Buying Brazil (Buying Brazil Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  “How very kind of you, I’ll move as fast as I can.”

  “Just do not take too long my friend. The coffee will not keep and no one knows where the markets will go next. They all say up so down is a real possibility.”

  “It shouldn’t take more than four to six weeks.”

  We exchanged a knowing look. Both of us had lived through enough deals to know the market could turn suddenly drying up what appeared to be certain funding sources killing what had felt like equally certain deals only days before.

  “The working name I will use at the Bank is ‘Coffee Exchange’. It should be a good cover during document development. We will work out details later. For now, some sun for us before it gets too hot and then the pool for laps.”

  The hotel’s dusty Mitsubishi Land Cruiser was waiting to take me to the airport as it had for Gunter several hours before. He and I had an awkward male parting … wanting to embrace as old friends would do in Europe but somehow uncertain because of time and place. Taking Gunter’s outstretched hand, “We shouldn’t let so much time pass between visits. I look forward to sharing dinner with you very soon in Vienna.”

  “It will be good for you. Your attention will be captured by our young guests from Eastern Europe. They all look for lovers … and husbands to change the color of their passports.”

  Gunter waved as the Mitsu bounced down the narrow side road.

  Watching him go with mixed feelings, “Remember to save some of the coffee.” The last time I was in Vienna it was with Shelly. We stayed at the Hotel Sacher behind the opera house on the Ringe Strasse, the main boulevard now standing where the old city wall had stood for millennia shutting it in next to the Danube. I remembered the small cozy room she didn’t seem to appreciate. There were a few late nights spent in smoke filled, dimly lit cafes on the narrow street off Stephensplatz where our conversations were short and broken. Two weeks later she wasn’t home when I finally got there after a too long day. She left a note … and little else. Perhaps if my head hadn’t been so full of work when we were in Vienna … no, by then it was probably too late.

  “Mr. Matthews, please, the driver said the road was difficult this morning. You should leave yourself as much time as possible.”

  “Difficult …?”

  “Port-au-Prince has certain elements. At times their problems are hard to contain … I am sure you understand. Today, other than possibly a little delay, all should be well. I hope your visit was satisfactory.”

  “Yes, quite satisfactory thank you.”

  A smile filled with shadows touched her lips, “Few guests return to Haiti these days. I hope you will think of us and visit again when things are more settled.”

  Whatever the problem had been in the morning the afternoon’s oppressive heat had put an end to it. Our descent from fragrant Petionville to sweltering, rancid Port-au-Prince was uneventful. Even with our air conditioning at full bore the city’s foul breath filled the car. I was grateful to quickly cross the sidewalk into the heavily guarded, cooled departure area and after check-in and a few government formalities, pass into the first class transit lounge where the air was almost as good as São Paulo’s on a bad day. American Airlines’ inbound flight had arrived on time and was being refueled. Thankfully, it was scheduled to be on its way to Miami in under an hour. Closing my eyes as I sank into a comfortable leather chair I began to rebuild the list of things that needed to be done in the next month but uncontrollably my thoughts drifted away.

  “Mr. Matthews … please … the economy class passengers have boarded. It is time for you to board.”

  Showing my boarding pass, I went through the gate to a covered passenger screening area leading to the blazing tarmac and the aircraft waiting surrounded by columns of shimmering heat. After the final immigration formalities but still deep in the relative darkness of the covered departure terrace, I started toward the sunlit plane. I was still somewhat lost in thought until roughly grabbed by the shoulder and jerked to a stop, “… a moment please.”

  Fear took control pushing reason away. I turned to face a shadowed figure whose outline was marred by a protruding machine gun. My chest tightened my breath caught in my throat, “… it’s my plane”, pointing out to the tarmac.

  “Thank you sergeant; please forgive my colleague’s enthusiasm. I wanted to say goodbye and wish you a safe trip.”

  Foolishly my heart started to beat again, “Colonel Branco …”

  “You’re off to Miami and then … New York?”

  Certain Branco had reviewed the departure and connections log, “Yes, I wasn’t sure I could get a good connection so I may have to spend a night in Miami.”

  “There are worse things than being stranded in Miami for a night. Have a safe trip my friend. Ah, yes, the General sends his compliments. Now hurry or I will have to hold the plane for you.”

  Fighting the urge to break into a run, I walked from the shade into the baking sun stopped and waved, “Thank you. I hope you get home to your family soon. My best”

  The General sent his compliments … was that all?

  Chapter 7

  “You didn’t say anything about going to Rio.”

  “You’re beginning to sound more like a wife than a colleague Robin. Rio was fine, now what’s happening with the document review? Have we sent the first follow-up request?”

  “Everyone worked the weekend except you. Even Skip pulled his share of the weight. Rossi’s office burned the midnight oil on the corporate organizational documents and the first production of significant contracts. They got it late Friday. Everyone got through a ton of stuff and so far there are no surprises.”

  “Not yet. Believe me they’re hiding something until they think the time is too short for us to be thorough.”

  “Why should Brazilians be different?”

  There was something wrong in Robin’s body language. She was a sloucher who entered a room and draped herself across something and didn’t move until she left. Today she was in a chair, leaning on the credenza then the corner of the desk.

  “What’s up Robin?”

  “Nothing … why?”

  “You’re bouncing around like a tennis ball. Something’s on your mind.”

  She chewed her lip like school girl. “It’s José Carlos.”

  “What about him? Did he make a pass at you?”

  “No … when we didn’t know where you were … well, he said something.”

  “Come on Robin … spit it out. We don’t have time.”

  She walked to the window and looked out at the traffic clogging Av. Paulista. After a very long minute she turned her eyes at once hard and uncertain, “are we in trouble?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The Italians on the Marginal. Someone taking a shot at you. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “These people love to gossip and they’ve got great imaginations. José Carlos is jumping to delusions … not facts. You know better than to listen to foolishness.”

  “Sure, just like you were in Rio for the weekend. Skip was on the eight o’clock Rio plane this morning. He didn’t see you.”

  “Same airport … Congonhas, arrived about the same time … but I was on a private plane and came through the other side of the airport.”

  “Private plane …?”

  “Remember, there are almost as many private planes in this country as taxis in Manhattan. Renting one for a short flight is cheap and it’s a lot easier than fighting the crowds. Stop seeing shadows … it’s not like you.”

  “Not like me … you’re the cheapest man alive. You expect me to believe you rented a plane.”

  “Cheap … maybe, but only when it’s business”, accompanied by what I hoped was a suggestively misleading grin.

  Robin stared far a long second, then “You bastard, you should let someone know where you are. This isn’t London.” She stormed out returning a second later, “Rossi wants you to call him.”

  “Thanks. Do we have some
breakfast or were the streets too dangerous?”

  “You’re not funny. What’s left is in the coffee room … help yourself.”

  Two cups of coffee and a little too sweet Brazilian Danish later I logged on to my personal e-mail and sent Gunter a note thanking him and telling him to use only this address to contact me. I attached several spreadsheets so he could work the deal structure under various alternatives.

  “Good morning Pedro, todu ben?”

  “Tudo boa, voce?”

  “I’m well thank you.”

  “You have learned some Portuguese.”

  “You’ve heard all of it.”

  “You should have a tutor come to the office for an hour a day. It will help you and your colleagues with more than just work. There is someone I know who is used to working with foreign businessmen.”

  “I’ll think about it. Robin said your people put in a long weekend. I hope there were no surprises.”

  “They read mostly ministerial papers. It is the usual way to tire people before the real meat is served. I think it is this way everywhere.”

  “It certainly is. Were you able to look into the ‘other’ matter for me?”

  “I made some inquiries. I found no links going over from the Military Period to Re-democratization such as you asked about. Let me just say that BrasTel is an important national asset so there is somewhat more interest in its privatization than is customary. I am sure you understand our national pride is involved.”

  “Anything particular I should know?”

  “There was one concept advanced that may be of interest because it may require certain assurances in any final contract. I’m sure you understand these are really just my thoughts.” Pedro paused, not waiting for a response but to put emphasis on what would come next. “In some quarters it is believed that access to public communications is one of the best ways to protect the Republic. Perhaps there is a worry foreign ownership may have unwanted consequences on what some might consider necessary access.”

  “Would the same concern run to any foreign owner?”

  “It is hard to say. But, you know the United States tries to press its standards on the rest of the world and what better way to do it than through investment.”

  “Truthfully, I don’t think the US is that organized.”

  “I have had to advise many clients on the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act of the United States. Is it not the purpose of the Law to force America’s foreign business ventures into obeying United States law even though such ventures are thousands of miles outside its borders and subject to another country’s laws?”

  “It might look that way.”

  “I assure you it does particularly when people feel they must first guard their own country’s interests. But, I am simply, shall we say … speculating.”

  “Thanks for the input Pedro. When we start drafting I’ll make sure we try to address this concern.”

  “Please understand, this point may never be raised in negotiations because the matter can be seen though different eyes. It is difficult because many Brazilians worry about the past repeating itself. I am sure you understand how our new and powerful good friend to the north could cast a troublesome shadow.”

  “Certainly, but most of the past foreign abuses came from Europe.”

  “Perhaps, but please remember, the abused believes he is the victim of abusive power not nationality or politics. He remembers his powerlessness and fears all of the powerful.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. Yes, I understand the words but people have to move forward and put the past behind them.”

  “Yes, but I suggest it is a reasonable view of the past for those comfortable with power and have the will to use it to move forward. There can be no movement without both and in the past we lacked the power and the will. Now many believe Brasil is developing international standing, international power. Still, these new feelings are very fragile because the rest of the world does not yet share them with us.”

  “Perhaps … it’s hard for an Englishman … I’m sure you understand. We should visit later in the week after more documents have been produced. Also, I would like you to come with me when I visit some of BrasTel’s facilities. I’m sure your insight will be very helpful.”

  “You know I will do all I can to help. If there is nothing else …?”

  “No, you have been very helpful. Thank you.”

  “Tchau my friend. Ate logo.”

  Now it was my turn to look out into Paulista’s traffic. Pedro made it so reasonable and straight-forward. Two new questions troubled me. Did Aranni arrange my chance meeting with Colonel Branco after he had listened to a routinely collected recording of my conversation with Gunter? The other was whether BrasTel was listening in on conversations regarding the deal. It could make effective negotiations impossible.

  “Find Skip for me please. I want him here and not on the phone.”

  Two hours later I heard Skip in the outer office, “Skip, bring Robin in with you.”

  “No hello … what’s the problem?”

  “Hello. Thanks for really digging in over the weekend. I appreciate it.”

  Skip grinned broadly, “He must be sick Robin.”

  Robin let out a nervous chuckle, “He only says thank you when there’s a problem he needs help with.”

  “As usual she’s right, there’s a problem. I’ve received some convincing information that someone could possibly be listening in and maybe recording our telephone calls.”

  “It’s not possible. They’d have to go to the police or someone official first. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “This isn’t the US. Remember, the military ran the place from ’64 to ’85. During those years everything important was modernized. Most of today’s infrastructure was built then including most of BrasTel’s network. I’m sure anything was possible then. Maybe it still is.”

  “So what. We’re not spies. They wouldn’t be listening to us.”

  “Who knows … but what we can’t count on is confidentiality. We can’t make any more calls to discuss hard deal points or the negotiations.”

  “You’re kidding! What’re we going to do have daily meetings under some palm tree?”

  “No, you’re going to get on a plane and fly to the nearest country. When you land call Sam and tell him what I think and that we need at least four satellite phones brought to us by diplomatic courier tomorrow. Tell him to get some payback on the political contributions he makes. Then get back here on the next plane. No … on second thought make it a short holiday, a day or two, and take a friend. It’ll be more in line with your former time off habits and therefore less suspicious.”

  “Can’t I just call him from a payphone? I’ve got plans …”

  “Who knows how their system, if any, works. A payphone … there’s too much we don’t know. If we’re being watched I don’t want them to suspect we’re on to them so a payphone’s risky. Who knows, maybe a little disinformation might be useful at the right moment.”

  Skip broke out in another wide grin, “Nixon would be proud of you even though you’re a Brit.” The grin faded, “Ok, but we can’t go silent. They’ll know something’s up.”

  “There’ll be enough routine due diligence chatter to keep them interested. There will also be Robin’s customary shopping reports to the world. That’s it for now so get going and let me know when you’re back.”

  Robin stood her ground waiting for the sound of the elevator doors closing behind Skip. The color was up in her cheeks and her knuckles white from gripping the back of the sofa in front of her. I let her stand hoping she would take the hint.

  “Damn you … I’m not going anywhere except back to New York.”

  “You can still catch tonight’s plane if you want.”

  “José Carlos is right. We’re hanging out aren’t we? I don’t want to get killed over some stupid deal.” Her face crimson, body bent as if she was about to turn and run. “What’s going on?”

 
; “What do you want Robin? I’m not sure of anything.”

  “Bullshit! You know something or have a good idea about it. It’s not right.”

  “Right … no one in this country knows right from wrong as you and I would think about it. What do you expect from me?”

  “The truth or I am on tonight’s plane and you can go to hell.”

  The fire gone from her eyes, her face white with anger, she stood her ground hands on hips daring the world and in particular me not to answer her.

  “… I don’t know. Sure some things have happened. Maybe the military is still … I’m not sure how but they may still pull strings here and somehow I stepped on their toes.”

  “Did the dead Italians step on the same toes?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. It could have been a robbery that went wrong like the news said.”

  “You don’t believe that do you?”

  “I … damn it no … I think someone was eliminating a threat or maybe a competitor. It makes no difference the end was the same.”

  “Are we a threat?”

  “Maybe but I think in some ways we look more like an opportunity. I don’t know how so don’t ask. I feel like someone is pushing me. I don’t know why but I know they’ve gone out of their way to get my attention.”

  “They’ve got it and mine too. Do whatever they want and let’s get out of here.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why …?”

  “There are a lot of reasons starting with Sam. He’ll drop us like a bad habit when we show up on his doorstep. He’ll also make sure we never work again. Then he’ll send someone else who’ll end up in the same mess. Wherever this is going I’m going to turn it to my … our benefit.”

  Her color had returned too normal and her voice steady, “You’re crazy; I think we should get out. It’s a lot better than getting dead.”

  “I thought about leaving but it didn’t feel any better to me. You’re right I wasn’t in Rio. I met a friend to discuss options.”

  Tension drained from Robin’s body and she slouched against the doorframe, “Ahead or dead? I know you got things back on track in other deals but then all that was at stake was money. I don’t like this crap … ah hell there’ll be another plane tomorrow.” The sharp edge gone from her voice, “You better get it together.”