"Well, good luck with it," I said, raising my glass.
"And good luck to you," she said, raising hers. Then, "If you do leave, I shall miss you."
The words hung in the air. For a brief moment she looked embarrassed, as though she wanted to take them back, but then she looked directly at me, so that I knew what she meant, and that she didn't care that I knew.
My heart leaped. The bustle of the restaurant receded from my senses. There was just Isabel, there in front of me.
Neither of us said anything. I think I grinned stupidly. Isabel looked down as a bowl of soup was placed in front of her, and then looked up at me again and smiled. I felt as though I were falling into that smile, into those big dark eyes.
Then she giggled, we both relaxed, and delved into our soup.
The taxi journey back to our hotel took a half hour. It was late, it had been a long day, and we were both tired. Isabel let her head sliimp onto my shoulder and shut her eyes. I sat motionless, unable to relax, acutely aware of her body next to me. A hint of her perfume, a scent that I already associated strongly with Isabel, surrounded us. A strand of her dark hair crept up and tickled my chin.
She opened her eyes as the taxi lurched to a halt outside the hotel. It was midnight. The elevator was w^ait-ing for us. As it slowly eased upward, Isabel held my eyes and smiled shyly.
A breathless minute later, we were in her room. She watched me undress. My hands were trembling with anticipation. It was hard to concentrate on unbuttoning my shirt and trousers, pulling off my socks.
She laughed. Her clothes slipped off easily, and she sat on the bed, naked. One leg was tucked under her buttocks, and her small round breasts pushed out toward me. I kissed her. Her lips were soft and pliable, her tongue quick. She touched me, and I ached. I pulled her toward me, her body light under my hands. My hands brushed o^r her, gently searching, stroking. She trembled under my touch.
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THE MARKET MAKER 181
Then she was on top of me, her body flowing over mine, shimmering pale in the reflected light of the street outside. She wimpered as she took me in, and then moved against me. The pressure grew, the release was overwhelming. Her back arched, and she tensed as she held me, a soft wimper escaping from her parted lips. Eventually our muscles relaxed. She gazed down at me, her eyes dark pools half-hidden behind strands of hair streaming over her face. She sighed and rested her head on my thumping chest, her body as light as before.
I held her. That was nice, Nick,'' she said sometime later.
'Mmm."
She ran her finger over the scar on my chest, which was beginning to heal.
''Don't go away." She rolled off me and climbed out of bed. I watched her as she moved across the room to the bathroom. Naked, her body was supple and lithe as she walked.
She returned two minutes later, poured a glass of mineral water from the bottle on the desk, and sat cross-legged next to me.
"Don't stare!" she said.
"Sorry. It's hard not to."
"You'll give me a complex."
"Don't be silly. You're perfect."
"Look, I'm about the only woman in Rio who hasn't had cosmetic surgery."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Everyone does it."
"So what would you do?"
"Oh, I'd fix fliis first." She pointed at her nose. "And then my bottom needs lifting. Here. My breasts are OK."
"Yes, your breasts are OK. That's something/' I said with heavy irony. She hit me with a pillow.
I sat up next to her and drank some of her water. "You know, over the last couple of weeks I couldn't work out what you thought of me."
"I liked you," she said.
I smiled. "Well, I hoped you did. But you seemed to be keeping your distance. I didn't think I had much of a chance."
"Sorry. You're right. I mean, I did want to see more of you, but then I really didn't want to start something with someone at work again. So ... I was confused."
She had said "again." Start something with someone at work again. What was that?
"Jamie told me something that makes no sense," I said.
"That doesn't surprise me."
"It was about you and Eduardo."
Isabel held back her head and laughed. "You didn't beUeve that did you?"
"It didn't make much sense to me. Now, Ricardo I could have believed."
For an instant Isabel tensed. In more usual circumstances I wouldn't have noticed it. But after what we had experienced a few minutes before...
"You didn't?"
I could see Isabel's first reaction was to deny it. But she realized it was too late.
"I did."
"Oh."
"It didn't last long."
"That's OK. You don't have to tell me. It's none of my business."
"No, I'd like to. I'd like to tell someone about it."
"All right."
"It was just after Td joined Dekker. Ricardo and I were invited for a weekend's skiing in Aspen by the chairman of one of the Sao Paulo banks. Ricardo was in a great mood. Dekker had just had the best year of their history. Our host insisted that we ski and not talk business, so we did as we were told. Ricardo and I clicked. I know Ricardo has that effect on just about everyone, but with me I truly do think it was different.''
She looked at me to see whether I believed her. I did. "Go on."
"I mean I was completely taken with him. I guess that's not so surprising. But the way he looked at rtie. It was... I suppose it was like the way you look at me."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
She ignored me. "Well, we slept together. And over the next few months we went on a number of trips together."
"And what did Luciana think about that?"
"She never found out."
"Lucky for you. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of her temper."
"But she cheats on him! Everyone at the office knows it. Apart from Ricardo. Just ask Jamie."
I frowned.
"OK, you're right. I was wrong to do it. And I'm definitely not going to do it again. Especially after what happened."
"What happened?"
"He dumped me."
"Did it hurt?"
"Yes. A lot. I think it still does." I squeezed her hand. "He said he had been wrong to start it. He said it was the first time he had been unfaithful. He was risking his marriage, and he was risking his working life as well.
Sleeping with one of his team was not the right way to do things."
"I suppose not."
"You know how self-controlled he is. Usually he wouldn't put anything before Dekker. And he talks a lot about the importance of family life, although of course he hardly ever sees Luciana. I think it's some sort of fiction he has created for himself."
"Did you believe him? That it was the only time?"
"Yes. Of course that's what every dumb mistress wants to believe, but in this case I think it really is the truth. I think he was scared that he'd let his self-control slip. It certainly hasn't happened again."
1 stared up at the ceiling, considering the concept of Isabel and Ricardo. I didn't like it.
"How's your relationship now?" I asked.
She sighed. "Oh, he's very professional with me. He's friendly, he treats me just like the others. I try to be the same way with him, but I can't quite manage it."
"So how did the rumors about you and Eduardo start?"
"I think the others realized that there was something going on with me. They just guessed the wrong Ross that's all." She shuddered. " Yech. Just the thought of it makes me ill."
"And since Ricardo?"
"No one. Until now." She turned to me and smiled. I melted.
"You know, I defiiutely shouldn't be doing this," she said, bending over to kiss me.
But she did. Twice more.
We were booked into a business hotel located between the metaUic-smelling River Pinheiros and a highway. The dawn rose red in the Sao Paulo smog. From our
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window I could see a patch of wasteland that had been turned into a soccer field, and a small favela. Isabel's feeling was that there weren't any nice locations in Sao Paulo anyway, and this hotel had good facilities and was convenient for the airport.
I went back to my own untouched room to dress, and returned a few minutes later to pick up Isabel.
She laughed when she saw me. "You look dreadful."
I looked in the mirror. Dark patches edged with yellow surrounded my eyes. I glanced at Isabel. "You don't exactly look fresh yourself."
She yawned and stretched. She looked delectable. Tired but delectable.
"What will they think at the municipal offices?" I said. "Maybe they'll assume we've been up all night working on the project? "
Isabel laughed. "They might if they were English. But they're Brazilian. They'll assume we had sex all night."
"Oh, dear."
Isabel laughed. "Don't worry. It won't matter. In fact, I think they'll rather like the idea." And she put her arms around me and gave me a long, lingering kiss.
I suspect they could tell, but they didn't seem to mind. We put in another hard day's work, but it was fun, and we made good progress. We finished at six, and Isabel and I spent Saturday night in Sao Paulo in bed, with room service to provide us with sustenance.
To Isabel, a carioca, the prospect of a weekend spent entirely in Sao Paulo was appalling, so she suggested flying to Rio on Sunday morning, and taking the shuttle back to Sao Paulo first thing on Monday She would show me the beach, and then we could have dinner with her father.
Initially I was reluctant; I wasn't sure I wanted to visit a Rio beach. But Isabel promised me that the beach she went to was completely safe, and that we would proba- i bly have dinner with her father at the Rio Yacht Club, j which had armed guards. I agreed to go, ashamed at | my nervousness. i
"The Point" was a quarter-mile stretch of the Barra de Tijuca, a beach just down the coast from Ipanema. I I brought my towel and my book, and a plan that would ! involve turning my pale body a delicate shade of pink, j That wasn't how it worked. i
The beach was crowded, crowded with beautiful brown bodies. All the men had terrific muscular defini- | tion, the result of regular workouts, and the women had smooth, tanned soft skin, displayed to great effect i by bikinis that revealed almost everything. In Brazil, the buttock was all, and swinuning costumes were de- i signed to show them off ifi all their glory. i
Isabel was wearing one of these "dental-floss" bikinis, and she looked stunning. It was very hard not to i stare. In fact it was impossible, so I did.
But the extraordinary thing about The Point was that ' no one was lying down basking in the sun or reading a book, as people would on a European beach. They were sitting, squatting, or standing, and talking. They made i quite a racket. I shut my eyes. The chattering, shrieking, | and continuous chirruping of mobile phones sounded as though I were in the midst of a crowded cafe.
Everyone seemed to know Isabel, and they were friendly to me. Despite my absurdly pale skin, I was i quickly made to feel at home. There were plenty of bot- ^ ties of the local beach beer around, and I soon relaxed, | mellowed by the friendly charm of carioca hospitality. ;
With interest I watched Isabel and her friends. She seemed much more relaxed than she ever did at Dek-
ker. She smiled, laughed, gossiped, and argued in a free and uninhibited way that I found enchanting. It was as though the real Isabel, the Isabel I had glimpsed privately before, had suddenly emerged from under the long shadow of Dekker Ward.
At four we left and headed back to the Copacabana Palace Hotel. We were stopped at an intersection, and on the comer two policemen slouched by their blue and white car. They wore baseball caps and dark glasses, and their first names were taped onto their chests. Right in front of them two small girls were attempting to wash windshields, with little success. Behind them a tall scruffily dressed man leaned against a parked car, relieving himself on the passenger window.
When we reached the hotel, Isabel joined me in my room. We made love again. It was long and slow, our bodies tingling from the sand and the sun. Afterward, with Isabel's black hair spread across my chest like a soft, lightweight blanket, I asked her a question that had suddenly become very important to me.
"Isabel?"
"Yes?"
"Can I see you again? I mean when we get back to London."
She lifted her head and smiled into my eyes. "Of course."
I pulled her back down onto my chest. "Good."
As I stroked her hair, I thought about what we might be getting into. My relationship with Joanna had been the only serious one of my life. It had lasted five years, five years which to me now seemed wasted. Of course we had had some good times, but I didn't remember them well. What I did remember were the daily power struggles over small things, struggles that I always let Joanna win. She hadn't been worth it, and when she
had run off to America with Wes, I had savored my newfound independence.
Since then I had avoided another relationship. I had dated women, but had never let things progress. I was afraid of a serious attachment, and jealous of my independence.
Until now.
Of course there was still the job. Although Dekker seemed a long way away, we'd have to get back to work the next day in Sao Paulo. And then we'd return to London, Ricardo, and Eduardo.
"Is it true Eduardo killed someone once. A student?" I asked.
Isabel didn't answer immediately. Her head remained motionless on my chest.
"No, it's not true," she said at last.
"It wouldn't have surprised me if he had. But I suppose it's just another myth."
"Not entirely"
I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. "It was Ricardo who killed the student."
"Ricardo?"
She propped herself up on her elbow. "It was a complete accident. It was at a party in Caracas. The other guy was dnmk, and took a swing at Ricardo, who was chatting up his girlfriend. Ricardo hit him harder than he meant to, and the guy fell back over the balcony, four floors up. Apparently it was very messy."
"So Eduardo had nothing to do with it."
"Not quite. There were witnesses, and they were the student's friends, not Ricardo's. The police came and Ricardo was soon in jail. They were about to work on him for a 'confession' when Eduardo sorted it all out."
"How?"
"I don't know. Even then Eduardo had a flair for that sort of thing. And Ricardo walked free."
''Ricardo told you this, presumably?"
"Yes. He still feels guilty about it. And grateful to Eduardo."
"I bet he does." I sympathized with the guilt. I clearly remembered one night in Oxford when Jamie had become involved in an argument with a six-foot-six-inch University of Cape Town rugby player. Height never bothered Jamie; it just made his headbutts nore effective. The South African had staggered back into the road. A van was driving fast dow^n the empty High Street, and it braked hard. With a thud, it hit the South African but only gently, and no damage was done. But if the van driver's reactions had been just a little bit slower...
"Eduardo and Ricardo seem to have a very strange relationship," I said. "That must be why."
"It's not just that. I think a lot of it has to do with their father. Apparently, he was quite a successful businessman. The brothers never saw much of him, or their mother, who made a career out of spending the money her husband earned. Ricardo worshiped his father. He said he was always trying to prove himself to him, but his father never took any notice, so Ricardo just tried harder."
"Yes. He told me something similar himself. But what about Eduardo?"
"I think that Ricardo is the Argentinian and Eduardo the Venezuelan. From what I understand, their mother wanted Eduardo to be educated in Venezuela. Ricardo never lived there as an adult, but Eduardo spent a lot of time there. The flashy clothes, the cars, the speedboats, the girls, the apartments in Miami. He's a typical Venezuelan rich k
id."
''That's quite a car he owns," I said.
"What, the 'Testosterone'? The amount of times he's tried to get me into that thing!"
I grinned. I couldn't really blame him.
"Anyway," Isabel continued, "Ricardo's father drank. In the early eighties his businesses fell apart when the oil price crashed, and he tried to drink his way out of it. He died at the age of sixty-two. Ricardo was twenty-seven.
"You know how seriously Ricardo takes things. I think he saw it as his responsibility to look after his mother and his brother. Especially his brother. Eduardo was getting himself into all sorts of trouble with drugs; Ricardo found the money for some fancy detox clinic in America and persuaded Eduardo to go."
"So Ricardo has always helped Eduardo out?"
"It's a two-way thing. They both owe each other a lot of favors. I'm not sure they even like each other. Eduardo thinks Ricardo's too squeamish, and a control freak. But he's jealous of Ricardo's success and wants to be a part of it. Ricardo thinks Eduardo has no self-discipline and is a danger to himself as well as other people. They're both right, of course. But as a result they both think they have to be around to help the other out."
"So they need each other?"
"That's what they think. I think they'd both be better off having nothing to do with each other."
She swung out of bed and walked, naked, to the window. I followed her with my eyes.
"Oh, look," she said. "I think you're going to see a classic Rio rainstorm."
I joined her, wrapping my arms around her. A thick line of black lurked on the horizon. As we watched, it grew, gathering itself into a dark blanket that moved
swiftly over the sky toward us. The breeze, blowing in through the open window, became softer, heavier. The city, still in sunshine for a few moments more, cowered in front of the enveloping clouds. Then the blanket reached us, blacking out the sky and dropping a torrent of water. We let the giant drops splash into the room through the open window. Below us, the courtyard erupted into thousands of tiny fountains as the rain struck it, and the surface of the swimming pool was shattered into a myriad of angry whirlpools.
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