Rogue no more?
Nick Leeson's poker face unsettles Sathnam Sanghera. But will it convince future employers about the man's new-found integrity?
FT.com site; Oct 17, 2003
The extraordinary thing about Nick Leeson - apart from the fact that he caused the collapse of Barings bank in 1995 by racking up £791m in unauthorised trading losses, of course - is his emotional detachment. He is perfectly pleasant, but at times it does feel that the bald, middle-aged man sitting opposite me in the bar of the Raddison Hotel in Galway, Ireland, is an android.
It's amazing how he manages to be so robotic, considering what he's been through: nine months in a German prison, three-and-a-half years in a Singapore jail, colon cancer (just hours after an operation to remove a tumour, he was forced to sleep on a concrete floor and his wound split open), divorce (his wife Lisa informed him by post, while he was in jail), an injunction for the princely sum of £100m, and, perhaps most horrifically of all, a wedding covered by Hello! magazine (he married Leona, his new love, earlier this year).
If I had been through even a fraction of this, I'd be a blubbering, emotional blancmange. But when asked if he cried during his tribulations, Leeson just says: "No, I didn't cry once in prison. And I haven't cried since either." He speaks in a monotone, animated only slightly by a gentle London accent.
He takes a sip of tea and considers what he has just said. "Actually, I did cry when I was in Germany. I was in a cell on my own. And I cried recently, when I was talking about my mum, who died when I was 20. But those have been the only times." He takes another sip of tea. "I am emotionally very hard. Leona describes it as emotionally dead, sometimes."
The 36-year-old former trader now looks as "hard" on the outside as he is on the inside: he is a lot chunkier than he was in the days when he was regularly in the papers, and his hair has gone - the result of baldness, not cancer treatment, he says.
Overall, he doesn't - if you can forgive the pun - look a billion dollars: he has the appearance of an ageing football hooligan, a look which is completed by the small scar on his brow which marks the time in Blackpool, a couple of years ago, when someone smashed a bottle over his head - presumably for just being the bloke who caused hundreds of millions to vanish in one of the worst financial scandals in history.
At times, the emotional detachment is disconcerting. His description of that bottle incident in Blackpool is delivered with staggering equanimity: "They caught the guy, but I didn't want to press charges," he says flatly. "Things are the way they are, you can't really change them."
When asked what he would say to Lisa, the ex-wife who went off with another City trader while he was in prison, if they met, he merely grunts: "I'd probably say hello." Would he like to see her again? "Not really. People say, 'Oh, it would provide closure', but I don't really believe in things like that. If we did meet, it would be a fairly generic conversation . . . about the weather probably. She has moved on, and I'm getting on with things too."
For Leeson, "getting on with things" has been a distinctly low-profile affair: studying for a degree (his first) in psychology at Middlesex University; occasional after-dinner speeches; a handful of media commitments, and settling down with his new wife Leona, a beauty therapist.
When they first met in Leeson's home town of Watford last year, Leona found Nick cocky - not unlike the character portrayed in his autobiographical pot-boiler, Rogue Trader. But she warmed to him over time. And in January, Leeson moved in with her and her two children from a previous relationship, in her home near Galway on the west coast of Ireland. They got married, with Hello! in attendance, in Dublin this August.
A typical day in Nick Leeson's new life consists of getting up at 8am, taking his four-year-old stepson to play-school, spending the morning in the gym, having lunch with Leona, taking the dog for a walk along the beautiful coast near Galway, and ferrying his nine-year-old stepdaughter to swimming class in the evening. "There are no great work commitments," he says, a little guiltily.
In August, Leeson passed the all-important five-year point from his first cancer treatment, but is worried he has let himself go. "I put on some weight around the wedding," he complains, pinching a roll of fat around his belt, casually adding that he has been told that he can father children after all, despite being warned earlier that the cancer treatment in Singapore had probably left him sterile. "I'm mindful, after having cancer, that being overweight is one of the biggest risk factors. So I'm just getting back into the gym routine."
But it seems that the main reason why Nick Leeson has been doing so little has been that £100m injunction. Half of everything he earns has to go to the liquidators of Barings, and this means that not much is worth doing. "That's why I decided to do the degree," he says. Leeson still has to complete a final module before he can graduate with what he hopes will be a first-class degree, although he says, in a typically downbeat analysis, that the experience hasn't "lived up to expectations - the syllabus was too broad".
In recent months, his commitments have only been an involvement in the promotion of an Irish-based organisation called the London School Of Investment, which makes software and educational packages to help stock market investors, a fortnightly appearance as a financial tipster on an Irish morning TV show, involvement with the launch of a celebrity poker website, and lucrative after-dinner speaking engagements. But it seems that the original Rogue Trader is tiring a little of making his past his present and depending entirely on a period which he describes as "the most embarrassing of my life" for his livelihood.
He has decided it is time to move forward - encouraged by his lawyers' advice that the injunction that takes away half his earnings will be lifted by the end of this year, as the marathon litigation between the firms responsible for auditing Barings' accounts and the Barings liquidators finally reaches a conclusion.
"My legal advice is that at the end of this year I will be able to make money. If something else happens, I will be fucked. But hopefully I'll be able to make a proper living soon. I have to work. I have no other source of income. So the focus now is to get into some form of employment. I don't quite know what it will be."
Does this mean Nick Leeson is looking for a nine-to-five job? "Yes, I need that stability in my life. I want to get back into it. I'm not quite sure what it will be - something in business maybe. It could be a complete change of direction. A few people in Ireland have offered me jobs, but they don't totally suit." He reveals that a few years ago he was offered a risk management role at a Dutch energy company, and was even, unbelievably, offered a position as trader. Would his new job ideally be in Ireland? "No. I think both Leona and I would like to live in a warmer climate." He peers through the window, across the chilly marina outside. "Even England counts. In the next few years, if not sooner, we'd like to move somewhere, perhaps have a child together, and I'd like to be in gainful employment somewhere."
He adds that he will carry on doing after-dinner speeches because he enjoys them and, except for a few hecklers accusing him of arrogance and a lack of remorse, people are generally warm towards him. But does he really think there are companies out there willing to offer a senior position to one of the world's most infamous frauds? "I took my sentence, I got cancer, I got divorced and I've accepted it all," he replies, firmly. "And now I've got a second chance, I'm going to take it. I'm always going to get some people who won't be happy until I'm dead, but I also think people are willing to give me a chance."
Does he feel he has done enough to shake off the "criminal" tag? "I can't reject that tag," he says a little melancholically, at the same time rebuffing, as he has done so many times, those persistent rumours that he has stashed some of Barings' cash away for himself in Asia. "What I did was wrong, it was criminal. But I didn't steal any money. I'm not a bad person."
But is there a risk that he is still driven by the same destructive impulses that drove him to lose more and more money at Barings? "I certainly push boundaries and overstep them if they are not strong enough to stop me," he admits, remarkably frankly. "I'll go to the gym and come back completely exhausted. I just like to push hard."
Would he say he was honest now? "Erm . . . I'd like to think so," he replies after a long pause. "I don't hide anything from Leona, maybe I'm too honest sometimes. But you know, I suppose I'm not really in a situation where I could do something dishonest." He takes another sip of tea and, for the first and last time during our chat, he cracks a mischievous smile. "But if I could fudge some expenses, I probably would."
Rogue trader Leeson looks for job - 'in business, maybe'
By Sathnam Sanghera
Financial Times; Oct 18, 2003
Rogue trader Nick Leeson is returning to the job market for the first time since his huge unauthorised losses as a futures trader resulted in the collapse of Britain's oldest investment bank.
In an interview with the Financial Times, Mr Leeson, who has served a prison sentence in Germany and Singapore and still has a £100m injunction levelled against him, said he was looking for "mainstream", nine-to-five employment for the first time since leaving Barings.
"I'm not quite sure what it will be - something in business, maybe," said Mr Leeson, who has spent the years since his release studying for a degree in psychology, and making occasional after-dinner speeches and media appearances. "It could be a complete change of direction. A few people have offered me jobs, but they don't totally suit . . . I have to work. I have no other source of income."
Mr Leeson is living in Ireland, where he married his new wife Leona this year. His ex-wife, Lisa, divorced him by letter while he was still in prison. In August Mr Leeson, who was treated for colon cancer while serving his sentence in Singapore, passed the all-important five-year point from his first treatment.
He was recently told that he can father children, despite being warned that the treatment in Singapore had probably left him sterile. "In the next few years, if not sooner, Leona and I would like to move somewhere warmer than Ireland, perhaps have a child together, and I'd like to be in gainful employment somewhere."
Mr Leeson added that the reason for seeking employment is his hope that the £100m injunction will be lifted soon, as the marathon litigation between the firms responsible for auditing Barings' accounts and the Barings liquidators reaches a conclusion. Half of everything he earns has to go to the liquidators.
Despite sporting one of the worst CVs imaginable, Mr Leeson said he was offered a risk management role at Dutch energy company a few years ago, and was even offered a position as trader. He wanted a job to give him "stability" in his life. "I took my sentence, I got cancer, I got divorced and I've accepted it all. And now I've got a second chance, I'm going to take it. I'm always going to get some people who won't be happy until I'm dead, but I also think people are willing to give me a chance." Rogue no more?, W3 |
