The market maker

by Ridpath, Michael

  "God, what a sight," I said.

  ''We'd better get going. The traffic in Rio becomes a nightmare in a storm like this."

  We showered, dressed, and then hurried to a taxi beneath one of the hotel's white umbrellas. As I scrambled into the backseat after Isabel, I thought I caught sight of someone I recognized. I turned to look as we pulled off.

  "What is it?" she asked, a drip of water dangling ap-pealingly from her nose.

  "I thought I recognized the driver of the car behind. I could have sworn he was waiting for someone at the airport this morning."

  "Where?" She turned to look behind us.

  The rain was falling heavily on the rear window, creating a curtain of water behind us..

  "I can't see him now. Or his car. It was a Fiat I think. Blue."

  We both strained to see through the rainstorm. Nothing.

  "Are you sure?" Isabel asked.

  "To be honest, no. I might just be imagining it."

  She squeezed my hand. "You're getting jumpy after what happened last time. Rio isn't that dangerous, you know."

  "You're probably right/' I said, but nevertheless I did check behind every now and again. I didn't see anything.

  We were meeting Luis at the Rio Yacht Club. The journey took about three-quarters of an hour. The traffic slowed to a crawl. Torrents of water gushed down any small incline, often reaching up to the tops of the struggling cars' wheels.

  It was dark by the time we reached the yacht club. Luis gave Isabel a huge hug, which she returned warmly. He seemed genuinely happy to see me too, which pleased me. The club overlooked a small marina, and we could just make out the sailing boats, bobbing in the rain-lashed sea. Eventually, the downpour softened to a more recognizable rain, and it was possible to see the buildings of Botafogo across the bay, and the imposing shape of Sugar Loaf Mountain, looming high up above us.

  I drank the compulsory caipirinhas —I was beginning to realize that no foreigner could avoid them in Brazil— and ate some glorious fish whose name I didn't quite catch. Luis and Isabel both did a good job of avoiding any difficult subjects, and I wasn't witness to a single argimient. Isabel seemed happy, very much alive, and she glowed in the attention her father and I gave her.

  "So, you didn't want to spend the weekend in Sao Paulo, Nick?" Luis asked with a smile.

  "Isabel didn't seem very keen on the idea."

  "Where did you take him?" he asked Isabel.

  "The Point," she said.

  "Ah, very good. Did you like the view, Nick?"

  "Oh, Papair

  I grinned. "One of our poets once said, 'Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.' "

  This Luis seemed to find very funny. Isabel just looked cross.

  ''Well, Tm glad you found a few minutes to spend with your old father," he said.

  "Tm sorry Tm not staying with you tonight," Isabel said. "But we're leaving for the airport tomorrow morning, and I knew you were in Petropolis today, and we are leaving very early, so I thought it made sense to stay at the hotel with Nick. So I can show him to the airport."

  This explanation was all a bit breathless. It sounded forced to me. I think it did to Luis too, to judge by the way he glanced at me. I pretended not to notice.

  But then he shrugged. "No matter. I quite understand. You often stay at the Copacabana Palace when you're here on business. It's just nice to see you for dinner."

  Isabel blushed becomingly and concentrated on her food.

  "So Sao Paulo again tomorrow?" Luis asked me.

  I nodded.

  "Remember, Nick, in Sao Paulo you can breathe out, but don't breathe in."

  I laughed. "I'U remember."

  Finally, at twelve, we left. The rain was steady now, and had clearly set in for the night.

  "Would you like a lift back in my car?" Luis asked.

  "Oh, no," Isabel said. "I've ordered a taxi to meet us from the hotel. It's probably been waiting for us half the night. We'd better take it."

  Another suspicious glance from Luis, which I ignored.

  "Oh, well, see you soon, my dear." He bent down to kiss his daughter. Then he straightened up and shook my hand. I met his eye, which I was relieved to see was

  194 Micimel Ridpath

  still friendly. ''Nice to see you again, Nick. Please drop in and see me when you are next in Rio."

  "Thank you," I said. "I will."

  He ran through the rain to his chauffeur-driven car, and we jumped into the taxi.

  'Why didn't we go with him?" I asked.

  'I suppose we could have. It's just I would have felt pretty bad having him drop us off together at the hotel."

  "I think he suspects something," I said.

  "Do you?" Isabel fell back in the seat. "Oh, well, never mind. I think he likes you."

  "lUkehim."

  Isabel smiled as she rested her head on my shoulder. "I'm so tired."

  With the drink and the fatigue, I stared ahead without focusing properly. The road was empty apart from the car in front, which was driving slowly. Suddenly it stopped.

  Our driver, swearing under his breath, braked also. He hit the horn. Just then there was movement in the windows all around us. The driver saw it and hit the button by his shoulder. The central locking system clicked in all the doors. He slarmned the gears into reverse. There was a crash as he hit something behind us. I turned. Another car had driven up to block our escape. The taxi leaped forward and hit the vehicle in front as the driver tried to break out. Then his window shattered in an explosion of broken glass. A gun pointed in, and a voice behind it shouted urgently. The driver took his hands off the wheel and pushed up the lock to his door.

  Isabel screamed.

  As I turned to my door, it was flung open. A gun was thrust in my face. A man in a balaclava shouted at me in

  Portuguese. His eyes were brown, the pupils huge, as they stared in frightened panic.

  The shout turned to a scream. 1 kept perfectly still and stammered, "Ndo entendo." The man kept screaming. I felt a kick in my back as Isabel was dragged out of the car, but I didn't take my eyes off the gun.

  Then he reached into the car and grabbed my jacket, still shouting. I let him pull me out into the rain. He pushed me toward the rearmost car. I could hear Isabel screaming behind me as she was dragged toward the vehicle in front.

  Panicky hands pushed me down into the well between the back and front seats, but I didn't fit. Then the front seat lurched forward, and m^y face was shoved down onto the floor. It smelled of dust and cigarettes. One of them sat in the seat beside me. I heard the car door slam, and felt the cold barrel push into the nape of my neck. It was wet, and drops of water dribbled down my back.

  Someone shouted something in Portuguese, and we lurched off. The car screeched around some tight bends, and then seemed to reach a straight stretch. We were moving fast and steadily, in what direction I had no idea.

  17

  I began to think through what had happened. We'd been kidnapped, that much was obvious. I hoped Isabel was OK. I wondered where they would take us, what they would do with us. If they'd kidnapped us, they would want to keep us alive. Remember that, I told myself. Help them. Keep them happy.

  But who would pay our ransom? Luis would pay Isabel's. Would Dekker pay mine? God, I hoped so. Ri-cardo had a reputation of looking after his own.

  How long would the process take? Maybe Isabel would know. I had heard kidnappings were pretty common in Rio, so she probably knew something about them.

  I was in a very uncomfortable position, with my back twisted and my face jammed down into the floor. I tried to move, but this prompted a shout and the gun barrel jabbed hard into the back of my neck. So I decided to stay where I was.

  Suddenlv the car slowed and turned off whatever road we were on. We began moving more slowly now, stopping and starting. After a few more minutes we began to climb, turning left and right up a steep hillside.

  We drove like this for a half hour, or maybe an hour, it<
br />
  was hard to tell. Then we made another turn, and the car began to bump and judder. A dirt track. My cheek was driven into the car floor at each jolt. We drove up an even steeper incline, which eventually leveled off. Finally, we came to a stop.

  My back and shoulders ached like hell. I tried to move, but the gun jabbed my back again, and I stayed still. Then some black fabric was tied around my eyes, and I couldn't see.

  I heard voices, cars door opening and shutting. A hand grabbed my collar and tugged. Willingly I pulled myself up out of the well, and allowed myself to be dragged from the car. I stood up straight and stretched.

  I could see nothing through the blindfold. It had stopped raiiung. And the air was filled with noise: the sound of crickets, cicadas, frogs, and all kinds of night creatures. It made quite a din.

  "Isabel?"

  "Yes!"

  "Cale a bocal" screamed a voice in my right ear.

  I felt a gun jab my ribs. But at least I knew she was alive and with me.

  There was some heated discussion around me. I heard four voices. Rope was tied around my hands until it bit into my wrists. Then I felt a push behind me, and an order in Portuguese that I took to mean "Move!"

  The ground was wet and muddy underfoot. Soon we were moving up a steep hill along a narrow path. I could tell that because of the vegetation brushing my ankles. Behind and below I heard the two cars driving off. With the blindfold on I couldn't protect myself from the branches and tendrils that brushed my face. Pushing through an unknown jungle blindfolded raised all kinds of primeval fears about snakes underfoot and unseen precipices. I tried to move slowly and

  carefully, but a hard metal object jabbed me in the back whenever I hesitated.

  I heard movement ahead and behind. I didn't call out for Isabel this time. I didn't want to push my luck.

  After an hour or so, the ground began to level off, and the going became much easier. Ten more minutes, and I heard the command "Pare!" and then "Stop!"

  With relief, I stopped. I stood up straight, and the blindfold was removed.

  We were in a very small clearing in a forest. It was still night, but after the blindfold it almost seemed like daylight. A canvas tent had been rigged up between three trees, and there was another ten yards away from it. I could see Isabel and two men. Both of them wore balaclava-type masks. The one who had taken off my blindfold was standing a few feet away, with the gun pointed straight at me. Dark, suspicious eyes peered at me through the mask. The other man was taking off Isabel's blindfold.

  She looked around for me and caught my eye. She seemed OK, although when I looked closer, what I thought was a shadow turned out to be a bruise on her cheek. The bastards had hit her!

  One man pulled out some handcuffs and a chain from a sack on the ground, while the other man covered us with the gun. We had a few seconds of freedom, although our hands were still tied and a gun was pointing at us.

  Isabel must have seen the opportunity, because as the man stood up with the handcuffs, she kicked him hard in the groin.

  The other man immediately jerked his gun toward Isabel.

  "No!" I shouted, and leaped at him.

  He hesitated before pulling the trigger. Perhaps he

  didn't want to shoot a woman in cold blood, I don't know. I chopped down hard on his gun arm, and he dropped the weapon. His hands were nearer to it than mine, and I just managed to kick it into the undergrowth before he could reach it.

  "Run!" I shouted to Isabel.

  There were two paths out of the clearing, one leading in from the way we came, and the other heading downhill on the opposite side. Isabel chose that path, and I followed her. One of our captors was still clasping his groin, moaning, and the other was scrabbling about in the undergrowth for the gun.

  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 ho
urs, 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 ;