The market maker

by Ridpath, Michael

  so on. He's a security consultant. He helped a friend of | mine's family when he was kidnapped. I'll give him a

  caU." ,

  "Shall I wait here? " I asked.

  Luis smiled. "I'd like you to if you can. We will have to talk to Dekker Ward about this. And I'll have to tell

  Cordelia." His expression clouded. "It will be good to !

  have a friend of Isabel's here." i

  Luis probably didn't know how good a friend. I was i

  glad of the opportunity to stay.

  Luis made some phone calls. I couldn't understand i what was said. Most were calm and controlled. One involved lots of listerung with a pained expression on his face—Cordelia. Then he left the room. A few moments

  later I heard a loud keening—Maria. i

  It was hard to sit there, doing nothing, watching while Luis calmly put things in motion. I felt shaken.

  physically and mentally My muscles were tired and ached, and the bruises and scratches I had picked up on the hillside were making themselves known. Details of the kidnap came flooding back, and of Isabel's reckless attempt to escape. If the gunman hadn't hesitated she could well have been shot. Or perhaps she calculated that they wouldn't shoot a kidnap victim unless they absolutely had to.

  And then the moment when I had left her, tangled up in the bush. She had wanted me to go, but I still felt I should be with her now, wherever she was.

  How were they treating her? Had they hurt her? Pimished her for escaping?

  And then the most important question of all. Would we get her back alive and unharmed?

  Luis finished and gestured to the phone. "Why don't you get in touch with Dekker?"

  Relieved to be doing something, I dialed Ricardo's number in London.

  "Dekker."

  "Ricardo. It's Nick."

  "What's up?" There was concern in Ricardo's voice. He could pick up the concern in mine.

  "Isabel's been kidnapped."

  "How?"

  I told him.

  Ricardo took it coolly, like a big trade going wrong. "OK, Nick. Now don't worry. Kidnapping's a local pastime in Rio. It nearly always ends in a ransom being paid and the victim being set free."

  A thought suddenly struck me. I knew how ruthless Ricardo could be. Surely even he couldn't...

  He answered my unspoken question. "Don't worry. If they ask us for a ransom, we'll pay. All Dekker employees are insured against kidnap at Lloyds."

  "I didn't know you could do that."

  "Well, you can, and we have. We've never had to use it before. But there's a procedure. As soon as we hear of the demand, then we'll get a negotiator on the case. But since it's Isabel, they're more likely to go to her father."

  "I've told him. I'm at his apartment now."

  "Good. How's he taking it? Does he know what to do?"

  "He seems to have thought all this through beforehand. He's got hold of some kind of security consultant."

  "Excellent. Now, do you think you can handle Sao Paulo by yourself?"

  With a start I realized that Ricardo expected me to leave Luis and calmly carry on Isabel's negotiations where we had left off the previous Saturday.

  "I don't think so," I said carefully.

  "OK. Well, jump on a plane back here and brief Carlos. Maybe he can take over from Isabel."

  I was determined not to leave Luis and Isabel. "I'd like to stay here a few days," I said. "The police will want to talk to me, if we decide to bring them in. And I think Luis could use my help."

  There was a pause down the line. "All right. But I want you back by the end of the week. These negotiations can drag on."

  "OK," I said.

  "Don't worry, Nick," Ricardo said. "They'll let her go eventually," and with that he was gone.

  The callous way in which Ricardo had immediately thought of the business consequences of Isabel's kidnap angered me. But, as I thought about it, the phone conversation did give me some comfort. Both Ricardo and Luis were taking the situation calmly. I began to hope that Isabel's life was safe in their hands. Knowing that this was a common event made me feel better. If we

  just stuck to the rules, and so did the kidnappers, then Isabel should go free. Eventually. After being kept locked up in some hole somewhere for God knows how long.

  I tried to calm myself down too, to be useful. It was difficult. The tide of worry threatened to overwhelm me. Would she be hurt? Would they let her go? Would they treat her well? Why hadn't I stayed with her?

  Nelson Zarur was at the apartment within a half hour. He was an odd-looking man, short with a round orange face and bulging eyes. He wore a bright green short-sleeved shirt and tan trousers. Luis had mentioned he was a retired policeman, although he didn't look much over forty-five.

  Luis introduced us, and suggested Nelson speak in English for my benefit. He then asked me to describe the kidnapping itself. Nelson took notes in an old notebook with a cheap pen, occasionally asking detailed questions.

  "That area is a favorite place for kidnappings," he said. "There have been three there in the last year. Quiet streets next to a highway. Perfect. And the Tijuca Forest has been used before as a staging post to keep the victims for a couple of days while they get somewhere else ready."

  "So what can we expect now?" Luis asked him.

  "The most important thing to remember is that this is a business transaction," Nelson began. He spoke English fast and accurately, although his accent was strong. He sounded confident, and his confidence was infectious. He clearly knew what he was talking about.

  He went on: "The kidnappers have goods of value to you, which they want to sell. They can only do that if the goods are in good condition. So that is why it is in their interest to keep Isabel healthy."

  "Fm not sure I like the idea of thinking of my daughter as goods to be traded/' said Luis.

  "Of course not. And that's what the kidnappers will be playing on. They will use everything they can to make you think that they are callous sadists who are just about to harm your daughter for no good reason. But they're not. Kidnappers in Rio are usually very rational. All they want is the ransom. My job is to help you remember that, to try to keep this a commercial transaction, and to ensure that Isabel is returned safely for the smallest sum of money."

  He leaned forward and touched Luis's arm, his round orange face sincere. "Fve advised on sixteen kidnaps so far. In all but two the victim was returned alive. The odds are heavily on our side."

  Luis frowned. "That's good to know. But will she ... I mean will they ..."

  Nelson interrupted. "We have no way of knowing what conditions she will be kept in; that depends entirely on the kidnappers. But they won't touch her. In my experience they never do."

  Luis's frown lightened. Rape hadn't occurred to me, thank God. But it would have eventually, and I was relieved by what Nelson had to say.

  "You have to decide whether to tell the police," Nelson went on. "I would strongly recommend it. They will keep their distance and won't interfere with the ransom negotiations. And if we are open with them there is less chance of them stumbling blindly into the middle of something."

  Luis hesitated. "But what if the kidnappers tell us not to contact them? "

  "It's quite likely that they will say that, but the police will keep a low profile. However, we should try to keep

  the press out of it if we can. The fewer people who know about this the better/'

  "How big's the forest?" I asked. "Do you think the police will find them?"

  Nelson shook his head. "There is no chance of that. As soon as they realized you had escaped, the kidnappers would have moved on. But the police might learn something if they find the remains of the camp you saw."

  Luis nodded. "OK. We'll tell the police. What happens next?"

  "We wait for the kidnappers to get in touch. It may be quick, or it may take several days."

  Just then Cordelia burst into the room and ran to her father. He held her, his tall frame stoope
d 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?"

&
nbsp; "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."