, you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, new ways of thinking. With Audible, there's more to imagine when you listen.
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As an Audible member, you choose one title a month to keep from their entire catalogue. New members can try Audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. That's audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. From Wondery, I'm Matt Ford. And I'm Alice Levine. And this is British Scandal.
Okay, what a story this is. I love it. Because despite all the jargon and technicalities you get with financial services, it basically boils down to people just taking massive risks. Yeah, and it's really telling what people choose, fight, flight, freeze, when the gamble doesn't pay off. Exactly. Do you stop what you're doing? Or do you basically try and hide it and pretend that everything's okay? I mean, I know what I would do. I would...
bury myself under the duvet and throw my phone out of the window but I'm not Nick Leeson you're certainly not let's see what he'd do this is episode 2 in the pit next morning Friday Nick Leeson opens his eyes his head is throbbing his back aches images of the night before flood back
He remembers being handcuffed to Loy, taken to a hospital and jabbed for a blood alcohol sample. Then he was brought here, separated from Loy and locked up. He looks down. He's filthy. Agreed. His double-cuffed shirt is ruined. So are his charutti trousers. I mean, not important at this point, surely. He can see the sky beginning to lighten outside.
He works out it must be 6.30, 7 at the latest. He needs to get to work. He needs to close yesterday's accounts. Every second they're open costs him money. Hello? Hello? Anybody there? He needs water and a painkiller for his hangover.
Can you imagine? Sorry, I'm going to need a water, mineral water actually. I have a preferred brand. And a painkiller. Also, I will need to be released because I have some deals to do. Imagine that. Hi, Danny, copper. Can I get a Barocca, please? He shouts again. I need to speak to somebody. Hello? Hours pass. Eventually, a policeman turns up. It's 10 o'clock. The policeman tells him he'll be processed soon.
How soon? When can I get out? If he can get to the pit by 11, he can close yesterday's accounts and still get some trading done. I don't know how to say this, but you're not going to get to work for 11. I just know in my bones you're not going to get to work for 11. Well, you're right. It's several hours later when someone comes for him.
You can make a phone call now. The policeman leads him to a tiny white room. He catches sight of a clock. It's 2.30 and trading for the day is over. Oh, my stomach just did a somersault. He knows he should call his wife, Lisa. I wouldn't, actually. I really wouldn't. She must be sick with worry. Instead, he calls the office.
Where did the Nikkei close? 19.250. He does a quick calculation. The market is down 100 points and he's got 3,000 contracts that haven't been closed. Now, I don't 100% know what that means, but I think it means he's in the shit. Oh, it does. Because he's lost over a million dollars. It's like it's triggering. Did you lose a million dollars on the Nikkei? It gives me pins and needles.
He remembers Lisa's face a few months back when he told her he'd been a million down. She was horrified. He never wants her to look at him that way again. Spoiler, she's going to. It's also a huge loss for the bank. He's made his decision.
As soon as he gets to the office on Monday, he's going to hide it all in the Five Eights account. Don't hide it in the Five Eights account. The Five Eights account keeps me awake at night, honestly. And I know this was a long time ago, but it haunts my dreams. If I ever see Five Eights now, I'm going to be like, oh no. But he promised. That was the end of it. London. The following Wednesday, 8.30am. Peter Norris marches down the corridor of Baring's Bank towards the conference room.
He's the CEO of Bearings Investment Bank and he has to give the board some bad news. He pauses outside, touches the knot of his perfectly placed tie, then runs his fingers nervously through his hair. If he's got any chance of saving Nick Leeson from being fired, he'll have to time this perfectly. Morning, sorry I'm late. Held upon a call to Singapore.
He takes his place opposite Peter Baring, chairman of the Barings Group. Shall we get started? Love Peter Baring. Loads of time for Peter Baring. Norris glances at the portraits hung round the room. They're all of Peter Baring's ancestors, right back to the founder, Francis Baring, in 1763.
I can absolutely picture Peter Bearing. Norris reports back on the Singapore officer's success. He produces a graph. It shows rising profits from the last two quarters.
Peter Bearing raises an eyebrow. That's a lot for Peter. That's now above mild interest. Significant interest. Now on the face of Peter Bearing. It seems it isn't terribly difficult to make money in the securities business. Classic Peter. There's polite laughter around the table. We do have one small problem. Norris chooses his words carefully. One of our staff in Singapore has done something untoward. He glances nervously over at Bearing.
Slightly embarrassing. One of our traders got drunk and pulled a moon. Needless to say, the authorities in Singapore aren't happy. Can you imagine having to say pulled a moon to Peter Baring? Pulled a moon! Well, we should get rid of this chap. What does he do? Norris pushes forward the graph that shows how much money Singapore is making. This. He's our star trader. Peter Baring studies the figures. Eventually, he looks up at Norris. Can you make this go away?
Norris nods. The meeting moves on. That's it? He's got the response he wanted. He's managed to keep Leeson on the trading floor. Now all he needs to do is keep him out of prison. I did not think that that's what this meeting would be about. This was not my concern for old Licky Boy. Yeah, it does seem that they've kind of like missed the bigger story. Singapore, Thursday the 3rd of November 1994, 8.55am.
Nick Leeson makes his way into the white octagonal court building and heads to wood-panelled Court 23. He's going to be sentenced today.
He hasn't even told Lisa he's up on a charge of indecent exposure. The penalty could be much more than a prison sentence. He could be publicly flogged. What, really? Yeah, that's a penalty for indecent exposure. So don't you go doing it in Singapore, Alice Levine. Noted. He stands outside the court door and looks back. It's still not too late to run. I would argue it is. His friends have offered to smuggle him out of the country. What? What is going on? Lisa.
At least he's got good friends. His co-accused, Loy, has already skipped bail. Oh my God, so now Loy's a fugitive? But Leeson isn't going to quit. He's too aware of the losses he built up that are sitting in his secret 5-8s account. He needs to try and get out of this so he can clear them.
Suddenly, the door to the courtroom opens. His lawyer comes out. It's been reduced to a misdemeanor. Maximum penalty is a $200 fine. An hour later, he's free.
Exactly. The things you could have done to avoid that, Nick. From now on, he's going to keep his head down, work hard, clear the 5-8s account and keep out of trouble.
And that is the end of the series. Thank you so much for joining us. I say that every episode because I really genuinely want that to be true. We should do an alternative to each series where we do like the happy ever after version. And Rupert Murdoch decided media wasn't for him and started a charity instead. It's the early hours of next morning and Nick Leeson is in a deep sleep.
Yeah, sorry, mate.
The old farts want you to begin to unwind the position a little. They're worried about the levels of funding needed to keep it going. Leeson sits up. He's suddenly wide awake. He's been asking for more and more money from Brenda Granger recently. So Brenda Granger is... She's the head of futures and options settlements. When he keeps ringing to get more money and to persuade her to send him more money, he's been making more and more lies up, creating clients who don't even exist. That sounds bad.
He tries not to sound nervous. I'll see what I can do. Night, Ron. But Baker hasn't finished. The second thing is, we need another two million pound profit before the end of the month to secure our bonuses. Leeson feels his pulse race. That's only three weeks. Oh, God. He hears Ron giggle. Not much time and no room for failure, Nick. Do you understand? Great pants, mate. Oh, God.
Leeson gets out of bed. He definitely won't get back to sleep now. He clears away the stale beer bottles in the living room, then sits in the dark. With the trial out of the way, the losses in the hidden account are looming large. Trading has been bad. The price of options has been plunging steadily. He needs the market to go up. Even if that happened, he can only clear his losses and make an extra £2 million by selling thousands and thousands of options.
But bonus time also means audit time. And when the auditors look at what he's been doing, they'll find out about his losses and his secret 5/8 accounts. He's going to have to clear that account completely before they turn up. It's the following week, November 11th 1994, and Nick Leeson is on a flight to Tokyo for a Barings Financial Products meeting.
The last thing he wants is to spend time away from the trading floor. But for the next week, he's got no choice. He'll have to play along. After he lands in Tokyo, he heads to a jacuzzi in a luxury gym courtesy of bearings. Membership costs a million dollars per person. For the jacuzzi? For the gym? OK. I mean, either way. I mean, even then, you'd want like 50% if you referred a friend, wouldn't you? And I'd want more than just a running machine.
Next day, he wakes up in a pristine guest house on the outskirts of Tokyo. He's in a dorm-like room with Ron Baker and some Japanese traders. Sorry, sorry. Barron's has a membership to a gym that's a million pounds per person, but they're sleeping in a dorm. Yeah, it almost sounds like they're at a hostel, doesn't it? Sounds like the worst I'd do ever. He can hear Ron snoring off a hangover. He's hungover himself. They finished drinking at four this morning. Oh.
Their host, an elderly, graceful Japanese woman, prepares a breakfast of dried fish and places it on a lacquered table. I love to try things when I'm on holiday. I like to try traditional foods, authentic foods. If I'm hungover, though, I'm going to say dried fish. It's off the menu for me. It's not a classic hangover cure, is it? Sorry, instead of the raw fish, could I have a steak bake and a drifter, please? Do you have Lucas-Ade Sport over here?
Leeson ignores it. Instead, he goes out with Ron Baker in search of a McDonald's. Usually I'd think Philistines, but in this instance, sometimes you just know what you need on a hangover, don't you? This is probably the best decision he's made. On the way, he tries to persuade Ron Baker to send him back to Singapore. I can't make money here, Ron. It's the surprise event tomorrow, Nick. You don't want to miss that. Oh, I'm excited. But most of the sessions for the next 24 hours are cancelled.
everyone is too hungover to discuss budget cuts and staff reorganisation. The next day, Ron Baker unveils his surprise event.
Their landlady has prepared a giant abalone. A veggie pun? So an abalone is a massive mollusk and it's a delicacy in Japan and it is very, very expensive. It's cut up in front of you and then you eat it while it's still moving. That's going to settle the stomach, isn't it? If you couldn't face dried fish on a hangover, a live giant mollusk, which is dissected for your eyes. Oh yeah. Yeah, I feel right as rain now. Can I just get some chips for that, please, mate?
Add a Coca-Cola and some water, please. Eat up, Nick. This thing costs two grand. Sorry, Ron. Could I have the cash value? Yeah, I'd happily just have the burgers. I've got a large debt mounting. Could I have the two grand and leave my portion of the mollusk? A short while later, Ron Baker announces his surprise event. Bring in the geisha girls. Two heavily made-up middle-aged women come in. They're followed by a woman in her 80s.
She moves to the corner of the room and starts to play her mandolin. Ron Baker picks up a handful of sushi and throws it at her. Some of it slides down the wall and lands at her feet. Oh my God, what is wrong with these men? The old woman smiles graciously and keeps playing. Ron keeps throwing food. They're actual animals. It's their jobs. It's horrible. Leeson's had enough. If he gets a flight to Singapore now, he can at least trade tomorrow.
but Ron Baker won't hear of it. You have to stay for this. You paid for it. Keep those profits coming in and we'll have sushi coming out of our ears. Leeson sneaks downstairs and checks the prices on the Reuters screen. The Nikkei's fallen. He does a quick calculation...
He's sitting on losses of £160 million. What? If he wants to break even now, he'll have to come up with something spectacular. When did that happen? I swear it was £3 million about 10 minutes ago. But then they had the abalone and... Don't blame the abalone! Whatever it is, he'll have to break even more rules.
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It's New Year's Eve 1994, Cork, Ireland. 9.35am. Nick Leeson is eating a large cooked breakfast. Mollusc-free. He and Lisa booked into a guest house in Ireland a few days ago. He needs time away to clear his head and work out a strategy. I don't know if a weekend away is going to do that. I mean, whatever your process is fine, but it might not be enough.
He's got two months before the bonuses are paid out. Two months before full audit. Two months to turn things around and cover his loss of £160 million. He orders another egg and more bacon. He's the calmest he's been in months. When he looks at it from this distance, eight weeks is enough time. He's covered his losses before. It's not impossible. Or would you maybe say it is impossible? I would maybe say it is impossible. The landlady rushes in.
Mr. Leeson, there's a young lady on the telephone for you. She says she's calling from Singapore now. Is she not? Oh, God. I am so sorry for anything that you are about to witness or have already witnessed at the hands of Matt Ford. It's Linda from the back office. What's up? Nothing serious, Nick. Just thought you should know the equity balance this week. It's 7.78 billion yen. That sounds good. Mm-hmm.
He starts to sweat. Oh no, why? Because, Alice Levine, 7.78 billion yen is 50 million pounds. So wait, that he's getting or that he's paid out? Right. So when you trade, you have to pay money to a clearinghouse to act as security in the event of losses. And he's had big losses. So he's had to pay Symex 50 million pounds to cover those losses. Bearings are sitting on a 50 million pound deficit they know nothing about.
So it's already another massive loss on top of the other massive losses. A few days later, Nick and Lisa drive to the airport. Nick tells her he doesn't want to go back. He needs to quit. The pressure's too much. "They're on at me all the time to make more money. I can't do it." "Course you can." She reminds him that a few weeks ago, he was held up as a shining example at the Bairings annual conference and Christmas party in New York.
Senior management toasted him for making £28 million profits. Is it though? Speaker after speaker praised him. Ron Baker told all the other traders to copy him. Don't get me started on Ron. What about your bonus? £400,000, Nick. We can't lose that. Wait till February and quit then. Oh, Lisa. Lisa, sweet baby Lisa. £400,000. I don't know how to tell you this. He mumbles that, of course, she's right.
When the plane lands in Singapore, she turns to him and smiles. Glad to be back? He'd rather be anywhere than Singapore. On top of the £160 million, he now has to cover the £50 million he's paid to Symex. Right now, he can only think of one way to do it. He's going to single-handedly prop the market up. I genuinely don't know what that means, and yet I know that is so stupid. Singapore. Singapore.
Tuesday 17th January 1995, 6.30pm. Nick Leeson takes a deep breath and picks up the phone to Brenda Granger in London. On average, he's been asking for $10 million a day from London recently in his attempt to keep the market buoyant. And it's working. $10 million a day. I just can't even get that in my head. But how is he using that money to prop up the market?
So his new strategy of single-handedly holding up the market is obviously very ambitious, even by Nick's standards. He's using the bank's money to buy high volumes of options to push up the prices and artificially inflate the market so when he sells what he's got, he can cash in, basically making it look like there's more demand for the thing that he's selling.
By buying it himself. As soon as Brenda Granger answers, he pastes on a smile. Brenda, how's the weather in London? Very funny, Nick. How much do you need this time? He needs to sound plausible. Every time he rings, it gets harder to bluff his way through. He's been hinting to her that he's got a billionaire client who needs short-term funding. If she asks him for proof, his whole strategy will crumble. £30 million. He hears her take a sharp breath.
That's more money than I can collect in Nick. You've had £330 million this year. That's three quarters of Baring's entire capital. He has to think fast. Brenda, do you really want to be responsible for stopping Singapore making profits? The line is quiet for a minute. OK, but send me a breakdown. He's going to have a bloody breakdown. He breathes a sigh of relief. The £30 million will be a massive help. If the market stays where it is for a few days, he's home and dry.
Why are you doing this to me, Matt? Alice, listen to reason. It's really simple. Why are you doing... You know I'm a nervous person. Why are you doing this to me? He's almost there. No, you always say that. It's going to be fine. At 5.45 the next morning, he gets a call. It's his mate, Danny. Nick, you heard the news? Oh, God, what news now? What news now? What news? There's been an earthquake in Kobe. The market's going to fall through the floor. Oh.
Well, at least he's admitting to that now. At least kind of reality is here. Hmm. He sits down and puts his head in his hands. His phone rings.
His heart starts thumping. Coopers and Librand are the auditors. This is the call he's been dreading. He tries to sound calm. He's already altered the paperwork.
He's made it look as if the money he paid to Symex is in fact owed by Symex to bearings. What do you need? I need an explanation of what's happened. I can't find any paperwork. No problem. Leave it with me. He ignores it for a couple of days. But then, Simon Jones rings him up. He's one of the big bosses, right? Yeah. What's all this about a missing 7.78 billion yen? What the hell's going on, Nick? It's 7.30 the following morning.
Nick Leeson walks into Baring's Singapore offices at Ocean Towers. He's on his way to see Simon Jones. He's going to have to pull off the biggest bluff of his life. Last night, he sent Jones a memo explaining the missing 7.78 billion yen.
He'd said that the money was owed to them as a result of a trade with a US broker called Spear, Leeds and Kellogg. Those are things you could see. A postcard from Leeds, a box of Kellogg's and a Spear. I don't know why he had a Spear. It's all a complete lie. No, is it? He'd crammed the memo with nonsense jargon, hoping it would put Jones off asking further questions. But Jones wants a meeting. When he gets to the 24th floor, he goes to the kitchen and grabs some water.
He sips it slowly, tries to stay calm. This is how I imagine it. You know when a kid's been playing outside and they run in and their mum goes, have some squash before you go back. And you're like breathing at the same time. Nick, you've missed your mouth, it's all down your front. And you've pissed your pants. It's fine, everything's fine. If Simon Jones senses he's bluffing, he's finished. Come. As soon as he walks in, he starts to tremble.
Simon Jones is reading the memo he sent him. He's frowning. This memo, Leeson forces himself to meet Jones's eye. Jones shuffles the memo in an authoritative way and scans down it again. Coopers and Librand want the documentation. Fine, no problem, I've got that. OK, so you'll sort it out with Coopers? Of course, leave it with me. Anything else? Two minutes later, he's back in the lift. No way! Simon hasn't seen through him.
Now all he has to do is find some way to persuade Coopers and Librand that everything's OK. Don't say now all he's got to do, like that's really easy. Every time it's framed, you're minimising, you're minimising. At ten o'clock that night, when everyone else has gone home, he sits at his desk. He takes two sheets of paper...
his hands are shaking. He has to get this right. On the first sheet he writes: "As head of the financial products group, I confirm my knowledge and approval of the Nikkei OTC option deal with Speer, Leeds and Kellogg." He forges Ron Baker's signature.
On the 2nd, he writes a note from Richard Hogan, managing director of Speer, Leeds and Kellogg, confirming that 7.78 billion yen will be paid on the 2nd February 1995. He cuts out his signature from an old letter and pastes it to the bottom. 20 minutes later, he's back in his flat. Luckily, Lisa's out. He faxes the two letters to his office. Then he calls one of the women from the back office.
It's Nick. Sorry to disturb you at home, but I need you to do something. He tells her to transfer 7.78 billion yen from the client account to the house account. We don't have that much money, Nick. I know that. Don't worry. As soon as it comes in, reverse it immediately. But not until Citibank send a fax of receipt for the whole amount. He puts the phone down, goes to the balcony and opens a beer.
If he can get it past audit and get onto a good trading street with money from Brenda Granger, he might just make it. But then he notices something. Oh, my God, Matt. Like, please just throw me a bone. On the top of the facts he just sent to Coopers and Librand is a terrible giveaway. It says, from Nick and Lisa... Oh, my God! Are you kidding me? Are you having a laugh? They're going to know it's forged.
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Of course he is. Good shot there, Tony. What?
That's not how you get fat, from eating too many fruit past the sweets. Yes. The car sweets. Such an odd vice, isn't it? The afternoon heat is killing him, but he has to keep playing. Your serve. Leeson's opponent is Tony Railton. He's the senior settlements clerk from Bearings, London. He flew in a few days ago with Tony Hawes, Bearings Group treasurer. Incredibly, Coopers and Librand haven't queried the facts, but the audit has raised some awkward questions.
The two Tonys are here to ask him where he got the money to cover Spear, Leeds and Kellogg and where all the money from London is going. Very good questions. Why are they only happening now? Yeah, on a tennis court. Is there a chance all the money from London has gone on Fruit Pastels? Nick, we found the rappers. Yes! Well done, Tony. Another match. Sorry, Nick. Better get back to work.
A few hours later, Leeson's in the back office sorting out the day's business when Tony Railton comes in. He's got a letter in his hand from Symex. Simon gave me this letter from Symex and asked me to have a look at it. He waves the letter in front of Leeson. Can't exactly work out how they've come to the conclusion they've come to, if you see what I mean. No. I mean, Tony. A prickle of sweat breaks out on his forehead.
He grabs the letter. Let me see that. What's this account? 88888. I really hoped the last eight was going to be a one or something. Leeson softens his voice. His heart is thumping, but he needs to sound indifferent. That's just a consolidation account. Leeson looks Tony in the eye. It's all to Tony. Symex are happy. I just haven't got round to telling Simon. That's great. Thanks, Nick. Huh? No, thanks.
This guy has nine lives! Leeson watches Tony Railton leave the office. He puts the letter in his desk drawer and locks it. He's surviving hour by hour. A few minutes later, he throws up in the toilets.
I mean, I was wondering when that was going to happen. He's been throwing up so much recently, he's had to tell people he's got a stomach complaint. I've been thinking this the whole time. This has got to be wreaking havoc with his innards. But also, if you're throwing up all the time, you have got a stomach complaint. It's what's causing the stomach complaint is the issue. It's called guilt enteritis. He splashes cold water on his face and looks in the mirror. He's got two weeks left until bonus day. He's got one more trick.
The risks are massive. Oh, good. But it's his last chance to get out of this mess. If you say it one more time, I will be forced to take physical action. Don't shoot the messenger, but...
he's going to double up on his trades. I really hoped you weren't going to say that. If he pulls it off... Yeah, let me guess. ...and gets back into profit, no one will ever know and everybody will get their bonus. Stop worrying about the bonuses. They are the least of our worries, Nick. If he fails, he'll face charges of fraud and a jail sentence. He's determined never to see the inside of a Singapore prison ever again. I mean...
It's two weeks later, Thursday 23rd February 1995. Bonus day. Mick Leeson is in the pit, watching the screen. He's persuaded Brenda Granger to send him $100 million this week alone. He's spent it doubling up on his trades. I'll come to Brenda later, but this is an age-old gambler's tactic, isn't it? Just doubling it up. Yeah, and it's just like, keep chucking money at it until hopefully your luck turns.
He signals to Sue: buy again, and again, and again. But the pit is eerily quiet. Business is slow and most of his money is already gone. He's lightheaded and exhausted.
He snaps open a fresh packet. No, he doesn't. He does. He does. That's exactly what he does. He opens a fresh packet of fruit pastels and empties some into his mouth. You're joking. No. Also just empties some. Just take one by one. They've got crystallised sugar on the outside. They're sugar on sugar on sugar. Just like, give your body a little break, my darling. He makes himself look at the screen again. The numbers dance in front of him. He's losing £20 million for every 100 points down on the Nikkei.
The numbers change again, down another 50 points. He watches the screen for a few moments more. It goes down another 300 points. He buys another 1,000 futures, but it goes down again at 215 trading ends. He's lost £65 million today alone. His hopes are dead. He's got nowhere left to hide. This is devastating.
At 2.30, he goes back to the office. He ignores the pile of post-its on his desk. Everyone wants to talk to him. Auditors, senior managers, even the press. Nobody can understand how he's making so much money when there's a huge funding hole. The press call it the bearing overhang. That's offensive. He's put on a little bit of weight. Like, a little bit. And it's fruit weight. Fruit weight! Like baby weight, just losing the fruit weight.
Tomorrow is bonus day. Tens of millions of pounds are due to be paid out. Only, there is no money. He's drained London of its cash flow. He's asked for so much money that bearings have gone over their overdraft limit with Citibank. Last time he looked at the 5-8s account, it hid losses of £400 million. The printout in his desk drawer sits like an unexploded bomb.
This whole mess is all down to him. Well, yeah, I don't think anyone's denying that. Suddenly, he hears a cheerful voice behind him. Oh, God, who's this? It's Tony Railton. Nick, how was the market? His stomach lurches. Brilliant.
What can I do for you, Tony? This hole in the balance sheet. I wondered if we could have a quick meeting, me, you and Simon. Is now okay? His legs go weak. He feels dizzy. Um, I'd love to, but I can't right now. Uh, Lisa's sick. Nothing serious, I hope. I've just got to go home and check on her. I won't be long. 40 minutes, tops. He tells them they can sit down and discuss the problem with the balance sheet and it'll tell them everything they need to know. Great, thanks, Nick. See you then.
Leeson takes the lift to the ground floor and walks out of the building. He has no intention of ever going back. It's an hour later and Nick Leeson's in his apartment throwing clothes into a suitcase. He has to get out of Singapore as quickly as possible. But Lisa is refusing to come with him.
We've got people coming this weekend, Nick. It's your birthday on Saturday. I'll have a nervous breakdown if I stay here. He takes hold of her hand. Please, Lisa, you deserve a break too. Calls are coming in already from Tony Railton and Simon Jones. Soon everyone will be wondering where he is. Lisa's face softens. OK, but I need to take some tapes back to Blockbuster Video. We'll get fined otherwise. LAUGHTER
Sorry, the irony. The great irony. Yeah, sure, you go ahead. Nick needs to keep this as casual as possible. The last thing he wants to do is scare Lisa. He goes to his friend Danny's house. He needs to talk to someone about this. Danny's the only person who'll understand. Nick, you look rough, mate. I'm in trouble, Danny. I made losses, big ones. Danny looks puzzled. How big?
He opens his mouth, but he can't bring himself to say how much he's lost. Instead, he tells Danny he's taking a short break while it blows over. "Will you drive us to the airport?" "Course. You and Lisa are still on for dinner next week." He nods, but he knows it's a lie. Later that night, his flight lands in Kuala Lumpur. At five minutes to midnight, he walks into the luxurious Regent Hotel and negotiates a company discount rate.
then he and Lisa settle into their room on the VIP floor. Nick Leeson's life on the run has begun. This is the second episode in our series Breaking Bearings. A quick note about our dialogue. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but all our dramatisations are based on historical research. If you'd like to know more about this story, we especially recommend the books All That Glitters, The Fall of Bearings by John Gapper and Nicholas Denton, Going for Broke by Judith Rawnsley and Rogue Trader...
Wondery
I'm Dan Taberski. In 2011, something strange began to happen at the high school in Leroy, New York. I was like at my locker and she came up to me and she was like stuttering super bad. I'm like, stop f***ing around. She's like, I can't. A mystery illness, bizarre symptoms, and spreading fast. It's like doubling and tripling and it's all these girls. With a diagnosis, the state tried to keep on the down low. Everybody thought I was holding something back. Well, you were holding something back intentionally. Yeah, yeah, well, yeah.
No, it's hysteria. It's all in your head. It's not physical. Oh my gosh, you're exaggerating. Is this the largest mass hysteria since The Witches of Salem? Or is it something else entirely? Something's wrong here. Something's not right. Leroy was the new dateline and everyone was trying to solve the murder. A new limited series from Wondery and Pineapple Street Studios, Hysterical.
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