Read Online The market maker by Michael Ridpath - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Ridpath
Tags: Stock exchanges
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He picked up his phone and spoke quickly in Portuguese. "He'll be here in five minutes."
He placed his hands on the desk in front of us and beamed. "But once we have agreed on those documents, and satisfied the agencies, there's nothing at our end to stop us from going further."
"Then we can launch the deal at the end of next week, as we planned?"
"As far as we are concerned, yes."
Isabel caught something in the civil servant's tone. "Humberto?"
''There is one small problem. It's probably nothing."
"Yes?"
"The World Development Fund has to check some small details with Washington. They say they'll get back to us at the beginning of next week."
"What details?"
Humberto shrugged.
"I'U call them," said Isabel.
"Good. Isabel, we are going to do this deal, I promise you."
Isabel smiled. "We certainly are."
There was a quiet tap on the door, and the lawyer, Rafael, entered. We retired to a meeting room where we went over the documents Isabel had brought with her. I had read them through several times until I thoroughly understood the structure, and I was able to make some useful suggestions. It was good to contribute something for a change.
In the taxi to our hotel, I asked Isabel how she thought the meeting had gone.
"I'm pleased. After a year it looks like we're almost there. Humberto has always been enthusiastic about the deal. He said there would be no problem getting all the authorizations, but I admit I didn't believe him. And now it looks like he's done it."
"What was all that about the World Development Fund?"
Isabel frowned. "I don't know. I'll find out when we get to the hotel. Oh, by the way, thanks for your help in that meeting. You certainly have picked up a lot." She gave me a shy smile, a smile to die for.
"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.
The taxi lurched on through the Rio traffic, accelerating through red lights, swerving around holes in the road, cursing and hooting its way through the jams.
Eventually we entered a tunnel and the traffic sped up. We emerged in front of a broad lake. Apartment buildings sprouted up around it, and behind them on all sides rose tall green rounded mountains. On top of one of these stood the statue of Christ, arms outstretched as he embraced the city below him. We skirted the lake at a crawl again, barely overtaking a parade of joggers and walkers. Two double sculls glided across the water, their oars moving in perfect time. Surrounded by these breathtaking walls of green, it was difficult to believe we were in the heart of a city.
These next few days in Rio were going to be difficult. Not the business. I had been pleased with the meeting and my performance in it. No, Isabel. Her presence was disconcerting. She didn't have to do anything, she could just be sitting next to me leafing through a magazine, and that would be enough to distract me. The way she bit her lip as she read, the way her hair caressed her elegant neck, the two knobs of collarbone peeking out of the top of her dress.
I thought I was good at ignoring pretty women when necessary. I had taught a number of eager twenty-year-olds, falling in love with a great literature and easily impressed with their guide. But tutor-student relations were now frowned upon in the academic world, and I had successfully shown no interest in any of them.
I had tried to strike up a conversation with Isabel on the plane. She hadn't been rude, but she hadn't exactly been talkative either. She had shown a sort of shy self-possession that finished each conversation almost as soon as it had begun, but which made her if anything more appealing. It would have been easier if she had just said "Shut up and leave me alone." Eventually I had given up and read bond documents through the
night, until the suburbs of northern Rio de Janeiro af>-peared through the window with the dawn.
In a few minutes the taxi pulled up outside the Copacabana Palace, nestled in the middle of a row of characterless hotels and apartment blocks
He placed his hands on the desk in front of us and beamed. "But once we have agreed on those documents, and satisfied the agencies, there's nothing at our end to stop us from going further."
"Then we can launch the deal at the end of next week, as we planned?"
"As far as we are concerned, yes."
Isabel caught something in the civil servant's tone. "Humberto?"
''There is one small problem. It's probably nothing."
"Yes?"
"The World Development Fund has to check some small details with Washington. They say they'll get back to us at the beginning of next week."
"What details?"
Humberto shrugged.
"I'U call them," said Isabel.
"Good. Isabel, we are going to do this deal, I promise you."
Isabel smiled. "We certainly are."
There was a quiet tap on the door, and the lawyer, Rafael, entered. We retired to a meeting room where we went over the documents Isabel had brought with her. I had read them through several times until I thoroughly understood the structure, and I was able to make some useful suggestions. It was good to contribute something for a change.
In the taxi to our hotel, I asked Isabel how she thought the meeting had gone.
"I'm pleased. After a year it looks like we're almost there. Humberto has always been enthusiastic about the deal. He said there would be no problem getting all the authorizations, but I admit I didn't believe him. And now it looks like he's done it."
"What was all that about the World Development Fund?"
Isabel frowned. "I don't know. I'll find out when we get to the hotel. Oh, by the way, thanks for your help in that meeting. You certainly have picked up a lot." She gave me a shy smile, a smile to die for.
"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.
The taxi lurched on through the Rio traffic, accelerating through red lights, swerving around holes in the road, cursing and hooting its way through the jams.
Eventually we entered a tunnel and the traffic sped up. We emerged in front of a broad lake. Apartment buildings sprouted up around it, and behind them on all sides rose tall green rounded mountains. On top of one of these stood the statue of Christ, arms outstretched as he embraced the city below him. We skirted the lake at a crawl again, barely overtaking a parade of joggers and walkers. Two double sculls glided across the water, their oars moving in perfect time. Surrounded by these breathtaking walls of green, it was difficult to believe we were in the heart of a city.
These next few days in Rio were going to be difficult. Not the business. I had been pleased with the meeting and my performance in it. No, Isabel. Her presence was disconcerting. She didn't have to do anything, she could just be sitting next to me leafing through a magazine, and that would be enough to distract me. The way she bit her lip as she read, the way her hair caressed her elegant neck, the two knobs of collarbone peeking out of the top of her dress.
I thought I was good at ignoring pretty women when necessary. I had taught a number of eager twenty-year-olds, falling in love with a great literature and easily impressed with their guide. But tutor-student relations were now frowned upon in the academic world, and I had successfully shown no interest in any of them.
I had tried to strike up a conversation with Isabel on the plane. She hadn't been rude, but she hadn't exactly been talkative either. She had shown a sort of shy self-possession that finished each conversation almost as soon as it had begun, but which made her if anything more appealing. It would have been easier if she had just said "Shut up and leave me alone." Eventually I had given up and read bond documents through the
night, until the suburbs of northern Rio de Janeiro af>-peared through the window with the dawn.
In a few minutes the taxi pulled up outside the Copacabana Palace, nestled in the middle of a row of characterless hotels and apartment blocks
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