The Marketmaker

26

It took us three-quarters of an hour. Kate drove fast and there wasn’t much traffic. Kensington Square is a quiet gathering of large houses just to the south of Kensington High Street. We had no idea which one was Lord Kerton’s.

An old envelope was lying in the back of Kate’s car. I took it, stuffed the car manual into it, and picked a house at random. I rang the bell. After a couple of minutes, a grey-haired man in an old dressing gown answered. He didn’t seem at all bothered about being disturbed at midnight.

‘Can I speak to Lord Kerton?’ I asked.

‘I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong house. He doesn’t live here.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry, sir. I have an urgent message for him,’ I said, brandishing the unopened end of the envelope. ‘Can you tell me which is his house?’

‘Four doors down,’ said the man helpfully, pointing.

I thanked him, and headed for Kerton’s house. Kate saw me and climbed out of the car.

‘It’s OK. I can do this myself,’ I said.

‘He’ll be more likely to listen to the two of us.’

She was right.

I rang the doorbell. It was answered quickly. Kerton was wearing old green trousers and a striped cotton shirt. No shoes, just socks.

He frowned as he saw me, his expression one of deep distaste. ‘What the hell do you want?’

‘Can we come in, sir?’ I asked.

‘No. Bugger off.’

He tried to shut the door. I leaned into it. ‘Please. Just five minutes.’

‘I said bugger off. Or I’ll call the police.’

Kate squeezed between us. She was a lot shorter than both of us, but she looked determinedly up to Kerton’s chin. ‘If you throw us out, Isabel Pereira will die.’

This made him pause for a moment. ‘So she’s still alive?’

‘Yes. For the time being.’ said Kate.

He thought for a moment. He obviously looked on Kate more kindly than me. ‘Well, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you’d better come in.’

He led us up some stairs to a large, comfortably furnished sitting room on the first floor.

‘Sit down,’ he said, gesturing to the sofa.

He swiftly picked an open novel off an armchair and placed it face down on a small table. I just caught a glimpse of the cover: it was one of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books. He saw I saw and reddened slightly.

‘Now, explain what you want, and go.’

He looked tired. It wasn’t just the hour: he looked worn down. Seeing his company fall apart around him must have taken its toll.

‘Do you know Isabel?’ I asked.

Kerton nodded. ‘Yes, vaguely. She’s quite, ah, noticeable.’

I wasn’t surprised that Kerton appreciated Isabel’s charms, most men would, but it was a good sign.

‘Well, as you know, she was kidnapped last month. It looked like she’d been killed, but it turns out that her kidnappers were just hiding her. Yesterday her father received a threat that unless the Bloomfield Weiss takeover of Dekker Ward was called off, she would die. Luís Pereira and the kidnap specialist who advises him take this threat very seriously. So do I.’

Kerton was listening. ‘What do these kidnappers care about the takeover?’

‘I think it highly likely that Eduardo Ross was behind Isabel’s kidnapping.’

‘No! Do you have proof?’

‘No firm evidence, no. But, as you say, why the interest in Dekker’s future?’

‘I don’t believe Eduardo Ross would do something like that,’ Kerton said, with a primness that sounded ridiculous.

Kerton knew Eduardo. Anyone who knew Eduardo knew he just might be capable of kidnapping.

I raised my eyebrows.

‘OK,’ said Kerton. ‘But how did Eduardo find out about the takeover? I thought we’d kept Ricardo out of it.’

I shrugged. ‘Leaks.’

‘Hum. What do you expect me to do?’

‘Call the deal off.’

Kerton frowned. ‘I can’t. You know that. Dekker Ward is insolvent. If I sell to Bloomfield Weiss, the firm might survive in some form, and I just might get some value out of it. If that deal goes away, I’ll have to call in the receiver.’

‘Well, can’t you delay it? Manufacture some problem. Something to give us more time.’

‘I don’t have much time. If the market moves down any further the deal will fall through. I can’t afford to wait and risk that happening. Anyway, what would you do with a few more days?’

I had been thinking this through in the car on the way to Kerton’s house.

‘Find out who kidnapped Isabel, and get her released.’

‘But if the Brazilian police haven’t been able to find her kidnappers over the last couple of months, why should you be able to find her now?’

‘Because now we know her kidnapping is linked to Dekker Ward. It’s likely that Ricardo or Eduardo Ross is involved. It will make it easier to track her down.’

Kerton sighed. ‘Look, I’m sorry about Isabel, but there’s really nothing I can do. I have no choice.’

‘Yes, you do!’ said Kate. The forcefulness of her tone grabbed Kerton’s attention. ‘If you don’t call the deal off and Isabel is murdered, you’ll have her death on your conscience for the rest of your life. You’ll never be able to forget it. Sure, when you look at your bank statement and see a few million more on it, you’ll remember why you let her die. But that won’t give you satisfaction. You’ll feel as guilty as hell.’

That rattled him. ‘Look. I’m not the one who’s killing her,’ he protested. ‘It has nothing to do with me.’

Kate shook her head. ‘It has everything to do with you.’

Kerton glared at me. ‘Why should I do this for you? You were the one who got Bloomfield Weiss involved in the first place.’

‘It isn’t for him, it’s for Isabel,’ Kate said. ‘Look, I know you don’t know anything about all of this, but you are chairman of Dekker Ward. This is your responsibility.’

Kerton stood up. He strode across to the large window overlooking the garden in the middle of the square. Kate and I watched him. We could see the tension in his back and shoulders.

He turned round, and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I can’t call the whole deal off. Bloomfield Weiss are giving me their offer tomorrow. But, if you like, I’ll put off responding until Monday.’

‘Wednesday.’

Kerton glanced at me in irritation. ‘All right, Wednesday. But next Wednesday morning I will accept Bloomfield Weiss’s offer, provided it’s a reasonable one. And I hope you will have found Isabel by then.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. Kate smiled at him. She was right, he wasn’t all bad. ‘Can you give us your number here? In case we need to contact you.’

Kerton went over to the table by the phone, scribbled a number on a piece of paper and gave it to me.

‘Oh, one other thing,’ I said. Kerton frowned. It was clear he wanted to get rid of me. ‘Can I use your phone?’

The frown deepened.

I checked my watch. One o’clock, or nine o’clock in the evening in Brazil. ‘I need to let Isabel’s father know so that he can tell the kidnappers there’s been a delay.’

Kerton shrugged and nodded.

I moved over to the phone, and dialled Luís’s number. I got through first time, and Luís picked up the phone straight away.

‘Alô.’

‘Luís, it’s Nick. I’ve spoken to Lord Kerton, chairman of Dekker Ward. He says he will delay accepting Bloomfield Weiss’s offer until next Wednesday.’

‘Thank God,’ he said, with relief. And then the worry returned. ‘What do we do then?’

‘I said we’d find Isabel.’

‘And how do we do that, Nick?’

Kerton was watching me. ‘Let’s think about that tomorrow, shall we? But call me after the kidnappers have been in contact.’

‘I will.’

I put the phone down.

‘You don’t have a clue where she is, do you?’ said Kerton.

I smiled and shrugged.

For the first time, he smiled back. ‘Well, good luck.’

Kate drove us straight back to Bodenham. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think he would have gone along with it.’

‘But he did.’

‘Right.’

‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘Wait for Luís to call back. Go to bed. Sleep. Then think.’

It was after two by the time we arrived home. Jamie was still up waiting for us. The television was on, and a whisky glass and tumbler were by his chair.

He stood up, agitated. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We needed to see Lord Kerton about something.’

‘What? See him about what?’

I shrugged.

‘Look, he’s the chairman of my employer. You can’t just go and “see him about something” without telling me what it is, Kate!’

Kate stood in anguish in the middle of the sitting-room floor. She glanced at me. I nodded. I couldn’t expect her to hide it from Jamie any more.

She walked over to the sofa, and flopped into it. Jamie sat down again next to his whisky glass. I remained standing.

‘We were asking Andrew Kerton to delay selling Dekker Ward to Bloomfield Weiss until next Wednesday,’ she said, in a quiet voice.

‘Sell to Bloomfield Weiss! What are you on about? Bloomfield Weiss aren’t about to buy Dekker.’

Kate nodded. ‘Yes, they are. They’ve been in secret negotiations with Andrew for the last couple of weeks.’

‘God.’ Jamie slumped back into his chair. ‘And what have you two got to do with it?’

I swallowed. ‘It was my idea,’ I said.

‘Your idea?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Ricardo deserved it.’

Jamie still looked shocked. ‘I can’t believe you did this!’ He looked at Kate. ‘And you knew all about it?’

‘I only found out a couple of days ago.’

‘And you didn’t tell me?’

Kate avoided Jamie’s eyes.

‘This is incredible! How can you do this to me, both of you?’ As the shock wore off, the anger grew.

‘Look, Jamie,’ I said, in as reasonable a tone of voice as I could muster, ‘Dekker are in big trouble. They might well go bust. If Bloomfield Weiss take them over, you’ll keep your job.’

‘That’s not the point!’ Jamie stood up and began pacing up and down the room. ‘We’re a team! And, like it or not, Nick, we’re Ricardo’s team. You would be breaking us up.’

Now I got angry. ‘You’re sounding just like Ricardo! He’s not some victim of the financial establishment, and neither are you. He’s a very wealthy man, who’s made money from screwing all those around him. Including me!’

Jamie glared at me. I glared back. I tried to control myself. ‘Isabel has been kidnapped by someone who wants Dekker to remain independent. That someone has threatened that if Dekker is taken over, she will die. Now don’t tell me Ricardo isn’t behind that somehow or other!’

Jamie was silent, thinking through what I had just said. In the end, he spoke. ‘Nick. I know we’ve been friends, but I can’t have you in my house while you’re plotting with Bloomfield Weiss against Ricardo.’

‘Jamie!’ Kate protested.

‘I’m sorry, Kate, but you shouldn’t have helped him.’

‘I was only trying to stop that poor girl from being killed!’

Jamie ignored Kate, and turned to me. ‘I want you to leave,’ he said.

‘He can’t. He hasn’t got anywhere to go!’ Kate cried.

‘Well, I want you out next week, and the less I see of you in the meantime the better.’ With that he left the room, and I could hear his heavy step clumping up the stairs.

Kate looked at me wide-eyed. She bit her lip. ‘Nick, I’m sorry.’

‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Go up to him. It’s important you go with him.’

She nodded and followed him up the stairs.

I sat alone in the dimly lit room. I fetched another glass, and poured myself some of Jamie’s whisky.

I should have anticipated Jamie’s reaction. He was a loyal Dekker man. I had always put this loyalty down to greed, or at least ambition — the ambition to make a fortune, which was almost the same thing. But it was more than that. Jamie was one of Ricardo’s people. He was what I would have become if I had stayed there. Ricardo looked after his people well, and expected total loyalty. In Jamie’s case he’d got it.

Jamie had always liked to follow the doctrine of whatever institution he was in. At seventeen, he had become the embodiment of the public-school virtues, and was rewarded by becoming head-boy. At Oxford, he had led a successful university career in social and sporting terms, if not quite academically. At Gurney Kroheim, he had been able to don the mantle of the stuffy merchant banker whenever it was required by his colleagues or his customers. And now at Dekker he was keen to follow Ricardo’s rules and do well by them. So far he seemed to be succeeding.

But Jamie was my friend, dammit! How could Ricardo take away my friend from me? Surely our loyalty to each other stretched back further, ran deeper?

In which case, why had I gone behind Jamie’s back to sell Dekker to Bloomfield Weiss? I was beginning to regret that. Now it looked as if that decision was going to lose me my best friend. And, barring a miracle, it might lose Isabel her life too.

But I had genuinely believed that Jamie would be just as well off if Bloomfield Weiss did take over Dekker.

And what about Kate? I shouldn’t have dragged her into this. She and I were good friends, and I could feel her losing her respect for Jamie. The last thing I wanted to do was pull her away from him. But, unless I was careful, that’s what would happen.

Of course, I still had the hardest problem of all waiting for me. How to find and release Isabel.

I sighed, drank down my whisky, and looked at my watch. Three o’clock. The kidnappers’ deadline was four, British time. One hour to go.

I nodded off in my chair, and was woken by the phone ringing. It was ten past four, and I could hear the scattered chirping of the first blackbirds outside the window.

‘Nick? It’s Luís.’

‘What did Zico say?’ I asked him.

‘They’ll keep her alive. I told him that the deal wasn’t called off, but merely delayed. He said that as soon as they hear that the deal is closed, they’ll kill her.’

‘So we have until next Wednesday to find her.’

‘Yes. But at least she’s still alive.’

‘At least she’s still alive,’ I repeated.

With the hope that Isabel would live glimmering like the dawn light seeping through the curtains, I dragged myself upstairs to bed.

I woke at nine. Five hours’ sleep was enough for me to feel refreshed. Kate was taking Oliver to his nursery school, and Jamie had left hours before. I made myself a cup of coffee and some toast, and went back upstairs to think.

I put all thoughts of Jamie, Kate, where I was going to find a job and where I was going to live out of my mind. I had to work out how to find Isabel by next Wednesday. I pulled out some fresh clean white sheets of paper, and stared at their emptiness.

Whoever had organized Isabel’s kidnap wanted Dekker to remain independent. Ricardo and Eduardo were the two people most likely to want Dekker to remain independent. Yet Ricardo refused to admit any knowledge of the kidnapping, and it would be impossible to tie them into it from here.

But what about the other end? What about Brazil? What about Rio? Now we were getting somewhere. I began to jot down some thoughts.

The kidnappers were a Rio gang. I had been attacked by a gang in Rio, even if it was only a gang of kids. Dave had guessed that this was linked to Martin Beldecos’s death in Caracas, and money-laundering at Dekker. Money-laundering that was organized by Francisco Aragão, Ricardo’s brother-in-law.

But why would Francisco Aragão want to kidnap Isabel?

I looked over my jottings. It was clear that if I was to work out who was holding Isabel, I would have to go to Brazil. But, in the meantime, there was one lead in England I should follow up.

I pulled out my list of Dekker home numbers and dialled one.

‘Alô.’

‘Can I speak to Luciana Ross?’

‘Speaking.’

‘Oh, hallo. This is Nick Elliot. We met at your party in April, I don’t know if you remember?’

‘Ah, Nick, of course I remember!’ Her voice was husky, warm and friendly. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Um, not too bad. You talked about some of the Latin American designs you do, and since I’m planning to redecorate my flat, I wondered if I could come and see some?’

‘Of course. Any time you like.’

‘Today?’

‘Sure. Come round here for some lunch.’

‘OK.’ I checked my watch, and thought about train times. ‘I’ll be there at about one.’

‘See you then.’

The Rosses’ apartment was in one of the grand squares of Belgravia. I chained my bike out of the way down some steps, and rang the bell. I was wearing the smartest casual clothes I could muster, but I knew I would look more in place in the School of Russian Studies common room than here.

A disembodied voice crackled through the entry-phone. ‘Nick?’

‘Yes.’

‘Second floor. Take the lift.’

There was only one door on the second floor, and I rang the brass bell beside it. In a moment, it was opened, and Luciana appeared. She was wearing a simple white top, and jeans that clung to her hips and legs. Her full black hair shone round her shoulders. She gave me a broad smile, as though she had known me for years. ‘Nick, come in!’

She proffered her cheek, and I kissed it, smelling a hint of expensive perfume. Then I followed her into the sitting room.

It assaulted my eyes. Dark polished wood, lush carpets, gold trim, and large, heavily patterned drapes clamoured for attention. But I was drawn to the walls, where three long paintings swirled in greens, blues and reds.

Luciana followed my gaze. ‘These are by an up-and-coming artist from Bahia. Do you like them?’

‘They remind me of my mother’s.’ And, in a strange kind of way, they did. Although the subject matter, Norfolk beaches and tropical forests, was entirely different, the whirling brush strokes evoked the same kind of dark despair. It was uncanny.

‘Really?’ said Luciana. ‘She must be a good painter.’

‘She is,’ I said, thoughtfully.

Luciana watched me closely. She knew and liked these paintings. It was as though she knew my mother.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ she offered.

‘That would be lovely.’

‘Have a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.’

I sat down on a sofa, and looked around at the carpets, vases, clocks, candlesticks, some old, some new, all expensive. Between the paintings hung a vast, gilded antique mirror. What sort of people would like to have their homes done up like this? I wondered. Rich people, I presumed.

I could see no trace of Ricardo anywhere. He probably had an office stuck away out of sight. This was Luciana’s territory.

She returned with two glasses of white wine, and curled up in a large armchair next to me. I noticed she was barefoot. Red toenails.

It seemed to her perfectly natural that a junior ex-employee of her husband’s firm should come to see her to talk about designs. Somehow, I had guessed it would.

‘So, you’re decorating your place?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Now I’ve earned some money I thought I ought to brighten the flat up a bit. And I liked some of the things I saw in Brazil, so I thought I would come and ask you for ideas. If you don’t mind?’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Luciana. Her dark eyes looked straight at me over her glass. ‘But let’s have a drink and some lunch first, shall we? It’s just a salad.’

I gulped at the wine. I felt uncomfortable. In her own way, this woman was as powerful as Ricardo. She was used to getting what she wanted. Well, I needed something from her, and it seemed best to come to it straight away, before I lost control of the situation.

‘Actually, there is something else I wanted to ask you about.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘It’s about your brother, Francisco.’

This surprised her. Her smile wavered, and those dark eyes hardened for a second. ‘Why do you want to know about him?’

‘You know Isabel Pereira was kidnapped, don’t you?’

‘Yes. That was awful. These things happen in Rio. It is terrible.’

‘Well, it seems that Dekker Ward have been dealing with drug gangs. It may be that there’s a connection between this money-laundering and Isabel’s kidnappers.’

‘And you think this connection might be Francisco?’ Luciana looked shocked but not offended.

I took a deep breath. ‘I have heard rumours that Francisco is connected with some drug gangs.’

‘Are you saying my brother is a narco-trafficker?’ Luciana still looked more amused than offended.

‘No, Luciana. I’m saying your brother is a businessman. I’m sure he doesn’t deal in drugs, but he deals in money, doesn’t he?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Well, people invest money with him, he invests money with other people. Perhaps he invested some money with Ricardo? Money belonging to contacts of his? Contacts in the import-export business?’

I was guessing and Luciana could see it. She smiled. ‘And why should I tell you anything about this, even if there is anything to tell?’

‘What’s the harm? I don’t care where Francisco’s money came from. I have no desire to get him into trouble. All I care about is tracing Isabel, and I need some sort of lead. If I don’t find her in the next week, she will die.’

‘She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?’ Once again, Luciana’s gaze was direct.

I nodded.

‘Your glass is empty. Let me get some more wine.’ She disappeared again, to the kitchen presumably, and returned with the bottle. She filled her own glass and mine.

She sat down next to me on the sofa, and touched my arm. I didn’t move. But it was very hard to remain detached with such a beautiful and intensely sexual woman next to me.

‘Ricardo doesn’t like you very much, does he?’ she said.

‘No. I don’t think he does. Do you mind that?’

‘No,’ she said, running her finger along my sleeve. ‘I rather like it.’

‘Will you tell me about your brother?’ I asked.

‘Maybe,’ she said, and smiled, looking up at me through blackened eyelashes.

I knew what I would have to do to get my question answered. And, looking at Luciana, just how bad could that be?

But in the same way that I didn’t want to be manipulated by her husband, I didn’t want to be manipulated by this woman. She moved even closer to me, I could feel one of her breasts touching my arm. ‘Don’t be shy,’ she said.

‘Do you do this often?’

‘Sometimes. For fun. And it is fun, I can assure you.’

‘That’s what Jamie says,’ I lied.

‘Does he talk about me?’ she said, in mock anger.

I nodded. ‘We’re old friends.’

‘And I thought you English men were too uptight to talk about sex!’

‘What does Ricardo think? Does he know how you amuse yourself at home?’

‘We never talk about it. I think he must guess I have some outside interests. I don’t think he realizes that some of them are his own people.’

‘And doesn’t that bother you?’

‘I like it.’

‘You like it?’

Luciana sat upright. ‘When you’re married to someone like Ricardo he tries to control you. Well, I don’t like to be controlled. I want to decide what I want to do, and if he knows it, so what?’

‘I think I can understand that.’

‘Most people don’t stand up to him. You did. You drive him crazy. Maybe that’s why I like you.’

‘And Jamie?’

‘I think Jamie likes to think he can fuck the boss’s wife. Well, that’s fine with me. He likes living dangerously and so do I. And he is cute.’

‘So where does that leave us?’ I asked.

She leaned forward, and kissed me gently on the lips. ‘Right here.’

Suddenly my confusion resolved itself. Either I could stay and be laid by this woman and then perhaps hear some lie about her brother, or I could leave now.

‘Well, thank you for the wine, Luciana,’ I said, pulling myself to my feet. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay to lunch.’

I left her curled up on the sofa, coolly drinking her wine.

‘Tchau,’ she said.