The market maker (23 page)

Just then Cordelia burst into the room and ran to her father. He held her, his tall frame stooped over her, protecting her. I could see his expression—it was still firm—^but they clung to each other for a long time.

Nelson caught my eye, and we left the room. We moved into a smaller sitting room with a TV in it.

Nelson turned to me. "He's taking it well at the start. Some of these tough businessmen do. But it won't last. It's hard when it's your daughter."

"I'm sure it is."

"Are you a good friend of hers?"

The question was innocent, but the look that accompanied it was not. I nodded, letting Nelson draw his own conclusions.

"I work with Isabel," I said. "I believe our firm has some kind of kidnap insurance."

"That's technically illegal in Brazil. But I know some of the firms in London who operate in that area. Tell your employer to get their insurers to contact me here."

"OK," I said. We were trusting a lot to this man's judgment, I thought. But Ricardo had said there was a

procedure, and I was glad we had someone on our side who knew it.

There was one thing I had to ask him. ''When I escaped, I left her with the kidnappers. I feel bad about that. I think I should have stayed with her. To help her."

Nelson took hold of my arm.

"One of the most common reactions to kidnapping from the relatives or friends of the victim is guilt. Guilt that they should have done something to prevent their loved one from being taken. It's always a waste of time, and it can get in the way of thinking rationally about how to set the victim free."

"But I could have cheered her up if Yd stayed with her. Helped her through it."

Nelson lowered his voice. "Frankly, Nick, you are lucky you did escape. Isabel is safe. She has a rich father willing to pay a fair ransom. You? You could easily have been killed to show that they mean business. You're better off here."

I shuddered. Perhaps Nelson was right. But I would do anything, anything I could to get Isabel out.

I spent the day at the Pereira apartment. A policeman came, a detective called Da Silva wearing the same sort of bad suit and loud tie that detectives all over the world wear. As Nelson had suggested, he promised to keep a low profile. Apparently, by focusing on the methods, or modus operandi of the kidnap gangs, the police were having some success in making arrests. Certainly more than they had in surprising a drop with all guns blazing. Da Silva interviewed me for an hour, asking me for every conceivable detail I could remember. Then he organized a tap on the phone and asked to be kept informed on a daily basis.

The waiting was difficult, and it had only just begun. Luis tried to carry on with the bank's business, but he

couldn't concentrate. So he paced around restlessly, picking up papers and documents, occasionally talking to me or Cordelia.

Cordelia insisted on staying. She too tried reading, but in the end she turned on the TV in the small sitting room and sat staring blankly at it.

I was very tired; I hadn't slept at all the previous night. But I couldn't sleep now. I spent the time trying to control the agitation inside me. I wanted to scream, shout, do something. But of course there was nothing to do.

I became morbid, I couldn't help it. I found myself snatching at the memories of things Isabel and I had done together as if they would be the last. This was ridiculous. The most likely thing was that she would be released unharmed, and I would see her again. But I could force my brain to think of the most probable outcome for only a few minutes. It would always drift back into thinking the worst.

Nelson stayed too, but remained inconspicuous. I spoke to Ricardo and put Nelson in touch with the kidnap insurance broker at Lloyds that had written the Dekker policy. They seemed to know of Nelson, which was encouraging. Under the policy the insurance company would cover a ransom paid by the family or Dekker up to a limit of a million dollars.

The phone rang on and off all day. Luis wanted to keep in touch with the office. He told them his daughter was ill and needed him. He wasn't very specific and it didn't make much sense, but he was the boss, so no one could argue.

I stayed for supper and then went back to the hotel. It seemed empty without Isabel. I went up to her room and packed her stuff. I felt uncomfortable gathering together her small personal belongings. It seemed a

Strangely domestic thing to be doing, as though at the moment we had been torn apart, we were making a step closer. The irony made me feel sick.

I returned to my room with her case and got ready for bed. The phone rang. I looked at my watch. Eleven o'clock. I picked it up. "Hallo?"

"Mr. Nicholas Elliot?"

The voice was harsh, the accent so strong I could barely distinguish my ovm name. My heart rate quickened.

"Yes?"

"I have your friend. You give me one million dollars.

Ilethergo."

My mind raced. I knew I wasn't the person to carry out this negotiation. I needed to get them on to Luis and

Nelson.

"I am not her friend. I just work with her," I said.

"If you not give me one million dollars, she dies!" the voice said. The accent was so pronounced and the words so melodramatic that it hardly seemed real. But

it was.

"No, wait! You telephone her father. This is his number," and I read it over the phone. "He will talk to you."

"OK," said the voice, and the phone clicked.

I hung up and raced to dial Luis's number. He answered, tense. I told him what to expect. I said I would be right there.

It took me fifteen minutes. Luis and Nelson were in deep conversation, with Cordelia listening.

"They want a million dollars," said Luis. "They want it dropped off on Wednesday morning at two a.m. They say if I don't pay, they'll kill her. I told them to call back in the morning."

It was Monday night. Wednesday morning was just over twenty-four hours away.

I could see that there was some tension between Nelson and Luis. "What's the problem?" I asked.

Luis glanced at Nelson. "A million dollars is nothing for Isabel's life. I want to pay it."

"And I feel we should ask for proof of life. Something to show that they've got her, and that she's alive," the little man said. "And then we should negotiate the price down from there. They will expect it."

"But we know she was alive when they took her. I don't want to anger them. Believe me, I can afford a million dollars."

For the first time Luis was showing signs of strain. Nelson paused to diffuse the situation, and then spoke calmly. "We don't know they've got her. It might be a hoax."

"How can it be a hoax? No one knows she has been kidnapped, do they? Just us and the police."

"What is this proof-of-life business?" I asked Nelson. "Do you want a photo of her with a newspaper?"

"No, that can be faked. The best thing is to ask them a question that only Isabel will know the answer to. If they call back with the correct response, then we know they have her and she is alive."

Both Luis and Nelson were looking at me. They wanted my advice. I wasn't going to duck the responsibility.

"Why don't you do what Nelson suggests? If they have Isabel, it can't hurt, can it?"

Luis sighed and rubbed his temples. "OK."

I slept in the guest room at Luis's apartment that night. Or rather, I didn't sleep, but I lay down under some covers and let my brain tumble.

The kidnappers called at nine the next morning. Luis told them he couldn't raise the cash that day, he would need more time. He also asked them to tell him what

was the name of Isabel's favorite teddy bear when she was a girl. I could hear the abusive threats down the phone at this.

Luis was white when he put down the receiver. "They said that if we don't drop off the money at two o'clock tomorrow morning, Isabel will die. They won't wait another day."

I began to think that I had given him the wrong advice. Only Nelson was unconcerned. "If they have her, we will hear back from them soon," he assured us.

"But what about the two o'clock deadline?"

"Ignore it. They can't be serious."

But we didn't hear back from them all day.

I stayed the night again, Luis seemed to want me there with hin\ when the deadline passed, and I was happy to oblige. We were both up and awake at two o'clock. The phone didn't ring. We exchanged grim glances as the kidnappers' deadline ticked away.

The waiting was beginning to take its toll. Both Luis and I were suffering from lack of sleep, although by now I was so exhausted that at last I could begin to doze for short periods. Luis just walked around, looking gaunt. And it was only day three. Cordelia had gone home the day before, but insisted that we call her with any news. By Wednesday night we had still heard nothing. Nelson had returned home that afternoon, with instructions to be contacted if anything happened.

Supper was an omelette and salad. Luis didn't eat much of his. During the last few days he had managed to keep his outward composure, apart from the show of tension with Nelson just after the kidnappers had given their first demand. Then, suddenly, as the two of us sat in silence around the dinner table, his lip quivered, and he put his head in his hands. He began to sob.

I watched in silence. Tentatively I stretched out a hand and touched his sleeve.

"She's dead/' he said.

"No, she isn't. Maybe they'll call later."

"Why should they? It was a simple question. All they had to do was ask her and call me back. They said if I didn't pay them by two last night she'd die. And she's dead."

"Perhaps it's a hoax. Maybe they aren't the real kidnappers."

"How can that be? We've been through that. Nobody else knows."

We had been through that. Then a thought struck me.

"Why did they call me at the hotel?"

"They followed you from there," Luis said. "They knew you were staying there."

"Yes, but they could have got your number from Isabel. Why didn't they?"

Luis was silent for a moment. He brightened. And then his face clouded over. "Unless she's dead. Then she couldn't tell them."

"Luis, there's no reason for them to kill her!" My brain, which had been turning somersaults for the last three days, suddenly settled. "I know! It was the taxi driver. He saw the kidnap and drove off. He must have told some friends about it, and tried his luck at a ransom demand."

Luis listened.

"I'll call Nelson and see what he thinks."

But before I could reach the phone, it rang. I froze. Luis grabbed it.

I picked up the second earphone Nelson had attached. It was a different voice! Younger, calmer. Luis spoke for about two minutes. I couldn't understand what was said, but Luis smiled as he put the phone down.

i

"Well?"

"It was another man. He said his name was Zico. He says he has Isabel. He wants a ransom. I asked the teddy bear question, and he didn't seem concerned. He said he would call back with the answer."

I felt a surge of relief. So the first voice had been a hoax. I much preferred Zico's voice. He sounded calmer, more rational.

"Zico? Isn't that the name of a soccer player?"

"Yes." Luis smiled grimly. "He was brilliant. He used to play for Flamengo. My club."

"How much does he want?"

Luis frowned. "Fifty million dollars."

"Fifty million! Christ! Have you got that much?"

"Technically my stake in Horizonte may be worth that much, but there's no way I could get at it without selling the bank, which would be difficult. No, impossible."

"Still, it's a start," I said.

Luis smiled. "Yes. It's a start."

19

The next couple of days were a relief. Zico called back within a half hour with the correct answer to Luis's question—Lulu. He made threats about how Isabel would die if fifty million dollars wasn't paid by the end of the week, but Luis didn't believe him and neither did I. We were just glad that the process had begun that would lead eventually to Isabel's release.

We sat around the breakfast table with Nelson. Luis was almost smiling.

''Now we have to discuss tactics," Nelson said. He was wearing a particularly bright purple shirt. Tufts of gray chest hair peaked through its open neck. He spoke carefully and rapidly, very much in control. He had proved himself to us with his suspicion of the hoax ransom demand, and it was becoming easier to trust him.

"OK," said Luis.

"We must decide how much you are prepared to pay for Isabel."

"That's ridiculous!" Luis protested. "The answer is everything."

"No, that's not the answer," said Nelson. "Remember, this is a commercial transaction. The answer is the lowest amount you can get away with. Look, the kid-

nappers can't know exactly how much money you have. We will come to a point where we have to say this is our final offer. Then, provided the kidnappers believe us, they will hand over your daughter."

Luis took a deep breath. "OK."

"Good. Now, how much do you think you could get your hands on? In cash?"

Suddenly I felt awkward. Here I was about to hear all about the personal business of a man I hardly knew, in fact, the owner of a rival bank to my employer. I began to stand up. "Perhaps I should leave you to it..."

Luis held up his hand. "No. Stay. Please."

I paused. He meant it. Nelson nodded. "OK," I said, and sat down.

"I can probably raise up to five m^illion dollars," said Luis. "Maybe a little more. But it will mean talking to some of my colleagues. I'll have to borrow money."

"Good," said Nelson. "I hope to get away with a lot less than that." He pulled out his notebook and pen. "We should think about some numbers. The average settlement at the moment in Rio is about two hundred thousand dollars. But I think they know how wealthy you are, or at least they can make a good guess. The first demand was high."

"I can't pay fifty million," said Luis.

"Nor will they expect you to. Another rule of thumb is that the final settlement is about one tenth of the initial sum offered. In this case that's five million dollars. But that's still too high for the market in Rio right now."