Buying Brazil (Buying Brazil Trilogy Book 1) Page 19

  Looking around while feeling my pulse, “I assume you vomited and then passed out. You could have bumped your head when you fell. Do you have high blood pressure?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been dizzy or passed out before?

  “Never … well, not without the help of too much drink.”

  “I will check your pressure but I think that was not the problem. You were upset by the attempt … the blood splashed on you. It is not unusual to have such a reaction. Please, you need to undress so I can see if you are hurt. Do you need help?”

  “Maybe, just a little help to get up.”

  “Yes but only for you to sit on the toilet.” He helped me up to the toilet. “Do not stand yet.” He turned to the sink and then held out a wet wash cloth. “It is cold. Clean your face. You will feel better … your shirt please.”

  Batista was impatiently waiting in the doorway. Finally, “How is he?”

  “Upset. There is a bump on his head, a small unimportant cut on his back and a bruise on his shoulder. From the color of the bruise I would say the bruise is not from tonight.”

  “. . his head?”

  “Hitting the head is always a worry. But, I think with no more than a night’s sleep he will feel normal. Someone should keep watch tonight. For now, the best he can do is shower and then go to sleep. If there is nothing else I will leave some ointment for the cut, some sleeping tablets and go back to my dinner. The sleeping tablets only if he really needs them. I would prefer they not be used because of his possible head injury but sleep is very important.”

  “Thank you Doctor. Please …”

  “I know Senhor, I have not been here.”

  Batista handed him a small packet of bills, “Our friends value your discretion.”

  “That is most kind.” Then turning to me, “You should be yourself in the morning. Get some sleep and be more careful in the future. Our neighborhood looks safe but it sometimes attracts unwanted visitors at night.”

  After the door closed behind the doctor my biggest worry found its voice, “What about the police? There was a shooting. I’m a visitor in the country and …”

  “There have been no police and it would be best if there continues to be none and no official report.”

  “Who … why not?”

  “You are agitated. I assure you it is not necessary to call anyone. It is best if you do as the doctor suggested, get a good night’s sleep and be more careful.”

  “Why are you here? Were they yours?”

  “I would tell you it was a coincidence but you would not believe me. It is enough to say you have been watched since shortly after the problems experienced by your Italian competitors. Recently the assignment was changed to also provide protection for you and your two colleagues but please, it would be best if they do not know they are being looked after. Tonight it was necessary to carry out the protection part of the assignment. Please keep in mind that protection personnel are not unusual here in Brasil. Leading families use them to look after wives and children. Companies like BrasTel routinely provide them for its senior executives and other VIPs.”

  “… and you?”

  “That I will leave as a coincidence.”

  “Sure … and I believe in leprechauns. Thanks for saving my butt. I know better. I just forgot.”

  Batista’s hand gracefully brushed aside an imagined intrusion, “It is the same in any big city, Madrid, New York … forgetting can become very dangerous.”

  “You can be sure it won’t happen again.”

  “Do you need help with the shower or bed? I have asked my wife to send over one of the maids to sit with you tonight. The doctor said you should be watched until it is certain the bump on your head is no more than just that.”

  “No, I think I’m alright. Please tell your wife it isn’t necessary. The doctor said the cut is small; almost nothing and I can reach it to put on the medicine. I’m fine.”

  “As I said the doctor suggested that you be watched tonight. The maid will be here shortly. I will leave another card with my home number. One of the mil … security people is outside your door and another in the garden downstairs. They will be there for the rest of the night.”

  “That’s not necessary and it might attract attention.”

  Ignoring me, “You will not mention the events of this evening to ‘anyone’ please. We do not want unnecessary questions. The street was dark as is your garden and Brasileiros understand what not to see. Leave it at that please. Good night my friend. Oh yes, your watch is on the night stand so you will not have to make explanations to your very observant Sra. Robin.”

  Delivered with my best forced chuckle, “Thank you for not being here and please thank the ones who were not in the street to help with what didn’t happen.”

  “You learn quickly. Tchau …”

  He left and my head fell into my hands. God, what’ve I gotten myself into? City streets and all they could contain were nothing new. But, being robbed was and having my own armed guards who were quick to shoot … it all made me sickenly uncomfortable.

  The apartment had a large American style tiled stall shower with a glass door. Not one of the flimsy plastic cabinets that are in most of São Paulo’s rentals. Tonight, I luxuriated in the hot fog-filled space while the oversized shower head rained hot water. The fog felt almost thick enough to separate me from the reality determined to torment me. Lost in the fog I once again resolved to stop being a pawn in someone else’s game. Watson, Aranni, they were the same. It was time to stop being used. Yes, it was time to put them to work for me. I was going to finish up and leave Brazil on my terms, those designed to free me from people like them forever.

  I stepped out of the shower and was immediately wrapped in one of my bath sheets. Turning my head with some pain I found a stern-faced sixty-year old woman dressed in a white uniform.

  “Obrigado Senhora.”

  “De nada Senhor”, while her large hands vigorously rubbed me dry without removing the towel. Another towel went over my head to dry my hair with gentle rubbing. When finished, she pointed to the bed through the open door, “Cama favor.”

  Tooth brush in hand, “Momenchinho” received a nod however she remained hovering behind me the way I imagined a head nurse in a military hospital would. Having exhausted my Portuguese, I decided trying to convince her to go home would be fruitless.

  Pointing to her, “Nome?”

  “Carla Senhor.”

  She stood by the bed and artfully stripped the towel off my shoulders holding it up as a modesty screen as I got in. “Boa noite Sra. Carla.”

  The only reply was the light going out and creaking from the desk chair she had turned toward the bed.

  “Senhor, oito hours. Ovos e café?”

  I didn’t care about the eight o’clock or the eggs and coffee because as soon as my head hit the pillow everything was pushed away by a vivid picture of the blood-stained face looking back at me from the mirror.

  “Bom dia Senhora Carla.” The sun was high. Eight o’clock, thank God I had slept. Pointing to the bedroom door, “… favor.”

  Reluctantly she shuffled out and then I sat up. My underwear and clothes were neatly laid out on the other side of the bed. Twenty somewhat disoriented minutes later I was shaved, dressed and with aching head went to the kitchen where my eggs and coffee were waiting.

  “… brigado Senhora. Motorista nove meia.” I wanted her to know José Carlos would be downsatirs at 9:30.

  Pointing to the phone, “… Favor, ligar Sr. Batista agora.” She dialed, waited, “Sr. Batista favor. Esta Carla.” After a few more words in Portuguese she handed me the phone.

  “Carl, you are well? Carla said you slept.”

  “I’m fine Juan. Thanks for all you’ve done. I really appreciate it.”

  “I am happy we were able to help.”

  “My driver picks me up about nine-thirty and my maid arrives about the same time. If you want to avoid questions Carla should go home befor
e then. Tell her to leave things the way they are so the apartment looks normal. I saw she cleaned the blood up in the bathroom and my clothes are gone.”

  “… only to the cleaners my friend. They will be delivered after your maid leaves tonight.”

  “You thought of everything. Thanks …” I handed the phone back to Carla.

  “Good morning Robin. Just coffee please.”

  “Morning … I didn’t see the report on my e-mail.”

  “I decided to get some sleep so you would get off my case. I’ll look at it right now.”

  “You don’t look like the sleep helped. What’s her name?”

  “I’m not Skip!”

  “Sorry …”

  Wonderful, she didn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary. If she did she would be on the next airplane and I needed her here. “No, I’m sorry Robin, we’ve been together too long. Give me ten minutes and I’ll send you the report.”

  “Rossi called. He said it wasn’t important and would call back.”

  “Thanks … anything from Sam?”

  “No, I expected some BS since our report wasn’t there first thing this morning. Maybe they’ve forgotten us.”

  “We’re not that lucky. It has to be the time difference.”

  I reviewed Robin’s draft and changed nothing. Robin and I had been together through enough deals so she knew what I wanted. She also knew me well enough to spot any changes in my behavior no matter how small. I couldn’t ask her for an aspirin for my aching head because I never got headaches. Nothing ever ruffled my well-practiced British reserve so how could I explain last night. I remembered reading that the toughest soldiers were often overwhelmed by their first action … their first confrontation with their own mortality, blood and death. I wasn’t a soldier and the only blood I had ever seen was the result of boys’ boxing classes and the inevitable bloody nose.

  Mother and step-father had died quietly in bed. Mother from some unknown disease she brought back from a holiday in Africa five years ago. Step-father who had been twenty years older than mother, just seemed to wear out after she died. A call from London last year bloodlessly told me of the stroke and his death two hours later. As his only heir I received everything. His title and the eight-hundred-acre farm in Kent along with its forty room old pile were mine. The solicitors assured me the family trust was in good order and that death duties could easily be paid. Naturally Lord Greenbrook had provided for everything. It was a family tradition, add to the trust each generation and not squander the work of one’s forbearers.

  At forty-five years I was still quite capable of producing an heir and continuing the line. The only thing necessary was the right woman. Now I had the farm in Kent and the cows to go along with it. Kids were the problem and like all other problems I’d faced, I’d deal with that one too …

  “Rossi is on the phone.”

  “Thanks … Hello Pedro, how are you?”

  “Quite well except for a disturbing bit of news I heard.”

  “You heard of my latest. Let me assure you there was nothing worth your time.”

  “I understand you cannot speak freely but still thanks to God the results were not more serious. You have to be more careful … but you know that. I called because there is some planning that needs to be done if we are going to keep the transaction moving forward at a satisfactory pace.”

  “You know we have to keep things moving along as quickly as possible. What do you want to do? I can come to your office if you want.”

  “No, today is going to be very busy and we should put our full attention to this. Do you like Japanese food?”

  “I certainly do. I spent the better part of several years in Tokyo chasing some client deals.”

  “Liberdade is the Japanese barrio … neighborhood of São Paulo. There is a small restaurant with tatami rooms as in Japan and the food is very good. Is eight o’clock tonight good for you?”

  “Eight tonight’s fine”

  “Juan Batista will join us. I will pick you up at eight and go around the block to get him. It’s no more than twenty minutes to Liberdade at night. I promise tonight will be more relaxing than last night.”

  “That won’t be hard to do.”

  “Ate logo my friend.”

  “Robin, ask José Carlos about the Japanese neighborhood. Rossi’s taking me there for dinner tonight.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “… anything starting with where it is. You know I like to have a sense of where I’m going.”

  “I’ll get him up here with a map. You can squeeze the rest of what he knows out of him yourself.”

  “Liberdade … it is not far, just the other side of downtown. Fifteen to twenty minutes or an hour away depending on traffic. Mostly Japanese and some Chinese people live there. It is not as big as before but there are still many stores and old style restaurants. Some Japanese style health spas but people say the women are not as pretty as before. It is mostly a place for weekend shopping and tourists. There are many food markets and herbalists for the Japanese who now live all over São Paulo.”

  “Anything I should look for?”

  “Nothing I can think of. It is quiet during the week. Saturday and Sunday there is a street fair … a crafts market. I will take you there on Sunday if you would like to go? It will be something different.”

  “Thanks José, I’ll think about it. Maybe Robin will be interested.”

  “Sra. Robin should go on Saturday when the shops are open.”

  “Sounds right. Talk to her about it.”

  Robin appeared in the doorway, “Sam’s on the phone.”

  “Thanks Robin … thank you José,” and after waiting a moment for him to leave, “Good morning Sam. How are you?”

  “Well thank, you?” Without waiting for an answer, “I got your report. Good progress. Do you see any problems?”

  “None so far.”

  “Then you should be ready to close in three and half or four months.”

  “It looks like that may be a little long. If we’re lucky we’ll be ready a lot sooner.”

  “Let me think about it. The market’s acting kind of squirrelly. We may have to wait till it calms down for reasonable financing. I don’t think it will slow us down … momentum is really important in this kind of market. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Understand … I’m sure something will come up. It always does. Right now it looks like the rate approvals might need a more detailed review. There’ll probably be more things that will need to be scrubbed clean.”

  “Do what you have to but keep me informed,” followed by the sound of him hanging up.

  There was nothing wrong with the market except for possibly a little overheating. The US economy was sound, it was strong and growing. Strong enough to support a sustained rally. The bastard wanted to slow things down. Aranni’s friends were telling me the truth. Sam was planning to throw us under the bus; the son-of-a-bitch. Tonight I would start returning the favor.

  Exactly at eight Rossi’s VW rolled to a stop out front. I was downstairs waiting for him in the garden feeling quite comfortable on the safe side of the gate. The sound of the gate’s electric lock sent a chill down my spine and the two gunshots echoed in my head destroying the garden’s tranquility as did the knowing look and the usual “quidado Senhor” from the guard. Quickly I crossed the sidewalk and got in. “Hello Pedro, happy you could make it tonight instead of just your driver like the other night.”

  “I am sorry for that. I felt it was in both our interests not to be with you. I’m sure you understand some people are not completely frank when a lawyer is in the room.”

  “It seems to have worked out well. What does Batista have on his mind?”

  “The same as you, completing the BrasTel deal the most satisfactory way.”

  “Completing it for whom?”

  “Naturally, it will be for himself first then his stakeholders. For you, well, I will leave that to you. For me, all I expect there
to be is my usual fee for a job well done and perhaps a little peace of mind courtesy of my old friends.”

  We drove off and Rossi dialed his cell phone and said a few quick words in Portuguese, “Juan is on his way down to meet us.”

  We pulled in front of a small building around the corner and less than a block east of Haddock Lobo. I had run on the street quite often because it had the smoothest sidewalk in the neighborhood. The building was the most distinctive on the block with its comparatively small size and surrounded the block’s largest plot of land. It also had the most intricate wrought iron fence I had seen in either Europe or Brazil enclosing the dense shrubs that completely shut out curious eyes like mine from its garden.

  As we pulled up to the curb the front gate opened. A uniformed guard stepped out and looked both ways to insure the sidewalk was empty. He signaled and two overly large men crossed the sidewalk. One opened the car door for Batista while the other watched the street.

  “Good evening gentlemen.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car pull up behind us. Batista’s escort got into it after the door of ours closed behind Juan. “Good evening Juan.”

  “I am very pleased to see that you have recovered from last night Sr. Carl.”

  We pulled away from the curb with the second car close behind, “Yes, thanks to you.”

  “Tonight, we will eat a little, drink a little and look to the future. Ah, do not concern yourself with the car behind us. My wife worries too much because of the frightening stories of kidnappings her friends tell at the tennis club.”

  “After last night, I have sympathy for her worries.”

  Rossi’s driver was going just a bit slower than traffic allowing our escort to remain close enough to discourage anyone from trying to get between the two cars. Both drivers clearly had been trained in the technique because there was a smooth grace reflected in the coordinated movements of the two cars.

  Fifteen minutes later we turned off the well-lit busy main road into a warren of narrow, dimly lit quiet cobblestone streets finally stopping on one so narrow that only one car at a time could squeeze through. The heavyset guard was immediately out of the ‘chase’ car filling the narrow, almost non-existent sidewalk before we had a chance to open the door. I was the first one out and found myself facing a grimy sliding bamboo door surrounded by rough-hewn beams. A small, glaring, naked bulb suspended from a gooseneck above the doorway providing the only light. A heavy stain from thousands of hands marked the door testifying to its age and reminding me of many like it I had seen on ancient wood buildings in Kyoto’s historic geisha district, Geon. Buildings that escaped destruction because of the American’s World War II decision to declare Kyoto like Rome and Paris an open city sparing it the storm of bombs that destroyed Tokyo and most of Japan’s other important cities.