A Quiver Full of Arrows (7 page)

The government are cutting their own throats
with the wretched system; they can’t expect unskilled men, black or white, to
become experienced engineers overnight. It’s all to do with their national
pride. Someone must tell them they can’t afford that sort of pride if they want
to complete the job at a sensible price. That path is the surest route to
bankruptcy. On top of that, the Germans have already rounded up all the best
skilled labour for their road projects.”

“But surely,” said Eduardo, “you charge
according to the rules, however stupid, thus covering all eventualities, and as
long as you’re certain that payment is guaranteed . .

.”

Manuel raised his hand to stop Eduardo’s
flow: “That’s another problem. You can’t be certain. The government reneged on
a major steel contract only last month. In so doing,” he explained, “they had
bankrupted a distinguished international company. So they are perfectly capable
of trying the same trick with me. And if they don’t pay up, who do you sue? The
Supreme Military Council?”

“And the ports problem?”

“The port is totally congested. There are
one hundred and seventy ships desperate to unload their cargo with a waiting
time of anything up to six months. On top of that, there is a demurrage charge
of five thousand dollars a day and only perishable foods are given any
priority.”

“But there’s always a way round that sort of
problem,” said Eduardo, rubbing a thumb twice across the top of his fingers.

‘`Bribery? It doesn’t work, Eduardo.

How can you possibly jump the queue when all
one hundred and seventy ships have already bribed the harbour master? And don’t
imagine that fixing the rent on a flat for one of his mistresses would help
either,” said Rodrigues grinning. “With that man you will have to supply the
mistress as well.”

Eduardo held his breath but said nothing.

 
“Come
to think of it,” continued Rodrigues, “if the situation becomes any worse, the
harbour master will be the one man in the country who is richer than you.”

Eduardo laughed for the first time in three
days.

“I tell you, Eduardo, we could make a bigger
profit building a salt mine in Siberia.”

Eduardo laughed again and some of the
Prentino and Rodrigues staff dining at other tables stared in disbelief at
their masters.

“You were in for the big one, the new city
of Abuja?” said Manuel.

“That’s right,” admitted Eduardo.

“I have done everything in my power to make
sure you were awarded that contract,” said the other quietly.

“What?” said Eduardo in disbelief.

“Why?”

“I thought Abuja would give the Prentino
empire more headaches than even you could cope with, Eduardo, and that might
possibly leave the field wide open for me at home. Think about it. Every time
there’s a cutback in Nigeria, what will be the first head to roll off the
chopping block? ‘The unnecessary city’ as the locals all call it.”

“The unnecessary city?” repeated Eduardo.

“Yes, and it doesn’t help when you say you
won’t move without advance payment.

You know as well as I do, you will need one
hundred of your best men here full time to organise such a massive enterprise.
They’ll need feeding, salaries, housing, perhaps even a school and a hospital.
Once they were settled down here, you can’t just pull them off the job every
two weeks because the government is running late clearing the cheques. It’s not
practical and you know it “ Rodrigues poured Eduardo de Silveira another glass
of wine.

“I had already taken that into
consideration,” Eduardo said as he sipped the wine, “but I thought that with
the support of the Head of State.”

“The late Head of State – “

“I take your point, Manuel.”

“Maybe the next Head of State will also back
you, but what about the one after that? Nigeria has had three coups in the past
three years.”

Eduardo remained silent for a moment.

“Do you play backgammon?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I must make some money while I’m here.”
Manual laughed.

“Why don’t you come to my room,”

continued de Silveira. “Though I must warn
you I always manage to beat my staff.”

“Perhaps they always manage to lose,” said
Manuel, as he rose and grabbed the half empty bottle of wine by its neck.

Both men were laughing as they left the
dining room.

After that, the two chairmen had lunch and
dinner together every day.

Within a week, their staffwere eating at the
same tables. Eduardo could be seen in the dining room without a tie while
Manuel wore a shirt for the first time in years. By the end of a fortnight, the
two rivals had played each other at table tennis, backgammon and bridge with
the stakes set at one hundred dollars a point. At the end of each day Eduardo
always seemed to end up owing Manuel about a million dollars which Manuel
happily traded for the best bottle of wine left in the hotel’s cellar.

Although Lieutenant Colonel Dimka had been
sighted by about forty thousand Nigerians in about as many different places, he
still remained resolutely uncaptured. As the new President had insisted,
airports remained closed but communications were opened which at least allowed
Eduardo to telephone and telex Brazil. His brothers and wife were sending
replies by the hour, imploring Eduardo to return home at any cost: decisions on
major contracts throughout the world were being held up by his absence. But
Eduardo’s message back to Brazil was always the same: as long as Dimka is on
the loose, the airports will remain closed.

It was on a Tuesday night during dinner that
Eduardo took the trouble to explain to Manuel why Brazil had lost the World
Cup. Manuel dismissed Eduardo’s outrageous claims The as ill-informed and
prejudiced. It was the only subject on which they hadn’t agreed in the past
three weeks.

“I blame the whole fiasco on Zagalo.”

said Eduardo.

“No, no, you cannot blame the manager,” said
Manuel. “The fault lies with our stupid selectors who know even less about
football than you do. They should never have dropped Leao from goal and in any
case we should have learned from the Argentinian defeat last year that our
methods are now out of date. You must attack, attack, if you want to score
goals.”

“Rubbish. We still have the surest defence
in the world.”

“Which means the best result you can hope
for is a O O draw.”

“Never...” began Eduardo.

“Excuse me, sir.” Eduardo looked up to see
his private secretary standing by his side looking anxiously down at him.

“Yes, what’s the problem?”

“An urgent telex from Brazil, sir.”

Eduardo read the first paragraph and then
asked Manuel if he would be kind enough to excuse him for a few minutes.

The latter nodded politely. Eduardo left the
table and as he marched through the dining room seventeen other guests left
unfinished meals and followed him quickly to his suite on the top floor, where
the rest of his staffwere already assembled. He sat down in the corner of the
room on his own. No one spoke as he read through the telex carefully, suddenly
realising how many days he had been imprisoned in Lagos.

The telex was from his brother Carlos and
the contents concerned the Pan-American road project, an eight-lane highway
that would stretch from Brazil to Mexico. Prentinos had tendered for the
section that ran through the middle of the Amazon jungle and had to have the
bank guarantees signed and certified by midday tomorrow; Tuesday. But Eduardo
had quite forgotten which Tuesday it was and the document he was committed to
sign by the following day’s deadline.

“What’s the problem?” Eduardo asked his
private secretary. “The Banco do Brasil have already agreed with Alfredo to act
as guarantors. What’s stopping Carlos signing the agreement in my absence?”

“The Mexicans are now demanding that
responsibility for the contract be shared because of the insurance problems:
Lloyd’s of London will not cover the entire risk if only one company is
involved. The details are all on page seven of the telex.”

Eduardo flicked quickly through the pages.
He read that his brothers had already tried to put pressure on Lloyd’s, but to
no avail. That’s like trying to bribe a maiden aunt into taking part in a
public orgy, thought Eduardo, and he would have told them as much if he had
been back in Brazil.

The Mexican Government was therefore
insisting that the contract be shared with an international construction
company acceptable to Lloyd’s if the legal documents were to be signed by the
midday deadline the following day.

“Stay put,” said Eduardo to his staff, and
he returned to the dining room alone, trailing the long telex behind him.
Rodrigues watched him as he scurried back to their table.

“You look like a man with a problem.”

“I am,” said Eduardo. “Read that.”

Manuel’s experienced eye ran down the telex,
picking out the salient points.

He had tendered for the Amazon road project
himself and could still recall the details. At Eduardo’s insistence, he re-read
page seven.

“Mexican bandits,” he said as he returned
the telex to Eduardo. “Who do they think they are, telling Eduardo de Silveira
how he must conduct his business. Telex them back immediately and inform them
you’re chairman of the greatest construction company in the world and they can
roast in hell before you will agree to their pathetic terms. You know it’s far
too late for them to go out to tender again with every other section of the
highway ready to begin work. They would lose millions. Call their bluff,
Eduardo.”

“I think you may be right, Manuel, but any
hold-up now can only waste my time and money, so I intend to agree to their
demand and look for a partner.”

“You’ll never find one at such short
notice.”

“I will.”

“Who?”

Eduardo de Silveira hesitated only for a
second. “You, Manuel. I want to offer Rodrigues International S.A. fifty per
cent of the Amazon road contract.”

Manuel Rodrigues looked up at F:duardo.

It was the first time that he had not
anticipated his old rival’s next move. “I suppose it might help cover the
millions you owe me in table tennis debts.”

The two men laughed, then Rodrigues stood up
and they shook hands gravely. De Silveira left the dining room on the run and
wrote out a telex for his manager to transmit.

“Sign, accept terms, fifty per cent partner
will be Rodrigues International Construction S.A., Brazil.”

“If I telex that message, sir, you do
realise that it’s legally binding?”

“Send it,” said Eduardo.

Eduardo returned once again to the dining
room where Manuel had ordered the finest bottle of champagne in the hotel.

Just as they were calling for a second
bottle, and singing a spirited version of Esta Cheganda a hora, Eduardo’s private
secretary appeared by his side again, this time with two telexes, one from the
President of the Banco do Brasil and a second from his brother Carlos. Both wanted
confirmation of the agreed partner for the Amazon road project. Eduardo
uncorked the second bottle of champagne without looking up at his private
secretary.

“Confirm Rodrigues International
Construction to the President of the bank and my brother,” he said as he filled
Manuel’s empty glass. “And don’t bother me again tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” said the private secretary and
left without another word.

Neither man could recall what time he
climbed into bed that night but de Silveira was abruptly awakened from a deep
sleep by his secretary early the next morning. Eduardo took a few minutes to
digest the news. Lieutenant Colonel Dimka had been caught in Kano at three
o’clock that morning, and all the airports were now open again. Eduardo picked
up the phone and dialled three digits.

“Manuel, you’ve heard the news?...

Good.... Then you must By back with me in my
707 or it may be days before you get out... One hour’s time in the lobby... See
you then.”

At eight-forty-five there was a quiet knock
on the door and Eduardo’s secretary opened it to find Colonel Usman standing to
attention, just as he had done in the days before the coup. He held a note in
his hand.

Eduardo tore open the envelope to find an
invitation to lunch that day with the new Head of State, General Obasanjo.

“Please convey my apologies to your
President,” said Eduardo, “and be kind enough to explain that I have pressing
commitments to attend to in my own country.”

The colonel retired reluctantly.

Eduardo dressed in the suit, shirt and tie
he had worn on his first day in Nigeria and took the lift downstairs to the
lobby where he joined Manuel who was once more wearing jeans and a tee-shirt.
The two chairmen left the hotel and climbed into the back of the leading
Mercedes and the motorcade of six began its journey to the airport.