The Marketmaker

by Michael Ridpath

  I decided to leave the path and follow the stream downhill, on the basis that I would avoid a reception party waiting for me at the end of the path. It was tricky picking my way through the rocks in the dark, and I made slow progress.

  Just as the sky began to lighten, I saw a bridge below me. I paused for breath beside one of the giant boulders. Perhaps they were waiting by the bridge? If I joined the road, would the kidnappers find me? I didn’t know. I decided not to follow any roads. I would carry on under the bridge, and down the stream bed until I found some habitation.

  I was getting tired. My legs were scratched and bruised, and my muscles ached. I stopped for a rest on a stone. Dawn comes quickly to Brazil, and the landscape around me was fast revealed in the grey morning light. I was surrounded by forest and steep hills, rising behind me into clouds. The night-time noises had died down, and it was oddly silent. It was eerie, this damp gloomy forest, clad in moisture. Ahead, down below, I could see nothing but grey. As I rested, I began to feel cold.

  Then down to the right, I noticed wisps of a lighter shade of grey. Smoke!

  I stood up, and stumbled down the stream bed. The smoke came from quite a substantial building, which backed on to the stream. I clambered up a path from the stream to the building, my muscles aching. I could barely make it to the top of the bank.

  I staggered round to the front of the building. It was some kind of restaurant. I pushed a bell and waited.

  18

  The owner of the restaurant spoke English, and insisted on giving me some food before driving me himself back to the hotel. It took two hours, most of it through the Rio rush-hour traffic. He had no problem agreeing to my request not to tell the police. I wanted to talk to Luís first. The Brazilian police were an entirely unknown quantity. I was worried that I might be putting Isabel’s life at risk by contacting them.

  Eyebrows were politely raised as I swept through the hotel lobby in my dishevelled state and went straight up to my room. I found Banco Horizonte’s number, dialled it, and asked for Senhor Luís Pereira.

  ‘Yes, Nick, what can I do for you?’ The deep voice was friendly but tinged with a mild curiosity as to why I should be telephoning him that morning.

  ‘Isabel’s been kidnapped.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said eventually, his voice still outwardly calm.

  ‘At the Copacabana Palace Hotel.’

  ‘Can you go directly to my apartment? I’ll meet you there in half an hour.’

  I showered quickly, changed into some clean clothes, and arrived at Luís’s apartment thirty-five minutes later. He was already there, pacing up and down the large living room. He gestured for me to sit down in a low cane sofa, while he took the chair opposite. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes fixed firmly on me. He seemed cool, businesslike.

  ‘Tell me what happened?’

  I told him all about the kidnapping, our escape, and Isabel’s recapture.

  When I had finished, Luís sighed. ‘Kidnapping is a fact of life in Rio. I had expected it to happen some time, but frankly I assumed either myself or Cordelia might be the victim. I thought Isabel would be safe.’

  He paused for a moment, his eyes looking into the distance over my shoulder. Then he focused back on me. ‘There’s a man called Nelson Zarur who has advised me about these matters, taking precautions and so on. He’s a security consultant. He helped a friend of mine’s family when he was kidnapped. I’ll give him a call.’

  ‘Shall I wait here?’ I asked.

  Luís 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.’

  Luís probably didn’t know how good a friend. I was glad of the opportunity to stay.

  Luís made some phone calls. I couldn’t understand what was said. Most were calm and controlled. One involved lots of listening with a pained expression on his face – Cordelia. Then he left the room. A few moments later I heard a loud keening – Maria.

  It was hard to sit there, doing nothing, watching while Luís 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 had 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? Punished her for escaping?

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

  Luís finished and gestured to the phone. ‘Why don’t you get in touch with Dekker?’

  Relieved to be doing something, I dialled 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, can you stay in Rio until things become clearer?’

  ‘I’d be happy to.’

  ‘OK. Keep me informed.’

  I was comforted as I put down the phone. Both Ricardo and Luís 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. And I wasn’t quite happy with the idea of Ricardo using his tough negotiating tactics for Isabel’s life.

  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 half an 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. Luís had mentioned he was a retired policeman, although he didn’t look much over forty-five.

  Luís introduced us, and asked Nelson to speak in English for my benefit. I was pleased to be included.

  Luís asked me to describe the kidnapping itself. Nelson took notes in an old notebook with a cheap biro, occasionally asking detailed questions.

  ‘That area is a favourite 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 e
xpect now?’ Luís asked him.

  ‘The most important thing to remember is that this is a business transaction,’ Nelson began. His English was fast and accurate, 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.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like the idea of thinking of my daughter as goods to be traded,’ said Luís.

  ‘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 Luís’s arm, his round orange face sincere. ‘I’ve advised on sixteen kidnaps so far. In all but two the victim was returned alive. The odds are heavily on our side.’

  Luís 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.’

  Luís’s frown lightened. Rape hadn’t occurred to me, thank God. But it would have done eventually, and I was very pleased to hear 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.’

  Luís 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.’

  Luís 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 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 will be.’

  ‘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 judgement, 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 I’d 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. Luís 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 only force my brain to think of the most probable outcome for 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 who 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. Luís 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, 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 own name. My heart-rate quickened.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have your friend. You give me one million dollars. I let her go.’

  My mind raced. I knew I wasn’t the person to carry out this negotiation. I needed to get them on to Luís 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 fath
er. This is his number,’ and I read it down the phone. ‘He will talk to you.’

  ‘OK,’ said the voice, and the phone clicked.

  I hung up and raced to dial Luís’s number before the voice. He answered, tense. I told him what to expect. I said I would be right round.

  It took me fifteen minutes to jump in a taxi and get there. Luís and Nelson were deep in conversation, with Cordelia listening.

  ‘They want a million dollars,’ said Luís. ‘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 Luís. ‘What’s the problem?’ I asked.

  Luís 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, Luís was showing signs of strain. Nelson paused to defuse 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 Luís 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?’