The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [57]
“Rubbish. We still have the surest defense in the world.”
“Which means the best result you can hope for is a 0–0 draw.”
“Never …” began Eduardo.
“Excuse me, sir.” Eduardo looked up to see his private secretary standing by his side looking anxiously down at him.
“Yes, what’s the problem?”
“An urgent telex from Brazil, sir.”
Eduardo read the first paragraph and then asked Manuel if he would be kind enough to excuse him for a few minutes. The latter nodded politely. Eduardo left the table, and as he marched through the dining room seventeen other guests left unfinished meals and followed him quickly to his suite on the top floor, where the rest of his staff was already assembled. He sat down in the corner of the room on his own. No one spoke as he read through the telex carefully, suddenly realizing how many days he had been imprisoned in Lagos.
The telex was from his brother Carlos, and the contents concerned the Pan-American road project, an eight-lane highway that would stretch from Brazil to Mexico. Prentino’s had tendered for the section that ran through the middle of the Amazon jungle and had to have the bank guarantees signed and certified by midday tomorrow, Tuesday. But Eduardo had quite forgotten which Tuesday it was, and the document he was committed to sign by the following day’s deadline.
“What’s the problem?” Eduardo asked his private secretary. “The Banco do Brasil has already agreed with Alfredo to act as guarantors. What’s stopping Carlos signing the agreement in my absence?”
“The Mexicans are now demanding that responsibility for the contract be shared because of the insurance problems: Lloyd’s of London will not cover the entire risk if only one company is involved. The details are all on page seven of the telex.”
Eduardo flicked quickly through the pages. He read that his brothers had already tried to put pressure on Lloyd’s, but to no avail. That’s like trying to bribe a maiden aunt into taking part in a public orgy, thought Eduardo, and he would have told them as much if he had been back in Brazil. The Mexican government was therefore insisting that the contract be shared with an international construction company acceptable to Lloyd’s if the legal documents were to be signed by the midday deadline the following day.
“Stay put,” said Eduardo to his staff, and he returned to the dining room alone, trailing the long telex behind him. Rodrigues watched him as he scurried back to their table.
“You look like a man with a problem.”
“I am,” said Eduardo. “Read that.”
Manuel’s experienced eye ran down the telex, picking out the salient points. He had tendered for the Amazon road project himself and could still recall the details. At Eduardo’s insistence, he reread page seven.
“Mexican bandits,” he said as he returned the telex to Eduardo. “Who do they think they are, telling Eduardo de Silveira how he must conduct his business? Telex them back immediately and inform them you’re chairman of the greatest construction company in the world and they can roast in hell before you will agree to their pathetic terms. You know it’s far too late for them to go out to tender again with every other section of the highway ready to begin work. They would lose millions. Call their bluff, Eduardo.”
“I think you may be right, Manuel, but any holdup now can only waste my time and money, so I intend to agree to their demand and look for a partner.”
“You’ll never find one at such short notice.”
“I will.”
“Who?”
Eduardo de Silveira hesitated only for a second. “You, Manuel. I want to offer Rodrigues International SA fifty percent of the Amazon road contract.”
Manuel Rodrigues looked up at Eduardo. It was the first time that he had not anticipated his old rival’s next move. “I suppose it might help cover the millions you owe me in table tennis debts.”
The two men laughed, then Rodrigues stood up and they shook hands gravely. De Silveira left the dining room on the run and wrote out a telex for his manager to transmit.
“Sign, accept terms, fifty per cent partner will be Rodrigues