Finders Keepers

by Kris Lillyman

  The air smelt fresh and clean and the sound of birdsong and the gentle trickle of a nearby stream was all that could be heard in the tranquillity of the meadow. It was a new day and a new beginning for Jake.

  He was shivering now in the chill of the early morning so returned to the car and pulled the heavy overcoat around him once more. Then he reached for the briefcase and snapped open the catches. It was the first time he had opened the case since taking it, the first time he had dared. Jake noticed now that there were twenty compartments inside, ten down each side and all with clip fastening plastic lids. He unclipped one of the compartment doors and slid out the velvet bag it contained, then slowly pulled the drawstring seal open and carefully poured the contents into his hand. Ten big diamonds fell into his palm and sparkled beguilingly up at him. They were dazzling. The only diamond Jake had seen up close before was the one in Angie’s less than modest engagement ring, but the ones he was looking at now were huge in comparison. They were also much brighter and clearer and, he realised, significantly more valuable. Indeed, the contents of his hand would be worth an absolute fortune. He dropped the diamonds back into their velvet bag and returned it to its compartment. He then opened another compartment, then another and yet another. Each time finding diamonds of an equal or larger size than the first. It was staggering, utterly mind-blowing and he could not even begin to comprehend the enormous worth of what he possessed.

  However, with the night’s rest had come some semblance of rationality and Jake at last began to realise the enormity of what he had done. For the first time he also considered the consequences.

  These diamonds would undoubtedly be missed. Whoever owned them would most definitely want them back. But Jake was certain that no one knew that he had taken them. The road had been deserted and he had left no trace of his presence there so there was nothing to tie him to the accident or the diamonds. But guilt had also crept in now along with regret. He had stolen from a dead man. Rifled through his clothing and taken his money. He should have just called the police told them what had happened and left the diamonds well alone. But no, he had absconded, taken the case, taken the money and left the country like a common criminal.

  But it was almost too late to go back now. And back to what? He asked himself. Back to debt, to bankruptcy, to an empty house that would soon be repossessed? The kids were with Angie and she was with her new man. They all had a new life now and Jake was not a part of it.

  For the moment at least, they were undoubtedly better off without him. Without the worry and the bills and the sleepless nights and the fear of the bailiff knocking on the door. And in that instant his mind was made up. What was done was done. Going back would solve nothing. He had been honest his whole life, squeaky clean, whiter than white and it had got him nowhere. But two nights ago, fortune had shined on him for the first time in a very long time and he was determined not to waste it.

  His intention was to sell a few of the diamonds and set things right for Angie and the kids financially. As for him, well time would tell but to be debt free would be a very good start.

  Jake put the diamonds back and closed the briefcase. He then opened the large, newly purchased backpack and pushed the case into it.

  It was time to get going.

  Jake got out of the BMW and closed the door, leaving the keys inside. He knew the car would be found eventually, hopefully later rather than sooner but, with luck, by then he would be long gone.

  Then shrugging the backpack onto his shoulders he set off on the long walk back to the main road.

  * * *

  Two hours later, after picking up a lift with a jovial German truck driver, Jake was back in Poitiers. Once there, he bought some new clothes, a pair of jeans, some trainers, a couple of cheap shirts and a zip-up waterproof jacket. Then he went to the public toilets and changed, dumping his old clothes in a waste bin when he had finished.

  After that he found an internet cafe, bought himself a croissant and a latte and sat down to do some research on diamonds.

  Three hours later, feeling much more informed, he was on a train heading for Paris. From there he caught another one to Brussels. By the following evening he was in Amsterdam, holed up in the cheapest hotel he could find. The four hundred euros he had left in his pocket was dwindling fast but at least now he had a plan, a way forward. It was going to be extremely difficult and fraught with danger but, to make a better life for him and his family, Jake was ready for the challenge.

  Chapter 12

  Peter Bearing had called Aaron Sumpter a rottweiler but he looked more like a rat with his sharp pointed features and searching, inquisitive eyes. Bald-headed except for an inch wide line of red hair that ran in a semi-circle from ear to ear, making him appear older than his forty-two years, but his slim, wiry frame was tight with muscle and he was in excellent physical condition.

  Arriving home after his meeting with Bearing and Khan, he snapped on the lights in the hallway of his neat, perfectly maintained semi in Hampstead.

  The walls of the hallway were lined with memories. Photos of him with Wendel Wallace and Teddy Bearing and both their families. Pictures of Wendel with his son and daughter, taken when they were just little kids and pictures of Teddy and his various wives. There were also several photographs of Peter Bearing and the Khan brothers, pictured during their first year at Oxford.

  These memories represented Sumpter’s family. He had none of his own, no memory of his father and just the briefest recollection of his mother. With no brothers or sisters, his early years were spent in a series of foster homes and orphanages. Until the age of fifteen when he went to work for Wallace Bearing. That was when his life truly began and what he would always be eternally thankful for.

  Aaron walked into the small kitchen and clicked on the kettle then crossed to the wall monitor to check the video feed from the three CCTV cameras discreetly mounted on the outside of the house. Zero intruders.

  He took his cup of tea upstairs and flicked on the lights.

  The biggest bedroom was used as a store room, filled with archived files, notebooks, diaries, boxes, envelopes and video cassettes all laboriously categorized and organized so that the information could be accessed in seconds. However, much of this hard copy had become obsolete, as all the data Sumpter had collected over the years could nowadays fit onto just one tiny storage device. But Aaron liked to keep back-ups. Just in case.

  The second bedroom was Aaron’s office which was where he spent most of his time. It was equipped with two thirty inch monitors, a super-powerful Macintosh tower, a stand alone database and a video editing suite. There was also a coffee machine and a teasmaid as Aaron liked his caffeine.

  The third bedroom had been converted into a darkroom. In here, a cabinet housed his cameras and telescopes.

  Finally, the small fourth bedroom was where Sumpter slept.

  Aaron took out his phone and downloaded the data stored on it to his laptop, which he kept with him at all times.

  Sumpter kept records of everything, including tape recordings of secret conversations, photocopies of illicit transactions and the financial mis-dealings of people that had been or could be useful to Peter Bearing.

  Aaron had it all. Evidence, leverage, ransom. But that was his job.

  That was what Peter Bearing paid him for. He was not a Rottweiler but bloodhound, a tracker and he was exceptionally good at it. Bearing used Sumpter’s skills to ensure that whatever he wanted was made possible. The information he supplied was used to encourage people to bend to Peter’s will. Whether they wanted to or not.

  Business was for winners and Peter always won.

  The brief he had given Aaron this time was simply to find the diamonds and whoever took them as quickly as possible.

  However, Sumpter had advised Peter and Arthur that this particular task could take many months to complete as there seemed to be no obvious leads.


  They agreed but were emphatic; find them no matter the cost, no matter how long it takes. Just find them.

  * * *

  Back in his office in Hampstead, Aaron Sumpter took a sip of his tea, flexed his fingers and pulled his keyboard closer. Then typed the words ‘Northamptonshire Police’ into his search bar. His first job was to hack into their files and find out exactly what they knew.

  However, it was not long before Sumpter discovered that the bulk of the case had indeed been handed over to The Metropolitan Police, as Arthur Khan had already informed him. The detective in charge being a DCI Roper Coyle.

  To gain proper access to the relevant files The Met’s system would require a little more work than a simple hacking job. It meant knowing passwords, circumventing firewalls and working through many other security protocols and trap doors that Scotland Yard had in place.

  Normally Aaron could do this with his eyes closed, but because he would be poking around in The Met’s files for more than just a brief period of time, his presence would have to be as seamless as possible. Hackers could be traced and Aaron most definitely did not want that. It was safe enough to go in, have a quick look around and then get out again, but to maintain serious long-term surveillance was very risky and the ramifications should his prying be detected were not something he wished to contemplate. So more covert tactics were called for.

  For this Aaron had to physically enter Scotland Yard posing as a member of the janitorial team who were contracted to clean the building at night. This was a much more straightforward task. He hacked into the files of the contractors, added an alias of himself to their list of employees, then forged an identity card, printed it out and laminated it. Then, for one night only, he reassigned the janitor who normally cleaned the particular floor he was interested in.

  The following evening, wearing a disguise and kitted out in the appropriate attire, Aaron reported for work at Scotland Yard at ten o’clock. It was surprisingly easy to gain entrance to the building, the busy desk sergeant only giving his fake ID a cursory glance before admitting him inside. Within minutes Sumpter was on the relevant floor. Fifteen minutes after that he had fitted a tiny bug to Coyle’s phone and attached a small device to his computer that would allow Aaron to see exactly what Coyle was seeing on his screen from the comfort of his home in Hampstead.

  After the real purpose of his visit had been completed, Aaron gave the offices a thorough clean so as not to arouse suspicion.

  By eight the next morning he was back in the office of his small semi-detached, showered, refreshed and sitting in front of his huge monitor screen. He had a nice cup of freshly ground coffee in his hand as he watched and listened to Roper Coyle going about his investigations, Sumpter’s presence completely undetected.

  Before long he would have all the information the police had on Charles Khan and the missing diamonds.

  Chapter 13

  Jake had spent two days and nights trawling the streets of Amsterdam, surreptitiously asking questions about where he might be able to sell some diamonds. He asked in cafe’s and bars and, very tentatively, in backstreet, less reputable looking jewellery stores. He knew that Antwerp, not Amsterdam was the diamond capital of the world, but thought he had a better chance of making a sale here. He had visited Amsterdam before and it was a beautiful city but it also had many seedy clubs and bars where someone might easily find a buyer for illegal merchandise. But it was dangerous, street crime was common so for Jake to make it known that he had something of value in his possession was not the wisest move he could make. However he had no choice but to take the risk.

  On his third day in Amsterdam, Jake was given the name of a man called Gerhardt who, he was told, would possibly be interested in what he was selling.

  Gerhardt could apparently be found after midnight in a room he used in the Red-Light District behind a brothel. Jake, clutching a scrap of paper with the address written on it, felt slightly sordid as he passed the strip clubs and the peep shows and the naked girls sitting in their windows beckoning to him, their ever-present red-lights illuminating the otherwise picturesque canal at midnight. The streets were heaving, drunken men both young and old lining them, ogling the shameless delights on display, the faint whiff of alcohol and marijuana being carried on the cool night breeze. Jake navigated his way through the cobbled streets and dark alleyways trying to find the address he was given until he at last stood before the building he was looking for, the obligatory red-light and naked girl in the front window.

  Nervously, he opened the door and went inside. The girl, completely nude except for stockings, suspenders and a pair of thigh high black PVC boots, closed the curtain in front of her and stepped out of the window to greet him with a fake smile. “You want fuck or suck?” she asked in heavily accented English.

  “Er, neither, actually, thanks,” Jake said with a guilty smile, “I’m looking for Gerhardt, I was told I could find him here?”

  The girl’s smile immediately dropped as she tutted and climbed back into the window. “Back there,” she said, indicating with her thumb over her shoulder, “Last door. Knock first.”

  “Thanks,” Jake said but the girl had already re-opened the curtain and was too busy positioning herself in a provocative pose to hear him.

  Jake looked about the tiny room in which he was standing, there was a small bed with dirty ruffled sheets and a nightstand next to it with a lava lamp on it as well as a basket full of assorted condoms and a box of tissues. Across from the bed there was a small hand basin and next to that was a door concealed by a beaded curtain. Jake walked uncertainly over to it, pulled aside the beaded curtain and turned the handle to reveal a narrow corridor with several doors leading off from either side. He saw the door he needed at the far end of the passage and tentatively headed toward it. The sound of people having sex was emanating from behind several of the other doors making Jake feel slightly embarrassed and awkward. However, when he reached the door he wanted, he paused for a moment to compose himself then knocked twice. There was no response but Jake could hear movement, he felt anxious, suddenly fearful - this was not a world he was used to but it was too late to back out now because at that moment the door opened.

  Jake was not sure what he was expecting, some burly thug perhaps, or a swarthy villainous looking type, but certainly not the person standing before him now. “I’m looking for Gerhardt,” Jake said to the short, balding gentleman who looked very much like a university professor in his knitted bow tie and tweed jacket.

  “I am he,” Gerhardt said in perfect English. “How may I help you?”

  “Er,” Jake began, a little taken back, “I have, er, something you might be interested in - something of value, for sale.”

  Gerhardt gave Jake the once over, then said, “I see. In that case you had better come in.”

  Jake followed the little man into the room which was small and dingy with very little furniture except for a desk, a few chairs and a filing cabinet. The carpet was threadbare and the ancient curtains were closed but the glow of a red light could be seen clearly through them. The room itself was lit solely by a large angle-poise lamp on the desk.

  “You will forgive my humble surroundings,” Gerhardt said, taking a seat behind the desk and waving Jake to a chair on the other side, “But the rent is cheap, so I cannot complain.”

  “That’s fine. I understand.” Jake replied, sitting down.

  “Now, my friend, you say you have something of value for sale? Please, enlighten me.”

  Jake hesitated for just a moment before reaching into the front pocket of his jeans and pulling out a carefully folded piece of tissue paper. He leant forward into the full glare of the angle-poise lamp and slowly unwrapped it, finally revealing a single diamond. He had purposely chosen one of the very smallest, not wishing to set any unnecessary jackpot alarms off in Gerhardt’s head.

  “Ah, I see,” said Gerhardt, “may I exami
ne it?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you.” Gerhardt picked up the diamond which was about the same size as a small pea and held it to the light between his thumb and forefinger. “Very nice,” he said. “Very pretty.” He then reached into a drawer and pulled out an eyeglass and a pair of tweezers. Fixing the glass into his eye socket and now holding the diamond with the tweezers, he gave it a more thorough examination. “Yes, very pretty indeed. Excellent colour, excellent clarity, a nice size - I assume it is stolen?”

  “Er, what?” Jake was suddenly caught off guard. “Er, no, I mean–”

  “Please,” Gerhardt interjected. “I am not a judge. I merely ask to protect myself. You are someone who I have never met before, you could tell me anything. But if the diamond is stolen, there are certain parties I can sell it to. If it is not, then there are other, more legitimate parties I can approach. However, if you say it is not stolen and then I find out it is, I could find myself severely compromised. In that instance I will have no hesitation in providing any interested parties with your description. On the other hand, if you are truthful with me from the outset I will take your identity to the grave.”

  “I see.” Jake said. Then after a moment’s contemplation, he added, “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t. All I can tell you is that this is my livelihood, I am respected within my field and to break a confidence, to reveal a source without an extremely good reason would be tantamount to both business and most possibly actual suicide. My word is my bond, that is how I operate. But betray me and that bond is broken.”

  Again, Jake thought for a moment. Regardless of his surroundings, Gerhardt did seem trustworthy. Honest, almost. “Yes, it is stolen,” he said, “But not intentionally, it was more of an accident–”

  “Please,” Gerhardt interjected. “It is of no importance. But thank you for your honesty, it is appreciated. Now, this diamond - I assume you know its true value?”