Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

‘So you’d suggest that they buy Dekker Ward.’

Luís smiled. ‘Oh, no. I want to buy Dekker Ward. But they can take on the bond portfolio.’

‘Would they do that?’

‘We could structure it to make it worth their while.’

I smiled. ‘Well, then?’

Luís stood up, tucking the papers I had given him under his arm. ‘I have a few telephone calls to make.’

Luís spent Sunday on the phone, interrupting the weekends of his partners at Banco Horizonte and some senior people at KBN. Cordelia spent much of her weekend in the shelter in the favela. And Nelson called in favours with his former police colleagues. I stalked impatiently around Luís’s apartment, occasionally providing him with information on Dekker Ward.

In one of the brief moments when Luís was off the phone, I decided to ring Kate, to let her know what progress, or lack of it, I had made. I dialled her number, praying that Jamie wouldn’t answer. Kate was usually first to the phone in their house.

But not this time.

‘Hallo,’ Jamie said.

For a moment I considered simply hanging up. But that was silly. If I wanted to speak to Kate, I should just ask.

‘Hallo?’ Jamie sounded irritated.

‘Jamie? It’s Nick. I’m ringing from Brazil.’

‘Oh.’

‘Can I speak to Kate?’

Silence. Oh, come on, he couldn’t forbid me from speaking to her.

‘She’s not here.’ His voice sounded strained.

‘When will she be back?’

‘I wish I knew.’

‘What’s wrong? Is she all right?’

Another pause. ‘She left me. Last night. She took Oliver. She’s gone to her sister’s.’

‘Why did she leave?’

‘Why don’t you ask her yourself?’ The venom sped down the phone line, and then the receiver went dead.

I stared at it a moment. Jesus, Kate had left. I should have seen it coming, I supposed, but I still couldn’t believe it. Oh, God, was it my fault? I’d persuaded her to help me against Jamie. Except it wasn’t Jamie I was conspiring against, it was Ricardo. And I was only trying to save Isabel. Without Kate’s help she’d be dead by now. But, of course, Jamie wouldn’t see it that way.

I remembered their wedding. It was of the traditional English variety, in the large fifteenth-century church in the Sussex village where her father was a doctor. It was a glorious June day. Jamie looked dashing in his morning suit, and Kate gorgeous in her wedding dress. Both sets of parents beamed. I can’t remember the details too well. For most of it, I was worried about my best-man duties, but I held on to the ring, and my speech was short and even raised a couple of laughs. After that the champagne flowed, and with it a warm glow of pleasure that two people I liked so much had decided to live their lives together. At some weddings, the couple seem right for each other, and at others they don’t. At this one they seemed perfect.

I still believed they had been then. But things had changed, or they had changed, or something.

I had Kate’s sister Liz’s number in my address book. I dug it out and dialled it. Liz answered. She put me through to Kate right away.

‘Kate, it’s Nick. What happened?’

She sighed. ‘I’ve moved out.’

‘So Jamie told me. Are you all right? You must feel awful.’

‘I do,’ she said flatly. ‘But it’s good to be out of the house. I need a few days to think it over.’

‘It’s not because of me, is it?’

‘Oh, no, Nick. Not really. Although I didn’t like the way he threw you out with nowhere to go. He’s changed, Nick. And I don’t like what he’s changed into.’ Kate’s voice was quiet. ‘Has he ever... you know, with other women?’

I realized it was a question she had wanted to ask me for a long time. I thought of Luciana. I thought of Jamie with the ‘model’ on his knee at Eduardo’s party. ‘I don’t know for sure,’ I said, feebly.

Kate sobbed. I heard her sniff as she tried to regain control. I felt badly: she’d wanted the truth and I hadn’t given it to her. But how can you tell a woman that her husband has cheated on her?

Of course she knew.

‘Have you spoken to him about it?’ I asked.

‘Not directly. But he knows my feelings. I don’t like him selling his soul for some mythical million-dollar bonus. And I don’t like him messing around with other women. He’s not going to change, Nick. You know that.’

‘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 round 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.

Luís went into Banco Horizonte on Monday morning, and came back at lunch-time with a smile on his face. Nelson, Cordelia and I were sitting round the table on the balcony, waiting for him. We were all anxious.

‘Well, they’ll go for it. Banco Horizonte will be putting in a bid for Dekker Ward of twenty million pounds, subject to due diligence. KBN will support us.’

‘Good,’ I said.

‘I’ll phone Lord Kerton with our offer this afternoon.’

‘But it won’t bring Isabel back, will it, Papai?’ Cordelia looked gaunt and irritated.

‘It will buy us some more time, Cordelia,’ said her father, more soberly. 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.

Luís 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 rumoured 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.

Luís shook his head. ‘It’s all vague rumour. 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,’ Luís 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.’

Luís 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.