‘God, what a sight,’ I said.
‘We’d better get going. The traffic in Rio becomes a nightmare in a storm like this.’
We showered, dressed, and then scurried to a taxi beneath one of the hotel’s white umbrellas. As I scrambled into the back seat after Isabel, I thought I caught sight of someone I recognized. I turned to look as we pulled off.
‘What is it?’ she asked, a drop of water dangling appealingly from her nose.
‘I thought I recognized the driver of the car behind. I could have sworn he was waiting for someone at the airport this morning.’
‘Where?’ She turned to look behind us.
The rain fell heavily on the rear window and created a curtain of water behind us.
‘I can’t see him now. Or his car. It was a Fiat, I think. Blue.’
We both strained to see through the rainstorm. Nothing.
‘Are you sure?’ Isabel asked.
‘To be honest, no. I might just be imagining it.’
She squeezed my hand. ‘You’re getting jumpy after what happened last time. Rio isn’t that dangerous, you know.’
‘You’re probably right,’ I said, but nevertheless I did check behind every now and again. I didn’t see anything.
We were meeting Luís at the Rio Yacht Club. The journey took about three-quarters of an hour. The traffic slowed to a crawl. Torrents of water gushed down any small incline, often reaching up to the tops of the struggling cars’ wheels.
It was dark by the time we reached the Yacht Club. Luís was already there, and gave Isabel a huge hug, which she returned warmly. He seemed genuinely happy to see me too, which pleased me. The club was, of course, next to a small marina, and we could just make out the sailing boats, bobbing in the rain-lashed sea. Eventually, the downpour softened to a more recognizable rain, and it was possible to see the buildings of Botafogo across the bay, and the imposing shape of Sugar Loaf mountain, looming high up above us.
I drank the compulsory caipirinhas — I was beginning to realize that no foreigner could avoid them in Brazil — and ate some glorious fish whose name I didn’t quite catch. Luís and Isabel both did a good job of avoiding any difficult subjects, and I didn’t witness a single argument. Isabel seemed happy, very much alive, and she glowed in the attention of her father and me.
‘So, you didn’t want to spend the weekend in São Paulo, Nick?’ Luís asked, with a smile.
‘Isabel didn’t seem very keen on the idea.’
‘Where did you take him?’ he asked Isabel.
‘The Point,’ she said.
‘Ah, very good. Did you like the view, Nick?’
‘Oh,Papai!’
I grinned. ‘One of our poets once said, “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”’
This Luís seemed to find very funny. Isabel just looked cross.
‘Well, I’m glad you found a few minutes to spend with your old father,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry I’m not staying with you tonight,’ Isabel said, ‘but we’re leaving for the airport tomorrow morning, and I knew you were in Petrópolis today, and we are leaving very early, so I thought it made sense to stay at the hotel with Nick. So I can show him to the airport.’
This explanation was all a bit breathless. It sounded forced to me. I think it did to Luís, to judge by the way he glanced at me. I pretended not to notice.
But then he shrugged. ‘No matter. I quite understand. You often stay at the Copacabana Palace when you’re here on business. It’s just nice to see you for dinner.’
Isabel blushed becomingly and concentrated on her food.
‘I’m very sorry about your Favela Bairro deal,’ Luís said.
‘Yes, I know. The whole scandal was set up by Ricardo. All that stuff linking the drug gangs to the deal was ridiculous. Ricardo just wanted to make sure Bloomfield Weiss didn’t steal the mandate.’
‘I thought it must be something like that. I never believe what Oswaldo’s papers say. Not that I ever read them.’
‘Still, we have another chance. São Paulo are very interested in doing a similar deal.’
‘Good. Well, good luck with that. So you’re going back there tomorrow?’
‘Yes,’ said Isabel.
‘Well, remember Nick, in São Paulo you can breathe out but don’t breathe in.’
I laughed. ‘I’ll remember.’
Finally, at twelve, we left. The rain was steady now, and had clearly set in for the night.
‘Would you like a lift back in my car?’ Luís asked.
‘Oh, no,’ Isabel said. ‘I’ve ordered a taxi to meet us from the hotel. It’s probably been waiting for us half the night. We’d better take it.’
Another suspicious glance from Luís, which I ignored.
‘Oh, well, see you soon, my dear.’ He bent down to kiss his daughter. Then he straightened up and shook my hand. I met his eye, which I was relieved to see was still friendly. ‘Nice to see you again, Nick. Please drop in and see me when you are next in Rio.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I will.’
He ran through the rain to his chauffeur-driven car, and we jumped into the taxi.
‘Why didn’t we go with him?’ I asked.
‘I suppose we could have. It’s just I would have felt pretty bad having him drop us off together at the hotel.’
‘I think he suspects something,’ I said.
‘Do you?’ Isabel fell back in the seat. ‘Oh, well, never mind. I think he likes you.’
‘I like him.’
Isabel smiled, and rested her head on my shoulder. ‘I’m so tired.’
With the drink and the fatigue, my eyes stared ahead without focusing properly. The road was empty apart from the car in front, which was driving slowly. Suddenly it stopped.
Our driver swore under his breath, and braked also. He hit the horn. Just then there was movement in the windows all around us. The driver saw it, and hit the button by his shoulder. The central-locking system clicked in all the doors. He slammed the gears into reverse, and there was a crash as he hit something behind us. I turned. Another car had driven up to block our escape. The taxi leaped forward and hit the vehicle in front as the driver tried to shunt out. Then his window shattered in an explosion of broken glass. A gun pointed in, and a voice behind it shouted urgently. The driver took his hands off the wheel and pushed up the lock to his door.
Isabel screamed.
I turned to my door, which was flung open. A gun was thrust in my face. A man in a Balaclava shouted at me in Portuguese. I can still remember his eyes. They were brown, the pupils huge, and they stared in frightened panic. I could see bushy eyebrows beneath the Balaclava, and the remains of a couple of spots between his eyes. The mask was dripping with water. The gun was silver. It was the same style as a Colt.45. The fist that held it was clenched so tight it was shaking. It was a miracle the trigger finger hadn’t pulled already.
This guy was as jumpy as hell.
The shout turned to a scream. I kept perfectly still and stammered, ‘Não entendo.’ The man kept screaming. I felt a kick in my back as Isabel was dragged out of the car, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the gun.
Then he reached into the car and grabbed my jacket, still shouting. I let him pull me out into the rain. He pushed me towards the rearmost car. I could hear Isabel screaming behind me as she was dragged towards the vehicle in front.
Swift panicky hands pushed me down into the well between the back and front seats, but I didn’t fit. Then the front seat lurched forward, and my face was shoved down on to the floor. It smelt of dust and cigarettes. One of them sat in the seat beside me, I heard the car door slam, and felt the cold barrel push into the nape of my neck. It was wet, and drops of water dribbled down my back.