David Liss - The Coffee Trader

It could not have been more simple or more obvious. Parido had engaged Joachim to find out what Miguel had planned. Whatever Parido had done, he appeared to have quite tamed the man. Had money been enough to effect this change? Miguel thought there must be more. Joachim held himself with the uneasy bearing of a man awaiting trial.

Miguel felt a sudden unexpected exhilaration. Things had gone badly in the past few weeks-very badly-but now he knew how to take command. He knew what others were planning and, knowing their plans, he could manipulate them to his advantage.

“How do I know that you won’t prey on whatever information I provide?” he asked, stalling for time while he considered his options. “You have not been so long away from the Exchange that you have forgotten the value of secrecy.”

“I don’t want anything to do with the Exchange. Those days are past for me. I only want to provide for my wife and retire into a quiet existence in the countryside.” He winced for a moment. “If you pay me, I’ll buy a plot of land and work it. Or perhaps I’ll open a tavern in some village.”

“Very well,” Miguel said carefully, “I promise to pay you.”

“But you must tell me what I ask,” Joachim said. He ran his fingers through his long hair, recently washed smooth.

Miguel tasted blood. “Must I? What will you do if I don’t tell you?”

“I only want assurance that I shall not be ill used.”

“Then you have my assurance.” Miguel smiled.

“That won’t be enough.” Joachim shifted uneasily. “We have had our differences, yes, but you see now that I come to you somewhat humbled. I am ready to admit my wrongs. I only want a little thing from you, and yet you withhold it.”

What could he give Parido that would satisfy him and also buy Miguel some time? The answer came to him in a sudden burst of inspiration: fear. He would give the man cause to tremble, to doubt his allies, to look upon the unknown and the future as his enemies.

Miguel nodded slowly in an effort to look thoughtful. “Unfortunately, I can give you no details of my business because there are other men involved, and I haven’t the right to say on my own something that may affect the well-being of the combination.”

“You have joined with a trading combination?” he asked eagerly, diving for the scraps.

“A combination of sorts. We have joined together that we may better engage in a rather momentous piece of business. Each of us has a particular skill or contribution, making the whole stronger than the sum of its parts.” Miguel felt a twinge of sadness. That had been the case with his partnership with Geertruid-at least until he learned that Geertruid had betrayed him.

“What will this combination be doing?”

“I can’t tell you that-not without breaking a vow I made to the others. Please understand that no matter how much you may make your case, I can’t give you those details.”

“I must have some information.” Joachim was nearly pleading. “Surely you can see that.”

For the first time, Miguel began to wonder if Joachim was Parido’s servant or his slave. He appeared to be genuinely afraid of leaving without information for his master. With what could Parido have threatened Joachim?

“Without betraying confidences, I can tell you there’s a great deal of money to be made. You no longer follow the affairs of the Exchange, so I will confide in you if you promise not to repeat it to another soul. Do you solemnly promise, Joachim?”

Inexplicably, Joachim hesitated and swallowed in discomfort. “I promise,” he said.

“Do you swear by your own Jesus Christ?” Miguel asked, twisting the knife.

“I don’t make such oaths lightly,” Joachim said. “Despite all that has happened, I hope I shall do nothing blasphemous.”

“I ask nothing blasphemous,” Miguel explained with a broad smile. “Only to swear a holy oath to do what you have already promised to do. I suppose you could break your word. Any man who would threaten to take another’s life, surely among the most serious of sins, could break a vow made to his God. But if you make the vow, it will offer me some small comfort.”

“Very well,” Joachim said, examining the light that filtered in through one of the small windows. “I swear by Jesus Christ not to repeat what you tell me.”

Miguel smiled. “What more could I ask for? Know then that with this scheme we plan to make a great deal of money, an amount so large that the five hundred you ask for will seem as nothing. Men will talk about it ten years hence. It will be the very model to which young upstarts on the Exchange aspire.”

Joachim’s eyes widened. He straightened himself in his stool. “Can you say no more? Can you not tell me if you deal in a particular commodity or route or stock scheme?”

“I can’t answer that question without violating my own vows,” Miguel lied. “There are other Jews of importance involved in this business, and in order to protect ourselves we have all taken vows of silence.”

“Other Jews of importance?” Joachim asked. He had been in Parido’s service long enough, apparently, to know when he had hit upon something of note.

“Yes,” Miguel told him. His little deception was so sinister he could hardly contain his pleasure. “I have thrown my lot in with several members of the community of the highest standing. That’s why I never feared your bringing our history to the Ma’amad; I only wished to avoid being embarrassed before my partners. I have an enemy on that board, but I also have very powerful friends.” He paused to lean forward and assume the hunched pose of a teller of secrets. “You see, one of the members of the council is part of my combination, and another has invested heavily in our enterprise.”

Joachim nodded and appeared to visibly relax. It would seem that he now had enough information to return to his master and not fear his dissatisfaction. He had the glimmering jewel he had sought.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity, Joachim?”

“For now,” Joachim said. “Though I believe I may have more questions later.”

“When you think of them, you mean.”

“Yes, I might think of more.”

“You always were a curious fellow. I suppose there’s nothing to be done about that.”

Miguel ushered him up the stairs and saw him out the kitchen door. When he closed it, he barked out a laugh. Miguel need no longer fear the Ma’amad. Surely Parido would never agree now to have Miguel questioned. He had too much to lose.

One week later, Miguel received a note from Geertruid. She had returned from her trip, all was well, and she wished to meet later that day at the Singing Carp.

When he arrived, Miguel thought she looked uncommonly beautiful in a gown of bright red with a blue bodice and a matching blue-trimmed red cap. Her lips were deep red, as though she had been biting them.

“It’s good to be back,” she said, kissing him on his cheek. “My ailing aunt in Friesland has made a complete recovery-so complete I wonder if she was ever truly sick at all. And now”-she took Miguel’s hand-“tell me what news, my handsome partner.”

Miguel wished he could have doubted his own eyes, but he had seen what he had seen. Geertruid had tricked Miguel into their friendship, and Miguel still did not know why.

“I’m happy your aunt is well.”

Miguel had spent some time thinking about this problem, and he had come to a comforting conclusion: if Geertruid worked for Parido, she would provide any reasonable amount he asked for; otherwise whatever scheme the parnass hatched would fail. Miguel would get the money he needed to cover his own investments, and then he would show Parido how foolish it was to attempt to outwit a man who was well read in the stories of Charming Pieter. But after days of thought, he was still unsure how to make his request.