Buying Brazil (Buying Brazil Trilogy Book 1)

by Arthur Rawl

  “His secretary says he’s in Washington with the Ambassador.”

  “Thanks, call Rossi please. Is there anything new on the TV?”

  “Yeah, José Carlos said they were at a house owned by some big wig Army General. A retired General who the news said suddenly moved his family to their farm in Matto Grosso a week ago. José Carlos thinks his name was Lopes.”

  “Get Rossi please.” A General who suddenly moved a week ago and Skip ends up in his house. What a coincidence. “Hello Pedro, did you hear the latest?”

  “No, I have been on the telephone with my partner.”

  “Skip was found in a house owned by a retired General.”

  “That the house belongs to a retired officer is not very surprising. These people own many homes and always in very good places. They rent many of their houses out to others because military pensions are very small.”

  “I’ll accept that for the moment. What did your partner have to say?”

  “He has spoken to the State Prosecutor and is on his way to the jail to see that what has been agreed is being done. It has been agreed to isolate Sr. Watson from the other prisoners for his own safety. It has also been agreed that food and bottled water from outside the prison will be brought to Watson each day and a medical doctor from outside the prison will see him each day. For the moment, it is all we can do to insure his physical safety and comfort. Naturally there is a cost associated with these arrangements but we are certain Sam Watson will not question the small amount.”

  “How small …?”

  “One thousand five hundred US Dollars per day … it is an amount that a Brasilian family would have to pay in a similar situation. We have guaranteed payment of the first ten thousand dollars so there will be no delays doing what was agreed.”

  “What else did the prosecutor say?”

  “Finger print evidence and DNA evidence is being collected and will be sent to the Military Police laboratory within two days. It is agreed that our firm’s investigator will be present during the collection and that we can have our scientist present during the testing. We will be getting copies of all photographs taken by the police. These steps have been agreed to help insure the reliability of the evidence. Naturally there will also be a cost for this but I do not know what it will be. In other cases we have handled such costs have been as high as five thousand US Dollars a day plus the cost of our representatives.”

  “Has Skip made any statements?”

  “Only that he didn’t know how he got to the house and did not know the woman when shown a picture of her face. Now that we have informed the prosecutor Sr. Watson is our client no additional statements will be admissible at trial unless they were made in our presence and subject to our advice. That is all I have for now but I must tell you something very important. You know Brasil is a civil law country not a Common Law country like the United States or England. If a prosecutor reviews the evidence in Brasil and decides to charge someone with a crime, it is the burden of the defendant to prove his innocence.”

  “How long can the prosecutor take before deciding to charge someone?”

  “In a murder situation … up to six months but a court can grant an extension.”

  “Sam will be delighted to hear that. For the rest thank you and please thank your partner. Unfortunately, Sam will certainly not be pleased with anything less than his son on a plane back to the States. I’ll call him and then maybe we can meet for an early lunch.”

  “Yes, that would be wise. I will pick you up in thirty minutes and we will go to a small quiet place. Tchau.”

  “Robin … anything new on the TV?”

  “You bet there is and it’s going to piss Sam off. The TV’s now talking about Skip and his father and how the family’s company is trying to control worldwide telecommunications.”

  “That didn’t take long.”

  “Hey, the Brazilian television network Globo gets high marks everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of the day they’re here for interviews.”

  “Have José Carlos call the lobby and have our name taken off any tenant listings available to the public. I want him to stay here with the television in case something breaks. Call Sam and then cover your ears.”

  “It’s less than ten minutes. I’m sure whatever you have for me isn’t any good news?”

  “A number of things … mostly administrative. First, if there are charges they will not be lodged for some time so we have time to act … maybe four or five weeks. Second, the lawyers have had Skip isolated from the rest of the prison population for his own safety. Third, Skip’s food and water will be supplied by us from outside the prison each day. Fourth, our doctor will visit Skip daily to be sure he is being treated alright. Fifth, he has made no statements other than saying he didn’t know how he got to the house and didn’t recognize the victim. The only future statements admissible in court are ones supervised by Skip’s lawyer who the police now know is our firm in São Paulo. Sixth, our representative or expert gets to observe the fingerprint and DNA evidence collection and any testing process they go through. We also get copies of all crime scene photos. Oh, yes the special treatment for Skip and the presence of our observers and experts have costs attached although the amounts are modest. Lastly, if Skip is eventually charged, he has the burden to prove himself innocent.”

  “What condition is he in right now?”

  “Rossi’s partner is on his way to the prison right now with a doctor to be sure he’s alright and to check the physical arrangements.”

  “You mean you don’t have a damned idea!”

  “We will very soon. You should also know the Ambassador and the Head of our Trade Mission are in Washington right now and you can reach them at the State Department.

  “That’s the first useful thing you’ve said. Alright, this is what you’re going to do.

  “I’m not done yet. They found Skip in a house owned by some powerful retired Army General and the local television has already begun talking about Skip, you, the company and its worldwide telco goals.”

  “You got to be kidding. It goes from bad to worse every second. You better get a grip on the situation down there if you know what’s good for you. You understand me!”

  I decided not to tell him what I thought about him and his irresponsible son, “I’ll have more information in an hour or so. Until I get a clearer picture damage control has to stay with the lawyers. They’ve experience with this type of high profile case and they know all the players.”

  “You better stay on top of them. All of you are screwing around with my kid’s life.”

  “He’s a member of ‘my’ team and I’ll get the best treatment and protection for him until I get him out of here. It would have been better if he spent less time chasing every woman that walked by and concentrated on his work. Now he’s put himself at risk and may have cratered the deal.”

  “You son of a bitch … you’re blaming him!”

  “Who should I blame? You and all the others who forgot to teach him discipline. Well, he’s stepped in a pile of shit of his own making and now I’ll pull him out of it. I’m on my way out to see Rossi right now. I’ll call you as soon as I have something you can use or need to know. Goodbye.” This time I was the one who hung up.

  “Hey Carl … was that our resignation speech?” Robin was standing in the doorway smiling, “you going to tell me what’s going on? Don’t you care that he’s going to dump a load on us the moment his dear child’s bacon is out of the fire?”

  “Actually … no, I’m not. I told you I got this deal figured out and nothing has changed. You’re still going along for the ride?”

  “It seems you’ve left me no choice. You know how I love a real messy knock down bloody street fight. How could I miss this one … ‘us versus us’ in sunny downtown Brazil? I want to stick around to see how we win this one.”

  “Believe me, it’s won already. All we have to do is stick to the plan, watch out for land mines and make s
ure the opposition gets plenty of misinformation.”

  “Yes general … when do I get my orders?”

  “Right now, stop salivating and make sure José Carlos keeps focused on the TV. If anything happens call me. I’ll be with Rossi for an hour or so trying to figure out just how much trouble Skip is really in.”

  “He’s driving?”

  “… and he picked some place to talk. Some place local but he didn’t say where so I can’t tell you. Have your lunch delivered and stay close please. Sam will stew for a while and then ring back to chew on me and I want to be sure he’s told he can’t.”

  “What if there’s bad news on the TV?”

  “I have my sat phone but if Sam asks tell him I was upset and left without any phone.”

  Pedro’s Audi was at the curb when I stepped onto the Rua Campinas sidewalk through a side door near the garage entrance. It was the only sensible way out just in case the press was in the lobby or camped out front on Av. Paulista where under any circumstances Pedro would not have been able to wait for me. The car’s back door swung open and I quickly crossed the sidewalk sliding not so gracefully onto the back seat, “Hello Pedro.”

  “Hello my friend. I assumed caution would lead you to the side door.”

  “Thank you. I wanted to meet for lunch because …”

  “… you are thinking more like a Brasileiro and, it’s always good to get out of the office. Yes?”

  “Yes, it’s good to get out. Where are we going?”

  “Rua Pamploma … not far from here. A friend has a small, shall we say, private café on the ground floor of her house. Since her husband died it keeps her busy and pays one or two bills for her.”

  “Can we talk there?”

  “There is no better place in São Paulo. Her husband was from a most important family and his home and now his widow receives very respectful treatment in every way.” Looking down at my satellite phone but leaving his question unspoken. “There would certainly never be any intrusion on her life as a poor widow.”

  “I brought it just in case of anything new on the television. They are monitoring Globo back at the office.”

  “The most current news is there will be no indictment before four or five weeks. Naturally, this information will not be released to the public. We should consider how best to use it.”

  The car shook to a stop on the long unrepaired cobble stones in front of a classic Portuguese colonial mansion surrounded on three sides by new high rise apartment buildings that lacked the spacious gardens like those near my flat on Rua Haddock Lobo just a few blocks away.

  Pedro let a deep disappointed sigh slip out, “Forgive me. I feel the same each time I come here. This was such a beautiful street. It was always filled with deep shade and its roadway and curbs continually reset to the smoothness of new concrete. Not so long ago, maybe twenty-five years, there were grand houses and gardens on both sides. Now it’s filled with homes of glass and concrete and we must see them as progress that has been made for our new middle class. Come, we will visit a better time over a glass of wine.”

  A uniformed guard opened the heavy wrought iron gate greeting Pedro by name while carefully looking me over. Pointing to my comparatively large phone and extending his other hand palm up, the guard moved in front of me, “Favor Senhor.”

  “Please let him inspect it. People who come here are security conscious not only for their words but their welfare.”

  “The guard took the phone and turned it over several times, “Esta grande Senhor. Por que …?”

  I looked up toward the sky and pointed one finger up, “Satellite …”

  After a few moments of seemingly painful thought, “Ah … intendo.” Handing the phone back to me, he stepped aside indicating with a hand I should pass, “Favor Sehnor …”

  Instead of going up the mansion’s steep front stairs Pedro went around the left of the staircase and through an open delivery entrance on its side. I followed into a low ceilinged, dimly lit room perfumed by tropical flowers with only eight dark wood tables with matching chairs facing out into the rear garden through an open space where a wall once enclosed the room.

  “When the house was built, the kitchen was here with the laundry and other household activities. The General decided to open the space to the garden when he modernized the house and Senhora made it a comfortable place for her ‘guests’ after he died.”

  “What an unusual place. But how can she make money with so few seats?”

  “In a crowded city like São Paulo the certainty of privacy can be very expensive. Those of us who know of the place develop poor eyesight and hearing when we cross the gate. You must also.”

  “I am a stranger in the city. I certainly don’t know anybody here but you and the light is too low for me to see anyone.”

  “Thank you my friend. I assured our hostess of your understanding when I called to say we would visit.”

  We took a table next to the low planter that was all that remained of the back wall. An extended porch on the floor above cast its dark shadow sheltering us from curious eyes in buildings on the other side of the twelve-foot ivy-covered wall enclosing the garden. “Isn’t there a head waiter? We seem to be alone.”

  “For the sake of privacy guests are asked to consider this more like their home than a café. Senhora likes to keep the number of eyes that see her guests at a minimum.”

  “What about menus and orders for the kitchen?”

  “There are no menus. I selected our lunch when I called. The guard was told to expect two of us and to let the kitchen know we arrived.”

  “Do we go to the kitchen and serve ourselves?”

  “Certainly not, there are two quite old servants who have been with the General’s family since they were children. Naturally, they learned to see or hear nothing many years ago.”

  “It’s all rather … rather unique, isn’t it? I have not heard of anything like it anywhere I’ve been. What about payment?”

  “There are no records of who visits or when they do so. Those of us who are Senhora’s friends contribute an annual amount to the family trust that provides for her.”

  “… a convenient arrangement. I won’t ask how many ‘friends’ she has but I’ll bet she’s damned popular.”

  Pedro looked off into the garden seeming to drift away into memories. Seconds ticked past turning into minutes. The quiet was finally broken by the sound of wine being poured by an unseen servant. Pedro returned with a deep sigh, “Young Mr. Watson … his situation is quite complicated.”

  “I was wondering about how he ended up in this mess. It doesn’t fit his past behavior. He likes his play but is both cautious and harmless …” Not quite sure about the source of my feelings but somehow convinced Skip couldn’t kill anyone. “There must be something else going on … something below the surface that I can’t see but I feel.”

  “As you have learned, in Brasil things have many surfaces. We are not just Portuguese. Our history is a mixture of many different histories and therefore we Brasilieros are more complex and perhaps just a little confusing. Maybe we see things that are not there. Real or not they are in our thoughts whenever we try to understand something … anything. This feeling you have is more Brasilian than you realize. Remember, for each of us, what we feel is what is real. Feelings are more real than facts and, when you consider young Mr. Watson’s actions, I advise that you trust your feelings and not what you see or hear on the television.”

  “Juan Batista’s clients …?”

  Pedro’s eyes returned to the garden. He sipped wine while he measured just how far to go, how much to say and, more importantly, what could not be said. “If I am correct, you asked Juan to approach his clients to solicit support in a particular undertaking. I also believe I would be correct if I said your request was rather broad and did not have many details to guide his clients in their evaluation and decision if they took one.”

  “Yes to both observations. Did I make a mistake by leaving the deta
ils out of my request?”

  “It is not for me to judge what was or was not a mistake. The outcome will be the only answer that matters. I will say that Juan’s clients would not be pleased with a request filled with details or with what could be considered instructions by some. They would believe they were being told what to do. For people like his clients who are accustomed to having control and also have a great deal of experience in building the future, they would believe they possess the best understanding of what will work in Brasil. I am sure you would agree there is always more than one way to bring a situation to closure.”

  “Certainly I agree there is no best way as long as goals are achieved. Is it time for me to sit out a hand or two and watch?”

  The first course arrived providing Pedro with the opportunity not to answer. Hearts of palm salad surrounded by langoustines and touched with Brazil’s version of South America’s creamy pink golf dressing. When I looked up from the salad Pedro’s eyes had drifted back into the garden where the memories of the past seemed to come alive again. Memories from his past still too vivid in his mind, memories of the years when he controlled São Paulo’s courts for the military regime that were somehow tied to this place. Perhaps haunting memories that reminded him of what was then necessary and the faces of the unfortunates who shared those moments but not the future.

  “Was the General alive during the Golden Years?”

  Slowly he returned from the past, “Yes, for most of them. He did not see re-democratization. It was his heart. He died in his sleep. He had no history of heart disease so there were questions … there still are questions.”

  “… an unnatural death?”

  “We will never know. He did not support returning power to a civilian government so people talk … Brasileiros love their gossip. He was very vocal about his distrust of politicians. He was a good man. A very strong man whose family’s history with the army was more than two-hundred fifty unbroken years long. It seems a perversion that his grandson is now our elected president and his son, also a General, retired early from the military and lives abroad.”