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You can listen to new episodes one week early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app. Levine? The Fordster. How's your rash? Excuse me? That's a bit personal. No, you said you were getting a rash the other day from all the tension. Oh, right, that rash. Yes, no, it is a bit better, thanks, yeah. Okay, good. I was slightly concerned it was my Lynx Africa in this small studio that was setting you off. You're a very fragrant man. Thank you. Are you ready for the final part of the story? I think I am.
Because famously he's eight years old. We'll be down the playground.
He takes a screwdriver and forces the drawer open. He grabs a handful of printouts.
They're for an account called 88888. His frown deepens as he reads. None of the numbers make sense. The printouts are showing tens of millions of pounds worth of losses. Something in the desk drawer catches Jones's eye. It's a tube of glue and some scissors. He picks up a draft of a letter to the auditors about the missing 7.78 billion yen. A cut-out signature is glued to the bottom.
A bead of sweat breaks on his forehead. Leeson has forged the letter. And judging from these printouts, he's also forged his profits. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Mr Jones, this just came for you. It's Rizel, one of Leeson's backroom staff. She's holding a fax. It's from Nick Leeson. It reads, My sincere apologies for the predicament that I have left you in.
It was neither my intention or aim for this to happen, but the pressures, both business and personal, have become too much to bear, and after receiving medical advice, have affected my health to the extent that a breakdown is imminent. I'm tendering my resignation, but will be in touch soon to discuss the best course of action. Apologies, Nick.
Oh my God, this is it. I mean, he might as well have just written SOZ and faxed that over. I mean, what does he think when he says, I'll be in touch to discuss the best course of action? What does he think that's going to be? I mean, it just doesn't really convey the scale of what has happened yet, is it? It's not a full-on like, mate, I'm really sorry. Does he think that they're going to pack all his stuff up into a box and send them on to him? P.S. Could you send over my kinder egg toys?
Jones looks at the address at the top of the page. It's the Regent Hotel in Kuala Lumpur. He grabs the phone and rings. I need to speak to one of your guests, Nick Leeson. Certainly. One moment, please. Jones is gripping the receiver so tightly, his whole arm is tense. I'm afraid the Leesons have already checked out. Jones hangs up. He taps his pen rapidly on the desk. There's only one thing he can do now.
He's going to have to phone London and tell Baring's CEO, Peter Norris, that the bank's most successful trader, Nick Leeson, has disappeared, leaving a black hole of tens of millions of pounds. And what's more, that it all happened right under his nose. Oh.
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From Wondery, I'm Matt Ford. And I'm Alice Levine. And this is British Scandal. MUSIC
This story moves so fast, let's just take stock of where we are. Very good. Nick Leeson has been hiding losses in that flipping 5.8s account and then kept trying to recover those losses through a series of gambles that, spoiler alert, did not pay off. Yeah, he's tried so many tricks now, from getting money wired over from bearings in London and making out it was for a secret client who I can't tell you the name of, to gambling on the position of the market and...
I mean, it's an understatement. Massively. Yeah. Over and over and over again. And then he forges that letter to explain the losses. The last we heard, Nick had just legged it from Singapore and landed in Kuala Lumpur. Oh, God. This is episode three on The Run. Tokyo. It's 2am, Friday the 24th of February. A few hours after Simon Jones found Nick Leeson's resignation letter.
Fernando Gweller turns over in bed. He's the guy in Tokyo that Leeson works with? Yes, and he's had a late night and has got a hangover. He really needs to sleep it off. He'd been out celebrating into the small hours. He's had a great year working with Nick Leeson in Singapore. They've made a lot of money. Oh, have they? He's going to get a big bonus.
Best of all, he's got a promotion on the back of this year's profits. He's 30 years old and the soon-to-be director of a new investment bank created by Bearings. Ugh, Gwella. We need to get hold of Nick. Mary, it's two in the morning. Is this one of your jokes? Not great at the jokes, is she, Mary?
Not known for her gags. Well, practical jokes are something of a tradition at Bearings. Senior managers love them, especially when staff have just been promoted. The Tokyo office where he works have a joke file dating back to 1984. This joke file is running to eight thick folders. Sorry, are you doing a joke? This is real? This is real. No wonder they're losing so much money. Stop spending so much time registering the jokes.
But something in her voice tells him this is serious. Just find him, Fernando, OK? He's not too worried. Nick will probably be hungover somewhere, sleeping off his own celebration. As chief trader, his bonus this year must be pretty substantial. Oh, my God. Why does nobody know this man? He rings Nick's phone a few times. When he gets no answer, he gives up and goes back to sleep. Smart.
At 6.30am, he gets another call. Fernando, get to the office as quick as you can. Report back to me on Norris' line. Half an hour later, he walks into the Tokyo office. He dials Peter Norris' number. Whatever's happening, it must be serious. We have reason to believe Nick Gleeson has left Singapore. We've just found an account he's hidden from us. Fernando's legs start shaking with nervous energy.
He can hear the rising panic in Norris's voice. The guys in Singapore have been working through the night. They'll fax the account through to you. We need you to measure the losses. The minute you've done it, call me and don't tell anyone. Fernando goes to the fax machine. It's already spewing sheets from an account called 88888.
He punches the positions into a spreadsheet on his computer, grabs a calculator and taps in the numbers. Can you imagine? I could have needed another calculator, actually. You've got one of the ones with a big screen. I need a longer display.
Fernando knows that Leeson has a secret client. Over the past few days, he's been fending off calls about it from financial journalists. Word got out about the massive numbers Leeson was dealing with. Journalists were desperate to find out who client X was. The only person who knows is Leeson. The facts stop whirring and Fernando looks at the total on the printout. He can't quite believe the figures, so he adds them up again. Then he rings Norris. Down $450 million. $450 million.
The line is silent. Did you hear me? I heard. But this isn't our problem, right? These positions belong to Nick's secret client. There's another pause. Fernando, there is no client. I've just been sick of my mouth.
Fernando feels the blood drain from his face. That makes two of us. He does a quick calculation. If Bearings has lost more than its equity of £308 million, it might already technically be insolvent. Trading for the day would have to stop, which would mean no bonus, no promotion and very possibly no Bearings Bank.
A little bit of me thinks that the order of those things should be reversed, the bonus being possibly the least important and the complete dissolution of a bank being at the top. Can I just check? Does that mean no lunch club? Right. Yeah, just one more sorry to keep being the guy asking questions. Do we still get to access the gym? So it's sort of everything's gone? Yeah. OK. London, 7am Friday. Later that morning, Peter Norris steps out of the shower in his office.
Peter's been working solidly on the 5/8 account since last Thursday morning and fatigue is kicking in. He tried to sleep on the blue sofa opposite his desk but couldn't. He nervously runs his fingers through his damp hair. He needs to keep Behring's problems as secret as possible for as long as possible. And the last thing he wants is a run on the bank. But right now, he has to tell the bank's chairman. "Peter, it must be serious if you're calling me at this hour." Norris breaks the news to Peter Behring.
A rogue trader has brought the bank to the brink of collapse. We're estimating losses of $450 million. Every time I say him. He hears Barron take a sharp breath. There's another problem. A few hours ago, Norris made a terrible discovery. Not only has Leeson lost money on futures trades, he's been selling options. Okay, sorry to always ask you this, but what does that mean? So options are sold by one trader to another...
They're risky for the seller but good for the buyer. The buyer gets the option to buy or sell something at a set price in the future, but they don't have to buy or sell. So if the market moves in the right direction, great, they can act on the option and cash in. But if it moves against them, they don't have to fulfil the contract.
At the end of three months, it expires. So options buyers face a very small risk. OK, but the seller is the one that's at loads of risk. Because if it goes the wrong way, then they're taking all of the fall. So in that case, how did Nick Leeson make money selling them? OK, as you can probably guess, the short answer is he didn't. Short, OK, I should have guessed that, yeah. So he took a massive gamble. And it didn't work.
Norris has spent most of the night hunting through Leeson's positions, trying to find out who he's sold options to. They're turning up all over the place. It's like fighting a wildfire. Some of the options have months still to run. The longer they're open, the more the losses will mount for bearings.
Peter Baring pauses. Get a cap on those options as quickly as possible. Norris starts by ringing an American investment bank. He knows this will alert people to Baring's problems, but he has no choice. He asks the bank if they'll negotiate a deal on the options lease and sold them. The bank aren't interested. They just hang up. This is not the sort of industry where people are like, oh, sure, you're a bit stuck. Sell them back to you for what you said. Yeah, yeah, go on.
Yeah, they're like, "Hang on, you want me to make less money?" "No thanks." Norris and his team work for the rest of the day and through the night. They contact anyone and everyone who holds one of Leeson's options. There's thousands of them all over the world, and every single one is losing Behring's money. By the following morning, Norris realises there's no way they can get to them all in time. Norris stopped smoking years ago, but now he needs a cigarette.
He walks down the thickly carpeted stairs into the lobby and straight into a scene of total chaos. It's full of Baring's employees. Word has got out about the bank's problems. Some are crying, others are angry. Then someone spots him. Where's our bonus? A smartly dressed woman grabs him. She looks scared. Is it true we've all lost our jobs? Can you imagine? He'd hoped to keep the whole thing from staff until he knew the full extent of the losses.
Suddenly, he spots another woman carrying boxes of files to a waiting car. The jokes. Not the banter file. It's one thing that will remain of Bearings. He stops her. That's Bearings' property. She shouts at him. It's my work! He stands firm. You cannot take client files from this building. She throws the box at his feet and marches to her car. He can see other cars being loaded with other client files. He walks away. He can't stop them all. Then his phone rings.
He's left his number. With so many banks and traders who hold options, he's lost track. But when he answers, it's the local wine bar owner. How many did he buy? Baring's staff have been drinking champagne on Baring's credit cards. They've drunk all the most expensive bottles. Is he going to settle the bill? Sorry, do you mean...
In their lives they've done that, or today. Today they've gone straight there and got trashed on the most expensive stuff. I mean, credit to them. Well, yes, indeed, because they didn't pay at the time. Norris hangs up and lights a cigarette. 48 hours ago, he was in line for a bonus of £1 million. He was going to take over control of the bank from Peter Baring, who was due to retire in a few months. He takes a drag of his cigarette and tries to calculate how far away from closure they are.
The bank's £308 million equity is gone, but they have a further £101 million in loan capital. The markets will open again in a matter of hours. That means Norris and his management team have one full day to come up with a solution. London. Sunday 26th February, 9:30am. Peter Bearing gets off the tube at Bank Station.
He adjusts his silk cravat and makes his way to the Bank of England building in Threadneedle Street. Definitely didn't think he would be a tube getter. Good point, yeah. You imagine he's just got a chauffeur. For sure, yeah. Cancel the chauffeur, cancel the Kinder Eggs. This is serious. He walks up the steps, past the Doric columns and heads inside. He's here to meet the heads of the major UK banks. He needs to persuade them to lend Behring's money and keep it afloat. He walks up to a footman dressed in pink tailcoats and a red waistcoat with silver buttons.
The footman leads him around a long corridor. The governor of the Bank of England, Eddie George, comes up and shakes his hand. George is a genial man with a round face, large glasses and a ready smile.
And I have to tell you this, I was quite a fan of Eddie George when I was at school. What? Said no one ever? Yeah, his nickname was Steady Eddie and I really liked him. You were a fan of the governor of the Bank of England? I was genuinely at 16 when I started studying A-level economics. I put myself on the mailing list to the Bank of England and I would get through the post every year just leaflets about the budget and the pre-budget report. I thought it was quite cool. The more I learn about you, the more I simultaneously respect and disrespect you. Cheers, mate.
My man Eddie George leads Baring into the conference room. It's just put you in a whole new light. I just need to let that settle for a second. The chairman and chief execs of every major British bank are already there. Peter Baring asked George not to give out any details at the meeting. But news of Baring's problems has already hit the newspapers. Most of the 25 bankers in the room have a fair idea what he wants.
Bearing takes his seat next to an exhausted-looking Peter Norris. Eddie George shuffles his papers, then thanks everyone for coming into the city on a Sunday morning. He outlines the situation. He tells the meeting about Nick Leeson, the rogue trader behind Bearing's losses, how he carried out secret trades and took massive risks with the bank's money. There's some sympathy in the room. Nobody wants Bearing's to go under. They're all scared it'll cause panic and a run on their own banks. Someone asks how much the losses are.
Peter Bearing clears his throat. The truth is, the losses are rising all the time. Um, as of last night, £625 million. What the hell? When did that happen? There's an intake of breath around the room. Eddie George speaks up. We need to sort out three things. One, the futures and options. Two, we need to provide new capital for Bearing's. And finally, we need to make sure depositors don't withdraw their cash tomorrow when the bank opens. Several people are nodding.
someone says it's in everyone's interests to sort this out. George tells the meeting that Barings can't afford to pay more than £200 million to whoever takes on the futures and options. Peter Baring looks around the room. Everyone avoids eye contact with him. Baring signals to George to move on to the next point, persuading the banks to lend money to Barings. George tells the meeting that the bank needs a loan of £600 million for three months. He hands over to Peter Norris.
I feel like this is going to be a quick decision. Yes, it's... Sorry, not yes, it's no. I meant yes, we heard you, no to the loan. OK, thank you, bye. Norris gets to his feet. He's wobbling slightly.
He hasn't slept for 75 hours. Oh, Christ. Norris starts to play up the bank's success in the securities market. Cool. Not the time, I don't think, for the old, you know, the CV edit, where you're like, zhuzh it. Not for now. Well, cheers, Peter, for handling the bad news. Just to reassure you, there are some positives. We have a lot of teeny tiny terrapins. And we've just redone the boardroom. Peter Baring feels the room chill.
People look confused, annoyed even. But Norris ploughs on. He's talking about the estimated profits of the bank as if Nick Leeson's losses never existed. Is he OK? As he finishes his presentation, he adds one more detail. Of course, any settlement deal would need to cover the present staff's bonuses.
And that would cost, somebody asks... All right, less of the sass. £100 million. For a second, the room goes completely silent. Then it erupts in fury. There it is. For the next hour, Peter Bearings listens as the bankers accuse Bearings of gross incompetence, negligence, ignorance and arrogance. So is that a no? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. OK, yeah. I mean... Yeah, it's not been the best...
I'll put you down for five mil. Tone, come on. Fifteen? Go on, you're good for it. Carl, come on, mate. Come on. Put your hands in your pockets.
A few hours later, Baring sits alone beneath the glass chandelier of the Octagon Room. A butler in a pink jacket serves him tea. Eddie George appears. Oh, Eddie. He's just finished a call in his office with the Sultan of Brunei. They've spent the past few hours trying to find an alternative buyer for the bank. The Sultan is interested. What? Relief spreads across Peter Baring's face. The other bankers agree to lend Baring's money if the Sultan buys.
Norris and his team try to estimate how much it will cost the Sultan to recapitalise the bank. But when they recalculate, Baring's losses have jumped up to £830 million. Can we just catch a break? You feel like someone should go, can we just stop losing money? Just pause it for a sec, because the Sultan... Pause it! Pull that thing out of the wall. LAUGHTER
If it's not switched on, it can't be going, can it? This is that same thing that we've been talking about, about chasing your tail. But days ago, it would have been fine when it was at 3.50 or whatever, or 3.08, or even when it was at 6.50. At 8.30, Peter Baring sits with the other bankers in the Octagon Room, waiting for the Sultan's decision. Finally, Eddie George walks into the room. I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but our investor is unwilling to proceed.
But where is Nick Leeson?
Where is Nick Leeson? I want a word with him. Ryan Reynolds here from Intmobile. With the price of just about everything going up during inflation, we thought we'd bring our prices down.
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Malaysia.
Monday 27th February, 9:30am. Nick Leeson sips a cold beer. He's with Lisa at the Shangri-La resort. He lies back on his sun lounger and watches Lisa jump into the sky blue swimming pool. The South China Sea glitters in the distance. He's miles away from his troubles at Bairings. If only he could stay here forever. But he can't relax for long. He needs to make a plan. The police must already be looking for him. If he stays here, he'll be caught.
The trouble is, he still hasn't told Lisa the whole story. Dude. She thinks they're on a break for his birthday. Oh my God, this relationship. Yeah. He's told her he's made a mistake at work and needs time out from the pressure. Not not true. But not, not, not, not, not, not true. Half an hour later, he's with Lisa in the hotel shop. Don't buy anything. He picks up some fruit gums, some Kinder Eggs.
a packet of biscuits and heads to the till. A man walks past with a copy of the New Straits Times. The headline reads, British Merchant Bank Collapses. He buys a copy. They make their way back to their room through the network of marble floors and carved wooden doors. He's bitten his fingernails down to the stumps. He chews on them again now. I need to tell you something, but the words don't come out. Instead, he hands Lisa the newspaper and asks her to read the article to him.
Lisa, get with it. I think this is called shock. Yeah.
She picks up the phone and rings her parents. No, stop it. He can't bear to listen. He's terrified she's planning to leave him. He goes into the bathroom, runs a bath. He submerges himself in the warm water.
Then he hears her giggle. What's going on? After a few minutes, she comes into the bathroom. You're famous! You've knocked Charles and Di off the front page. She's smiling at him. He grins back. This is bizarre. You're not leaving me then? Don't be daft. Lisa is a very intriguing woman. For the first time, he thinks he'll get through this.
If Lisa can laugh about it, maybe it's not as bad as he thinks. Did she read the wrong page of the newspaper? Says he beat Arsenal 5-0. Ha ha! An hour later, he rings his friend Danny.
If Danny says everything is calming down, maybe he and Lisa can stay here for a while and unwind a bit. This doesn't ring true with what I understand to be happening. Yeah. All right, Danny, it's Nick. Don't tell me where you are. Listen to me. Get out of Asia or you'll end up in the Bangkok Hilton. Is that a bad hotel? I'm guessing that's code for, like, prison. Yeah, it is. The next day, Nick wakes Lisa early.
They dress quickly and pack. He throws a Tom Clancy thriller into his hand luggage. This guy is delusional. He thinks he's going to read a paperback. Moments later, they're in a taxi heading for the airport. He needs to get the first flight out of Asia. But when they get to the airport, it's chaos. The queue for tickets is massive. When they finally reach the counter, they get bad news. All the flights out are full.
You've chosen a bad time. It's the Harry Rea Poissa holiday. Everyone's travelling to be with their families. He tries every combination of flights, but nothing is available. Maybe try tomorrow? As they leave the airport, he spots a headline. Hunt on for rogue trader. He catches his breath. He wants to buy a copy, but he's scared someone will recognise him. One thing's for sure. The longer he stays in Asia, the more chance he's got of being arrested. They head across town.
He checks what boats are leaving, but nothing's available there either. He goes to the Royal Brunei Ticket Office and tries again for flights. There's a flight tomorrow morning to Frankfurt. It's via Brunei, Bangkok and Abu Dhabi. Sounds awful. Leeson hesitates. It's a massive risk. He could be arrested at any one of those stops. They'll be monitoring the passenger lists at the ports and airports. But he can't stay here. We'll take it. When she hands him the tickets, he notices something. She's misspelled his name.
It's Leeson, not Lesson. She reassures him it won't matter. Don't worry, the tickets will be valid. He takes them and leaves. He and Lisa spend the rest of the day walking around the seaside town of Kota Kinabalu. He buys a cap so he isn't recognised. Lisa's worried that the misspelled name will stop them getting on a flight. She could be right, but then again, it might play in his favour. That's what I was thinking, will it be really useful? It might just get him to Frankfurt without being noticed.
The following morning, Wednesday the 1st of March, Nick Leeson stands in the queue to board the flight to Brunei. Ahead is a passport control officer in a brown uniform. Leeson watches him carefully. As we know from British scandal in the past, when you're guilty of something and you're at an airport, it is the pits. It's a terrible place to be guilty. If the officer has his name and photo, he'll be arrested on the spot immediately.
He has to play this carefully. He loves a gamble though, he kind of lives for this. If he looks too nervous, the officer will know something's up, but he can't stop his hands shaking. He turns to Lisa. I love you. Whatever happens, I love you. Lisa steps forward. The officer takes her passport and looks at the ticket. He stamps her passport and lets her through. Leeson steps forward. Okay, wait. Okay, I'm ready. Go on. The officer frowns for a moment, then looks up at him.
This guy!
His face is everywhere. He glances at the newspaper stands. He's on the front cover of all the major papers. Their next flight isn't for eight hours. He has to find somewhere to hide. You would be freaking out. Lisa goes to the desk. A few minutes later, she's hired a short stay room. It's tiny, like a cell. No windows, no bathroom. They lie down on the bed, hold each other and cry. I've been on holidays like that. What?
I've been on holidays where that's been a highlight. Seven and a half hours later, he's in the queue to board the flight for Bangkok. The man in front of him is carrying a copy of the Herald Tribune. He sees a photo of himself on the front cover next to the word 'manhunt'. Pulls the cap further down his forehead. Lisa nudges him. Don't do that. You'll stick out like a sore thumb. But at the desk, they wave him through.
Moments later, he's sitting next to Lisa on the plane. He orders a few beers to relax, but he can't sleep. By the time he gets to Abu Dhabi, he has no idea what time it is. He wanders around the shops in a half-daze. Then he notices he's near a queue for the flight to Singapore. It's full of Baring's employees. For a second, he wonders what they're doing.
Then he realises they're heading back to Singapore to try and sort out the mess he's made. You would have goosebumps. You'd just be so scared that they'd spot you. Yeah, cold sweat. Have another cap. He hides behind his cap and heads for the back of the lounge with Lisa. He slopes down, puts the Tom Clancy novel in front of his face. Do you think any of them recognised you? I hope not.
Several hours later, he's on the plane to Frankfurt. He's got one more customs point to cross. As soon as he's in Europe, he's as good as free. I think that misprint saved us. When the plane lands at Frankfurt, he looks out of the window. It's cold and grey. Rain streaks down the windowpane.
The captain's voice welcomes everyone to Frankfurt. As is customary with flights arriving at this hour of the morning, passport checks will take place immediately outside the aeroplane. Oh no. Leeson waits till most of the passengers are off, then grabs his bag and heads out. He follows Leeson onto the wet tarmac. Suddenly, a man in a suit approaches. He's got a gun on his hip. It takes Leeson a few seconds to realise he's a policeman.
He takes Lisa's passport and studies it. Where is your man? Lisa looks at the waiting airport bus. It's full of faces pressed up against the window. He steps forward. I'm her man. The authorities have finally found him. Now Nick's problems are really going to start.
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Let's face it, we were all that kid. So first call your parents to say I'm sorry, and then download the Instacart app to get delivery in as fast as 30 minutes all school year long. Get a $0 delivery fee for your first three orders while supplies last. Minimum $10 per order. Additional terms apply. Tuesday, June 27th, 1995. Hoxt Prison, Frankfurt. Nick Leeson stands by the window of his cell and looks out into the prison yard.
His mind is turning over a dilemma. He met with his lawyer, Stephen Pollard, yesterday. He's facing charges in Singapore and Britain. The charges from Singapore are fewer and carry less jail time. The British charges are more serious. They could send him to jail for years. He needs to decide where to face justice.
Can you imagine? I'm amazed he gets a choice, really. Surely this should be a rule. It's not like a final round of a game show. Do you want to face justice in Britain or Singapore? Join us after the break.
He was shocked to find out how much trouble he's in. Then he realised, bearings have failed to cap his options. Oh, bearings have failed. Cool, that's an interesting spin. A few days later, he found out that bearings had been sold to the Dutch bank ING for £1. The only thing that's keeping him going is seeing Lisa. She's taken a job as a waitress so she can afford to fly over.
Eventually, it's time to see his lawyer, Stephen Pollard, again. They sit opposite each other in the prison's small, whitewashed meeting room. Pollard adjusts his round glasses. So, have you decided? I'm going to plead guilty to the serious fraud office charges. Pollard raises his thick eyebrows. Are you sure? Leeson nods.
He might serve less time in Singapore, but he'll hardly see Lisa. He goes back to his cell and waits for a court date. There is something desperately romantic about that, but I don't think I'd do it. I'd still take the shorter time. On July the 6th, Pollard comes back. We've heard from James Kellogg, director of the SFO. That's the serious fraud office that you said before? Yes. Pollard pauses.
He's firmly of the view that Singapore should take priority. You mean they won't prosecute me? They don't even want to interview you. He's shocked. He's prepared to plead guilty to all the charges they brought and now they don't want to know. That night, he asks the guards for a paper and pen. He's going to start a dossier incriminating himself. What a bizarre position to be in. Please arrest me. Honestly, I'm a bad, bad man. No, like a really bad man. It's three weeks later.
Nick Leeson follows a guard back in the little whitewashed room. His dossier has had an effect. The SFO have finally agreed to interview him. He needs to convince them now to go ahead with charges against him. Eventually, a guard brings in three SFO officers. One opens a briefcase and puts his dossier on the table. Leeson has told them all about the 5/8 account, how he used money from London to carry out unauthorised trades, how he lied and covered everything up,
They tell him they'll be here for a week, asking him questions. He smiles. One whole week is enough time to convince them he's guilty of everything they accused him of. But as the interview progresses, he realises they don't understand what futures trades are or how options work. That makes four of us. He carefully outlines what he's done, why and how he's broken the law. On the final day, he gets Stephen Pollard to write to them listing his crimes.
covering up the 7.78 billion yen, hiding the 5/8 account, repeated false requests for money from London, breaking trading rules and falsifying the month-end and year-end accounts. He committed them all under their jurisdiction and he admits to all charges. Brace yourself. Few days later, he gets devastating news from Stephen Pollard. The Serious Fraud Office have made their decision. They won't prosecute.
I'm sorry. No, I'm sorry. Not having it. I'm not having it. I don't know if I'm stressed or annoyed. It's just baffling. It's early October. Nick Leeson is rereading his Clancy novel when he gets a call from Pollard. You're just baiting me with this Clancy novel. Get a new book, mate. I'm not even going there. Pollard outlines the situation.
The German court have announced a date for your extradition. We've got one month to appeal. I'll get the paperwork started. That night, he peers through the tiny sliver of clear glass onto the empty exercise yard. He's been so terrified of failure, he's lied to everyone, including Lisa, for years. He's tried to control every situation and everyone around him. It's all backfired. He's lost everything. When Lisa visits that Thursday, she tells him she wants to keep fighting.
But he's made his decision. He's not going to oppose extradition anymore. He's going to Singapore to face up to his crimes. He's lived with the stress of it for years. It's the only way he'll finally be free of it all. Her eyes fill with tears. "When am I going to get to see you?" He doesn't have an answer. All he knows is he can't spend the rest of his life running from reality. Singapore, July 1999, four years later.
Nick Leeson walks into a wood-panelled courtroom. He stands nervously in front of the judge. He's waiting to see if he's been given parole. He's been in Singapore's Changi prison for the past four years and four months. It's been tough. Everyone in the prison is a gang member, including the guards.
He survived because the other prisoners think he's a big-time crook with £835 million hidden away. You just would not correct them, would you? You'd be like, yep, that's right, and I will tell you where it's buried if you're nice to me. Nothing could be further from the truth. He has nothing. While he's been here, Lisa has divorced him. God. He's homeless and doesn't have any prospects of a job. In the past few months, he's been getting treatment for bowel cancer.
This is so grim.
Wow. That is heavy duty, isn't it? I mean, what a life.
This is the third 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 Warnsley and Rogue Trader by Nick Leeson. I'm Matt Ford. And I'm Alice Levine. Karen Laws wrote this episode. Additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford. Our sound design is by Rich Evans. Script editing by Afsana Gray. Our senior producer is Russell Finch. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis for Wondery.
Hey, I'm Mike Corey, the host of Wondery's podcast Against the Odds. In each episode, we share thrilling true stories of survival, putting you in the shoes of the people who live to tell the tale. In our next season, it's July 6th, 1988, and workers are settling into the night shift aboard Piper Alpha, the world's largest offshore oil rig.
Home to 226 men, the rig is stationed in the stormy North Sea off the coast of Scotland. At around 10 p.m., workers accidentally trigger a gas leak that leads to an explosion and a fire. As they wait to be rescued, the workers soon realize that Piper Alpha has transformed into a death trap. Follow Against the Odds wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on Amazon Music or the Wondery app.
