The market maker

by Ridpath, Michael

  I went back to the flat. It was almost tidy now. Workmen had put up a temporary door where the French windows had been. They would install something more permanent in the afternoon. Luckily the insurance covered that.

  I paced through the four small rooms: kitchen, sitting room, bathroom, and bedroom. It would be a shame to leave. When Joanna had first bought it, the fl^t had seemed extravagant, and then it had become a millstone. But there were all those l>ookshelves that I had spent hours, no days putting up, shelves that ingeniously held two thousand books. There was the tiny garden: I knew every plant, every weed.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, a rush of anger swept through me. I risked losing my flat because of Dekker. I had screwed up my career because of them. They had arranged to have me beaten up. Who the heU did these people think they were? Couldn't I do something to stop them? Or at least something to hurt them? I wanted revenge, and I wanted it right then.

  But what? Exposing Ricardo's manipulation of Bocci had hurt them, but not enough. They would recover soon. I wanted to do something that would cause them pernnanent harm.

  But what could I do? One unemployed investment banker with two months' experience. I'd have loved to have been able to blow this money-laundering thing up in their faces. But it would require an extensive international investigation to uncover more, and it didn't look like the DEA was about to start one, at least not into Dekker itself. I believed Dave when he talked about the indifference of the U.K. authorities.

  I hated the feeling of powerlessness. There had to be something I could do.

  My brooding was interrupted by the phone.

  "Nick? It's Kate. I heard the terrible news. I was just phoning to see how you were."

  "Which terrible news?"

  I caught the hesitation on the other end of the phone. "Well both things, I suppose. Isabel. And then you losing your job. It must be awful."

  "It is. And I've been broken into and beaten up."

  "Oh, God! When?"

  "The night before last."

  "Were you badly hurt?"

  "I was knocked out. My head still hurts. And my back. And leg," I said, moving my stiff leg into a more comfortable position.

  "What are you going to do now?"

  "Rewrite my thesis, I suppose. Maybe try to finish it."

  "Can't you get another job?"

  "No. Dekker Ward has suddenly decided to sponsor the School of Russian Studies. My continued unemployment is the condition."

  "Oh, no, that's terrible. Look, why don't you come here for supper this evening? You can stay the night, and worry about sorting the flat out tomorrow."

  Suddenly there was nothing I wanted more than to do what Kate suggested.

  "OK," I said. "I'll see you this evening."

  I took my bike onto the train, and arrived at the station at eight o'clock. It was thirty miles from London, on the edge of an old market town that had lost the battle to avoid becoming a bedroom community. Jamie and Kate's house was three miles from the station, on the outskirts of the village of Bodenham.

  It was still light as I rode along the narrow lanes. Chestnut trees were everywhere, bedecked with white candles. It wasn't quiet, the birds were making a racket,

  and farm machinery was returning hone for the evening. I plunged down a steep hill into Bodenham and swerved left at the bottom by the duck pond, narrowly avoiding a mallard strutting importantly across the road. Even here cyclists didn't get proper respect.

  Their house was at the end of a straight half-mile stretch of lane. I didn't hear the car until a loud horn sounded a couple of feet behind me and almost sent me out of my seat. I turned to see Jamie's Jaguar XJS whispering along in my slipstream. He tried to overtake me, but I slowed to walking pace and weaved across the road in front of him. Some people just don't grow up.

  They lived in Dockenbush Farm, an old farmhouse that was still surrounded by working buildings used by a neighboring farmer. It had a half acre of garden, an appealing mess of unkempt roses and shrubs. On one side was a small orchard with a purple and green carpet of uncut grass and bluebells. A confused yellow rose scrambled across the front of the house, and I had to duck as I walked in the front door to avoid a heavy branch of thorns and flowers.

  They had moved in two years before, just after Jamie had joined Dekker. The house had seemed to me absurdly large for the two of them plus a small child, especially since I was used to seeing them in a cramped two-bedroom flat in Chiswick. It reminded me a little of the house Jamie had grown up in, which I had seen on my first few visits to his family before his father had been forced to sell it. That was no coincidence of course. I also suspected that it was no coincidence that Ricardo, too, had a nice house in the country.

  Kate came out and stepped up on her bare toes to give me a kiss. "Hallo. Supper's almost ready. It's only stew, I'm afraid."

  The large old kitchen was warmed by a cast-iron

  stove, and pleasingly cluttered with toys and iron pots and pans. The stew was delicious. We downed a bottle of Chilean red between the three of us and talked and laughed. Then, over a spread of French cheeses, Janue touched on the subject we had all been avoiding. ''Ri-cardo talked about you this morning."

  "Oh, yes?"

  "Yes. He gave us a little speech. He told us why you'd left. He said that he didn't mind people disagreeing with the Dekker ethos, and that he had given you a chance to resign, which you hadn't taken. He wouldn't tolerate any member of the team betraying the rest of us. He said you'd never work again, not in the city, nor in a university."

  "Jamie! Didn't you say anything?" Kate protested.

  Jamie shrugged.

  "He couldn't," I said. "Ricardo isn't that sort of person." Then I asked Jamie. "What do the others think?"

  Jamie sighed. "It's impossible to tell. Everyone's a bit down after Isabel. And this Mexican deal is becoming a real problem. They know I'm a good friend of yours, so they wouldn't talk to me about it anyway. But I suspect they'll keep quiet. The message from Ricardo is clear. Stick with me and I'll look after you. Leave and you're in trouble."

  Kate looked at Jamie with concern. Jamie avoided her glance, studying the debris of cheese and crumbs on his plate.

  "I thought it was a bit extreme sponsoring the School of Russian Studies just to keep me out of a job," I said.

  "It was. And that's why it was effective. It's a warning to the rest of us of how far Ricardo will go to punish people who he thinks have betrayed him. But also it's a good idea. We'll need information and contacts to get

  into Russia. Your old place can provide us with useful introductions."

  ''And beating me up? Wrecking my flat? Did Ricardo tell everyone about that too?"

  "I doubt he even knows. That has all the marks of Eduardo."

  "Janie, you've got to get out of there!" said Kate. "Especially after what they did to Nick. You should leave before it's too late."

  Jamie sighed. "It is too late. Especially now. Ricardo will be watching me for signs of disloyalty."

  "Screw him!" said Kate. "Just leave."

  "It's not that easy," said Jamie. "This house needs to be paid for. I'll need two years' good bonuses to make a dent in the mortgage. And if I leave, what will I do then? Ricardo isn't a good man to have as an enemy. The Latin American market is small; everyone knows everyone else."

  "You could work for Bloomfield Weiss!" said Kate. "They'd have you like a shot."

  "Yeah, and if they lose their war with Dekker, which it looks like they will, they won't need me anymore and I'll be out on the street."

  "Oh, Jamie!" growled Kate in frustration. She threw down her napkin and left the table.

  The two of us sat in awkward silence. Finally Jamie broke it. "I'm sorry," he said.

  "Don't worry about it, I'm free to screw up my own career. There's no need for you to screw yours up in solidarity. You've got Kate to look after, and Oliver." And your ambition, I thought. That was the real problem, and both Jamie and I knew it. He was doing well
at Dekker, and if he kept his head down he could be making millions in a few years' time. That was something he desperately wanted to do.

  But he was an old friend of mine. I didn't want him to give up his ambitions on my account.

  "I saw Dave the other day/' I said.

  ''How is he?"

  "Pissed off. Ricardo has dumped on him. He hasn't been able to get another job in the City."

  "So what's he going to do?"

  "He's got some mates of his to buy a pub somewhere. He plans to manage it with Teresa."

  "Not a bad job for him."

  "Yes." I paused a moment. "You know, he thinks there's something going on at Dekker. That Martin Beldecos was murdered because he stimibled across something at Dekker Trust."

  "Does he have any proof?" asked Jamie.

  "No. He spoke to the police, but they weren't interested. Then I spoke to the DEA in America."

  "You did?"

  "Yeah. They took down the details, but they didn't seem that interested either."

  "Ricardo doesn't know you've been talking to Dave and the DEA, does he?"

  I shook my head. Then I thought about Dave's suspicion that Eduardo was tapping his phone. Oh, no.

  "Well make sure he doesn't find out," Jamie said. "I don't know whether there is anything in this money-laundering stuff. And I don't want to know. But I do know that Ricardo is angrier than I've ever seen him. It's scary."

  "Can you keep your eye out for anything suspicious? "

  "No, Nick, I cannot. I will keep my head well down on this one. Here, have some more wine."

  I hung around at Dockenbush the next morning; I was in no mood to go back to the flat. Jamie had left early to

  go into work. The weather was glorious, sunny with a gentle breeze. After Kate had returned from taking Oliver to his nursery school, we sat in the back garden drinking mugs of coffee.

  "Did you know your godson has a girlfriend?" Kate said.

  "Really? He's a bit young, isn't he?"

  "I think they're quite keen on the opposite sex at this age, and then they go off them when they get older."

  "What's her name?"

  "Jessica."

  "Is she pretty?"

  "You'll have to ask Oliver. She looks a bit dumpy to me. But she plays rockets with him, so I don't think he minds. He asked me if she could come around to play. He was terribly shy about it. It was quite sweet."

  "Well, I look forward to a formal introduction."

  We lapsed into silence, sipping our coffee. Something disturbed the rooks in a nearby copse, and they rose in a complaining black swirl, before eventually settling down again.

  "Do you think they'll find her?" Kate asked.

  "Isabel?"

  "Yes."

  I thought for a moment. "Yes, I do. I have to believe that they will."

  "She seemed very nice."

  "She is."

  "But I hate women with figures like that. They look good in anything."

  I smiled. I remembered how she looked, how she felt, her scent, her voice. She had to be alive. She just had to be.

  Kate reached across and squeezed my hand.

  "I'm sorry about last night," she said. "It's just Jamie

  drives me mad. His life seems to have been taken over by Dekker. I sometimes feel like he's sold his soul to Ricardo."

  "I know what you mean. Ricardo likes to control the people who work for him. He lets them go about things their own way, but he makes sure their interests are tied up completely with his. But I can understand Jamie's point of view. He needs to pay for all this."

  "No, he doesn't!" said Kate with surprising force-fulness. "We don't actually need all this. Of course it's very nice, but we could quite happily live in a small flat in Chiswick. And that stuff about providing for me is crap too. I had a perfectly good job in a City law firm. I could earn a decent salary again. Of course, I want to spend the time with Oliver while he's young, but I don't have to!"

  I was quiet. I didn't want to get involved in an argument between Kate and Jamie. Especially when I thought one of them was right and the other wrong.

  "Do you know he wouldn't let me suggest you stay longer?" she said.

  I shook my head.

  "He said it would look bad at the office. I told him not to be so absurd."

  "He's right. It would be wrong for me to stay here."

  "Well, I think you should."

  "Don't worry, Kate. I'll be all right. I need to sort out the flat and face up to the future anyway."

  She took a sip of her coffee and stared out toward the hill behind the garden. "He's changing, you know."

  I didn't answer at first, I didn't want to talk too deeply about Jamie with Kate. But then, she clearly needed to talk to someone about him. So I stepped delicately into the minefield.

  272 Michael Ridpath

  i

  "Is he?" j

  Kate shot me a glance. She sensed my reluctance to '

  talk, but went on regardless. |

  "You remember him at Oxford. He never took any ]

  thing too seriously. He was always fun, he was always i

  kind, he was always, well, affectionate. And afterward I

  too. He was great when my father died." ^

  I remembered when Kate's father had been killed in j

  a car crash. She had been devastated. Jamie had done '

  all that could be expected of a husband, and done it {

  very well. He seemed to know exactly when to cheer

  her up and when to let her be alone.

  "He's always been a good friend to me," I said. "He i got me the job at Dekker, didn't he? I know that didn't work out too well, but he stuck his neck out for me."

  "Yes, he did." Kate smiled briefly, but she still wore a frown. "But what about Oliver? When he was bom,

  Jamie was wonderful. And now he hardly ever sees '

  him." j

  "He doesn't have any choice, Kate. I've been inside Dekker. You have to work hard, ridiculously hard.

  Jamie spends no more time there than anyone else. In i

  fact, he probably spends less." i

  "But why does he have to work there in the first | place? After all it's done to you? After all it's doing to

  him?" i

  There was a note of anguish in Kate's voice. 1 knew ;

  the answer. I had played rugby with Jamie. He was one i

  of the most competitive people I had ever come across. '■

  And he never gave up. If he had decided to make his

  fortune at Dekker, there was nothing that Kate or I could do to change his mind.

  " You know," she said," I really admire what you did." '

  She nodded, looking straight ahead, her coffee cup half an inch from her lips.

  "It was their choice. They obviously didn't like me."

  "That's what I mean."

  She turned to me and smiled her warm, friendly smile. The sun shone off her short brown hair. She was wearing a white T-shirt and a long cotton skirt, light summer clothes that gently rested on the soft roundness of her body.

  Jamie didn't deserve her.

  So I went back to mv flat. I decided to live on what was left of the money Ricardo had lent me, and try to finish the thesis. I finished clearing up the flat, and began work again on my thesis. I had thought that resurrecting the missing chapters would be desperately tedious, but actually it wasn't. I could remember quite well what I had written, and although I needed to dig around in my notes a lot, even that I enjoyed. And the thesis was taking better shape second time around. But I hadn't made adequate notes of all the references I needed, so I'd still need to spend some time in the library.

  I phoned the police station in Kentish Town to see how they were getting on in solving Crime Number 1521634/E. I wasn't surprised to hear that they had got nowhere. None of the stolen goods had turned up. They had interviewed Eduardo, who had denied all knowledge of the burglary, and they had been unable to find
any connection between him and it, apart from my suspicions.

  I called Luis every evening, hoping for news of Isabel. There was never anything. Our conversations were short, but not pointless, we gave each other some comfort. And the phone bill was still three months away.

  I spent a lot of time alone, thinking of Isabel. I felt i anxious, guilty, worried, uncertain, angry. We had spent i so few days truly together, and it had been so far away. '■ I kept on asking myself whether the relationship would | have worked, and I kept on telling myself it would, i Very well. And then I became angry again that I'd been prevented from finding out.

  One evening, Luis did have some news, but not ; about Isabel. He said he had introduced KBN, a large | Dutch bank with good Brazilian connections, to Hum- i berto Alves, and suggested they talk about favela financing. It would take a couple of months to resur- rect the deal, but Humberto was confident something ; would come out of it. I was glad Ricardo hadn't been enraged for nothing.

  i

  I didn't see Jamie for a week, until we met for a drink 1 at the Pembroke Arms. He looked tense, and downed i his first pint in less than a minute. This was usually a i bad sign.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  "Things aren't good at Dekker." i

  "Such a shame. Tell me." '

  Jamie glanced at me. "You'll probably love this. I -think we've got big problems. The market's been in free i fall all last week, and it looks like it's continuing this week." j

  "What happened?" I asked. ;

  "Mexico is up shit creek. Banks are going bust all I over the place, the government has a huge debt refi- j nancing burden to deal with this year, and everyone's i scared." I

  "And Dekker are still holding that Mexican deal they i led last month?" !

  "Yes, that, and a lot more besides. Mexico is off twenty points and Ricardo keeps buying more. You see, his theory is that the U.S. bailed out Mexico in 1995, and they'll do it again. As far as he's concerned, it's a great opportunity to buy into a paruc at the bottom. He's got extra funding from Chalmet, you know, the Swiss bank that owns twenty-nine percent of us. We have enough Mexican paper to fill the entire Canary Wharf Tower."