The two men had lunch together in a small room that closely resembled a British officers’ mess. The meal consisted of a steak that would not have been acceptable to any South American cowhand, surrounded by vegetables that reminded Eduardo of his schooldays. Still, Eduardo had never yet met a soldier who understood that a good chef was every bit as important as a good batman. During the lunch they talked in overall terms about the problems of building a whole new city in the middle of an equatorial jungle.
The provisional estimate of the cost of the project had been $1,000 million, but when de Silveira warned the President that the final outcome might well end up nearer $3,000 million, the President’s jaw dropped slightly. De Silveira had to admit that the project would be the most ambitious that Prentino International had ever tackled, but he was quick to point out to the President that the same would be true of any construction company in the world.
De Silveira, not a man to play his best card early, waited until the coffee to slip into the conversation the fact that he had just been awarded, against heavy opposition (which had included Rodriguez), the contract to build an eight-lane highway through the Amazonian jungle, which would eventually link up with the Pan-American highway, a contract second in size only to the one they were now contemplating in Nigeria. The President was impressed and inquired if the venture would not prevent de Silveira from involving himself in the new capital project.
“I’ll know the answer to that question in three days’ time,” replied the Brazilian, and agreed to a further discussion with the Head of State at the end of his visit, when he would let the President know if he was prepared to continue with the scheme.
After lunch Eduardo was driven to the Federal Palace Hotel, where the entire sixth floor had been placed at his disposal. Several complaining guests who had come to Nigeria to close deals involving mere millions had been asked to vacate their rooms at short notice to make way for de Silveira and his staff. Eduardo knew nothing of these goings-on, as there was always a room available for him wherever he arrived in the world.
The six Mercedes drew up outside the hotel, and the colonel guided his charge through the swing doors and past reception. Eduardo had not checked himself into a hotel for the past fourteen years except on those occasions when he chose to register under an assumed name, not wanting anyone to know the identity of the woman he was with.
The chairman of Prentino International walked down the center of the hotel’s main corridor and stepped into a waiting lift. His legs went weak and he suddenly felt sick. In the corner of the lift stood a stubby, balding, overweight man, who was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt, his mouth continually opening and closing as he chewed gum. The two men stood as far apart as possible, neither showing any sign of recognition. The lift stopped at the fifth floor and Manuel Rodriguez, chairman of Rodriguez International S.A., stepped out, leaving behind him the man who had been his bitter rival for thirty years.
Eduardo held on to the rail in the lift to steady himself because he still felt dizzy. How he despised that uneducated self-made upstart whose family of four half-brothers, all by different fathers, claimed they now ran the largest construction company in Brazil. Both men were as interested in the other’s failure as they were in their own success.
Eduardo was somewhat puzzled to know what Rodriguez could possibly be doing in Lagos for he felt certain that his rival had not come into contact with the Nigerian President. After all, Eduardo had never collected the rent on a small house in Rio that was occupied by the mistress of a very senior official in the government’s protocol department. And the man’s only task was to be certain that Rodriguez was not invited to any function attended by a visiting dignitary when in Brazil. The continual absence of Rodriguez from these state occasions ensured the absentmindedness of Eduardo’s rent collector in Rio.
Eduardo would never have admitted to anyone that Rodriguez’s presence worried him, but he nevertheless resolved to find out immediately what had brought his old enemy to Nigeria. Once he reached his suite de Silveira instructed his private secretary to check what Manuel Rodriguez was up to. Eduardo was prepared to fly on to Paris immediately if Rodriguez turned out to be involved in any way with the new capital project, and one young lady in Rio would suddenly find herself looking for other accommodations.
Within an hour his private secretary returned with the information his chairman had requested. Rodriguez, he had discovered, was in Nigeria to tender for the contract to construct a new port in Lagos and was apparently not involved in any way with the new capital, and in fact was still trying to arrange a meeting with the President.
“Which minister is in charge of the ports and when am I due to see him?” asked de Silveira.
The secretary delved into his appointments file. “The Minister of Transport,” the secretary said. “You have an appointment with him at nine o’clock on Thursday morning.” The Nigerian Civil Service had mapped out a four-day schedule of meetings for de Silveira which included every cabinet minister involved in the new city project. “It’s the last meeting before your final discussion with the President. You then fly on to Paris.”
“Excellent. Remind me of this conversation five minutes before I see the minister and again when I talk to the President.”
The secretary made a note in the file and left.
Eduardo sat alone in his suite, going over the reports on the new capital project submitted by his experts. Some of his team were already showing signs of nervousness. One particular anxiety that always came up with a large construction contract was the principal’s ability to pay, and pay on time. Failure to be paid on time was the quickest route to bankruptcy, but since the discovery of oil in Nigeria, there seemed to be no shortage of income and certainly no shortage of people willing to spend that money on behalf of the government. These anxieties did not worry de Silveira, because he always insisted on a substantial payment in advance; otherwise he wouldn’t move himself or his vast staff one centimeter out of Brazil. However, the massive scope of this particular contract made the circumstances somewhat unusual. Eduardo realized that it would be most damaging to his international reputation if he started the assignment and then was seen not to complete it. He re-read the reports over a quiet dinner in his room and retired to bed early, having wasted an hour in vainly trying to place a call through to his wife.
De Silveira’s first appointment the next morning was with the Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria. Eduardo wore a newly pressed suit, fresh shirt and highly polished shoes: for four days no one would see him in the same clothes. At eight forty-five there was a quiet knock on the door of his suite and the secretary opened it to find Colonel Usman standing to attention, waiting to escort Eduardo to the bank. As they were leaving the hotel Eduardo again saw Manuel Rodriguez, wearing the same pair of jeans, the same crumpled T-shirt, and probably chewing the same gum as he stepped into a BMW in front of him. De Silveira stopped scowling at the disappearing BMW only when he remembered his Thursday morning appointment with the Minister of Transport, followed by a meeting with the President.
The Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria was in the habit of proposing how payment schedules would be met and completion orders would be guaranteed. He had never been told by anyone that if the payment was seven days overdue he could consider the contract null and void and that he could take it or leave it. The Governor would have made some comment if Abuja had not been the President’s pet project. That position established, de Silveira went on to check the bank’s reserves, long-term deposits, overseas commitments and estimated oil revenues for the next five years. He left the Governor in what could only be described as a jelly-like state, glistening and wobbling.