Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

‘Well, I’m glad you found a few minutes to spend with your old father,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry I’m not staying with you tonight,’ Isabel said, ‘but we’re leaving for the airport tomorrow morning, and I knew you were in Petrópolis today, and we are leaving very early, so I thought it made sense to stay at the hotel with Nick. So I can show him to the airport.’

This explanation was all a bit breathless. It sounded forced to me. I think it did to Luís, to judge by the way he glanced at me. I pretended not to notice.

But then he shrugged. ‘No matter. I quite understand. You often stay at the Copacabana Palace when you’re here on business. It’s just nice to see you for dinner.’

Isabel blushed becomingly and concentrated on her food.

‘I’m very sorry about your Favela Bairro deal,’ Luís said.

‘Yes, I know. The whole scandal was set up by Ricardo. All that stuff linking the drug gangs to the deal was ridiculous. Ricardo just wanted to make sure Bloomfield Weiss didn’t steal the mandate.’

‘I thought it must be something like that. I never believe what Oswaldo’s papers say. Not that I ever read them.’

‘Still, we have another chance. São Paulo are very interested in doing a similar deal.’

‘Good. Well, good luck with that. So you’re going back there tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ said Isabel.

‘Well, remember Nick, in São Paulo you can breathe out but don’t breathe in.’

I laughed. ‘I’ll remember.’

Finally, at twelve, we left. The rain was steady now, and had clearly set in for the night.

‘Would you like a lift back in my car?’ Luís asked.

‘Oh, no,’ Isabel said. ‘I’ve ordered a taxi to meet us from the hotel. It’s probably been waiting for us half the night. We’d better take it.’

Another suspicious glance from Luís, which I ignored.

‘Oh, well, see you soon, my dear.’ He bent down to kiss his daughter. Then he straightened up and shook my hand. I met his eye, which I was relieved to see was still friendly. ‘Nice to see you again, Nick. Please drop in and see me when you are next in Rio.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I will.’

He ran through the rain to his chauffeur-driven car, and we jumped into the taxi.

‘Why didn’t we go with him?’ I asked.

‘I suppose we could have. It’s just I would have felt pretty bad having him drop us off together at the hotel.’

‘I think he suspects something,’ I said.

‘Do you?’ Isabel fell back in the seat. ‘Oh, well, never mind. I think he likes you.’

‘I like him.’

Isabel smiled, and rested her head on my shoulder. ‘I’m so tired.’

With the drink and the fatigue, my eyes stared ahead without focusing properly. The road was empty apart from the car in front, which was driving slowly. Suddenly it stopped.

Our driver swore under his breath, and braked also. He hit the horn. Just then there was movement in the windows all around us. The driver saw it, and hit the button by his shoulder. The central-locking system clicked in all the doors. He slammed the gears into reverse, and there was a crash as he hit something behind us. I turned. Another car had driven up to block our escape. The taxi leaped forward and hit the vehicle in front as the driver tried to shunt out. Then his window shattered in an explosion of broken glass. A gun pointed in, and a voice behind it shouted urgently. The driver took his hands off the wheel and pushed up the lock to his door.

Isabel screamed.

I turned to my door, which was flung open. A gun was thrust in my face. A man in a Balaclava shouted at me in Portuguese. I can still remember his eyes. They were brown, the pupils huge, and they stared in frightened panic. I could see bushy eyebrows beneath the Balaclava, and the remains of a couple of spots between his eyes. The mask was dripping with water. The gun was silver. It was the same style as a Colt.45. The fist that held it was clenched so tight it was shaking. It was a miracle the trigger finger hadn’t pulled already.

This guy was as jumpy as hell.

The shout turned to a scream. I kept perfectly still and stammered, ‘Não entendo.’ The man kept screaming. I felt a kick in my back as Isabel was dragged out of the car, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the gun.

Then he reached into the car and grabbed my jacket, still shouting. I let him pull me out into the rain. He pushed me towards the rearmost car. I could hear Isabel screaming behind me as she was dragged towards the vehicle in front.

Swift panicky hands pushed me down into the well between the back and front seats, but I didn’t fit. Then the front seat lurched forward, and my face was shoved down on to the floor. It smelt of dust and cigarettes. One of them sat in the seat beside me, I heard the car door slam, and felt the cold barrel push into the nape of my neck. It was wet, and drops of water dribbled down my back.

Someone shouted something in Portuguese, and we lurched off. The car screeched round some tight bends, and then seemed to reach straight road. We were moving fast and steadily, in what direction I had no idea.

I began to think through what had happened. We’d been kidnapped, that much was obvious. I hoped Isabel was OK. I wondered where they would take us, what they would do with us. If they’d kidnapped us, they would want to keep us alive. Remember that. Help them. Keep them happy.

But who would pay our ransom? Luís would pay Isabel’s. Would Dekker pay mine? God, I hoped so. Ricardo had a reputation of looking after his own. Thank God he had no idea I was about to resign.

How long would the process take? Maybe Isabel would know. I had heard kidnappings were pretty common in Rio, so she probably knew something about them.

I was in a very uncomfortable position, with my back twisted and my face jammed down into the floor. I tried to move, but this prompted a shout and the gun barrel jabbed hard into the back of my neck. So I decided to stay exactly where I was.

Suddenly the car slowed, and turned off whatever road we were on. We were moving more slowly now, stopping and starting. After a few more minutes we began to climb, turning left and right up a steep hillside.

We drove like this for half an hour, or maybe an hour, it was hard to tell. Then we made another turn and the car began to bump and judder. A dirt track. My cheek was driven into the car floor at each jolt. We drove up an even steeper incline, which eventually levelled off. Finally, we came to a stop.

My back and shoulders ached like hell. I tried to move, but the gun jabbed my back again, and I stayed still. Then some black fabric was tied round my eyes, and I couldn’t see.

I heard voices, car doors opening and shutting. A hand grabbed my collar and tugged. Willingly I pulled myself up out of the well, and allowed myself to be dragged from the car. I stood up straight and stretched.

I could see nothing through the blindfold. It had stopped raining. And the air was filled with noise: the sound of crickets, cicadas, frogs, and all kinds of night creatures. It made quite a din.

‘Isabel?’

‘Yes!’

‘Cale a boca!’ screamed a voice in my right ear.

I felt a gun jab my ribs. But at least I knew she was alive and with me.

There was some heated discussion around me. I heard four voices. Rope was tied round my hands until it bit into my wrists. Then I felt a push behind me, and an order in Portuguese that I took to mean ‘Move!’

The ground was wet and muddy underfoot. Soon we were moving up a steep hill along a narrow path. I could tell that because of the vegetation brushing at my ankles. Behind and below I heard the two cars driving off. With the blindfold on I couldn’t protect myself from the branches and tendrils that brushed my face. Pushing through an unknown jungle blindfolded raised all kinds of primeval fears about snakes, and unseen precipices. I tried to move slowly and carefully, but a hard metal object jabbed me in the back whenever I hesitated.