[African Diamonds 01.0] The Angolan Clan

by Christopher Lowery

  Ron had told her he had been born in Portugal. “I remember leaving Cascais in 1975, when I was six. The communist party had taken control of the government and dad decided it was time to get out. We filled the car up with all the family stuff and drove off to Spain in the middle of the night. They made a bed for me on the back seat. I slept most of the time, but it was stifling hot in the car and I was as sick as a parrot.” He said they had then flown to London, afterwards coming back to settle in Spain, never returning to Portugal again.

  She also knew, because it was very obvious, that Charlie had made a lot of money along the way. He had set up Ron’s garage business for him with two hundred thousand pounds, which was a substantial amount in 1995. The house in Marbella was further proof of wealth, in addition to the cruises and expensive cars. Ron had intimated that his father was extremely wealthy, but he never expanded on it and Jenny suspected that the source of this wealth was one of the reasons that he had fallen out with him all those years ago. So she knew that he had been in Portugal and that he had money, but she knew little more about him or his affairs.

  “Yes, what Ron told you is correct.” The lawyer removed his spectacles and looked at her pensively. “Charlie came here from Portugal in July 1975 and that’s when I first met him. I have been his lawyer here in Spain ever since. I don’t know everything about his affairs, but I’ll tell you what I know, if you are patient.

  “To start at the beginning, Charlie left England in 1969, when he was thirty. He had just got married to Ellen and they moved some months later to Cascais, just outside of Lisbon.”

  “So Ron was born not long after they moved?” Jenny was jotting things down in a note pad, in case she needed to remember anything when she went to meet the Chief Inspector.

  “That’s right. Just a few months after their arrival. He was born in the local hospital.”

  “But why did they move to Portugal when Ellen was pregnant?”

  “Because of his job. Charlie was offered a senior position with Aliança Portuguesa y Africana, owned by one of the most influential banking and trading families in Portugal. The head office of APA was in Lisbon, so they had to move there.

  “He was a clever man and became their specialist in banking and trade relations between Portugal and the African colonies, a valuable and highly paid officer in their group. One of the few non-Portuguese senior executives in Lisbon in those days, as a matter of fact.

  “Charlie managed to stay with APA until July 1975, when the communist government was granting independence to Portugal’s remaining colonial possessions, principally Angola and Mozambique. Nobody knows the full details because the Portuguese borders were virtually closed and the news was censored, but he told me that during 1975, life became really dangerous. Bankers, businessmen and landowners fled the country, or were thrown into prison, just because they were rich. It was a very difficult period but he somehow survived it.”

  “So Charlie’s job disappeared just when the colonies were about to become independent? I would have thought that there would have been more opportunity than before.” Jenny looked at Leticia, who was shaking her head vehemently.

  “Not right,” she said, a look of sadness on her face. “The Russians and Cubans invaded Angola. My parents’ country was in war more than twenty-five years. A lot of their friends were killed and many ran away, like them. They came to Portugal with nothing.”

  Jenny realised that she hadn’t understood the implications of the independence of Leticia’s homeland. Like most people, she supposed, she knew nothing about the Portuguese revolution, nor the liberation of its colonies. The scant knowledge she had of Africa was through her sister Emma, who had been a delegate with the British Red Cross. She had worked in Rwanda after the genocide in 1994 but she never talked about it. Jenny could understand why. It didn’t bear thinking about, never mind talking. She looked back at the lawyer.

  “I’m afraid Leticia’s right,” he said. “Portugal just walked away from its African colonies and relations between them shut down overnight. Millions of Africans and Portuguese had to flee those countries. Wealthy Portuguese families lost everything they had owned and invested in Africa. Charlie’s job disappeared along with everything else.”

  Jenny said, “I’m sorry, Leticia. I had no idea that your parents had such troubles. So,” she calculated for a moment, “you were only a baby when you came to Portugal?”

  “Yes. Myself, I remember nothing from Angola. Only what my parents have told me about that time. It was very bad for everyone. They all lost everything. The rich people and the poor people. It made no difference to the rebels and the Russian and Cuban soldiers, they destroyed everything. Murderers and robbers, killing and stealing and raping the women.”

  They sat for a moment in silence. Jenny was trying to take in what had happened in Portugal and Africa all those years ago. It had happened to Charlie and his family and it had happened to Leticia’s family. Wrongly, she assumed the difference was that, unlike Leticia’s family, Charlie’s had apparently not been faced with a choice between flight or death.

  She tried to picture Leticia’s parents, perhaps in hiding, starving and terrified, surrounded by so-called soldiers committing atrocities and killing indiscriminately. Yet somehow finding a way to survive, to get out of that horror, and to make their way to a country where they could restart their lives.

  She sighed and squeezed Leticia’s shoulder tightly. She began to realise that her own losses, real and tragic as they were to her, didn’t begin to compare with those of a whole nation, thrust from one occupation to another, with all of the human devastation that ensues and continues without end.

  She turned back to José Luis. “So Charlie came here from Portugal in July 1975?”

  “Yes, that was when we first met.” The lawyer continued in a thoughtful voice, “It was rather a peculiar first meeting. He came to me when I was quite young and not well known. It’s possible that he had been to see other lawyers, I don’t know.”

  Jenny gave him a puzzled look. “Why? Was there something improper about it?”

  “Improper no, but rather unusual. He introduced himself and explained that he had just brought his family out of Portugal. He had a leather briefcase with him and he asked me to look after it while he took his family to England. They were flying from Malaga the following day and he did not want to take it with him. He intended to return within a few days and then he would explain to me what it was he wanted me to do for him as a client.”

  “So, since he became your client, I assume that you agreed?”

  The lawyer laughed. “Well, apart from the ETA terrorists, people didn’t blow places up then as they do today, so I saw no reason not to do it. I put the case in the safe and kept it for a week until he came back.”

  “And then?” Jenny asked impatiently.

  “He told me about his life in England and Portugal and everything I have recounted this morning. Then he explained to me why he had come to me in the first place.”

  The lawyer paused and picked up another paper, studying it for a moment before continuing. “That brings us to the second part of our discussion. I am going to tell you about his affairs. Your father-in-law came to see me about buying a property and opening bank accounts. Looking back, I suppose it’s possible that he left the briefcase with me as a kind of test, to ensure that I was trustworthy. Charlie was clever that way. In any event, if that was the case, I must have passed the test. You see, he then told me he had quite a lot of money. In cash. US dollars actually, quite a lot.” He paused again in his rather theatrical style.

  Jenny looked across at Leticia and then back to José Luis.

  “Oh, sorry, Jenny. You want me to leave now?” She rose from her chair, ready to go.

  “Well, it seems that we’re going to discuss private matters, so maybe it would be better.”

  The Spanish lawyer interrupted quietly but firmly. “If you don’t object, I would prefer Leticia to stay. In any case, don’t forge
t that all of this happened over thirty years ago.”

  Jenny was mildly irritated. She didn’t see why the housekeeper should be privy to this information. On the other hand she was only related to Charlie through marriage, so she didn’t feel any ownership of his affairs. And something that had happened so long ago was almost in the public domain. Maybe he wants a witness, she thought, because of the cash.

  She answered, “If you think it’s appropriate, then of course she can stay.” Leticia took her seat again and Jenny continued, “I suppose that the money was in the briefcase?”

  “I imagine it was inside the briefcase, but it was locked with a combination lock and I had no wish to look inside it. I could listen to what Charlie said but I couldn’t witness that he had a large amount of foreign currency illegally in Spain. I also asked him not to tell me anything about the origins of the cash. Even Malaga lawyers have scruples and it was better for him that I didn’t know any details, especially when he told me how much he had.”

  Once again he paused, looking expectantly at them both.

  Jenny decided to play his little game. “Very well, José Luis. How much cash did Charlie have?”

  “Five hundred thousand US dollars.” The lawyer replied dramatically. Then he sat quietly, watching their shocked reactions. After a moment, he called his secretary on the intercom and asked her to bring more refreshments.

  THIRTEEN

  Wednesday, April 16th, 2008

  Malaga, Spain

  Ten minutes later, Jenny was still trying to come to terms with the amount of cash involved. She tried to calculate how much it would represent today, doubling it every five years for inflation or devaluation, or whatever it was called. That would make something like ten million dollars in today’s money. In cash! Where on earth did he get it from? It’s impossible to come by so much cash honestly.

  She asked many questions of the lawyer, but he insisted on continuing his story in his own way. “In 1975, there were strict controls on currency in Spain, so he couldn’t announce that he had all that foreign currency. Nor could he buy a property or other asset without showing how the money was brought into the country. So, Charlie had all that cash but he couldn’t use it. He had to get it out and bring it back officially.”

  “But I don’t understand.” Jenny interrupted. “My father-in-law was a senior executive with APA. Why couldn’t he get the money out of the country with their help?”

  “Because earlier in 1975, the communist government had nationalised all banks and insurance companies. The owners of APA managed to run the business until the summer, but then things became so bad that they had to admit defeat. I believe that one of the family was lost in an accident. Then they moved the business to Geneva, so there was no one left in Portugal that he could turn to.”

  “So what did you do? Were you able to help him?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t say. That would be incriminating. All I can tell you is that I helped to arrange a safety deposit box for him at the Banco de Malaga. Then shortly after, he advised me that he had opened an account with a bank in Switzerland and I never heard anything more about the cash. A few weeks later, he opened an account at the Banco de Malaga. He transferred funds down and bought an old hacienda near Mijas village.”

  “That’s where I met Ron, in 1997, the first time I came to Spain.” Fond memories drifted through her mind as she made more notes and waited for the next revelations.

  “Now there is someone I want you to meet.” The lawyer called on the intercom and a young man entered the room. Early-thirties, medium height, he had a pleasant, sun-tanned face framed by curly, dark brown hair. Behind steel rimmed spectacles, his eyes were brown and kindly looking. He was dressed in a blazer and jeans, a white shirt open at the neck.

  “Let me introduce my colleague, Francisco García Luna.”

  The man hugged Leticia and kissed her on both cheeks, simultaneously enquiring after her family. Then he took both of Jenny’s hands, “A pleasure to meet you, Madame Bishop.” He had a low, soft voice and spoke with an accent that sounded both Spanish and American. A soft drawl, very easy on the ear. Just as his appearance, she registered with some confused emotions, was very easy on the eye.

  Feeling slightly flustered, she asked him to call her by her first name. He nodded and took a place at the conference table opposite the two women.

  “Francisco is… How do I put this? He is my young legs. He looks after our international clients, which requires a wide knowledge of foreign taxation and a lot of travelling around the world which I can no longer cope with. So he does it for both of us.”

  The young man said to Jenny, “I got to know your father-in-law quite well over the last year. He was an impressive man, such a loss…” He broke off, looking lost for words.

  “Yes,” added José Luis, “when Charlie had his heart attack last August, it coincided with the start of this leg problem that is troubling me. So it was Francisco who had to follow his progress and look after his affairs.”

  “Francisco helped very much when Charlie was in hospital. Even coming to the house to make sure everything was alright.” Leticia added.

  “Francisco is as fully aware of Charlie’s affairs as I am,” José Luis continued. “In case I am not available, you can discuss matters with him, just as you would with me.”

  They talked for a few minutes about the police investigation and Jenny gratefully accepted his offer to accompany her to the Comisaría for her meeting with Chief Inspector Espinoza that afternoon.

  “There is just one more thing to be settled,” Francisco said. “Would you like us to take care of the funeral? Provided the Chief Inspector has no objection, we could arrange it for Friday, or at the latest, Monday. It would be unwise to delay any longer.”

  “Charlie’s wish was to be buried alongside Ellen of course,” interjected José Luis.

  “Yes, we must arrange it, I wasn’t really thinking. It would be a great help, if you don’t mind the bother.” Jenny’s mind was forced back to the practical problems of the present. However, as she had already noted, things seemed to get settled easily in Spain.

  “I’ll get on with it as soon as we get the go-ahead from the police. I’ll see you at a quarter past two then, after lunch. Bueno apetito.” Francisco made his excuses and left the room.

  José Luis took several more documents and two envelopes from the file. He opened the first envelope. “Now we come to the last part of the morning’s business. Charlie did me the honour of asking me to be his executor and I have here his will. This will was redrawn after...” He paused. “After the death of your husband, Jenny. It was written in February.”

  He went on, “The will is what is called an ‘open will’. It is written in Spanish and English and was signed in front of a Notary Public. As executor, I have a copy and there is another in the central registry in Madrid. Charlie became a Spanish resident a number of years ago and because he had nothing left in the UK, we have only to consider the inheritance laws and taxes here in Spain, which are straightforward.

  “We don’t need to go through a probate procedure. I can arrange all the necessary transfers of title with the notary’s consent. There will be some documents for you to sign, that’s all. It isn’t necessary for me to read the whole will, since it is extremely simple, so I will just tell you of the main provisions.

  “Charlie has left the sum of twenty-five thousand Euros to Juan, with the wish that if the house is retained, he will continue to be employed. There are also some donations to local charities.” José Luis paused once more, and looked straight into Jenny’s eyes. “The balance of his estate is to be divided equally between Jennifer Margaret Bishop and Leticia Lurdes da Costa, in trust until the twenty-first birthday of Charlie’s son, Emilio Salvador da Costa.”

  FOURTEEN

  Wednesday, April 16th, 2008

  Malaga, Spain

  The two women walked in silence to the restaurant that José Luis’s secretary had booked for them. Leti
cia was waiting for Jenny’s reaction to the news about her and Charlie and she feared it wouldn’t be good. She didn’t know how she would handle a bad reaction after the stress and emotional strain she’d been through over the last few days. What she needed more than anything was an understanding friend. She waited for Jenny to speak.

  She was right to be worried. Jenny had been astonished by the lawyer’s revelation. Then she immediately berated herself for having missed so many signs that she should have spotted. Charlie was lonely after Ellen’s death. He had a beautiful, happy, single young woman to comfort him in his loss. Leticia must have spent lots of time at the house. She was reluctant to talk about the baby’s father. Charlie didn’t want Jenny to get involved in his life, he just wanted to return home to his new family. José Luis wanted Leticia to be informed of everything. So many clues, she thought to herself.

  She didn’t harbour any jealousy over Emilio. He was Charlie’s only surviving son and she was happy that he had left an heir after losing Ron. It was also none of her business how or why Leticia had replaced Ellen in Charlie’s affections. But now, whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with Leticia and her son, because they were co-owners of the house and property and everything else. She had been trying to simplify her life after Ron’s death and now it was becoming even more complicated than before. Jenny needed to blame someone, to get mad about something, to scream at someone.

  She stopped and rounded on Leticia. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Charlie? You told me about Emilio but you missed out the main point, his father is my father-in-law. I feel an absolute idiot, always the last to know everything. Even the lawyer knows all about it and it’s written into the will. It’s bloody humiliating. How could you do such a thing?”

  Leticia stepped back in shock, tears flooding to her eyes. “Jenny, I am sorry to not tell you about Charlie and me, but I didn’t know when to tell you. We talked about his accident and then about Emilio and I got so upset that I couldn’t explain. It’s very difficult with my English. When I’m upset I don’t talk well. I didn’t want to explain it wrong and make you angry. It’s the same reason I didn’t say anything about Ron. I’m sorry about him, about Charlie. I’m sorry about everything, but it’s just too complicated for me to talk about these things. Please don’t be angry with me, I want to be your friend, not your enemy.”