‘And you didn’t tell me?’
Kate avoided Jamie’s eyes.
‘This is incredible! How can you do this to me, both of you?’ As the shock wore off, the anger grew.
‘Look, Jamie,’ I said, in as reasonable a tone of voice as I could muster, ‘Dekker are in big trouble. They might well go bust. If Bloomfield Weiss take them over, you’ll keep your job.’
‘That’s not the point!’ Jamie stood up and began pacing up and down the room. ‘We’re a team! And, like it or not, Nick, we’re Ricardo’s team. You would be breaking us up.’
Now I got angry. ‘You’re sounding just like Ricardo! He’s not some victim of the financial establishment, and neither are you. He’s a very wealthy man, who’s made money from screwing all those around him. Including me!’
Jamie glared at me. I glared back. I tried to control myself. ‘Isabel has been kidnapped by someone who wants Dekker to remain independent. That someone has threatened that if Dekker is taken over, she will die. Now don’t tell me Ricardo isn’t behind that somehow or other!’
Jamie was silent, thinking through what I had just said. In the end, he spoke. ‘Nick. I know we’ve been friends, but I can’t have you in my house while you’re plotting with Bloomfield Weiss against Ricardo.’
‘Jamie!’ Kate protested.
‘I’m sorry, Kate, but you shouldn’t have helped him.’
‘I was only trying to stop that poor girl from being killed!’
Jamie ignored Kate, and turned to me. ‘I want you to leave,’ he said.
‘He can’t. He hasn’t got anywhere to go!’ Kate cried.
‘Well, I want you out next week, and the less I see of you in the meantime the better.’ With that he left the room, and I could hear his heavy step clumping up the stairs.
Kate looked at me wide-eyed. She bit her lip. ‘Nick, I’m sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Go up to him. It’s important you go with him.’
She nodded and followed him up the stairs.
I sat alone in the dimly lit room. I fetched another glass, and poured myself some of Jamie’s whisky.
I should have anticipated Jamie’s reaction. He was a loyal Dekker man. I had always put this loyalty down to greed, or at least ambition — the ambition to make a fortune, which was almost the same thing. But it was more than that. Jamie was one of Ricardo’s people. He was what I would have become if I had stayed there. Ricardo looked after his people well, and expected total loyalty. In Jamie’s case he’d got it.
Jamie had always liked to follow the doctrine of whatever institution he was in. At seventeen, he had become the embodiment of the public-school virtues, and was rewarded by becoming head-boy. At Oxford, he had led a successful university career in social and sporting terms, if not quite academically. At Gurney Kroheim, he had been able to don the mantle of the stuffy merchant banker whenever it was required by his colleagues or his customers. And now at Dekker he was keen to follow Ricardo’s rules and do well by them. So far he seemed to be succeeding.
But Jamie was my friend, dammit! How could Ricardo take away my friend from me? Surely our loyalty to each other stretched back further, ran deeper?
In which case, why had I gone behind Jamie’s back to sell Dekker to Bloomfield Weiss? I was beginning to regret that. Now it looked as if that decision was going to lose me my best friend. And, barring a miracle, it might lose Isabel her life too.
But I had genuinely believed that Jamie would be just as well off if Bloomfield Weiss did take over Dekker.
And what about Kate? I shouldn’t have dragged her into this. She and I were good friends, and I could feel her losing her respect for Jamie. The last thing I wanted to do was pull her away from him. But, unless I was careful, that’s what would happen.
Of course, I still had the hardest problem of all waiting for me. How to find and release Isabel.
I sighed, drank down my whisky, and looked at my watch. Three o’clock. The kidnappers’ deadline was four, British time. One hour to go.
I nodded off in my chair, and was woken by the phone ringing. It was ten past four, and I could hear the scattered chirping of the first blackbirds outside the window.
‘Nick? It’s Luís.’
‘What did Zico say?’ I asked him.
‘They’ll keep her alive. I told him that the deal wasn’t called off, but merely delayed. He said that as soon as they hear that the deal is closed, they’ll kill her.’
‘So we have until next Wednesday to find her.’
‘Yes. But at least she’s still alive.’
‘At least she’s still alive,’ I repeated.
With the hope that Isabel would live glimmering like the dawn light seeping through the curtains, I dragged myself upstairs to bed.
I woke at nine. Five hours’ sleep was enough for me to feel refreshed. Kate was taking Oliver to his nursery school, and Jamie had left hours before. I made myself a cup of coffee and some toast, and went back upstairs to think.
I put all thoughts of Jamie, Kate, where I was going to find a job and where I was going to live out of my mind. I had to work out how to find Isabel by next Wednesday. I pulled out some fresh clean white sheets of paper, and stared at their emptiness.
Whoever had organized Isabel’s kidnap wanted Dekker to remain independent. Ricardo and Eduardo were the two people most likely to want Dekker to remain independent. Yet Ricardo refused to admit any knowledge of the kidnapping, and it would be impossible to tie them into it from here.
But what about the other end? What about Brazil? What about Rio? Now we were getting somewhere. I began to jot down some thoughts.
The kidnappers were a Rio gang. I had been attacked by a gang in Rio, even if it was only a gang of kids. Dave had guessed that this was linked to Martin Beldecos’s death in Caracas, and money-laundering at Dekker. Money-laundering that was organized by Francisco Aragão, Ricardo’s brother-in-law.
But why would Francisco Aragão want to kidnap Isabel?
I looked over my jottings. It was clear that if I was to work out who was holding Isabel, I would have to go to Brazil. But, in the meantime, there was one lead in England I should follow up.
I pulled out my list of Dekker home numbers and dialled one.
‘Alô.’
‘Can I speak to Luciana Ross?’
‘Speaking.’
‘Oh, hallo. This is Nick Elliot. We met at your party in April, I don’t know if you remember?’
‘Ah, Nick, of course I remember!’ Her voice was husky, warm and friendly. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Um, not too bad. You talked about some of the Latin American designs you do, and since I’m planning to redecorate my flat, I wondered if I could come and see some?’
‘Of course. Any time you like.’
‘Today?’
‘Sure. Come round here for some lunch.’
‘OK.’ I checked my watch, and thought about train times. ‘I’ll be there at about one.’
‘See you then.’
The Rosses’ apartment was in one of the grand squares of Belgravia. I chained my bike out of the way down some steps, and rang the bell. I was wearing the smartest casual clothes I could muster, but I knew I would look more in place in the School of Russian Studies common room than here.
A disembodied voice crackled through the entry-phone. ‘Nick?’
‘Yes.’
‘Second floor. Take the lift.’
There was only one door on the second floor, and I rang the brass bell beside it. In a moment, it was opened, and Luciana appeared. She was wearing a simple white top, and jeans that clung to her hips and legs. Her full black hair shone round her shoulders. She gave me a broad smile, as though she had known me for years. ‘Nick, come in!’
She proffered her cheek, and I kissed it, smelling a hint of expensive perfume. Then I followed her into the sitting room.