THE MARKET MAKER 107
"No, you can't!" I said. "I just got it wrapped up this morning and I'm not going to take it all off for you."
"OK." Janue feigned disappointment. "What happened?"
He of course had none of the reticence of the others about asking me that question, and I didn't mind answering him.
"Jesus!" He shook his head. "One inch one way or the other and that would have been that."
"I'm afraid so."
"So how are you feeling?"
"I'll be all right," I said. "Or at least the knife wound will be. But did you hear what Ricardo did?" 'About ihefavela deal? He kiUed it, didn't he?" 'Yes. I couldn't believe it. After everything that Isabel had done. I saw one of them, you know. Afavela. Someone's got to do something about them."
"I know," said Jamie. "It must be tough for her. This game gets rough sometimes."
"And there's something else." I reached down into my bottom drawer to dig out the fax to Martin Belde-cos. It wasn't there.
"That's funny" I said.
"What is?"
"I left a fax here just before I went to Brazil. I'm sure I did."
Jamie made as if to get up and go.
I held up my hand. "No, wait. It's important."
Jamie watched me as I ransacked my desk. Not there. Neither was the fax I had sent back to Winters, which I was sure I had put with it. I thought about whether I might have put them somewhere else, or taken them home, or to Brazil. I checked my in-box for a reply from Winters. Nothing.
No. The faxes had definitely been in that bottom drawer. And now they were gone.
" What was it? " asked Jamie.
I stopped my search and sat up. ''It was a fax from United Bank of Canada in the Bahamas to Martin Bel-decos. It said that the man behind one of the accounts he had been investigating was linked to a suspected money launderer."
"Really? Did it say which account?"
"Something about International Trading and Transport (Panama). Or at least they were the company that had paid the money into a numbered account at Dek-ker Trust in the Caymans."
"That makes sense/' Jamie said. "It would have been very difficult to trace."
"The fax mentioned someone at the DEA we could contact. I faxed United Bank of Canada for the details, but I haven't received anything back yet."
Jamie appeared thoughtful.
"What exactly is money laundering?" I asked.
"It's the washing of dirty money/' replied Jamie. "The money might come from drugs, or smuggling, or organized crime, but it's mostly drug-related. It's often easier for the police to trace the cash rather than the drugs, so criminals have become very sophisticated at hiding the source of the money, and then investing it anonymously. They usually use shell companies in offshore jurisdictions."
"Like the Cayman Islands?"
"Like the Cayman Islands. Or Panama, or Gibraltar, sometimes even the Channel Islands or Switzerland. There are dozens of possibilities. Some of the money trails get very complicated."
"I see," I said. "And Martin Beldecos discovered one of these money trails."
"Perhaps/'
"So what do you think?"
"About what?"
"What should I have done with the fax? Which has now disappeared, by the way Eduardo said if I received any more messages for Martin Beldecos I should give them to him personally I'm just not sure about giving him this one."
"Why not?"
Jamie's lack of concern unsettled me. Maybe I was imagining things. "Well, in case he already knows about it," I said uncertainly.
"Hmm." Jamie was thinking. "I see what you mean. And anyway, he'll have a fit if you then tell him you've
lost it."
"I haven't lost it?"
"Then where is it?" asked Jamie.
"Jamie, 1 promise you I haven't lost it. Someone must have taken it while I was in Brazil."
That shut him up. He thought for quite a while.
"I thought I might contact the man in the DEA myself. Quietly"
"Don't do that!" Jamie replied. "That would be a very bad idea. If 1 were you I'd forget all about it."
"Why?"
Jamie sighed. "I fear you may be right. It wouldn't surprise me if Eduardo has some money-laundering business going on the side. It's common enough in our world. And the last thing he would want is for you to pop up and cause trouble for him. He would not be
very happy"
"But what if he doesn't have anything to do with it?"
"Then it won't do any harm to let things lie." Jamie
saw the doubt in my eyes. "Look, millions of dollars of
drug money is laundered through the banking system
every day. There's some in every bank everywhere. The only time there's a problem is when a bank gets found out. It's not like anyone's being hurt or anything. It's not even a fraud; no one's losing money. Just let it drop. This is going to bring nothing but trouble if you talk to anyone about it."
"But I don't want to cover anything up," I said doubtfully.
"What are you covering up?"
"The fax."
"What fax? You haven't got a fax. If there was a fax, it wasn't to you. Look, Nick, forget it. I'm going to." He stood up.
"Jamie?"
He paused.
I hesitated before putting words to the thought that was forming in my mind. "Martin Beldecos suspected that there was money laundering at Dekker. He was murdered in Caracas. Then I begin to suspect it, and I nearly get killed in Rio."
As the words came out, I felt stupid. Paranoid. And Jamie's scornful look made me feel worse. Then his face softened.
"Nick. After what happened to you, it's natural you'll feel nervous. I'm sure they'll understand if you don't want to travel to South America for a bit. And who knows, maybe there is some dirty money tucked away in a comer at Dekker somewhere. But don't blow it out of proportion. Calm down and do your job. You'll be OK."
With that he walked off, leaving me feeling uncertain, embarrassed, and a little silly.
10
Ricardo's house was a Georgian manor built of yellow
ish stone. It stood on the brow of a small hill, with a ■.
cluster of cottages and a church bowing at its feet. I ]
wondered what the locals thought of the new people in '■
the big house. Jamie drove us up a long drive, which ; cut through a wide expanse of lawn. The gardens were
designed for ease of upkeep rather than beauty. There ;
were shrubs, and trees, but few flowers. Some of the ^
finest cars that Germany could produce fought for
space on the gravel apron in front of the house, and j
Jamie nosed his British Jaguar in among them, next to ; the only other interloper, Eduardo's Ferrari.
Ricardo was having a party for everyone at the office. ;
These were apparently regular affairs, and this one had ;
been plarmed weeks in advance. Jamie told me it was a
three-line whip, but I was happy to go anyway He and Kate had agreed to pick me up from a nearby station.
Inside, the house was furnished in the traditional
way, but the walls of the hallway and drawing room
were adorned with large brightly painted pictures of i
Brazilian scenes. Most of the flat surfaces supported i
weird and exotic sculptures, which seemed to combine i
Amerindian and modem abstract styles. It worked. ;
They filled and brightened what would otherwise have ! been large, cold English rooms. ■
It was the first warm weekend of the year, and most of the guests had spilled out of the drawing room into the back garden to get acquainted with the spring sunshine. The back of the house was much less austere | than the front, with a terrace and an arbor and tulips everywhere. A barbecue was going strong. Waiters in i white jackets dispensed champagne cocktails.
"I hate these things,"
Kate whispered to me. "I missed the last two because I said Oliver was ill, but Jamie insisted I come to this one." j
"Why don't you like them?" I asked. "The people seem nice. Friendly."
"Oh, they are. But they all work so much on top of each other, I always feel like an outsider."
"There are other wives here, aren't there?"
"Oh, yes. Trophy wives and trophy mistresses. The ■{ wives are the ones with the wrinkles." j
I raised my eyebrows. "You're feeling pretty cynical i this afternoon."
"Just look around." '
I did. There were indeed lots of beautiful women ! fluttering around. Expensively dressed, carefully made-up, the perfect complement to their wealthy husbands.
"I see what you mean," I said. We sipped our champagne.
"WTio did you go with to Brazil?" Kate asked, sur- j veying the crowd. I
"Oh, a woman called Isabel Pereira." j
I could feel my face reddening ever so slightly. Of course Kate caught it. The heat in my cheeks intensified. !
"Oh, yes? " she said, her hazel eyes shining wickedly. , "And which one's she?"
Looking around, I saw Isabel standing on the far side
of the group of guests, picking at a chicken leg. "She's over there."
Kate stood on tiptoe to get a better look. ''Very nice. Are you going to introduce me?"
"Um..." How to get out of this? I looked at Kate, she wasn't going to let me escape. "It's not like we, you knov/..."
"Not yet, anyway," said Kate. "Come on. Let's talk to her."
We pushed our way through the crowd to Isabel. She was wearing a deep green silk trouser suit, which looked simple, but very expensive. She was talking to Pedro in Portuguese.
Her face lit up when she saw me, or I thought it did. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. I introduced her to Kate.
After a few moments, Ricardo appeared. With him was a striking dark-haired woman, wearing a short black dress that accentuated her voluptuous figure. Her face was tanned a deep brown, and gold glinted at her ears and neck.
Ricardo bent down to kiss Kate on both cheeks. "How nice to see you!" he said. "I'm glad you could come today. Is Oliver well?"
Ricardo's voice held polite concern, and also the barest hint that he knew that Oliver had always been weU. I kept a straight face.
"Oh, yes, he's fine," Kate answ^ered brightly.
"Nick, I don't believe you've met my wife," Ricardo said. "Luciana, this is Nick Elliot."
"Hallo," she said in a husky voice, holding out her hand to shake mine. "Are you Jamie's friend?"
"That's me, I'm afraid."
Ricardo turned to Kate. "Of course, you must have known Nick for quite a while."
"Nearly ten years. In fact, Tve known Nick for longer than Jamie/'
"Oh, really? You met at Magdalen?" Trust Ricardo to remember my college.
"No, the Cowley Road."
Ricardo laughed. "I remember it well. Was Brett's Burgers still around when you were there?"
Kate smiled. "It certainly was."
"Well, we can't quite compete with that. But grab yourself a burger, or anything else you'd like." He waved toward the barbecue, incongruously tended by two men in white coats. "There's some good red wine somewhere about, or you can stick to champagne if you prefer."
He noticed Kate's glass half-filled with water. "Or there's a man somewhere with elderflower presse. Try some. It's good." With that he drifted off.
"How the hell does he know about Brett's Burgers?" I whispered to Kate. "He wasn't at Oxford, was he?"
"No," she replied. "But he knows everything. And I mean everything. You'll get used to it."
Then Kate turned to Isabel, and Luciana to me. "I hear you had an unpleasant first visit to my country," Luciana said. She stood very close to me. Although she was well made-up, I could see the lines around her mouth and eyes. They were hard eyes. But at this range her chest was impossible to miss by any male over the age of twelve.
I scrambled my brain into order. "Yes, it was. But Rio's a beautiful city. The most beautiful I've ever seen. Are you from there?"
"No, Sao Paulo. By my father had business interests in Rio, and we have a house there. My brother spends much of his time there now."
"What does he do?"
She smiled. "Oh, I'm not sure. Francisco calls himself
a financier, but I don't know what that actually means. I have two others. One runs the family businesses in Sao Paulo, and the other is a candidate for the state government."
So, Luciana had a brother called Francisco who was some kind of financier. Interesting.
''Don't you miss Brazil?" I asked.
"Of course I do. And I go back quite often. But what can you do? I met Ricardo when we were young, in America. We were in love. We got married." She smiled. "It's not so bad. And I have my business."
"What's that?"
"Interior decoration. I have clients in London, Paris, New York. Normally they are from Latin America. They want to decorate their houses with things that remind them of home. I like to create a sophisticated modem interior Vv^ith a Latin theme. Something that reflects the personality of the Latin in northern Europe. You saw the drawing room?"
"I did. I liked it. You couldn't do something with my place, could you?" I said. "It sounds as if that's just what it needs."
"I'd love to. But I'm afraid you couldn't afford me." She grinned teasingly at me over the rim of her champagne glass.
I blushed. I couldn't help it. "Yes, well," I said. "Perhaps I'll stick to IKEA."
She laughed. "Tell me what you saw in Rio?"
So I told her. And I told her honestly, about the javeXas, about Cordelia's shelter, about the kids who attacked me. She listened. She was interested. She certainly wasn't stupid. I was flattered to have such a beautiful, sophisticated, and voluptuous woman hanging on my every word.
Suddenly I was interrupted. "Oi, Luciana, iudo beni?"
Isabel leaned in front of me an4 kissed Luciana on both cheeks:
"Tudo hem," she replied. "You know Nick, obviously."
"Yes, we've just come back from a trip together," Isabel said.
"Oh, you went together, did you? You didn't say it was Isabel who showed you all this, Nick."
It was true I hadn't. I shrugged.
"Well, I'll leave you to him," Luciana said, flashing me a coy smile, and she drifted off to entertain someone else.
"It looked like you two were having an interesting conversation," said Isabel.
"We were, actually."
"She was all over you. She's old enough to be your mother."
"No, she's not."
"She's forty-two."
"So? My mother's fifty-eight."
"She'll eat you alive."
"Hold on," I said. "Isn't she Ricardo's wife?"
"Yes. When she sees him. Which given his working hours is virtually never. The rest of the time she is her
own woman."
"So you say."
"So a significant number of the younger men here say. Just ask your friend Jamie."
"Isabel!"
"Sorry."
"It's a bit risky fooling around with the boss's wife, isn't it?"
"You're right. Most of them turn down her charms. They know what would happen if Ricardo ever found out." She looked at me pointedly as she said this.
"Well, thank you for the advice."
I smiled to myself. Beneath the banter she was jealous. I hadn't meant to provoke her, but it felt good to think that she cared about me. I looked up and saw she was smiling at me. I wanted to pull her to me and kiss her. The problem was there were forty other people standing around. Another time. Another time soon.
"How's your chest?" she asked.
"Still a bit sore, but healing fast," I answered.
"Good."
"Thank you for looking after me so well in Rio. I don't know how I would have managed without you there."
She smiled. "If you l
ive in Brazil, you need to know how to work the system. There is always ajeitinho to get things done. I'm an expert."
"Well, I'm very glad of that." I looked around the English garden and up at the back of the house. "This isn't the kind of place I would expect Ricardo to own at all."
"It's not so surprising. Many people in South America like to have a farm in the country. We have one, for instance. And you know what they say about the Argentinians?"
"What do they say?"
"They're all Italians who speak Spanish and pretend to be English."
"Ross is hardly an Italian name, is it?"
Isabel's eyes twinkled wickedly. "No, but Rossi is."
"Huh? No!"
"Just a thought."
I switched my empty glass for a full one from the tray floating past, and grabbed an orange juice for Isabel. She was driving. So were at least half of the other people at the party, I thought, but that didn't seem to make much difference to them. They liked to break the rules in that as L everything else, I supposed.
''Can you believe the women here, Nick?" It was Dave, the Romford trader, waving a can of beer. Miguel, the tall Argentinian, was at his elbow. "Oh, sorry, Isabel, present company included, of course. I don't know where they get them from. Miguel thinks that that Danish bit with Carlos is his au pair."
To my disappointment, Isabel slipped away, out of my peripheral vision.
"So Where's his wife?" I asked.
"At home with the children, I imagine," said Miguel. "Someone has to look after them, after all."
"Are you getting one of them, Mig?" Dave asked
"What, an au pair? But I haven't got any kids."
"So she'll have more time to devote to her other duties, then." Dave cackled.
The party warmed up, and I began to enjoy myself. Dave and Miguel were an unlikely double act, but very funny once they had a few drinks. Eduardo even honored us with his presence, bringing in tow a German model, barely out of her teens, who didn't seem to speak much English or Spanish. This didn't seem to bother Eduardo overmuch. He, too, was charming and friendly, but I noticed that everyone tensed up in his presence.
A good while later Kate swayed over toward me. Or she might have walked in a straight line, and I might have been swaying.
The market maker Page 10
