Buying Brazil (Buying Brazil Trilogy Book 1)

by Arthur Rawl

  Smiling inwardly and assuming von Lieghter had lunch with the Senator, “By confused you mean put their own interests above any others and this confusion may have included collusion with lower level company employees to move assets out of the company?”

  “I would have put it just that way Carl if my English was better. Also I could have said they stole money or other things and paid insiders to cover it up.”

  “Has this happened in the past … happened frequently?”

  “I cannot say how frequently because only those who are caught are in the news. How often some government employee is arrested on corruption charges is a better question. The answer, once a month somewhere in the country someone is arrested for misusing a government mandate. How often does the arrest involve large amounts of money or other valuable things? It happens once every few years and usually the arrest is the result of a political vendetta.”

  “How the hell are we going to deal with this? I assume we can put a clause in the purchase and sale agreement providing for a post-closing purchase price adjustment based on the results of an audit of the purchased balance sheet.”

  “Yah, that would be a good thing. I suggested we expand the definition of an adverse finding in order to make people aware we will be watching for this sort of thing. The post-closing audit language in the closing documents will carry on the same theme and perhaps discourage some greedy people on the fringe of the company.”

  “Alana, will you write a brief memo on the buyer’s need for a post-closing audit and the language that the buyer will place in the draft closing documents.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll draft something in the morning and have it ready before Dieter gets here. Also, while we have been talking I put a few words down to add to the definition of ‘Adverse Finding’. I’ll make some copies and we can all have a go at them.”

  It took us about twenty minutes to agree on the words for the definition and cover a few less important points that von Lieghter had then he left and Robin cleaned up the draft into a final version for the translator. Alana took the final version down to the translator after telling me she wants a pizza for dinner and would me at Margarita Pizza in an hour, about nine-thirty. She said she wanted to get comfortable and would stop at home on the way. On the way out she stuck out her hand, “Oh, here’s my card. It has my cellphone on it in case you want to call me Querido.”

  Jóse Carlos along with our chase car was waiting when Robin and I got to the garage. “Jóse, tell our shadows that I’m going across the street from the apartment for dinner at nine-thirty. They can work out the logistics but you’re going to leave me at my apartment first and then drive Robin to her hotel.” He came back to the car shaking his head, “They said they already knew your schedule.”

  Chuckling quietly to myself, “Alana is efficient after hours too.”

  Chapter 28

  I looked down at my watch as Jóse Carlos pulled up to my apartment. It was only ten after eight. Alana should have arrived home several minutes ago. I assumed her first stop after arriving was to bring the Senator up to date on what was happening with von Lieghter and the deal. Why else would she need until nine-thirty?

  After telling Jóse when to pick me up in the morning I went up the three steps and was buzzed through the gate to the garden where I was met by a man the size of a professional American football player dressed in a dark business suit holding a badge out for my inspection. “BrasTel Segurança Senhor Matthews.” He raised his other arm and pointed to the dark part of the garden to the right of the building entrance, “… favor Senhor.”

  While walking across the garden my eyes adjusted to the darkness. In the deep shadows I found three other members of the team wearing the same dark suits. Two of them were on either side of a man dressed all in black held down on one of the benches by a hand griping on his shoulders on either side. The third man stepped forward and spoke in unaccented but very formal English, “Mr. Matthews, do not be alarmed, we are part of the BrasTel’s VIP security group you were told about. Our assignment is to guard your residence. I’m sure you have seen some others from the group following behind you in another car. We found this man hiding in the garden near the back of the building. We saw him when he started to move towards the front. He was armed but now we have his weapon.”

  “Who is he?”

  “We do not know. His passport says he is a Russian. We are checking his identity with Interpol. Carrying a gun in Brazil is not legal so I have asked my controller to notify the Military Police. We brought you to see him to learn if you have ever seen him before.” He said a few words in Portuguese and a small flashlight was turned on the prisoner’s immobile face, “Is he familiar to you Mr. Matthews?”

  I studied the wolfish face with its vacant cold eyes, “No, I don’t think so. His face is no different from any of hundreds of Eastern Europeans you see around London every day. Has he said anything?”

  “He has not made a sound since he has been taken but I think the Military Police will quickly change that.”

  “Can we be sure he was alone?”

  “No, not yet but we think he had someone out on the street to signal him when your car stopped in front. That is what we think caused him to start moving toward the lobby entrance. The security detail assigned to you and your colleague will be expanded until we learn something from or about him and whether he had accomplices. You should continue to go about your business as if we are not here. We will be sure you remain safe. Now it would be best if you go to your apartment. The Military Police will be here very soon.”

  “Yes, thank you and tell the others thanks for me. Goodnight.

  I went around to the elevator lobby and as the elevator door was closing I saw flashing red lights come to a stop on the street in front of the building. When I got to my apartment I ran from my front door to the windows overlooking Haddock Lobo. When I pulled back the shutter the red flashing light from below was reflecting off the leaves outside the window. But, that was the only light I could see. Uncharacteristically, all the shutters on the windows across the street were closed and the rooms behind them were dark. When I looked down there were four khaki uniformed policemen roughly escorting the now manacled and shackled prisoner through the gate followed by the BrasTel team leader. The leader instinctively looked up and saw me looking. He stopped and waved energetically clearly signaling me to get out of the window. Suddenly there was a chill in the air and all I could think was it’s not over. Del Eccio was in the grave but all his damned, very traditional family members were not.

  A burst of rapid gunfire echoing up from below instantly drove away my Del Eccio worries. It was immediately followed by more gunfire then silence. Now flat against the wall I strained to look down without becoming a target. I could see the BrasTel security man behind one of the heavy stone columns at street level below the entry gate. On the sidewalk was a motionless khaki clad corpse with a dark stain spreading downhill from it. The prisoner lay in the shadowed gutter between the sidewalk and the open door of the police van. The other three military policemen were in the middle of the street twenty-five or thirty feet uphill kicking weapons away from two dark figures one of them laid out clutching his stomach and the other sitting with his hands behind his head. If it was a rescue mission, it failed. If their goal was to prevent the prisoner from talking the attack only replaced one prisoner with two.

  Had I seen too much of what was below? I remembered being told more than once since coming to Brazil to forget what I had seen. I had also been told people just disappear when they proved inconvenient. Tonight, they were two very compelling reasons to keep out of sight. Hopefully by nine-thirty everything would be over and I could go the half block to meet Alana. The only certainty was that BrasTel’s Security guards wouldn’t let me go anywhere before they were satisfied all possible risks had abated.

  I carefully leaned around the window frame. Now there was another police van and at least eight police cars randomly left running with lig
hts illuminating Haddock Lobo. Eight, no maybe a dozen flashlights searched the bushes and building entrances on both sides of the street. Doors found unlocked were kicked open and hallways searched. Plantings too dense for flashlights to penetrate were callously thinned by a machete. The body of the fallen military policeman was on a stretcher being taken downhill to a destination blocked from sight by the trees. The dead prisoner remained where he had fallen in the gutter and there was no sign of the two new captives. Activity everywhere, activity that would be forgotten before the sun came up in the morning. By tomorrow it would have been another disturbingly quiet night on Haddock Lobo.

  A carefully quiet knock on the apartment door brought me back to reality along with the metallic taste of fear. The short walk to the door stretched into miles. There wasn’t anything heavy in the place to use as a weapon. With my back pressed against the concrete firewall that separated me from the hall outside, “Yes”.

  “BrasTel Segurança Senhor.”

  “Who …?”

  Now there was a different voice from the hall, “BrasTel Security Sir. May I come in please?”

  As quietly as I could I moved across the thick mahogany door to the peep hole, looked though and felt foolish. It was the team leader. “Certainly. I just have to unlock the door.”

  “Thank you. It is good you are careful. We have inspected the entire building and grounds and there is no danger. The military police are finishing searching grounds on this side and the opposite side of the street. They say it will be finished in another fifteen minutes. They also say it is procedure to do this even though they believe there were only two accomplices in the shooting. They think one will not live out the night and the other … shall we say he will disappear. Your name has been kept out of any discussions so I do not believe you will be bothered with questions. BrasTel has spoken for you as its business associate. I think the matter will be closed here but there is the open question of why someone wanted to harm you.”

  “Thank you for the report. I am so sorry about the policeman being shot. Is there anything …”

  He raised his hand to stop me from saying more. “There was no policeman shot because nothing happened here tonight. You must remember here in Brasil we have no shootings only petty criminals. The Government protects all citizens and guests very well. It is the official policy.”

  “Yes, that is exactly as I understand the situation. Nothing happened here.”

  “My control told me you have a meeting with a lawyer across the street at nine-thirty.” He looked at his watch, “It is now fifteen minutes before nine. We will come in thirty minutes to escort you to your meeting. By then the street should be clear and traffic should be as usual. We will walk downhill so as a precaution please wear something dark on top and medium color on the bottom. Two of our people will wear the same.”

  “… black?”

  “No, any dark color you have. We will go to the other side of the road immediately. There is more light on that side and will be safer because it is an unexpected choice. I will be back in thirty minutes. Good evening.”

  I recognized Alana’s driver standing next to the black Mercedes parked just east of Haddock Lobo in front of Margarita Pizza. She was waiting just inside the restaurant and greeted me with a big smile. “I was a little worried when we had to go around the block. The military police usually are not the ones directing traffic. I called BrasTel security and they said you would be on time.”

  “Let’s get a table please. Ask for one where we can have a little privacy. They’ll think we’re lovers.”

  “But we are Querido.”

  We were taken through the large restaurant to the back wall and seated in an alcove formed by two large columns. As I sat down I saw my two escorts being seated against the side wall several tables away. “I didn’t know you liked pizza. We’ve only met in French restaurants.”

  “Everyone loves pizza in São Paulo. Our pizza is like Italy. It is made with fresh tomatoes and not with bitter tomato sauces like in the US. Most Paulista families go out for pizza on Sunday. Brazil has fejoada, bean and meat stew that is cooked for almost a whole day as its national dish. But, here in this state the favorite is pizza. It must be because so many Paulistas descend from Italian immigrants who came late in the nineteenth century.”

  “You’re not Italian.”

  “My Guardian is and he is very proud of his heritage. He says our heritage is the foundation of our personality. He said it tonight when I was telling him about my work today.”

  “You always tell him about your work and other things you’ve done during the day?”

  “Of course but don’t worry I do keep some personal things private. He is the head of our family. All of his sons call him every day.”

  “He has no daughters?”

  “No, he has just four sons. I think that is why he treats me as a daughter and not just a stranger who lives in his house. Tell me something. You started to talk about your former wife. Who ended the marriage?”

  “I think it ended itself and then she found someone else. One day she just left me a note and was gone.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I filed for divorce and buried myself in my work even more than I had been before. Why all the questions …?”

  “My Guardian is the reason for the questions. I told you he is a conservative man and a religious man.”

  “Are you worried about his approval of our marriage?”

  “No I am not … well maybe a little because it is important to me. He seems to like you. When I mention you he is always interested in what you are doing and how you are. He never took any interest in other men I was seeing so with you it is different in a good way I think.”

  “He’s a complicated man and I’m sure he never shows what he’s really thinking. You know my father saved his life don’t you.”

  “No I didn’t but that’s not unusual. He never talks about himself or yesterday but I know he keeps a diary. Tell me how did it happen?”

  “It was a coincidence much the same as my coming here and he and I meeting each other. It happened when he was a young officer in Vietnam on some sort of training assignment. A VC grenade was thrown into the middle of a clearing where he and several other officers were exchanging information about hostile activities in the region. My father fell on the grenade and saved everyone else.”

  “You make it sound routine. It was a very brave thing to do. He deserved a decoration for such bravery.”

  “He received the Victoria Cross. It is England’s highest recognition for bravery. My mother and I never thought the medal was a fair exchange for her husband and my father. I was just a baby when he died and I have no memories of him except from a few pictures, a folder of documents and the medal. But life moved us along and mother remarried to a good and successful man who tried to be the best husband to her and best father to me. No, he was the best father. He was the one von Lieghter was talking about when we first met.”

  “It is a sad story and one you have in common with my Guardian. His father was killed in Amazonia in the North during the First Great War. A damaged German ship tried to go up the Amazon to hide and make repairs. His father was an army Major and responsible for the men protecting the mouth of the Amazon. He tried to expel the German ship but was killed by them when my Guardian was a small child.”

  “Did he tell you the story?”

  “He would never tell me or anyone else. Dõna Aranni told the story one night after I had been with them more than two years. I had asked about the family and she told me the story but had to promise I would never mention it to her husband.”

  “Why?”

  “She said her husband believes the more people know about you the greater the chance they will be able to find your weakness. She never understood because in her view her husband has no weaknesses.”

  “Based on what I know about General Aranni I would tend to agree with her.”

  “He would not agree. He believ
es the reason he has been able to achieve whatever he has done is because he listens more than he talks and he never questions himself or hesitates once a course of action seems the better choice. He says there is never a best choice only a variety of possibilities with some better than others. He has taught me it is action and only action that counts. Once something is in motion its course can be adjusted but, it is most important to be the first creating motion because then the others are following behind and it is comparatively easy to keep them there. You simply keep others following and trying to catch up until they arrive at the end you have chosen”

  “What if someone tries to outflank or gets in front of you?”

  “You simply adjust the course of your action. He assures me it works whether the motion is physical or intellectual. He also says collecting and keeping information is the second most important element in reaching your goal. The more time I have spent with him and as I have become more involved in his business I have seen more and more of his network. It crosses borders, political philosophies, power, wealth, age and distance. I am always amazed by who he knows and who is obligated to him. But I am sure I still know of only a small part.”

  “He’s enjoyed a long healthy life of building and outliving his competition. So long and so successful it has to have been the result of more than just good luck. However, the most important thing on my mind tonight is where we are going. We made plans about a short trip to New York to buy you a ring. Do you still want to go?”

  “Nothing has changed, yes I still want to go but not for just a ring. I want to go because I want you. I want us to share each other’s lives. Have you become uncertain perhaps afraid of repeating the past?”