The one sour note was Euclides. Cordelia was shaken by news of his death. It had affected me too. But it wouldn’t have surprised the boy himself: I doubt he had expected to reach adulthood. Cordelia had been right, he was brave. He had been stupid to take Nelson’s gun with him, and to try to sneak up on Zico. But he was only twelve, how could you blame him? He had been trying to save Cordelia’s sister and impress us. In fact, he had died with a gun in his hand, having just shot a bad guy; by Euclides’s reckoning that probably was a good way to go. But it was a waste. And a waste for which we were all responsible: the Brazilian government and middle class who allowed such poverty and violence in their midst and, more particularly, Nelson, Cordelia and me, who had armed him and encouraged him on his last adventure. I wouldn’t forget Euclides.
Isabel had a long bath, and then told us about her ordeal. She had been looked after well. For the first couple of weeks she had been kept in a tent inside a basement. Then she had been hurriedly moved up to the farm, and had been imprisoned in a barn with only one window that was fixed shut. She had had heat, light, adequate food and drink. She was allowed to wash once a day, and had been given a radio, books and newspapers. She had only seen her captors wearing masks, until that last day when she had finally seen Zico, but of course she had soon grown to recognize their voices. There seemed to have been five of them, who guarded her in shifts.
Right from the beginning she had decided that her best chance for survival was to co-operate with them. She had frequently asked about the progress of negotiations but they had told her nothing. The only indications she had had that there had been any communication with her father were the two proof-of-life questions she had received. The first, asking the name of her teddy-bear, had made her smile. It was typical of the sentimentality of her father, and it reminded her of the security of her childhood.
But, through it all, she kept calm. She knew that kidnappings could take months, but she also knew that her father would find a way to pay her ransom. It was clear that she had been a lot less worried about her safety than we.
She told us all of this in a mixture of English, for my benefit, and Portuguese for Maria’s. But when her story had finished, and the conversation had broken up into rushed questions and answers, I left them to it. Despite all the time I had spent with them, I wasn’t really part of their family. I grabbed a bottle of beer, and went out on to the balcony to watch the sunset, glad that Isabel was finally free.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up.
‘Hallo,’ said Isabel.
‘Hi.’
She bent down and kissed me, her hair falling on my face. Then she stood up and looked out to sea. ‘You can’t believe what it’s like to see the sea again,’ she said. ‘This view. These people.’ A pause. ‘You.’
A warm glow of happiness ran through me. It was just what I had hoped to hear. I reached up and pulled her lips down to mine again.
Eventually she broke away. ‘What will you do now?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’ And, in truth, I hadn’t. My plans had gone no further than Isabel’s release.
‘Is Papai really going to take over Dekker?’ she asked.
‘We’ll soon find out. The auction is tomorrow afternoon. It’s between him and Bloomfield Weiss.’
‘So Ricardo has finally lost? I still can’t believe he did that to me. Had me kidnapped. I know our relationship was over, but I thought I meant more to him than that.’
‘You know what he’s like,’ I said. ‘With the survival of Dekker Ward at stake, he’d do anything. And at least you’re still alive.’
Isabel frowned. ‘I guess you’re right.’
It was getting dark quickly. The floodlights were on, picking out the white spume of the waves on the beach. I had stared out at this view often, worrying about Isabel in captivity. And now she was here, next to me.
My thoughts turned to Luís in London, and the auction tomorrow. I prayed he would be successful. I badly wanted Ricardo to see that he wasn’t invincible. That he couldn’t mess up so many people’s lives, especially mine and Isabel’s, and get away with it.
Isabel was obviously thinking the same thing. ‘Let’s go and help Papai,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Let’s go to London. Tonight. To help him with his bid tomorrow.’
‘It’s too late, isn’t it? And shouldn’t you rest?’
‘I’ve been resting for weeks. I want to see my father. This is an important time for him. There’s a flight that leaves at about ten o’clock, I think. We’ve plenty of time.’
I grinned. ‘OK. Let’s go.’
The plane arrived at Heathrow airport early the following afternoon, and Luís said he’d meet us. Isabel had bought first-class tickets on the Varig flight and I hadn’t complained. Despite what she’d said about too much rest, she was tired. The excitement of her release had worn her out after her weeks of inactivity. So she slept for the entire flight, while I stayed awake mulling over the last few weeks, and letting my hopes play with the idea of a future with Isabel.
I spotted him first, his domed head rising above the press of people waiting outside customs at Terminal Three. His face lit up with pleasure when he saw Isabel. She ran to him and they embraced. He stroked her hair, and a tear appeared in his eye. Eventually he broke free and shook my hand. Or pumped it, more like. The man I had spent so much time with over the last few weeks, bowing but not broken by the pressure of his daughter’s kidnap, was transformed. It was a pleasure to see.
Luís and Isabel talked excitedly in Portuguese as they made their way to his chauffeur-driven car. But as we sped down the M4 into London, Luís switched to English.
‘I’ve booked you both rooms at the Savoy, where I’m staying. I’ll drop you off there, but then I’ll have to go into the City to put the final touches to our bid.’
‘How’s it going?’ I asked.
‘Pretty well. We’ve hired Gurney Kroheim to act for us. Do you know them?’
They were Jamie’s old firm. They were also one of the foremost British merchant banks, who had built a reputation for advising on international takeovers. Not only would they provide good advice but they should add weight to Banco Horizonte’s bid.
‘They have a good reputation,’ I said.
‘They deserve it. And KBN are tied in. We’ve put together quite a complicated structure with offshore companies and convertible preference shares. It gives KBN economic control of the bond portfolio, without recognizing a loss at Dekker that would wipe out its capital. KBN will end up with twenty per cent of Dekker, and we get the remaining eighty. With KBN behind it, the new Dekker should have better credibility with the markets. And also with the SFA and the Bank of England.’
‘What do KBN think about Dekker’s bond position?’
‘They’re enthusiastic, thank God. The market has been strengthening the last few days. It looks like Congress will abandon the Pinnock Bill.’
‘That’s good news,’ I said.
‘Good and bad. It’s good in that it makes the whole bid less risky. It’s bad in that it makes Dekker Ward more expensive. And Bloomfield Weiss can afford to pay up more than we can.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Bloomfield Weiss’s capital was many times that of Banco Horizonte so they could pay more if they wanted to. But Sidney Stahl did not look the kind of man who would overpay for anything. We were still in with a chance. ‘Have you heard anything from Ricardo?’
‘Nothing. Kerton thinks he’s keeping him in the dark, but we know he knows there’s something going on. I guess he’s just trying to cope with the bond position and hoping that with Isabel’s life under threat we would stop the takeover somehow.’