The market maker (34 page)

"But he loves you/' I said, and I really believed he did.

"I used to love him. I still do. The old Jamie. But in ten years' time he's going to be a fat crooked banker with a collection of slinky mistresses dotted around the world. And I don't want to have anything to do with that."

Her voice was heavy with sadness. Silence stretched across the thousands of miles between us.

Eventually she spoke.

"I'd have been much better off with you," she said, and before I could reply, she had hung up.

Luis went into Banco Horizonte on Monday morning, and came back at lunchtime with a smile on his face. Nelson, Cordelia, and myself were sitting around the table on the balcony, waiting for him. We were all anxious.

"Well, they^ go for it. Banco Horizonte will be putting in a bid for EJekker Ward of twenty million pounds, subject to due diligence. KBN will support us."

"Good," I said.

"111 phone Lord Kerton with our offer this afternoon."

"But it won't bring Isabel, back, will it. Papal?" Cordelia looked gaunt and irritated.

"It wiU buy us some more time, Cordelia," said her father more soberiy. Her comment had destroyed his

brief optimism, replacing it with guilt that he had succumbed to his natural enthusiasm for a deal when Isabel was still in danger.

''Did you find out anything about Francisco?" I asked.

Luis sighed. "Not much. He is very secretive. But over the last couple of years he seems to have gained access to much bigger funds. He's rumored to have been involved in some major real estate deals both in Brazil and the United States."

"Where's the money coming from?"

"Narco-traffickers, people say. And not just from Brazil. He's supposed to have developed contacts in Colombia and Venezuela as well."

"That might explain why Martin Beldecos was murdered in Caracas," I said.

"But no idea which particular drug gangs he deals with?" Nelson asked.

Luis shook his head. "It's all vague rumor. Did you hear anything?"

"He's been seen with most of the big players in Rio at one time or other. Any one of them could be holding Isabel. I've found out where he lives and works, and I have a man watching him. But he hasn't gone anywhere interesting in the last two days."

"Anything on the kids who attacked me?" I asked.

"Yes. I spoke to a detective who was involved with the case. He had a hunch that the attack was more than just a mugging, that it was planned. No one was talking in the favela, and my contact got the feeling that they were scared to talk rather than that they just didn't know. The police were under pressure to keep it simple. A mugging gone wrong was bad enough. It would not look good if a foreign businessman had been injured in some drug-related stabbing on Ipanema beach."

"So it looks as if Nick was right/' Luis said. ''There is a connection between the attacks on Martin and him, and Isabel's kidnapping."

Nelson nodded, his round orange face grim. "Francisco is behind this, there's no doubt in my mind at all."

Luis slammed his hand on the table rattling the plates and glasses that had been set for lunch. "OK, but now we know that, is there nothing we can do? "

"All we can do is try to find out where Isabel is being held," said Nelson calmly.

Maria brought lunch out onto the balcony—steak and a salad. We munched through it in silence, each wrapped up in our own thoughts. I shared Luis's frustration. If we knew Francisco was responsible for Isabel's kidnapping, surely there must be something we could do. I could see there was no point in going to the police without proof. Talking to them had almost got Isabel killed. And I could see that confrontation was a waste of time. Nelson was right. But what about negotiation? Suddenly, I had an idea.

"We could talk to Francisco," I said.

27

We drove up a steep winding road, Luis's car shuddering over the cobbles. On either side, behind wrought-iron gates and walls dripping with flowers and greenery, stood colonial mansions, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Behind us stretched Guanabara Bay. Above us hovered the statue of Christ, brushed by cloud wisps.

''These houses must have cost a bit,'' I said.

"You're right," said Luis. "Santa Teresa is one of the most expensive areas of Rio. It's where the ambassadors' residences used to be when Rio was the capital of Brazil. Francisco must have done well for himself."

There were four of us, Luis, his driver. Nelson, and me. Nelson's associate had told us Francisco was at home, so we had driven straight there. We passed a shabby Toyota parked at the comer of a side road, and Nelson got out to join his friend. His anonymity was important to him professionally, so he didn't want to meet Francisco face-to-face.

Fifty yards farther up the road, we pulled up outside some iron gates. Luis's driver spoke into an intercom in the wall. We were told to wait.

It took several minutes. An old yellow tram clattered

down the road behind us, brown bodies spilling out from all sides.

Finally, the intercom crackled, a motor whirred, and the gates swung open. We drove into a walled courtyard in front of a newly painted white colonial house with tall, elegant windows and ornate trimmings. As we emerged from the cool of the air-conditioned car into the warmth of the afternoon, I was almost overwhelmed by the scent of the blossoms all around us. Purple, blue, orange, and white flowers draped over the walls and urns. Delicate blue and black butterflies skipped and danced beside our feet.

A butler opened the door and ushered us into a hallway, cool once again. As we followed hhn to a door at the far end, a boy of about seventeen scurried down the stairs and rushed past us out of the house, giving us barely a glance. He was tall, gangly, and dressed designer-casual.

We entered a large, airy sitting room. In one half of the room was a big dark-wood desk, and some of the paraphernalia of modem office technology, and in the other was a suite of sofas and chairs. Behind them was a small garden and a stunning view over the city to the bay.

A moment after the butler disappeared with our coffee requests, Francisco entered. He and Luis spoke quickly in Portuguese. I was impressed by Luis. He had controlled his anger completely. He was relaxed and urbane, as though this were simply a social visit with an old friend. As they exchanged pleasantries 1 was unable to understand, 1 watched Francisco. He was about forty, a bit below average height, bald and heavy. 1 could see the family resemblance to Luciana. But the genes that had given her a voluptuous figure had made him merely fat. His eyes were almost black, like hers.

and they were hard. He had her flashing white smile, but between his thin lips it looked more like a snarl.

I heard my name and the words ''Dekker Ward/' as Luis nodded toward me.

"Delighted to meet you/' said Francisco in good English. 'Tlease, take a seat."

Luis and I sat down next to each other on a low sofa. Francisco sat opposite. "How can I help you?" he asked, operung his hands in a friendly gesture.

"Well, Francisco, my daughter has been kidnapped." Luis managed to say this as casually as if he were telling him Isabel had caught a cold.

Francisco put on an expression of polite shock. "Oh, no! That is terrible. One hears of these things in Rio, of course, but to have it happen to you is horrible. Have you heard from the kidnappers?"

Of course I had expected Francisco to feign astonishment, but it was all I could do to fight back anger at his clumsy response. He wasn't a good actor. I knew then for sure that he had organized Isabel's kidnap.

Luis kept his cool. "Yes, we have, as a matter of fact. Indeed, they made a rather unusual demand." "Oh, yes?"

"Yes. They wanted Nick here to try to prevent the takeover of Dekker Ward by an American investment bank. Nick had instigated the takeover, and I suppose the kidnappers thought he might be able to stop it/' "How extraordinary."

"Yes, it is strange, isn't it? But there's nothing Nick can do. The American investment bank won't listen to him. So we have another idea."

"I don't see what all this has to do with me," said Francisco. But he was listening.

Luis ignored this interruption and continued. "As you know, I run Banco Horizonte. We intend to put in

an offer today for Dekker Ward. You see, Dekker is about to go bankrupt. If my bank was to take it over, we would ensure that any investors or depositors were protected. I don't just mean that they would get their money back, but that their identity would remain confidential, should there be an investigation. That is, of course, as long as my daughter is released."

Francisco wore a slight frown, as though he were puzzled at why Luis was telling him all this. But he let Luis continue.

"So, if Isabel is released. Banco Horizonte will take over Dekker Ward, and shy investors will be protected." He stopped and fixed Francisco with a calm gaze.

Francisco shifted in his chair. "That is an interesting idea, but I still don't see what it has to do with me."

Luis stayed silent, never moving his gaze.

Francisco blundered into the uncomfortable silence, eager to maintain the fiction of a normal conversation. "OK, Ricardo Ross is my brother-in-law, of course. But we don't do business together. I have nothing to do with Dekker Ward. We have different outlooks." Francisco leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. "Dekker Ward is, you know, a little aggressive for me. I prefer more conservative institutions."

I was taking a sip of coffee as Francisco said this, and almost choked on it. Francisco ignored me.

Luis stood up. "Well, thank you for your time, Francisco. No doubt I will soon hear from the kidnappers whether this would be acceptable."

Francisco stood up. He was clearly confused, not knowing what response was expected of him. In the end he settled for a concerned tone. "I still don't quite understand why you wanted to tell me about this. But I'm very sorry about your daughter, Luis. I hope she is released safely soon."

''So do I, Francisco, so do I" For the first time there was an edge to Luis's voice.

As Francisco led us out through the hallway, I paused to ask a question. "Oh, by the way, Senhor Aragao, was that your son I saw earlier?''

"Yes. Francisco filho. He's in his last year at high school."

"Ah." I smiled, and Luis and I left Francisco a truly puzzled man.

"He's definitely got Isabel," I said as soon as the car was safely out of sight of Francisco's property, and we had picked up Nelson.

"Yes, he has," growled Luis. "It was all I could do not to strangle the man. Sitting there smiling like that, when he has my daughter!"

"Do you think he'll go for it?"

"I hope so. He was certainly listening. But who knows if he is really the one calling the shots? Perhaps it's up to the Ross brothers. They wouldn't want Dek-ker taken over by Banco Horizonte, even with guarantees of anonymity for investors."

"Although Francisco might act unilaterally if he thinks that's the best hope to protect himself," Nelson said. "I mean release Isabel, let you take over Dekker, take his money and run."

"iThat's what we have to hope," said Luis. "I'd love to turn him in to the authorities."

So would I. And I was beginning to realize that this was the true weakness of my plan, although I hadn't mentioned it to Luis. Francisco would have to rely essentially on Luis's good faith not to turn over Dekker account records to the authorities if Isabel was released. Perhaps he would judge he was better off forcing us to find a way to delay and then overturn the

takeover. And if Dekker was taken over, and he didn't trust us, why keep Isabel alive? Francisco looked as if he wouldn't lose sleep over killing her.

Luis's driver dropped him off at the bank, and took Nelson and me back to the apartment. Luis returned after a couple of hours. We were all waiting for him.

"Well, I spoke to Lord Kerton," he said. "He says that he might entertain our bid. But he wants to see me in person, plus a senior representative from KBN, on Wednesday, so that he can decide whether to take us seriously."

"So are you going?" asked Cordelia.

Luis sighed. "FU have to. I'd like to stay here and wait for a response from Francisco. But I can do more in London. Our best hope now is to buy Dekker and persuade Francisco that we will lose the evidence of his investments."

Luis packed hurriedly to catch the flight to London that night. Just before he was about to leave for the airport, the phone rang. Luis picked it up.

Zico.

Nelson listened in. I watched. Their faces became graver and graver. Luis protested. Then the conversation was over.

"What did he say?" I asked the second the phone was down.

"He said that there was to be absolutely no change in the kidnappers' terms. If anyone takes over Dekker, that's either Banco Horizonte or Bloomfield Weiss, then they'll kill her."

My heart sank. "Did they say when they would release her?"

He shook his head. "They said they'll keep her as long as there's any danger of Dekker being taken over."

"Did they mention Francisco?"

"No. I asked about him, but Zico said he had never heard of him/'

We stood looking at each other in silence. Cordelia bit her lip, trying not to cry.

"So he didn't go for it," I said.

Luis gave me a thin smile. "It was worth a try, Nick."

I summoned a smile back. Yeah, but it didn't work, I thought.

Luis sighed. "So, what now?" he asked Nelson.

Nelson shrugged. "Well, you should still go to London. That at least will delay things for a few more days."

"You're right." Then his eyes passed from Nelson to Cordelia to me. "For God's sake find her," he said.

None of us had the confidence to answer him.

Luis left us and flew to London. More waiting, more tension. Tuesday passed, and still no news of Isabel. Cordelia and Nelson joined me on Wednesday morning. We knew Luis was meeting Lord Kerton for a working lunch.

The phone rang. I answered it. It was Luis.

"Well, we're in with a chance," he said. "I offered twenty million pounds subject to due diligence. He was interested. But he said he wanted to give Bloom-field Weiss an opportunity to come up with a better offer. So he wants to hold an auction. Sealed bids from ourselves and Bloomfield Weiss."