A Quiver Full of Arrows (5 page)

When General Mohammed had studied the proposal
he invited Eduardo de Silveira to visit Nigeria as his guest, in order to
discuss the next stage of the project. De Silveira telexed back, provisionally
accepting the invitation, and pointing out politely but firmly that he had not
yet received reimbursement for the one million dollars spent on the initial feasibility
study. The money was telexed by return from the Central Bank of Nigeria and de
Silveira managed to find four consecutive days in his diary for “The New
Federal Capital project”: his schedule demanded that he arrived in Lagos on a
Monday morning because he had to be in Paris at the latest by the Thursday
night.

While these thoughts were going through
Eduardo’s mind, the Mercedes drew up outside Dodan Barracks. The iron gates
swung open and a full armed guard gave the general salute, an honour normally
afforded only to a visiting Head of State. The black Mercedes drove slowly
through the gates and came to a halt outside the President’s private residence.
A brigadier waited on the steps to escort de Silveira through to the President.

The two men had lunch together in a small
room that closely resembled a British officers’ mess. The meal con-sisted of a
steak, that would not have been acceptable to any South American cowhand
surrounded by vegetables that reminded Eduardo of his schooldays.

Still, Eduardo had never yet met a soldier
who understood that a good chef was every bit as important as a good barman.
During the lunch they talked in overall terms about the problems of building a
whole new city in the middle of an equatorial jungle.

The provisional estimate of the cost of the
project had been one thousand million dollars but de Silveira warned the
President that the final outcome might well end up nearer three thousand
million dollars the President’s jaw dropped slightly. De Silveira had to admit
that the project would be the most ambitious that Prentino International had
ever tackled, but he was quick to point out to the President that the same would
be true of any construction company in the world.

De Silveira, not a man to play his best card
early, waited until the coffee to slip into the conversation that he had just
been awarded, against heavy opposition (that had included Rodrigues), the contract
to build an eight-lane highway through the Amazonian jungle, which would
eventually link up with the Pan-American highway, a contract second in size
only to the one they were now contemplating in Nigeria. The President was
impressed and inquired if the venture would not prevent de Silveira involving
himself in the new capital project.

“I’ll know the answer to that question in
three days’ time,” replied the Brazilian, and undertook to have a further
discussion with the Head of State at the end of his visit when he would let him
know if he was prepared to continue with the scheme.

After lunch Eduardo was driven to the
Federal Palace Hotel where the entire sixth floor had been placed at his
disposal. Several complaining guests who had come to Nigeria to close deals
involving mere millions had been asked to vacate their rooms at short notice to
make way for de Silveira and his staff. Eduardo knew nothing of these goings
on, as there was always a room available for him wherever he arrived in the
world.

The six Mercedes drew up outside the hotel
and the colonel guided his charge through the swing doors and past reception.
Eduardo had not checked himself into a hotel for the past fourteen years except
on those occasions when he chose to register under an assumed name, not wanting
anyone to know the identity of the woman he was with.

The chairman of Prentino International
walked down the centre ofthe hotel’s main corridor and stepped into a waiting
lift. His legs went weak and he suddenly felt sick. In the corner of the lift
stood a stubby, balding, overweight man, who was dressed in a pair of old jeans
and a tee-shirt, his mouth continually opening and closing as he chewed gum.

The two men stood as far apart as possible,
neither showing any sign of recognition. The lift stopped at the fifth floor
and Manuel Rodrigues, chairman of Rodrigues International S.A., stepped out,
leaving behind him the man who had been his bitter rival for thirty years.

Eduardo held on to the rail in the lift to
steady himself as he still felt dizzy. How he despised that uneducated selfmade
upstart whose family of four half-brothers, all by different fathers, claimed
they now ran the largest construction company in Brazil. Both men were as
interested in the other’s failure as they were in their own success.

Eduardo was somewhat puzzled to know what
Rodrigues could possibly be doing in Lagos as he felt certain that his rival
had not come into contact with the Nigerian President. After all, Eduardo had
never collected the rent on a small house in Rio that was occupied by the
mistress of a very senior official in the government’s protocol department.

And the man’s only task was to be certain
that Rodrigues was never invited to any function attended by a visiting
dignitary when in Brazil. The continual absence of Rodrigues from these state
occasions ensured the absent-mindedness of Eduardo’s rent collector in Rio.

Eduardo would never have admitted to anyone
that Rodrigues’ presence worried him, but he nevertheless resolved to find out
immediately what had brought his old enemy to Nigeria. Once he reached his
suite de Silveira instructed his private secretary to check what Manuel
Rodrigues was up to. Eduardo was prepared to return to Brazil immediately if
Rodrigues turned out to be involved in any way with the new capital project,
while one young lady in Rio would suddenly find herself looking for alternative
accommodation.

Within an hour, his private secretary
returned with the information that his chairman had requested. Rodrigues, he
had discovered, was in Nigeria to tender for the contract to construct a new
port in Lagos and was apparently not involved in any way with the new capital,
and in fact was still trying to arrange a meeting with the President.

“Which minister is in charge of the ports
and when am I due to see him?” asked de Silveira.

The secretary delved into his appointments
file. “The Minister of Transport,” the secretary said. “You have an appointment
with him at nine o’clock on Thursday morning.” The Nigerian Civil Service had
mapped out a four-day schedule of meetings for de Silveira that included every
cabinet minister involved in the new city project.

“It’s the last meeting before your final
discussion with the President.

You then fly on to Paris.”

“Excellent. Remind me of this conversation
five minutes before I see the minister and again when I talk to the President.
“

The secretary made a note in the file and
left.

Eduardo sat alone in his suite, going over
the reports on the new capital project submitted by his experts. Some of his
team were already showing signs of nervousness. One particular anxiety that
always came up with a large construction contract was the principal’s ability
to pay, and pay on time. Failure to do so was the quickest route to bankruptcy,
but since the discovery of oil in Nigeria there seemed to be no shortage of
income and certainly no shortage of people willing to spend that money on
behalf of the government. These anxieties did not worry de Silveira as he
always insisted on a substantial payment in advance; otherwise he wouldn’t move
himself or his vast staff one centimetre out of Brazil.

However, the massive scope of this
particular contract made the circumstances somewhat unusual.

Eduardo realised that it would be most
damaging to his international reputation if he started the assignment and then
was seen not to complete it. He re-read the reports over a quiet dinner in his
room and retired to bed early, having wasted an hour in vainly trying to place
a call through to his wife.

De Silveira’s first appointment the next
morning was with the Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria. Eduardo wore a
newly-pressed suit, fresh shirt, and highly polished shoes: for four days no
one would see him in the same clothes. At eight-forty-five there was a quiet
knock on the door of his suite and the secretary opened it to find Colonel
Usman standing to attention, waiting to escort Eduardo to the bank. As they
were leaving the hotel Eduardo again saw Manuel Rodrigues, wearing the same
pair of jeans, the same crumpled tee-shirt, and probably chewing the same gum
40

The Comb as he stepped into a BMW in front
of him. De Silveira only stopped scowling at the disappearing BMW when he
remembered his Thursday morning appointment with the minister in charge of
ports, followed by a meeting with the President.

The Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria
was in the habit of proposing how payment schedules would be met and completion
orders would be guaranteed.

He had never been told by anyone that if the
payment was seven days overdue he could consider the contract null and void,
and they could take it or leave it. The minister would have made some comment
if Abuja had not been the President’s pet project. That position established,
de Silveira went on to check the bank’s reserves, long-term deposits, overseas
commitments, and estimated oil revenues for the next five years. He left the
Governor in what could only be be described as a jelly-like state. Glistening
and wobbling. Eduardo’s next appointment was an unavoidable courtesy call on
the Brazilian Ambassador for lunch. He hated these functions as he believed
embassies to be fit only for cocktail parties and discussion of out-of-date
trivia, neither of which he cared for. The food in such establishments was
invariably bad and the company worse. It turned out to be no different on this
occasion and the only profit (Eduardo considered everything in terms of profit
and loss) to be derived from the encounter was the information that Manuel
Rodrigues was on a short list of three for the building of the new port in
Lagos, and was expecting to have an audience with the President on Friday if he
was awarded the contract. By Thursday morning that will be a short list of two
and there will be no meeting with the President, de Silveira promised himself,
and considered that was the most he was likely to gain from the lunch until the
Ambassador added:

“Rodrigues seems most keen on you being
awarded the new city contract at Abuja. He’s singing your praises to every
minister he meets. Funny,” the Ambassador continued, “I always thought you two
didn’t see eye to eye.”

Eduardo made no reply as he tried to fathom
out what trick Rodrigues could be up to by promoting his cause.

Eduardo spent the afternoon with the
Minister of Finance and confirmed the provisional arrangements he had made with
the Governor of the bank. The Minister of Finance had been forewarned by the
Governor what he was to expect from an encounter with Eduardo de Silveira and
that he was not to be taken aback by the Brazilian’s curt demands. De Silveira,
aware that this warning would have taken place, let the poor man bargain a
little and even gave way on a few minor points that he would be able to tell
the President about at the next meeting of the Supreme Military Council.
Eduardo left the smiling minister believing that he had scored a point or two
against the formidable South American.

That evening, Eduardo dined privately with
his senior advisers who themselves were already dealing with the ministers’
officials. Each was now coming up with daily reports about the problems that
would have to be faced if they worked in Nigeria. His chief engineer was quick
to emphasise that skilled labour could not be hired at any price as the Germans
had already cornered the market for their extensive road projects. The
financial advisers also presented a gloomy report, of international companies
waiting six months or more for their cheques to be cleared by the central bank.
Eduardo made notes on the views they expressed but never ventured an opinion
himself. His staffleft him a little after eleven and he decided to take a
stroll around the hotel grounds before retiring to bed. On his walk through the
luxuriant tropical gardens he onlyjust avoided a face-to-face confrontation
with Manuel Rodrigues by darting behind a large Iroko plant.

The little man passed by champing away at
his gum, oblivious to Eduardo’s baleful glare. Eduardo informed a chattering
grey parrot of his most secret thoughts: by Thursday afternoon, Rodrigues, you
will be on your way back to Brazil with a suitcase full of plans that can be
filed under “abortive projects”. The parrot cocked his head and screeched at
him as if he had been let in on his secret. Eduardo allowed himself a smile and
returned to his room.

Colonel Usman arrived on the dot of
eight-forty-five again the next day and Eduardo spent the morning with the
Minister of Supplies and Co-operatives - or lack of them, as he commented to
his private secretary afterwards. The afternoon was spent with the Minister of
Labour checking over the availability of unskilled workers and the total lack
of skilled operatives. Eduardo was fast reaching the conclusion that, despite
the professed optimism of the ministers concerned, this was going to be the
toughest contract he had ever tackled.

There was more to be lost than money if the
whole international business world stood watching him fall net on his face.

In the evening his staff reported to him
once again, having solved a few old problems and unearthed some new ones.