Title Page
THE DIAMOND CHAIN
by
Patrick Slaney
Publisher Information
Published in 2013
by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2012 Patrick Slaney
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Patrick Slaney to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
My body was frozen through. I was stuck under a pontoon in a marina, totally immersed in the cold winter waters of Cape Town harbour. My head ached from a sudden blow. A crazy Frenchman had hit me with a heavy and solid object. What he used I have no idea, and, if I had known, it wouldn’t have helped my current predicament. It was no wonder that I was starting to question my sanity. Why on earth had I taken on such a dangerous role? How long could I stay where I was before hyperthermia set in? I had already lost all feeling in my hands. Desperation and pride had a lot to answer for. They had collectively overruled my better judgement, and I had accepted this role to track down and destroy a diamond smuggling operation. My adversaries were still searching for me which prevented me getting out of the water. It gave me time to think, at least. Until the thugs found me or they gave up and wandered off, I had nothing better to do.
It had all begun at a meeting in London.
A father and his son were arguing violently. It is not in my nature to argue so the scene I found myself in was upsetting, to say the least. The portraits of past family board members frowned down on the scene from their place of eminence on the walls. I felt confident that they were in sympathy with me. I should have walked out and left the pair to quarrel, but I stayed.
I had been invited to attend a meeting with Sir Montgomery Fortiscue and his son Harold in the austere oak panelled boardroom of their offices in Hatton Garden. The only item on the agenda was to engage my services to save their company.
I now cursed the airline seating process that had placed me beside Harold Fortiscue on that flight back from the Middle East a short time ago. He was a large, amiable, soft looking man, about forty years of age, with narrow eyes and a permanent frown. Notably, he was dressed more like a farmer than a city trader, in that he was wearing a sports jacket, a checked shirt and flannels. He informed me that he was returning from successfully selling a race horse to some Arab sheik but that his regular job was as a diamond trader. Sitting beside each other on the flight, we conversed together to pass the time as one tends to do on long flights. In a loose tongued moment, I had mentioned to him that I was exploring the idea of becoming a private investigator. I was in the process of leaving my job as a Major in the SAS as a consequence of a severe injury I had received in Iraq. Rather surprisingly, he had written down my contact details. The result was this meeting with his father, Sir Montgomery Fortiscue, at their offices at 32 Hatton Garden.
The event had quickly degenerated into conflict.
Sir Montgomery began, civilly enough, by explaining to me that the family business that he was running, and indeed had been managing since the death of his father 30 years previously, would soon collapse unless drastic action was taken. A ruthless competitor was undermining Fortiscues’ prices and threatening their livelihood. Harold interrupted in an impetuous and petulant voice telling his father that he was ‘being over dramatic’. His father had flipped!
‘Dramatic.’ Sir Montgomery articulated in a loud voice to his son. ‘You have the audacity to call me dramatic. Have you no bloody idea what Charlton Traders are up to?’
‘Undercutting our prices, so what? It’s happened before with other dealers. We’ve always managed to survive,’ Harold aggressively answered back.
‘Eighteen months it’s been going on for Harold. If we didn’t have substantial cash reserves we would have gone bust,’ Sir Montgomery exclaimed, his blood pressure now raised considerably.
‘What about the other dealers Dad; how are they surviving?’
‘They’re not. They’re desperate too. Reggie told me the other day that he was in the same dire straits as us.’ I would have liked to have known whom Reggie was, but I didn’t dare interrupt to ask the question.
‘It’s only money Dad, and, anyway, it is time that you retired,’ Harold had just lit the fuse that would send his father into orbit.
Sir Montgomery stood up, visibly shaking and, gripping the table with white knuckled hands, looked icily at his son.
‘Harold you think that this company is some sort of milch cow, all you have ever done is take, take, take! The situation is now critical; otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to bring Major Hamilton in to meet us.’ He was now prodding the table with each point he made, his eyes firmly fixed on his son’s.
‘You obviously believe that losing in excess of three million pounds is ‘being over dramatic’.’ He continued. ‘I will leave you to inform the Major what we would like him to do. I have had enough of you and your irresponsibility. There is nothing to be gained in me staying here.’
Still shaking and ghostly white, he stormed out of the room banging the door behind him.
An eerie silence descended. Finally, Harold recovered his composure.
‘I am sorry about that Major. As you can see my father is extremely upset about this whole business, and he is not himself lately. Why don’t we leave this monolithic boardroom and get some lunch? It will be easier to explain the whole situation to you in more congenial surroundings.’
It took me a few seconds to recover my composure. In the army, we were far more disciplined and didn’t talk to each other in the way that I had seen these two attack each other. It had been rather like watching a tennis match at Wimbledon.
‘Lunch would be very welcome Harold. Will your father be OK?’ I was still concerned about the old boy.
‘Oh, he’ll be fine, and he’ll eventually calm down. You don’t mind a short walk do you?’ Harold asked, glancing at my gammy leg.
‘As long as you don’t ask me to run I will be able to keep up,’ I replied.
Although forced to retire from the army as a result of the injuries I had received from being too close to an explosion in Iraq, I was still fairly mobile, even if I did have a noticeable limp.
‘I must apologise for my father Vincent, I didn’t think that he would react like that.’
‘He is obviously extremely upset by the problems affecting the company,’ I suggested, thinking to myself; if I had a son like Harold, and he had spoken to me the way he had spoken to his father, then I might have gotten just as upset.
‘That’s right, and his biggest fear is that he will have to close the family business which has been in existence for well over a hundred years,’ Harold added. ‘I will tell you all about it over lunch. Father has said that I can tell you all our secrets.’
We were soon in Covent Garden where Harold led us to a remarkably quiet restaurant called Adam Street, where he said that we would be able to talk in privacy while we ate our lunch.
On Harold’s request, we were seated at the back of the room, and, once our order had been taken, he started to tell me about the circumstances that w
ere currently affecting Fortiscues.
‘When we met on that British Airways flight a week ago, you mentioned that you were leaving the army and had decided to set yourself up as a private investigator.’
‘That’s right, and that is still my goal.’
‘Well perhaps we can be your first client. We don’t know where to turn for help.’
‘Why do you think I can help?’
‘Well, your greatest asset is that nobody in the industry knows you. You can operate under their radar undetected, and your chance of success will be significantly enhanced.’
‘OK, that makes sense. Perhaps you should outline the problem in more detail to me now.’
‘The problem is actually remarkably straightforward, but I am afraid that the solution isn’t. One of our competitors, Charlton Diamond Traders, also based in Hatton Garden, is undercutting the retail prices to such an extent that they must be getting their diamonds from an illegal source. As you heard my Dad say, if the situation continues for much longer, we will be forced to close,’ Harold rotated his fork in his hand as he spoke.
‘Is there not some sort of regulator that you can turn to for help,’ I asked.
‘We have tried, but all they say is that we cannot make an accusation without proof, and we currently don’t have any proof.’
‘But surely the mere fact that they are able to offer ridiculously low prices is proof enough,’ I suggested.
‘You would think so; however, we have been told that they cannot conduct an investigation based on low prices.’
‘So are you confident that hiring me is the best way to solve the problem?’ I asked.
‘Yes, is the easy answer; all you have to do is find out where they are getting their cut price diamonds from and turn off the supply, and that, I am afraid, will be easier said than done.’
‘But I don’t know anything about the diamond trade and wouldn’t know where to start,’ I protested. I had bought my wife a diamond engagement ring many years ago, and that was the only contact I had ever had with diamonds.
‘We can point you in the right direction Vince.’
‘So, you can provide me with contacts and also educate me in the diamond business?’ I wanted the job but was panicking slightly at the challenge it offered.
‘Yes, I will help you in whatever way I can and make it as easy as possible for you. You should stay away from our offices as it is imperative that you are never linked to my father, me or anybody else in Fortiscues. To be on the safe side we should meet at other locations around London.’
‘No, that makes sense; the longer that I can remain under cover the better.’
‘If you accept the position, what are you going to charge us?’ Harold asked me.
‘Well I have nothing else lined up at the moment so I might as well take on this project as do anything else. As regards my rate; I suggest that I charge you a daily rate of one hundred and fifty pounds, plus expenses at cost. I will Invoice you on a monthly basis.’
‘It sounds as if we have a deal then as that seems reasonable; I am sure that my Dad will agree to your suggestion. When can you start?’
‘Well I am committed to my family till the end of this week. I can commence after next weekend if that suits?’
‘That sounds fine. It is Tuesday today, so I suggest that we meet up again somewhere on Thursday to draw up a plan of campaign. I will call you to fix up a venue and a time, either today or tomorrow.’
‘I look forward to hearing from you and in the mean time I will develop some ideas of my own.’
I was excited; I had my first job as a private investigator. Mind you, if I had known the adventures and dangers that I would be involved in over the next few months, including four separate attempts on my life, I probably would have replied in the negative.
We finished a good lunch, and Harold left to return to his office and see if his Dad had cooled down. I returned to Putney to pick up my children from school.
Travelling on the tube home, I reflected on my meeting with Harold. He didn’t fit the image I had of a diamond industry executive. As on the plane, when I met him first, he had been casually dressed. The total opposite to the smart pin stripe suit, with waistcoat and pocket watch chain, his father had been wearing. It also didn’t look as if he knew where a gym was as he was carrying a lot of extra weight. In the walk to the restaurant, he had been puffing along. Like his father, he had a good head of hair, which was starting to go grey where it curled at the edges. He looked as if he spent more time in the sun, wind and rain, than he did in an office. His complexion suiting a farmer better than it did a diamond trader.
All the time I was talking to him, I felt that he had a hidden agenda, and, the way that he had argued with his father, also didn’t impress me. I honestly didn’t take to the man. He wasn’t my type of person; however, I would have to trust him for now as he was my only contact
It had been an extremely traumatic time since my injury in Iraq. Initially it looked as if I would lose my right leg; however, the army surgeons had done a marvellous job and I was now fully mobile with only a slight limp.
During my months of recovery I was hospitalised quite a distance from my home in Putney, so I genuinely appreciated being back with my family. On being released from the rehabilitation centre, I had flown back to Iraq to be reunited with the regiment that had been my life since I left Sandhurst. It was a truly sad reunion as, due to my injury, I was leaving my commission. This was the last time I would see most of those that I had shared so much danger and lived such a close life with.
The army flew me from Iraq to the international airport at Dubai, and it was on the flight back to London I had met Harold Fortiscue. I was feeling pretty low and extremely depressed, due to the traumatic departure from my colleagues. The last thing that I felt like doing was talking to someone; however, he had persisted, and, out of politeness, I had replied to his questions.
When I explained that my languidness was due to the fact that I had just left the army after over twenty years, he had asked me if I had anything planned in civvy-street. The first thing that came into my head was to tell him that I had decided to become a private investigator. I actually hadn’t a clue how I was going to earn a living and keep myself occupied. Low and behold, it now looked as if my throw away comment would become reality.
This job would help me get my life back together again and give me hope that there was a good future ahead.
Chapter 2
Harold Fortiscue phoned on the Wednesday and asked me to meet him in the King’s Head Pub in Parsons Green on Thursday evening.
‘How’s your father?’ I asked him as we sat down in the snug away from the other drinkers.
‘Not so good Vince. He is extremely upset by this whole nasty business and has become depressed to a manic degree. He is blaming me for the plight that the company finds itself in, and no matter what I say, I can’t convince him otherwise.’
‘I am sorry that you are getting all the blame Harold. We will have to try to get to the truth and find the real culprits as soon as possible,’ I suggested.
‘Have you had any ideas as to how you might go about the investigation Vincent?’
‘Well, I am obviously going to have to find the source of the stolen diamonds and find out how they are getting onto the London market. If I can find the source then we will be able to turn off the supply, and there will be no more low cost diamonds,’ I suggested. ‘That’s the simple answer, but I am sure that whoever is responsible will have covered their tracks well.’
‘Don’t forget that you are dealing with large stake holders Vincent. You can expect the people that you encounter in your investigation to use any means, including force, to protect their investments.’
‘You think they will do that.’ I hadn’t thought about this aspect of my new job.
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‘I don’t think, I know that they will,’ Harold emphasised. ‘You will have to be particularly careful. We don’t want you killed.’
‘I’ll be extremely careful. Where do you think that I should start Harold?’
‘In Rotterdam; I will give you the name of our contact that you should go and see. After that, you should fly to South Africa and spend some time there.’
‘Do you have a reliable contact in South Africa?’
‘I will give you details of the wife of our former agent in South Africa. He mysteriously disappeared a few months ago while investigating the situation for us.’
‘You mean Harold that he could have been killed?’ I was startled by his suggestion.
‘We believe so, but there is no proof. His wife will give you more details when you meet her. She lives in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg and is the only person that we can fully trust.’
‘Harold, I don’t have much money in my bank account at the moment, and tickets to travel to Rotterdam and Johannesburg are going to set me back a bit. Do you think that you would be able to arrange an advance on my expenses for me?’
‘Of course Vincent, I should have thought about that,’ Harold said apologetically. ‘If you give me your bank details I will put some money into your account. You will also have hotel, car hire and other expenses in Rotterdam and Johannesburg, as well, so I will also cover those. I want all your attention to be on solving our problem and not on where the next pound is going to come from. Keep a record of what you spend and post it to us at the end of each month.’
‘Thanks Harold, that’s most thoughtful of you.’
We both finished off our drinks, and he got up to leave.
‘Good luck in your investigation and thank you for taking this on. Let’s hope that you are successful,’ he said as he shook my hand.
As I walked to Parsons Green tube station, I reflected on our conversation and what he had told me. I was starting to feel nervous, a sensation that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Unlike the army, when I had always faced danger as part of a team, I was now facing an extremely dangerous mission, entirely on my own.
The Diamond Chain Page 1
