Tuesday, 24 March 2015

Emrah Kagitcibasi?!

No one knows who he is. No one has ever met him. He may not even exist, except in nightmares. 'That can't be right. Who is he, boss, really?' Just Emrah Kagitcibasi, Voice. Just a name. 'No LinkedIn profile?' Not as far as I know.

But here's the news: Pictet Asset Management has appointed Emrah Kagitcibasi as a senior investment specialist for its emerging market debt team in London. 'Oh dear.' Yeah, he'll be arriving from New York soon. 'If he's not here already ...'

Emrah Kagitcibasi could be here already, dear reader(s)!


Oh God! / He is supposed to be Turkish. Some say his father was German. Nobody believed he was real. Nobody ever saw him or knew anybody that ever worked directly with him, but to hear Simon Lue-Fong tell it, anybody could have worked with Kagitcibasi. You never knew. That was his power. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. One story the guys told me - the story I believe - was from his days in Turkey. He realized that to be in power you didn't need funds or money or even numbers. You just needed the will to do what the other guy wouldn't. There was a petty gang of Hungarians that wanted their own asset management firm. After a while they come to power, and they come after Kagitcibasi. (He was small-time then, just an auditor, they say.) They come to his office in the afternoon, looking for his business. They find various office workers, you know, support staff, and decide to wait for Kagitcibasi. He returns from lunch to find the post boy screaming. The Hungarians knew Kagitcibasi was tough. Not to be trifled with. So they let him know they meant business. They tell Kagitcibasi they want his territory - all his finance stuff. Kagitcibasi looks over the face of the post boy ... Then he showed these men a will, of what will really was. He tells them he would rather see the post boy dead than live another day after this. ('Oh, lovely for the post boy, Mikey!' Yeah.) Well, anyway, he ... "deals" with the Hungarians, but he lets one go. He waits until the post boy is in the ground and then he goes after the rest of the mob. He takes their money, he closes their funds, he burns down their offices, he beats up their investors. ('Unbelievable, boss!' Yeah.) And like that, he was gone! Underground. No one has seen him since. He becomes a myth, a spook story that traders and fund managers tell their kids at night. If you rat on your pop to the FCA or the SEC, Emrah Kagitcibasi will get you. And nobody really ever believes.

'And now he's in London!' Probably ...