by Arthur Rawl
“Calm down Robin. I’ll handle Sam. The first thing you do when we get in the office is book a round trip ticket to New York for me.”
“Are you sure you’re coming back? Then noticing José was driving away from Av. Paulista, “Where the hell are we going.”
“… for a quiet breakfast where we can look at some green grass and trees.”
“Shit, it’s bad news.”
“It’s just news … nothing more. What you do with it will decide whether it’s good or bad news.”
“Maybe I should book two sets of tickets except mine will be a one way.”
“Why don’t we wait until you’ve had your morning coffee before you make any decisions.”
“I’ve had two cups already.”
“Naturally.”
“Don’t get smug on me. You know I never liked this place. Shit, I wanted out since day one. That was even before you got here.”
“I know but I want you to stay a few weeks longer. I need your help.” I pulled out the letter Juan had given me last night. “This was delivered to Laser’s Directors yesterday while Sam was in the air. Read it and you’ll understand why Sam is burning the email server to the ground.”
After hurriedly reading the letter, “That makes it damned clear. You smell like a rose, Sam stinks and all our work has been a waste of time. Really nice …”
José pulled up in front of the small café, “Out please, I’m hungry and its time to get serious.”
We were led to a table in the garden with an unobstructed view of the park’s gently rolling green hills. “How the hell did you find this place?”
“… by staying out of shopping malls. I have some good friends who think you should spend some free time outside of the malls and in the rest of Brazil.”
“You’re crazy I’m not staying here after you’re thrown to the wolves. I’m not waiting around to be next.”
I slid the small envelope Juan had given me across the table to her, “Hold onto this for a minute.”
“What is it?”
“Something our friends wanted you to have after you have given your resignation letter to me for delivery to Laser.”
“Why … why should I resign?
“Because I need your help and to have it you must be free from Laser. I’ll take the letter to New York with me and you can have a holiday in Brazil until I return. Oh yes, José Carlos now works for our friends and he’ll be at your disposal while I’m away. And, there is another thing. Your hotel bill is taken care of as long as you remain in Brazil.”
Holding up the envelope in front of my face, “… and this?”
“Why it’s just the key to your safe deposit box at the Maksoud. The one stuffed with cash. Don’t you remember it?”
“… cash.”
“The hundred thousand US you got as a gift, half in Dollars and half in Reals.”
“Gift, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Our friends thought you might need some pocket money for your Brazilian holiday no matter how long or short you decide to make it.”
“… and after my holiday, then what?”
“As independent merchant bankers you and I do a deal for BrasTel on behalf of a confidential Austrian consortium.”
“You’ve been working on this for weeks haven’t you and you’ve kept me in the damned dark.”
“No, I dreamed it up on the helicopter ride back from seeing Sam.”
“Horseshit!”
“I was working for Sam before that. When I met him he made it clear he was going to fire me so I decided you and I would need something to do next. You of all people should know how easily I get bored.”
Robin stuffed the small envelope into her pocket, “You’re so full of shit … and I need breakfast, let’s order.”
I relaxed back into my chair and signaled the waitress. There was no need to continue worrying about Robin. It was the first step in the right direction but there were still many more that needed to be taken starting with confronting Sam in New York. “When we are back at the office, please book my airline tickets to New York. After you’ve done that call Sam’s office and give them the arrival time. If they want me just tell whoever you are talking to that you tried to reach me but couldn’t. I can assume you don’t want tickets for yourself.”
“I’ll decide how many tickets to buy when I’m on the phone with the airline.”
“Don’t forget to prepare a resignation letter. If you don’t you might find your safe deposit box empty.”
“That is the least of my worries right now.”
Chapter 20
Later that evening, right on time, my plane started down the main runway at Guarulhos International Airport north of São Paulo. We climbed turning northwest towards the Amazon basin and the electronic point in space where we will become free of civilization’s control until we entered U.S. airspace in six or seven hours. Two or three hours later we would be at JFK airport an hour east of Manhattan. If I was lucky I would be through immigration and customs and in a taxi thirty to forty-five minutes after we land and at my East Side flat on Seventy-Second and Park about eight New York time tomorrow morning. I asked Robin to call the housekeeping service after we returned from breakfast so the place should be livable. I also asked her to call the car service and have someone waiting at the airport when I arrived.
Settling back into the leather business class seat with my eyes closed as the events of the last hour before I left for the airport marched through my head like a pagan hoard making it impossible to relax no less sleep. Eight or nine emails arrived from Sam’s secretary overflowing with contradictory instructions that I planned to ignore. A call came from the head of Globo International News wanting to speak to me about Watson’s disregard of Brazilian laws that took Robin too much time to politely deflect. All capped by a twenty-minute call from the senior independent director on Lazer’s Board, Mike Harrelson wanting to understand what Sam did in Brazil that set off this firestorm and demanding confirmation that I would be in New York for tomorrow’s special meeting of the Board. I hadn’t bothered to tell him Sam had essentially fired me before leaving Brazil and I would consider myself his guest at the Board meeting. The last thing I did before going to pack a few things for the trip was instruct Robin to clean out our personal belongings including our laptops containing our working papers with José Carlos’ help and then close the office before three tomorrow afternoon and then go start her holiday.
Involuntarily my hand went to my pocket to test for the presence of the office keys. I had intended to give them to Sam but now I would give them to the Board stating all records regarding the deal were safe under lock and key and it was their responsibility to honor the confidentiality agreement and return certain of them to BrasTel. The successor Sam said he was sending could clean it out and insure BrasTel’s confidential documents get returned. I would tell them there was no need for Lazer to do any more damage in Brazil.
I pushed back my seat and closed my eyes even though I was certain there was too much spinning around in my head to sleep. The next thing I was aware of was someone gently shaking my shoulder, “Sir, you missed dinner and I didn’t think you wanted to miss breakfast.”
“Where are we?”
“… about an hour and a half from Kennedy.”
“Thank you, yes, I would like breakfast please.”
“Would you like a newspaper? I have this morning’s early edition of the Herald. We picked some up before we left Miami this morning.”
“Please …”
Handing me the paper, “Breakfast will be ready in about five minutes, how do you like your coffee? I’ll bring it right away.”
“Just black will do, thank you.”
The Herald certainly wasn’t the Times lacking original content other than the local columns. I automatically turned to the usually anemic, gossip filled business section and the headline straightened me up in my seat, “Exclusive - Lazer’s Watson Accused of Bending Brazili
an Law - Payoffs Alleged”. I rubbed my eyes, I couldn’t believe it. The Brazilians didn’t stop with simply circulating a letter to the Board they wanted to be sure Watson was out of the BrasTel picture permanently. I had to assume the ‘Exclusive’ hadn’t found its way to New York when I spoke with Mike Harrelson or his side of the conversation would have sounded more like an out of control crisis. The three-hour time difference and the desire to speak to me early must have put the news on the back burner.
An hour later I was at the curb at Kennedy trying to find the black car Robin should have booked for me. Finally, a black Mercedes slowly approached with a hand –written sign in the front window, “Matthews”. I waved it over and quickly got in without looking where I was going. Too late I found I wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry I thought this was my car.”
The very large well-dressed man sitting behind the driver announced in a deep bass, “It is.” This was punctuated by the sound of the automatic door locks locking us in.
“Let me out, right now.”
A hand the size of a tennis racquet raised threateningly in front of my face, “Sit back and enjoy the view. You understand?”
“I …”
“I said enjoy the view. Do it and you’ll end up where you wanna go, don’t and you won’t. Understand …?”
By then we were speeding out of the airport past a sign announcing we were going toward the Long Island Expressway – East. After events in São Paulo I understood the need to let things play themselves out but after twenty minutes of speeding in the opposite direction from Manhattan my ability to sit still was stretched near the breaking point, stretched until we turned off at an exit labeled ‘The Hamptons’. Minutes later we turned into a long drive winding across a well-manicured expanse of green that had to be at least five or six acres that we drove at highway speed only slowing when we approached a sprawling two story house built in the Tuscan style I recognized from my many family holidays spent in rural Tuscany. When we stopped the car door was opened from the outside by a liveried footman.
“Please be kind enough to come with me Mr. Matthews. Duca del Eccio is expecting you.”
Once inside the atmosphere scented by fresh flowers and furniture polish was reminiscent of grand apartments in Rome with views of Vatican Square I had seen when visiting Oxford classmates during class holidays. Simple but priceless furnishings proudly displaying their antiquity and deep Persian rugs quieting the sound of our approach were looked down upon by countless generations painted in the style of their day precisely hung on creamed colored stucco walls.
I was taken to a small study lined by shelves filled with hundreds of old leather bindings above dark wood cabinets with the patina of centuries of careful polishing. I had no doubt the book cabinets and furnishing had been imported to fill a room that had been built for them. At the floor to ceiling window across from the door was a somewhat short slightly built man wearing what even from the back quietly announced its impeccable Italian tailoring. At the sound of the door closing behind me he turned and took several measured steps then, holding out his hand while his bright blue eyes conducted a careful examination, “Thank you for accepting my invitation. I am Duke Salvatore del Eccio.”
His perfect English wore the familiar polish of an Oxford education. “I thought it more of a command than an invitation.”
The color of his eyes seemed to darken as if he were genuinely saddened. “Please forgive me if my staff was too anxious to look after my request. Also forgive my poor hospitality for not offering even coffee but I know you must have many things pressing you today. I will try to be brief so you can be on your way.”
With a subtle sweep of the hand he directed me to one of the two leather chairs facing the windows. “My family has been an investor in new ideas for many years. We were one of the founding investors in many of Europe’s leading companies including what is now the national telephone company of Italy. Naturally for selfish reasons we maintain close and good relations in our investees and it is not uncommon for members of our younger generations to be privileged with service at such companies as part of their preparation for later Board duties representing the family’s interests. In many ways this has been our life’s work for the last centuries.”
“Forgive my impatience but as you have said I have a pressing need to be elsewhere.”
“Yes, the point is simple. My sister’s son was leading a small group whose purpose was the acquisition of a property in Brazil that would add significantly to the prospects of our other telecommunications holdings. Unfortunately, he and his colleagues suffered a terrible fate and our acquisition efforts were interrupted … interrupted as yours seemed to have become if I am to believe what I was told about yesterday’s news.”
Knowing he would get no response from me he continued, “Allow me to be blunt as our American hosts would say. Our investee is aware of both your work in Brazil and its seemingly successful trajectory until yesterday’s events. The company has asked me to seek you out and recruit your many talents for our side in order to restart our Brazilian acquisition efforts. We speculate that Mr. Watson will use you as a scapegoat and you with our help would not mind repaying his kindness after today’s Laser Board meeting. Why else would you have left your long-trusted colleague in Brazil in charge of the keys to the castle?”
“Please let me correct your speculation. Any actions I have taken regarding control of work product are because I am bound to do so under confidentiality agreements I have personally signed with BrasTel. I expect when I return to Brazil my first and only task will be to organize the orderly transfer of certain documents to BrasTel and the destruction of others in order to protect my employer as well as myself.”
“Naturally … however to do so would be a shame and a waste of your efforts and the knowledge you have gained through them.”
“I agree it will be a waste but that is the nature of the acquisition business, you win some and you lose some. I appreciate the offer you were getting to but it is one I would be unable to accept. Now I must go.”
“I am sure you understand that the world is not yet that simple a place for both of us. I am equally sure you understand that we are accustomed to doing whatever is necessary to ensure things are done our way. Perhaps you and I have not fully defined just how much and what else is necessary for it to be accomplished but I am confident you will sort it out before you leave New York. I am equally confident you understand the potential benefits for you in doing things our way and the real risks to you in not taking advantage of them. It grieves me to remember the terrible pain and loss our family has suffered pursuing this important goal and I most certainly would not like to see your family suffer similar pain.”
Del Eccio pushed an almost invisible button on the small table separating us, “I will have you taken to your apartment in Manhattan with as much haste as prudent at this time of day. We will speak again very shortly. Please use the time to balance the potential gains you will achieve against all of the potential losses that are as good as certain should you choose to take a path other than the one I have suggested.” He reached for the open book that lay on the table, “Good day Mr. Matthews.”
I was alone with my thoughts in the back seat of the car as we drove toward Manhattan. My host must have decided to demonstrate his absolute control over the situation, me, by removing the overly large escort who had accompanied me from the airport. I wasn’t impressed by his confidence. Still, I had just shed Sam and didn’t feel like being bothered by another over-blown ego.
My host hadn’t been kidding when he said I would be taken into the City with all reasonable speed. Despite roads filled with morning commuters I was in front of my apartment in just over an hour and not the two hours I had expected and he did it without picking up a convoy of police cars with wailing sirens.
As we came to a stop the driver turned and handed me a brown envelope, “Duca del Eccio instructed that this should be given to you when we arrived.”
I weighed the envelope in one hand deciding it contained a small electronic device most likely a cell phone, “You can tell the Duke you did your job and I said I would probably discard his gift.”
“It would not be wise to do that Sir. The Duca can be very difficult when things are not as he wants them to be.”
“Thank you for the more than fast ride in from the Island. Good morning.”
“Please remember what I said about the Duca.”
I watched the Benz melt into the traffic flowing toward Park Avenue a half a block east. Fool, did he think he was one of the Borgias moving chess pieces around a garish chess board? I walked though my flat pulling the satellite telephone out of my bag, dropping the bag and going out onto the small balcony outside the dining area window. “Hello Juan, we need to talk …”
“Sam please, will you turn it down a couple of notches I want to hear what Carl has to say. He was the man on the ground there. Carl, start from the beginning please.”
“Just a bit of background first. Skip carried his responsibilities in Brazil quite well and made a contribution to our progress. He was well-liked and respected at BrasTel. His off-duty activities seemed quite typical of any single young man with healthy interests visiting Brazil for the first time. On the Monday morning he was absent from work I thought it untypical but was not immediately worried believing one of his ‘healthy’ interests had held his attention a bit longer than he had intended and I am not so old that I failed to excuse a rare lapse.
My assistant and I became quite concerned when Skip’s absence and his silence extended to a second morning and commenced an active search for him. It was shortly after this was started that the local television carried news of an apparent murder of a young woman in Rio and the arrest of a young North American visitor to Brazil. My first response was to call our Brazilian attorney who is very well connected politically and professionally. He outlined an immediate course of action including the fact that one of his Carioca Partners, a native of Rio, was in Rio and would have private conversations with the authorities and attempt to see Skip to check on his condition and counsel him regarding what to say and not say.