The toughest guy in the bear pit is fighting back

Lee Amaitis won't let a fierce legal battle stand in the way of Cantor Fitzgerald's rebirth

We hear a lot of stuff about broking and trading, but it comes down to this: I run this business by being a tough guy in a tough world," says Lee Amaitis, the Brooklyn-born chief executive of Cantor Fitzgerald International.

Few would deny his toughness. His New York street background pushed him to begin his career in the Guys & Dolls world of the horse-racing track, and he turned to Wall Street after suffering "a run of bad luck". He has reached his position by "making sure I was always the superstar broker. I was paid by commission and I was always the last to leave the office. I didn't go home until there wasn't a single voice out there left to trade with."

Few would also deny that, for Amaitis's company in particular, the past nine months have given new meaning to the phrase "tough world". Cantor Fitzgerald lost 658 people in the 11 September terrorist attacks, and the road to recovery – amid crumbling markets and a wavering global economy – has been anything but smooth. Amaitis's efforts to rebuild the shattered empire from the UK office are slowly but surely coming good, but are doing so against the odds.

Apart from the practical strain of its task, Cantor has had to cope with the sudden glare of worldwide fascination. On 10 September, it was known in Wall Street and City circles as a hard-hitting, bear-pit company running some of the most aggressive brokers in the world. It was no coincidence that its World Trade Centre offices put it at the top of the capitalist food chain.

A day later, it emerged as a figure of international pity. Its tight family structure created, among other tragedies, the loss of 20 pairs of brothers. Cantor's chairman, Howard Lutnick, also lost his brother and survived himself only because he was dropping his niece and nephew off at school. As the partnership came to terms with the destruction of 95 per cent of its staff, the world watched and wondered how this ravaged band of tough guys would nurse itself back from the brink of oblivion.

Given the depth of the disaster, the efforts so far have been impressive. The group has fallen back on its unique trading technology platform E-Speed, pared costs, and streamlined itself.

But recent events have given the world a glimpse of Cantor's natural habitat. As Amaitis explains, the events of 11 September should not conceal the fact that Cantor remains a ruthlessly fierce competitor in a business where rivalry reaches epic proportions.

And rivalries don't come any more intense than between Cantor and Icap, the UK company that owns money-broking titan Garban-Intercapital. Cantor has spent the last two weeks in the High Court suing Icap for unfairly luring three key brokers away as part of an alleged attempt by Icap's boss, Michael Spencer, to deal a death blow to Cantor. Details arising from the case have not only exposed the laddish high jinks of the dealing floor, the cocktail-fuelled nights at lap-dancing clubs, and the oath-ridden blood and thunder of the work ethic, but revealed the true degree of loathing between Cantor and Icap.

"This isn't just a couple of City tough guys duking it out," says Amaitis. "Michael Spencer hates us. He hates Cantor, he hates Howard Lutnick, he hates Lee Amaitis."

Evidence presented in the case so far has appeared to confirm the overwhelming sense of acrimony. "It was a planned attack on our company," says Amaitis, "and throughout this case the most fascinating thing has been watching Mr Spencer's arrogance."

At the centre of the case is Cantor's view that, although recruitment is all part of the game, the poaching of the three brokers in question, Ed Bird, Luigi Boucher and Spencer Gill, was a post-September desire by Icap to destroy Cantor by removing its strongest human assets at exactly the point when the partnership was at its weakest.

"There are billion-dollar trades involved here, and broking is about trust and relationships," says Amaitis. "We know as well as they do that if you take away the guys that have the relationships, you take away business."

In support of its case, Cantor has pointed to emails sent between senior Icap executives using phrases such as "hasten Cantor's demise" and "blow a hole in their broadside". Other choice email comments from Mr Spencer include: "Oh I would love to put one up their bottom ... and this is the time I have been waiting for for just a few years."

Amaitis believes the recruitment of the three brokers represents a particular betrayal on the part of Mr Spencer: "He came into my officer a few weeks after September 11 to offer his condolences and say how sorry he was. That day he looked into my eyes to see if I was hurt. He saw that I was and he flew down like a vulture. We were on our knees and he kicked us as hard as he could."

Icap has naturally retaliated. Its defence has centred on the fact that the brokers had been offered a commission-based payment package, rather than a monthly salary, and that this represented a material change in the terms of their contract. Amaitis sees it differently: "The guy [Ed Bird] took a golfing holiday within days of September 11. You look at someone like that and think 'he's in this for the money'. So that's what I offered him. It was a morale booster. It sent the message: 'We are going to be staying in business and you can share the wealth.' "

Amaitis makes no secret of his love of the commission-based work ethic: "My old man worked his hands to nothing for every buck he could get, and thank God I inherited that," he says. "You want to know what a production- [commission-] based pay scheme does? Come to my fourth floor. It's real fighting in there, and that was what I wanted to put back into Cantor. I employ an army of mercenaries, and I mean that as a compliment."

Icap has criticised Cantor's aggressive management style, with repeated references to alleged instances of bullying.

Amaitis shrugs: "Like I said, I'm a tough guy and, sure, I'm going to drill a guy if he isn't doing his thing. It works both ways: you do good, I'm going to pamper you and pat your head."

On the likely outcome of the case, Amaitis is again cautious: "Win or lose, I stand by everything I do at this company. We were down almost to the bottom and it was my duty to drag us back up. I was not going to stand in front of 658 families, offer them 25 per cent of our profits and then hit them with the fact that we weren't profitable."