Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

‘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.’

‘That’s what we have to hope,’ said Luís. ‘I’d love to turn him in to the authorities,’ he muttered.

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 Luís. Francisco would have to rely essentially on Luís’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.

Luís’s driver dropped him off at the bank, and took Nelson and me back to the apartment. Luís 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.

Luís sighed. ‘I’ll 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.’

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

Zico.

Nelson listened in. I watched. Their faces became graver and graver. Luís 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.

Luís gave me a thin smile. ‘It was worth a try, Nick.’

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

Luís 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.

Luís 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 Luís was meeting Lord Kerton for a working lunch.

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

‘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 Bloomfield Weiss an opportunity to come up with a better offer. So he wants to hold an auction. Sealed bids from ourselves and Bloomfield Weiss.’

‘How long have we got?’

‘One week. He’s holding the auction next Wednesday.’

‘Only a week!’ I exclaimed. Somehow I had hoped we might get a month. Although with the progress we were making in finding Isabel, a month or a week wouldn’t make any difference.

Luís shrugged. ‘He says he needs to have a deal in the bag before the end of the month. The thirtieth of June is a reporting date for the regulators. There will be no hiding from those losses then.’

‘Can you mount a bid in a week?’ I asked.

‘I think so. The market seems to have stabilized, so KBN are more confident in taking on the bond portfolio. We’ve devised a structure for the transaction that will give them some nice profits if Dekker does well once we’ve bought it. And I’ve offered Lord Kerton a seat on the board.’

‘I bet he liked that.’

‘I think he did. We got on quite well. How are you doing?’

‘Nothing yet.’

‘Nothing!’ Luís was disappointed, but his voice held a tinge of anger too.

‘Sorry, Luís. We’re trying. No one seems to know anything.’

‘ Merda! ’ he muttered.

‘Something will turn up,’ I said.

‘I hope so, Nick. I really hope so.’

And it did. The next day. Cordelia called to say that one of her kids had discovered something. He would agree to talk to us, but it had to be in the shelter.

Nelson drove me to the favela. It was a grey day, and it had rained earlier. We crawled through the damp streets pushing along with the traffic. The tunnels through the mountains formed periodic bottlenecks, which added to the congestion.

At last we made it to the bottom of the hill below the favela where Cordelia worked. We set off up the same path that Isabel and I had climbed two months before. It had been a hot day then, it was damp and humid now. The air was heavy with the smell of wet garbage. There were fewer people outside, but kids and young men stared at Nelson and me as we made our slow way up the hill. I felt exposed on that hillside, my back unprotected and vulnerable, a perfect target. Any moment I expected to hear the crack of a gunshot.

Finally we made it to the plateau with the little church and the shelter. The favela brooded beneath us in the grey moist air. We knocked on the door, and Cordelia met us.

‘Follow me,’ she said, and led us to a small store room, packed high with boxes of school materials and dried food. Sitting on a box was a thin boy of about twelve. I recognized him immediately. Euclides.

‘Hallo, meester,’ he said, with a nervous smile.

‘Hallo, Euclides.’

Cordelia and Nelson sat on the two chairs, and I squatted on the floor. Cordelia introduced Nelson to Euclides, who looked at him with extreme suspicion. He no doubt recognized an ex-policeman when he saw one.

Nelson’s voice was firm but kind, as he asked Euclides some questions. The boy responded in tough monosyllables, only expanding on his answers when coaxed by Cordelia. Although I couldn’t understand a word of what was said, I could see the relationship between the three people. Euclides distrusted Nelson but he thought the world of Cordelia, although he tried to hide it. The odd glances towards her for approval and the way he responded to her gentle encouragement gave his affection away. But the eyes were still hard. This kid understood violence.

‘What’s he say?’ I asked, during a pause.

‘He says that he knows one of the kids who was in the group that attacked you. It was all planned. There’s a man by the name of O Borboleta who organized it. He runs a gang in one of the favelas near here.’

‘Have you heard of him?’

‘No. But O Borboleta means “The Butterfly”.’

‘Why’s he called that?’

Nelson turned to Euclides and rattled off a question, which the boy answered.

‘He was a footballer. Very skilful, apparently. No one could catch him.’

‘That could be Zico,’ I said.

Nelson thought. ‘Could be. But the real Zico had a lot of admirers. Any soccer fan could have picked that name. And there are many soccer fans in this country.’

‘Well, does Euclides know whether this Borboleta is holding Isabel?’