The market maker (22 page)

The path led sharply downhill, and we half slid, half ran. It was difficult keeping balance with our hands tied, and we both kept falling and landing awkwardly As we rolled, hopped, and jumped down the hill, Isabel was slower. I paused to wait for her. She tumbled down a steep slope toward me, but was suddenly pulled up short. She had snagged her tied hands in a bush. I scrambled up the hill to help her.

There was a crashing of brush above us as one of the men slid down the hill. It was the one Isabel had kicked in the groin; he didn't appear to have a gun.

Isabel's hands were wedged tight into the branches of the bush. The rope and wood were slippery with the wetness, and I couldn't free them.

"Run, Nick!" she shouted.

I took no notice, scrabbling frantically at the rope.

"Nick. Run! Leave me!"

I stood up to see one of our captors only a few feet above us. Then I heard a shout from his friend behind him, and the sharp crack of a pistol.

I glanced at Isabel. Her eyes pleaded with me to nm. Should I stay with her? Would I be better able to free her if I was with her or if I escaped?

"For God's sake, go!" she screamed.

Iran.

I tumbled farther down the path, and glanced back. I could see both men had stopped by the bush where Isabel had snagged her hands. I prayed she'd be all right.

I ran on, scratching myself on branches and stones, following the faint path downward. After about ten minutes I paused to listen.

I couldn't hear anything above the nocturnal din of the forest. I wasn't being followed. I slumped down by a tree trunk and caught my breath.

Above me tall trees obscured the night sky, vines dangling from their thin branches. The floor of the forest was dark, murky, and damp, crammed with all kinds of mysterious vegetation. There was no question of venturing off the path. I couldn't go far with my hands tied like this. But if I followed the path to its end, perhaps where it spilled out onto a road, wouldn't they just be waiting for me? I had no choice. I had to press on before they got themselves organized.

I was relieved to see that the path continued downhill. I knew that if you became lost walking in the Scottish Highlands, the thing to do was head downhill. Eventually you would reach civilization that way. The theory should hold in the Brazilian forest, shouldn't it?

I was pretty sure we must be in the Tijuca Forest, a swatch of Atlantic rain forest to the west of Rio. It couldn't be that big. I must hit a settlement at some point. Mustn't I?

After about a half hour, I came to a gully. It was strewn with huge boulders, through which ran a stream. The rocks were the product of some earlier flood. I decided to leave the path and follow the stream downhill, with the idea 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 streambed 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 in Brazil, and the landscape aroimd me was fast revealed in the gray morning light. I was surrounded by forest and steep hills, rising behind me into clouds. The nighttime noises had died down, and it was oddly silent. It was eerie, this damp gloomy forest. Ahead, down below, I could see nothing but gray. As I rested, I began to feel cold.

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

I stood up and stumbled down the streambed. The smoke came from a substantial building that backed onto 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 around 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 something to eat 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 Luis 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 disheveled state and went straight up to my room. I found Banco Horizonte's number, dialed it, and asked for Senhor Luis Pereira.

"Yes, Nick, what can I do for you?" The deep voice was friendly but tinged with a mild curiosity. Why was I calling him that morning?

"Isabel's been kidnapped."

There was silence.

"Where are you?" he said eventually, his voice stiU outwardly calm.

"At the Copacabana Palace Hotel."

"Can you go directly to my apartment? Til meet you there in a half hour."

THE MARKET MAKER 203 ^

1

I showered quickly, changed into some clean clothes, \

and arrived at Luis's apartment thirty-five minutes !

later. He was already there, pacing in the large living j

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." j

I told him all about the kidnapping, our escape, and j

Isabel's recapture. When I had finished, Luis sighed. •

''Kidnapping is a fact of life in Rio. I had expected it '

to happen sometime, but frankly I assumed either my i self or Cordelia might be the victims. 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 ad j

vised 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

caU." ,

"Shall I wait here? " I asked.

Luis 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." i

Luis probably didn't know how good a friend. I was i

glad of the opportunity to stay. \

Luis made some phone calls. I couldn't understand i what was said. Most were calm and controlled. One involved lots of listerung with a pained expression on his face—Cordelia. Then he left the room. A few moments

later I heard a loud keening—Maria. i

It was hard to sit there, doing nothing, watching \ while Luis 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 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? Pimished her for escaping?

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

Luis finished and gestured to the phone. "Why don't you get in touch with Dekker?"

Relieved to be doing something, I dialed 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, do you think you can handle Sao Paulo by yourself?"

With a start I realized that Ricardo expected me to leave Luis and calmly carry on Isabel's negotiations where we had left off the previous Saturday.

"I don't think so," I said carefully.

"OK. Well, jump on a plane back here and brief Carlos. Maybe he can take over from Isabel."

I was determined not to leave Luis and Isabel. "I'd like to stay here a few days," I said. "The police will want to talk to me, if we decide to bring them in. And I think Luis could use my help."

There was a pause down the line. "All right. But I want you back by the end of the week. These negotiations can drag on."

"OK," I said.

"Don't worry, Nick," Ricardo said. "They'll let her go eventually," and with that he was gone.

The callous way in which Ricardo had immediately thought of the business consequences of Isabel's kidnap angered me. But, as I thought about it, the phone conversation did give me some comfort. Both Ricardo and Luis 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.

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 a half 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. Luis had mentioned he was a retired policeman, although he didn't look much over forty-five.

Luis introduced us, and suggested Nelson speak in English for my benefit. He then asked me to describe the kidnapping itself. Nelson took notes in an old notebook with a cheap pen, occasionally asking detailed questions.

"That area is a favorite 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 expect now?" Luis asked him.

"The most important thing to remember is that this is a business transaction," Nelson began. He spoke English fast and accurately, 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."

"Fm not sure I like the idea of thinking of my daughter as goods to be traded/' said Luis.

"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 Luis's arm, his round orange face sincere. "Fve advised on sixteen kidnaps so far. In all but two the victim was returned alive. The odds are heavily on our side."

Luis 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."

Luis's frown lightened. Rape hadn't occurred to me, thank God. But it would have eventually, and I was relieved by 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."

Luis 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."

Luis 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."