The Ponzi Men

by David Chilcott

  Chapter 25

  McBride was back in Bungalow seven, on his cell phone, and speaking to the king, who was returning his call. McBride had explained what had happened, and that the police had visited the camp. They were taking the kidnap seriously, but had told him that the detection rate in this type of crime was not very high. Last year there were over four thousand kidnappings, but the policemen he was talking to were reluctant to give figures for arrests.

  “What I am thinking, Sir, is to do some searching myself. After all, I know Markham, and can guess his possible moves. Of course, in our favour, he’s not the brightest, as shown by getting Bo to carry out the kidnap itself, when the guy didn’t even know what I looked like, so he grabs the wrong person. I also have an idea that the hideaway might well be in one of the properties he manages. I can get that information. You’re not in a good position to do anything, Sir. You can’t send any troops into South Africa without causing a diplomatic incident.”

  “I agree with all that, McBride. But it upsets me that I can’t help.”

  “I would suggest, Sir, that you get ten million out of the account we set up, get it into your account ready to pay out if necessary. I will keep in touch to give progress reports. Remember, he’s talking about three days, you say. And we could probably get an extension on that. He wants the money more than he wants to kill Dusty Miller. Just remember that. I’ll speak to you later.”

  It was already lunchtime, and he remembered he had agreed that he would meet Belinda at the dam. He also needed a vehicle. She, he guessed, probably had a car. He didn’t want to involve her in anything dangerous. Surely driving him to Jo’burg was safe enough?

  First he needed to get in touch with Markham’s solicitor. As McBride was still a limited partner in the ‘investment’, surely as solicitor to the scheme, he would give information on what properties Markham had invested. It might be a Ponzi scheme, but solicitors usually stuck to the law. It was what they were about.

  He ought to call on Belinda now, otherwise he might not find her without going to the dam, and that was much further than her bungalow. He walked down, and knocked on her door.

  She was in, and delighted to see McBride. “This is a pleasure. What can I do for you?” She got hold of his hand and pulled him inside. Once the door was closed she embraced him.

  “I’ve got a problem. Miller has been kidnapped. Last night it happened, when he was in the bungalow alone. I think I was the intended victim. A case of mistaken identities.” He told her about the police, who were not optimistic, and the kidnap demand. “I can’t just carry on painting, I’ve got to try and do something. The kidnappers have got our hire car. I need a lift to a solicitor. Have you a car I can borrow?”

  “Yes, with a driver.”

  “That’s posh. You’ve got a chauffeur?”

  “The driver is me, Silly.”

  “It will spoil your holiday driving me around.”

  She put her arms round him again, gave him a long kiss. “It will add to the excitement. When are we going?”

  “Hopefully, this afternoon. I must make a couple of calls first.”

  “Come through to the living room, and phone from there. Would you like a drink?”

  He shook his head, and sat down, pushing buttons. He was phoning Miller’s sister in Manchester.

  “Dorothy? It’s John McBride.” She spoke before he could get another word in. “Hang on, Dorothy. I’m in Africa. Mike and I were staying at the Kruger Park. Mike has been kidnapped. Yes, the police are searching, and I am, too. Look, does he keep his papers and documents at your house?” He listened for a time, then said: “Don’t panic, you know your brother, and how easily he gets himself out of scrapes. Can you get access to the papers? I’m looking for a file on that investment scheme that went wrong for both of us. That’s right, the South African Property Trust. Somewhere in the file it will tell you the name of the solicitor to the scheme. A company in Jo’burg, I think. Have a search through, and I’ll phone you in fifteen minutes or so.”

  He held up crossed fingers at Belinda. “Maybe I will have a drink, after all. Do you have a beer?” She went to the fridge, returned with an uncapped bottle, glistening with condensation on the outside of the bottle. McBride took a swig from the bottle neck, and glanced at his watch. So little time, so much to do, if he was to get Dusty Miller back.

  Within twenty minutes, McBride pressed his speed dial, and Dorothy answered so quickly, he guessed she had been waiting.

  “John? I’ve got it in front of me. It’s Smitt and Company, in Johannesburg. The solicitor himself is called Malik Kadakia. But there is no telephone number.”

  “That doesn’t matter, I can get hold of that. Thanks a lot. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He phoned the operator, got the number, dialed it, and was speaking to a secretary moments later.

  “Mr Kadakia? Yes, he’s in his office. I’ll see if he will speak to you.”

  A pause that lasted about three minutes, and then: “Kadakia speaking, what can I do for you Mr McBride?” South African accent with an undertone of Indian.

  “Mr Kadakia, I’m a limited partner in the South African Property Trust. Doesn’t that mean you are at liberty to inform me of the loans made? I assume you have that information to hand? Perhaps you could email or fax me a copy.”

  Ten second pause, and then slickly: “You would have to come to my office in person, with your passport. Then you will be able to have a copy. You appreciate that as a solicitor I have a duty to protect Mr Markham and the other limited partners.”

  “What time do you open in the morning, Mr Kadakia?”

  “You are coming here? I see, well we open at nine o’clock.”

  McBride put his phone back in his pocket. “So far, so good. If we set off this afternoon for Jo’burg, we can stay in the city and be at the solicitor’s at nine o’clock, all ready to collect the documents and go.”

  Belinda said: “Go where?”

  “To wherever Markham is holding Dusty Miller.”

  Kadakia stared thoughtfully at his phone. Markham hadn’t been in touch for several days, and now he guessed why. He must have carried out the ridiculous plan to kill McBride? But no, that was McBride on the phone just now. Whatever was going on with his client, it would be as farfetched as most of Markham’s plans, and as doomed to failure. To stay ahead of the game, it meant phoning the buffoon.

  Markham’s phone rang for a long time. Eventually Markham answered.

  “Kadakia here, what is going on? McBride was on the phone wanting documents in connection with SAP Trust. I suppose it’s about something you’re doing.”

  “Well, you may as well know. Tomorrow it will be on the front page of The Sun. I’ve kidnapped Brigadier Miller for a ransom of ten million pounds sterling.”

  “Well, I knew you must have done something stupid, so don’t get me involved.” He slammed down the phone, angry at Markham’s infantile behaviour. It was bringing his lawyer’s practice into disrepute. He would dictate a letter of resignation with immediate effect. In that case he wouldn’t be able to give McBride any documents.

  But then Markham would go on with his plans to kill or ransom McBride, and whatever they called the other fellow. Perhaps he would wait until he had handed the copy documents to McBride.

  At three o’clock Belinda drove McBride out of the camp and down the road to the Malelane Gate, and from there to Johannesburg. McBride’s hair was blowing in the breeze. It was years since he had been in a sports car with the hood down.

  The little Mazda sped along the road, and Belinda was singing cheerfully, a pop song that McBride hadn’t heard before.