‘And your mother?’
‘Oh, I don’t think my mother knows what I do, or cares. As long as I have enough money to keep her bank balance healthy.’
‘What about Eduardo? Does he take after your father too?’
Ricardo smiled ruefully. ‘Eduardo inherited a different set of characteristics from our father.’
I desperately wanted to ask Ricardo what those were, but there was something in his tone that suggested I had already gone far enough. He was a fascinating man, and I felt privileged that he had allowed me to learn more about him. But was he just manipulating me with his frankness? If so, I could feel it working.
Ricardo put down his glass, and turned to me. ‘Look, I know you find what you’ve seen difficult to take. I know you’re questioning the whole premise of what we’re doing. And I respect that. Honestly. I would rather have people who question first principles than those who blindly do what everyone else does. So think about it. But don’t pretend that you can work in finance, take the rewards and avoid the tough decisions.’
His blue eyes held mine. They were sincere. I knew he believed in what he was saying. And those eyes were inviting, persuasive, almost hypnotic. Join me, they said.
‘I want you to work for Dekker. You’ll be right in the middle of the most exciting market in global finance today, and you’ll have a hell of a lot of fun too. I think you can do a lot for us. But you need to be committed. If you don’t buy into what we’re doing, then go back to your Russian books. You decide.’
I swallowed. I remembered that when I had originally taken the job at Dekker I had played through this dilemma in my mind. Then I had decided that if I was to succeed in finance, I would have to accept the ethical system that came with it. And it wasn’t immoral, just amoral. As Ricardo had said, the reason that Brazil was in such a mess was that the Brazilians had made it that way. The same could be said of Russia, that other great sprawling, chaotic country. Isabel’s father had liked Tolstoy’s story of the Master and Man, and its nobility was appealing. But the Master had been foolish to insist that he and his servant drive on in the snow instead of waiting at the inn for the storm to clear. And, in the real world, masters just didn’t give up their lives for their servants.
Then I thought of Cordelia, and the tense little boy with the big smile and the hard eyes, and I turned my back on Ricardo towards the dark mid-Atlantic sky.
9
I received quite a welcome when I arrived at the office late on Friday morning. Dave, Miguel, Pedro, Charlotte, people whom I hardly knew, all came up to ask how I was. Although I had been at Dekker less than two weeks, and had spent barely three days in the office itself, they treated me as one of their own. I had to admit, it was a good feeling.
The plane had landed at lunch-time the previous day and, unlike Isabel and Ricardo who had gone straight into work, I had returned to my flat. I saw my GP first thing the next morning. She was impressed with the Brazilian doctor’s work, changed my dressing and told me to take a week off work. There wasn’t a chance of that, but in deference to her I left my bike at home and took the tube and the Docklands Light Railway into Canary Wharf. I hated it, and vowed to cycle in on Monday, however much my chest hurt.
I was disappointed to see that the desk next to me was empty. Isabel was out somewhere.
But Jamie was in the office and it was good to see him.
‘What a trip! Are you OK? Where did you get stabbed? Can I look?’
‘No, you can’t!’ I said. ‘I just got it strapped up this morning and I’m buggered if I’m going to take it all off for you.’
‘OK.’ Jamie feigned disappointment. ‘What happened?’
He, of course, had none of the reticence of the others about asking me that question, and I didn’t mind answering him.
‘Jesus!’ He shook his head. ‘One inch one way or the other and that would have been that.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘So how are you feeling?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ I said. ‘Or, at least, the knife-wound will be. But did you hear what Ricardo did?’
‘About the favela deal? He killed it, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t believe it. After everything that Isabel had done. I saw one of them, you know. A favela. Someone’s got to do something about them.’
‘I know,’ said Jamie. ‘It must be tough for her. This game gets rough sometimes.’
‘And there’s something else.’ I reached down into my bottom drawer to dig out the fax to Martin Beldecos. It wasn’t there.
‘That’s funny,’ I said.
‘What is?’
‘I left a fax just here before I went to Brazil. I’m sure I did.’
Jamie made as if to get up and go.
I held up my hand. ‘No, wait. It’s important.’
Jamie watched me as I ransacked my desk. Not there. I thought about whether I might have put it somewhere else, or taken it home, or to Brazil.
No. It had definitely been in that bottom drawer. And now it was gone.
‘What was it?’ asked Jamie.
I stopped my search and sat up. ‘It was a fax from United Bank of Canada in the Bahamas to Martin Beldecos. It said that the man behind one of the accounts he had been investigating was linked to a suspected money-launderer.’
‘Really? Did it say which account?’
‘Something about International Trading and Transport (Panama). Or, at least, they were the company that had paid the money into a numbered account at Dekker Trust in the Caymans.’
‘That makes sense,’ Jamie said. ‘It would have been very difficult to trace.’ He appeared thoughtful.
‘What exactly is money-laundering?’ I asked.
‘It’s the washing of dirty money,’ replied Jamie. ‘The money might come from drugs, or smuggling, or organized crime, but it’s mostly drugs related. It’s often easier for the police to trace the cash rather than the drugs, so criminals have become very sophisticated at hiding the source of the money and then investing it anonymously. They usually use shell companies in offshore jurisdictions.’
‘Like the Cayman Islands?’
‘Like the Cayman Islands. Or Panama, or Gibraltar, sometimes even the Channel Islands or Switzerland. There are dozens of possibilities. Some of the money-trails get very complicated.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘And Martin Beldecos discovered one of these money-trails.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘About what?’
‘What should I have done with the fax? Which has now disappeared, by the way. Eduardo said if I received any more messages for Martin Beldecos I should give them to him personally. I’m just not sure about giving him this one.’
‘Why not?’
Jamie’s lack of concern unsettled me. Maybe I was imagining things. ‘Well, in case he already knows about it,’ I said uncertainly.
‘Hmm.’ Jamie was thinking. ‘I see what you mean. And, anyway, he’ll have a fit if you then tell him you’ve lost it.’
‘I haven’t lost it!’
‘Then where is it?’ asked Jamie.
‘Jamie, I promise you I haven’t lost it. Someone must have taken it while I was in Brazil.’
That shut him up. He thought for quite a while. Finally, he said, ‘If I were you I would forget all about it.’
‘Why?’
‘I fear you may be right. It wouldn’t surprise me if Eduardo has some money-laundering business going on the side. It’s common enough in our world. And the last thing he would want is for you to pop up and cause trouble for him. He would not be very happy.’
‘But what if he doesn’t have anything to do with it?’