The Marketmaker

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘Have you read it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Kate stood in the middle of the room. She had been a promising City lawyer. If she’d read it, she’d understood it. She was clearly rattled. I felt my cheeks redden; I had been caught.

  ‘Why have you got this report, Nick?’

  I took a deep breath. Nothing but the truth would do now. ‘Because it was my idea.’

  ‘Your idea?’

  ‘Yes. I suggested to Bloomfield Weiss that they should buy Dekker.’

  Kate sat on the bed, still clutching the envelope.

  ‘Why?’

  I swallowed. ‘Ricardo deserves it,’ I said, slowly and deliberately. ‘And so does Eduardo. They’ve tried to ruin my career. They wrecked my flat, and destroyed my thesis. And it’s not just me they’ve trampled on. They’ve done the same thing to Dave. And to the poor bastards who live in the favelas. And who knows why Martin Beldecos was murdered?’

  I was getting quite heated now. ‘Ricardo thinks that the rules of us lesser mortals don’t apply to him. Well, I’m going to show him he’s wrong. Let him feel what it’s like to have his life’s work taken away from him.’

  Kate was looking at me hard.

  ‘But what about Jamie? This will put him in an impossible situation.’

  I sighed. ‘I know. But Dekker’s sinking. If Bloomfield Weiss do take them over, Jamie should still have a job.’ I met her eyes. ‘Are you going to tell him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Kate, and she stood up from the bed and left the room.

  25

  I spent the barest possible time with Kate and Jamie that evening at supper, before making an excuse about working on my thesis and escaping upstairs to my room. I sat at my desk, my notes in front of me, my mind elsewhere. Would she tell him? What would his reaction be?

  Sure, I had my justification ready, the one I had given Kate. But Jamie wouldn’t see it that way. I knew that Dekker was important to him. I was staying in his house, and I had betrayed him. And I did not want to betray Jamie.

  I began to wish I had just left Dekker alone. Forgotten about it, as Dave had told me to. Let Ricardo get away with it, in the same way everyone else did. But I hadn’t. And it was too late to go back now.

  I missed Jamie the next morning. He left before the rest of the house was up, as usual. But I had breakfast with Kate and Oliver.

  ‘Did you talk to him?’ I asked her.

  Kate turned to Oliver, who was still in his pyjamas chasing the last few Coco-Pops round his bowl with a spoon. ‘You can get down and play if you want, Ollie.’

  He was off like a shot. He hated getting dressed in the morning, and this seemed like a possible reprieve.

  ‘No,’ she said, when he was gone.

  I smiled with relief.

  ‘But you could have told me what you were doing!’ she protested.

  ‘I couldn’t,’ I said. ‘It would have put you in an impossible position.’

  ‘Well, what kind of position do you think I’m in now?’

  I winced. Fair point. ‘Are you going to tell him?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No. I thought about it a lot last night. He’s better off not knowing. Then, whether Dekker survives as an independent firm or Bloomfield Weiss take it over, he should be all right.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate. But I’m doing the right thing.’

  She nodded. ‘I know you are. And I hope you get the bastards!’

  I called Stahl in New York that afternoon. Despite his elevated status, he seemed to like to talk to me directly. It angered his sidekicks, who resented the access I had to him.

  ‘How are we doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Great, Nick, great. I just got back from Geneva yesterday. I met with the directors of Chalmet. Boy, I put a rocket up their asses! They have no idea what’s going on at Dekker. In fact, I don’t think they know what their own emerging-markets guys are up to. But they’re scared. It’s beginning to dawn on them that all this great new Latino business isn’t as kosher as it might be. They didn’t even know that Chalmet were using hundreds of millions of their clients’ dough to fund Dekker!’ Stahl chuckled. ‘You should of seen their faces. It was like I’d dropped a whole cartload of shit right there on their pretty polished desks. Which I guess in a way you could say I had.’

  ‘So what are they going to do?’ I asked.

  ‘They want outa there, fast. They’ll sell.’

  ‘Excellent. Does that mean we’re there?’

  ‘Just about. We’re working to a deadline of June fourteen. There are still some numbers to be run, and Kerton’s got to get the SFA and the Stock Exchange to approve the transaction, but that shouldn’t be a problem. And then we have a done deal.’

  The fourteenth of June. That was next Friday.

  ‘Great!’

  ‘Yeah. Nice deal, Nick.’

  ‘Does Ricardo know about it?’

  ‘Nope. He has no idea.’ Another laugh like a rasping saw. ‘I gotta go, Nick.’ The phone went dead.

  I stared at the receiver in triumph. Yes!

  I really was working when Kate knocked on my door.

  ‘Nick, phone. I think it’s Isabel’s father.’

  I bounded down the stairs to the sitting room. Kate discreetly left me alone.

  ‘Luís! How are you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Nick. I have news.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Isabel is still alive.’

  My heart leaped. I felt a rush of elation, that was tempered immediately by fear. This was too good to be true.

  ‘Where is she? With you?’

  ‘No, Nick,’ said Luís. I knew from his tone what was coming next. ‘I heard from Zico. He says they still have her.’

  Disappointment. And then fear again. ‘Have you proof of life?’

  ‘Yes, I have. After our previous experience, I didn’t want to contact you until I was sure she was really alive.’

  ‘What happened? Why didn’t they come back with proof of life before?’

  ‘I don’t know. Zico said that they gave up negotiations earlier because of the police raid. But it doesn’t quite make sense to me.’

  It didn’t to me either. But Isabel was alive! ‘So, how much do they want this time?’

  ‘That’s the interesting thing, Nick. They don’t want money.’

  ‘Then what do they want?’

  ‘Zico said he wants you to call off the takeover of Dekker.’

  I was stunned. How the hell did Zico know about the Dekker takeover? And what did he care?

  ‘Nick? Are you there?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘It’s just quite a lot to take in at once. But it’s so good to know Isabel’s alive. Now we just have to work out how to get her home.’

  ‘What’s this Dekker takeover?’ Luís asked.

  I took a deep breath and explained. Isabel’s safety was far more important than any duty of confidence I owed to Bloomfield Weiss.

  Luís, of course, followed everything. ‘But why do the kidnappers care about Dekker?’

  I thought aloud. ‘I don’t know. The one person I know who would be most concerned about Dekker being taken over is Ricardo.’

  ‘So does that mean he’s behind Isabel’s kidnap?’

  ‘I suppose so. Either him, or his brother Eduardo. It sounds more like something Eduardo would do.’

  ‘Filho da puta!’

  ‘But I didn’t think Ricardo knew about the takeover.’

  ‘Well, if Zico knows someone must have told him,’ muttered Luís. ‘And, by the way, he said something else.’ Luís’s voice was strained.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If we talk to the police, he will send us Isabel’s head.’

  ‘You mean …’ My stomach turned. ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘I spoke to Nelson. In fact, he’s here now.’

  ‘Good.’ I was glad that Nelson’s calming presence was close at hand. ‘What does he say?’

  ‘He doesn’t think we shoul
d tell the Rio police after what happened last time. He thinks there’s a chance the kidnappers were tipped off by one of them.’

  ‘That makes sense to me. What about going to the police in Britain? Ask him about that.’

  I held for a time while Luís discussed with Nelson Ricardo and Eduardo’s likely involvement with the kidnappers.

  ‘Nelson thinks it’s risky. He says this threat is different from the usual bluster in kidnappings. Especially if they know we can link the kidnapping to an individual. If Ricardo or Eduardo or whoever it is gets a hint of police involvement, then the kidnappers will carry out their threat. But maybe you can trust the British police not to intervene.’

  I didn’t have any idea what the British police would do. ‘Let’s leave them out of it, then,’ I said.

  ‘Good.’ There was relief in Luís’s voice.

  ‘So Zico wants me to call off Bloomfield Weiss?’

  ‘Can you?’ Luís’s voice was tentative, full of fear and hope.

  ‘I don’t know. How long have I got?’

  ‘A day and a half. Thursday at midnight, Brazilian time.’

  That was interesting. Bloomfield Weiss were due to put in their offer on Friday.

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  Luís whispered, ‘They kill her.’

  ‘And if I do, do they let her go?’

  ‘They say they will. But Nelson thinks they might hold out for a cash ransom as well. If they do, I’m happy to pay it.’

  I thought it over. ‘I suppose if Eduardo is behind it, he won’t need the money. But he might want to keep her to stop us going to the police after she’s released.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. But unless you call Bloomfield Weiss off, I think they will carry out their threat.’

  That, at any rate, was clear.

  ‘OK, Luís. I’ll do what I can.’

  I put the phone down, and thought over what Luís had said. Could Ricardo or Eduardo be behind Isabel’s kidnapping? Ricardo would go to almost any lengths to save Dekker. But would he go as far as kidnapping Isabel, his former lover? That I wasn’t sure of. But I remembered Eduardo’s threats to me and shivered. It would be no problem for him.

  All that made sense now. But why had they seized Isabel in the first place? There didn’t seem an obvious answer to that one.

  I had no time to think about that now. I’d have to call Stahl back. What the hell would I say to him?

  I looked out of the window for inspiration. A girl on a palomino pony was trotting along a bridle-path up the hill. It seemed absurd that I should be juggling negotiations over someone’s life and a company’s survival between three continents from this quiet spot in the heart of the English countryside. Except I wasn’t juggling. The balls were up there in mid-air, and there was no way I could catch them all before they came crashing down round my head.

  I couldn’t order Stahl to call the deal off. I racked my brains trying to think of a financial excuse. There wasn’t one. I would have to tell him the truth, and trust to his humanity.

  Bloomfield Weiss was renowned as one of the most inhumane investment banks on Wall Street.

  I called him. Got past his secretary, told Preston Morris this was urgent information on the Dekker deal, and within two minutes was talking to Sidney Stahl himself.

  ‘Whaddya got, Nick? I’m in a meeting.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I’d like you to call off the deal.’

  ‘Why?’ The response was immediate, sharp.

  ‘One of Dekker Ward’s employees was kidnapped in Brazil last month. The kidnappers have said that they will kill her unless we call off the takeover of Dekker Ward.’

  ‘What is this shit? Is this for real?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘I can’t call off the deal now. Anyway, why should I? Dekker Ward’s employees aren’t my responsibility. If they want to kill their own people, I can’t stop them. This makes no sense.’

  ‘This woman means a lot to me, Sidney.’

  There was silence at the other end of the phone. For a moment, my hopes rose. Maybe he was considering going along with my request.

  But he wasn’t. ‘I’m sorry, Nick. You’re an emotional guy and you’ve gotten yourself emotionally involved in this one. Look, I’m grateful you brought me the transaction, and it’s a great deal. But this is business. This could be the most important deal in Bloomfield Weiss’s history. I can’t stop it now. It’s time for you to step back, Nick. Tell ’em you’ve spoken to me and there’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘But she’ll die!’

  ‘This thing’s too big to stop now. I’m sorry. ’Bye Nick.’

  The phone went dead.

  Jesus! I couldn’t believe it. In the last few hours, I had discovered that Isabel was alive, only to realize that there was nothing I could do to keep her that way. I imagined her shut away in a room somewhere in Rio. God knows what she looked like now after a month in captivity. What was she thinking? Did she know about the threat? Did she know she would die unless I did something to save her? And did she realize that in fact there was nothing I could do?

  I sat there, my head in my hands, feeling useless, worthless.

  I thought about going to the police. They might arrest Eduardo, and the more I thought about it the more I was sure it was Eduardo, not Ricardo, who had ordered the kidnapping. But although it was clear to me that he was involved, there was no proof whatsoever. Even if the police arrested him, he would no doubt hire a top-class lawyer who would point out the lack of evidence. The British police would have to work with their opposite numbers in Brazil. In fact, as I thought about it, the crime had been committed there against a Brazilian citizen. There would be all kinds of legal limitations to what the British police could do.

  I cursed myself. Getting Bloomfield Weiss to take over Dekker had seemed like a just piece of revenge for all that Ricardo and Eduardo had done to me and others. It had been sweet at first, but now that it could lead to Isabel’s death, it tasted rotten.

  I didn’t really blame Stahl. He had behaved just as I would have expected him to. There was no reason for me to believe that Bloomfield Weiss would be any more human than Dekker.

  I dialled Luís. It took several attempts to get through Rio’s overloaded exchange, but finally I heard the ringing tone. Luís picked up the phone immediately.

  ‘Nick?’ His voice was breathless, full of hope.

  I shattered it. ‘Stahl won’t change his mind. Bloomfield Weiss are going ahead with the deal.’

  Luís snapped. ‘No!’ His voice cracked. There was silence as he pulled himself together. ‘Couldn’t you persuade him? Does the man have no feelings? Perhaps I should talk to him.’

  ‘There’s no point, Luís. He’s not going to change his mind.’

  ‘I’ll call him,’ said Luís. ‘I’ll tell him.’

  So I let him go and try his luck with Stahl, knowing there was no chance it would work.

  I slept little that night. I got up at about two and called Luís. I wasn’t surprised to hear that he had had no luck with Stahl. Our last hope would be if he could persuade the kidnappers that there was no point in killing Isabel; that they should accept money instead. Luís was optimistic, I wasn’t. Eduardo didn’t need money. Eduardo hated me. He probably hated Isabel too.

  The next day, Thursday, was a long one. My room felt like a cell. I couldn’t leave it, except to wash and eat as quickly as possible. I avoided Jamie and Kate as much as I could, gulping down my meals and disappearing back up there.

  But at least now I knew Isabel was still alive, and while she was alive there was still hope. There was a chance the kidnappers would spare her. Maybe they would switch back to the ransom demand as Nelson had suggested.

  I couldn’t just stew in my room doing nothing, letting the minutes tick away, waiting for Luís to try to persuade Zico to let Isabel live. Anyway, it wasn’t Zico who needed persuading, it was Eduardo.

  That was it! I couldn’t talk to Eduardo, but I might
just get somewhere with Ricardo.

  I rushed downstairs, picked up the phone and dialled his number.

  ‘Dekker.’

  It was strange to hear that voice again. Crisp and in control.

  ‘It’s Nick Elliot.’

  Silence for a moment. Then, ‘Yes, Nick, what can I do for you?’ The voice was cold but polite.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘No, not on the phone. In person. I’ll meet you on one of the benches outside Corney and Barrow.’ I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to two. ‘At three o’clock.’

  A pause. ‘OK,’ said Ricardo, and the phone clicked.

  I asked Kate to drive me to the station. We passed the brief journey in silence. Kate didn’t ask what was on my mind, and I didn’t tell her. A train journey and a taxi-ride later, and I was at Canary Wharf. It was ten past three when I reached the benches outside Corney and Barrow. Ricardo was there, waiting.

  I sat next to him. It was a warm day. He was jacketless, with his shirt cuffs rolled up. He was staring at the rusty old boat that was permanently moored in the dock. The odd burst of laughter came from the open doors of Corney and Barrow, where determined lunch-time drinkers lingered on into the afternoon. Above and behind us rose the Canary Wharf tower itself, proud and white in the afternoon sunlight.

  ‘What do you want? I’m busy,’ Ricardo said, without looking at me.

  ‘Isabel’s still alive.’ I watched him closely as I said this. I thought I saw something flicker in him, a slight widening of his eyes, a stiffening of his posture, but then it was gone. He sat there impassively, staring ahead. ‘But, then, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ he answered. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘And you also know that Bloomfield Weiss is in discussions with Lord Kerton about taking over Dekker Ward.’

  This time Ricardo said nothing.

  I continued, ‘Isabel’s father has received a message from the kidnappers that unless Bloomfield Weiss call off their bid by Friday, she will die.’

  Still no response. I pressed on regardless.

  ‘I want you, and Eduardo, to know that I’ve spoken to Sidney Stahl, to ask him to stop the takeover. He didn’t listen to me.’ I could feel the desperation welling up inside me. ‘Ricardo, I can’t stop this takeover! You have to believe me!’