by Robert Daws
The ringing of Broderick’s mobile interrupted her.
Broderick checked the screen. ‘It’s Chief Superintendent Massetti. May I speak with her, please?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ Sister Clara conceded.
The detective touched the green button and put the phone to his ear. ‘Ma’am?’
‘Broderick, I need to know exactly what the situation is,’ Massatti asked. ‘Can you speak freely?’
‘To some extent, ma’am.’
‘Does Sister Clara have a gun?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Is she threatening you?’
‘No, ma’am,’ Broderick answered calmly. ‘Neither Detective Sergeant Sullivan or myself are being held against our will. We’re talking to Sister Clara in the hope of persuading her to hand over the gun and leave here with us peacefully.’
‘Okay, Broderick. Armed officers are taking position in the corridor outside the room. Leave the phone line open so I can hear exactly what’s going on. The slightest problem and I’ll order them in. Don’t take any chances, you understand?’
‘Perfectly, ma’am. May I ask that you get Daisy away from here? Get her back to my sister at the Rock Hotel.’
‘Already happening, Gus,’ Massetti replied. ‘Good luck.’
A relieved Broderick looked at his mobile’s screen and pretended to touch the ‘Call finished’ button, but instead, the line remained open with Massetti listening intently on the other end.
‘You’re a good father, Gus,’ Sister Clara said. ‘Your daughters are a credit to you.’
‘Thank you,’ Broderick replied. ‘Perhaps you’d now like to tell us exactly what’s happened.’
‘Of course,’ she said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a black velvet purse. Loosening the lace band that held it tightly closed, she emptied its contents onto the bed in front of her.
‘I discovered these,’ she declared, as a shower of diamonds poured from the purse onto the bed. Neither Sullivan or Broderick had ever seen such a dazzling stream of precious stones. It was impossible to guess how many there were, but Broderick estimated that it had to be a cache of least twenty stones of differing shapes and sizes.
‘Impressive, wouldn’t you agree?’ Sister Clara continued.
‘Very,’ Broderick returned. ‘Are they yours?’
‘No, no. My mother’s hidden hoard,’ Sister Clara replied, unable to hide a hint of distaste. ‘Soon after she came here to the Buena Vista, she experienced the first of her strokes. For many weeks, it was touch and go whether she’d survive. Naturally, I prepared for her passing by attempting to get her affairs in order. I started with her home in Spain. She hadn’t lived here on the Rock for decades. She and my stepfather spent most of their lives travelling the world, but they passed the rest of their time at their homes in Seville and London. Most of the bigger financial and business matters had been attended to by my mother herself. It was the smaller, personal matters I needed to address. One afternoon, while examining the contents of the safe in her study in Seville, I came across the key to a safe deposit box that she rented from a local bank. As my mother had given me power of attorney, I saw no harm in investigating the box’s contents. In it, I discovered these diamonds.’
Taking a handkerchief from her sleeve, she reached across and gently wiped a small dribble of saliva from the old woman’s chin.
‘Hard to imagine now, but my mother was quite a formidable person in her prime. The Rock of Ages Foundation was her idea. With my stepfather’s support, she fought to establish it. I had always taken it for granted that the charity would be her legacy. Something the world would know her for and appreciate long after she was gone. The fact is, if the truth about her life becomes known, she’ll be remembered for very different things.’
At that moment, Sullivan thought she saw a flicker in Lady Ruiz’s eyes. It passed in an instant but was enough to confirm to Sullivan that the old woman was aware of every word that was being said. Sister Clara folded her handkerchief and placed it on the cabinet beside her.
‘Her life has run along two very different parallel lines. One life public and benevolent. The other secretive and shameful.’
Sister Clara stopped for a moment. It appeared as though the full weight of what she had to say might prove too much for her.
‘Perhaps we should do this elsewhere,’ Broderick suggested.
‘No, no. It has to be here and now,’ Sister Clara replied, regaining her composure. ‘I have to tell you things in order. I’m easily confused at the moment. The effects of shock, I’m afraid.’
Once again Sister Clara paused to collect her thoughts. ‘My earliest memories are of living with the missionaries in Nairobi, after my father was murdered in Johannesburg. Do you know about that?’ Broderick and Sullivan both nodded. ‘Well, our journey through Africa to Kenya opened my mother’s eyes to what she saw as the “real suffering of the world”.’
Sullivan and Broderick glanced at each other, both sharing the same thought: Is Sister Clara still unaware that she’s adopted?
‘My mother had never seen poverty and death on such a scale before. She had never seen the huge disparity between the nations of the world. Those with wealth and those with nothing or next to nothing. By the time we arrived in Kenya, she’d decided to help those without hope. Working at the mission, she soon realised that religion would not affect the situation – only money and aid could make an immediate difference. But little was changing. She became disillusioned over there. Going to South Africa wasn’t desirable. She told me that my father’s murder there made it too painful for her to contemplate a return. She was going to do something – and she did. It took her nearly twenty years to get the foundation fully established. Quite something, really.’
‘I’m sure,’ Sullivan acknowledged.
‘I don’t think she meant to stay here long, but she, as a widow with a young daughter, had had a sympathetic welcome on the Rock. People were very kind. None kinder than Paul Ruiz. Within eighteen months they were married and that was that.’
‘And the diamonds?’ Broderick asked, impatient to move on.
‘The diamonds here hold the key to the whole Pandora’s box,’ Sister Clara said, picking up one of the larger stones and holding it to the light. Its sparkling transparency was suddenly infused with the ever-deepening crimson glow of the sunset. For a moment, it looked as though the diamond was transforming into a precious ruby.
‘It’s turned red,’ she murmured, almost mesmerised by its beauty.
For a moment, all three looked on as refracted beams of coloured light spread out from the stone and danced on the walls of the room. Sister Clara broke the spell as she returned the diamond to its place among the others and continued in a more matter-of-fact tone.
‘My mother made a remarkable recovery from her first stroke, and so I took the opportunity to ask her about what I’d found. To my huge surprise, my discovery didn’t surprise her. It seems it had been her intention for me to find the diamonds as I did. Nothing unusual about that – always in control, my mother …’ Sister Clara reached for Lady Ruiz’s hand and held it. ‘… until now, perhaps.’
Once again, Sullivan saw a fleeting glimpse of defiance in the old woman’s eyes. An expression that went unnoticed by Sister Clara.
‘My mother confessed, as best she could, that she had no regrets about her life other than having to lie to her only child.’
‘And the diamonds?’ Sullivan asked again.
‘She told me they’d been her payment for services rendered. Diamonds were the currency in which my mother was paid for her work on the Rock during World War II.’
‘World War II?’ Broderick exclaimed. ‘What the hell was she doing to get that kind of reward?’
‘It’s quite simple, Gus. My mother was a spy. A highly valued and well-paid one. An interesting story. The sort of story some people might even turn into a film.’
Sister Clara could see that Broderick was struggling to t
ake everything in. ‘I think Tamara might be a little ahead of you on this one, Gus.’
Broderick turned to the detective sergeant, but before he could ask the question, she answered him: ‘I think she’s telling us that Lady Ruiz here was the Queen of Diamonds, guv.’
‘Yes … I am, Tamara.’
Sister Clara slowly reached into her bag and pulled out the top secret file that Graeme Maugham had brought with him from England.
‘And this file confirms it. When I first confronted my mother, here in this very room, she only confessed part of the truth. The part that has become the legend. The sanitised version Josh Cornwallis dramatised in his film script. The Queen of Diamonds depicted as a hero. A lone woman spy working for the Allies to bring about the defeat of Nazi Germany. I wanted desperately to believe her, but as she told me, I remembered something. An incident I’d almost erased from memory. I remembered that I’d once received a letter from a retired inspector, formerly with the Gibraltar police. This was back in the early 1960s. I’m afraid I forget his name now.’
‘Inspector Lorenz?’ Sullivan interrupted. A sharp look from Broderick made her wish she had kept her mouth shut.
‘Yes,’ Sister Clara confirmed. ‘I believe that was his name. The letter was sent to my convent in England. As I never received letters of any kind, it was deemed important enough to let me read it. As I recall, it stated that Lorenz was making enquiries about my mother’s activities in Gibraltar during World War II. He wrote that he had some important questions he’d like to ask me regarding my mother’s possible work as a German intelligence operative. A Nazi spy who later became a British double-agent. He said he’d be prepared to travel to the UK to meet me, if I’d be allowed to see him.’
‘And were you?’ Broderick asked.
‘Of course not. I didn’t even reply. It didn’t stop Lorenz from coming, though. One afternoon, about a month later, the mother superior informed me that I had a visitor. A Mr Lorenz. Not even my mother had visited me at the convent, and I have to say I was far from pleased. I refused to see him.’
‘Weren’t you interested in what he had to say?’ Sullivan asked.
‘I wasn’t. I wrote to my mother and told her of Lorenz’s enquiries. She wrote back and told me that the man was off his head, and that I shouldn’t give it a moment’s further thought. And I didn’t. Until eight years ago, when my mother admitted the truth. Or part of the truth.’
‘Which part did she omit?’ Sullivan asked.
‘The part about once being a German intelligence operative.’
‘And when you confronted her with that?’ Sullivan continued.
‘She neither admitted nor denied it. She told me that life on the Rock had been very difficult during those years, and that she had only done what she believed was right. I didn’t press her further.’
‘And the whole truth was delivered to you this week by Cornwallis and the Maugham file.’
‘Yes. The full story, as poor Mr Maugham discovered, was quite different.’
‘Different enough for you to end up murdering three men?’ Broderick said, aghast.
‘Yes,’ Sister Clara confessed, a look of genuine anguish filling her face.
‘Why did he and the others have to die, Sister Clara?’ Sullivan asked.
‘Because I panicked. When the making of the film was announced, I knew things would change. After all, my mother had told me she was the Queen of Diamonds. It was her story. But something else happened. Something I hadn’t wanted to face up to. The truth was that I didn’t believe her story. Not fully. It was just an instinct, at first easily dismissed, but it had never fully gone away. For eight years it had haunted me. What if there was more? What if my mother had lied and Lorenz had told the truth? The diamonds seemed to be a huge reward for her work. What exactly had they bought? To my horror, I realised that I didn’t believe her. And so I read everything I could about the film. I found out all I could about those who were making it. The fact is, when Josh Cornwallis contacted me this week, I knew exactly who he was.’
‘Cornwallis contacted you?’ Broderick asked.
‘He left a note at Sovereign Villa asking me to meet him urgently. He said he knew secrets and had urgent questions he needed to ask.’
‘And so you went to see him,’ Sullivan added, moving a little nearer to the bed.
‘I had no choice,’ Sister Clara replied. ‘All my fears came tumbling in on me at once. Every scenario led to the same conclusion. Josh Cornwallis had discovered that my mother was the Queen of Diamonds. That was bad enough, but I sensed there was more. I felt sick to my stomach. I almost fainted. What did he know? I had to somehow find out, but I also had to protect myself and my mother for as long as I could.’
It was clear that the sheer effort of confession was taking its toll on Sister Clara. She reached for the glass of water beside her and took a sip. Sullivan and Broderick waited for her to regain her composure and carry on.
‘A plan came to me out of the blue. Born out of terror, really. I convinced myself that it was the best I could do. Not knowing how much or how little Josh Cornwallis knew meant that I had to cover all possibilities, to give myself options. It just so happened that I’d unpacked my old nun’s habit in preparation for this evening’s ball. I hadn’t worn it since I had left the order and was pleased that it was still in good condition. I was even more delighted that it still fit me well. Looking at it, I realised that, wearing the habit afforded me some kind of disguise. Putting it on, I saw that the real me, the person many recognise as Sister Clara, simply disappeared. It’s often said, and with good reason, that “all nuns look alike”. It was this that persuaded me to wear it on my visit to the Marina Plaza. At the very least, I thought it might disarm Cornwallis and render me, in his eyes, harmless.’
‘Why would you need that?’ Sullivan asked.
‘Because if the need arose, I’d decided that I’d have to harm him.’
In the bed, Lady Ruiz’s arm twitched and jerked upward. Sister Clara looked unsurprised. ‘She does that. Involuntary spasms. Can be quite alarming, but she’s alright.’
‘Does she need a nurse?’ Sullivan asked.
‘Oh, no. I don’t think so, Tamara. Thank you for your concern.’
‘So what happened next?’ Broderick asked, anxiously.
‘I did what I always do when I need to think clearly.’
‘Pray?’ Broderick offered.
‘No, alas. I simply went to my kitchen and baked a cake.’
‘The cake containing the Rohypnol, you mean?’ Sullivan asked.
‘The same,’ Sister Clara confirmed. ‘For most of her life, my mother had suffered from chronic insomnia.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Broderick interrupted before he could stop himself.
Sister Clara carried on as if the comment had gone unheard. ‘She’d take the drug to relax and ease the relentless anxiety and exhaustion of her condition. Over time I used it, too. Indeed, I accrued a surplus of it in my bathroom cabinet. I reasoned that, if I could somehow get Josh Cornwallis to take a dose, it might render him physically helpless. It would also impair his memory, allowing me to obtain what information I could while leaving the young man unable to remember our meeting. With luck, the drug would make him forget he’d seen me at all.’
‘But it all went wrong,’ Sullivan said flatly.
‘At first, no. I baked the cake, mixing in powdered Rohypnol and adding extra flavouring to mask any taste of the drug. I walked to the apartment building, passing several friends and acquaintances, none of whom recognised me. When I reached the Marina Plaza, there was a huge reception party going on. So, checking where the security cameras were positioned, I slowly worked my way around the edge of the room until I reached the lifts. On answering his door, Josh Cornwallis seemed surprised to see me, but when I told him that I was the resident of Sovereign Villa, he welcomed me in and accepted the cake. He didn’t take long to get down to business and quickly showed me Maugham’s file. He tol
d me about its contents and from whom he’d received it. What he told me about my mother’s activities while working for the Germans here in Gibraltar during the war was truly shocking. Her work as a blackmailer and murderer was far worse than anything I could have anticipated. Looking through the file, he showed me document after document that confirmed the stories he was telling. My mother had been a cold-hearted mercenary. Inspector Lorenz had been right. She held no real allegiance to any country or political creed. She worked just for the diamonds and for the thrill of power and danger.
‘As he told me all this, Josh became agitated. He said his film would be discredited if the truth got out. He told me the only thing he could do was convince his producer to stop production and begin again with a screenplay that told the real story. I’m afraid I couldn’t have cared less about that. My only thought was to stop the truth coming out at all. I noticed that he’d eaten a generous slice of the cake and was becoming incoherent. Then, while he wasn’t looking, I took the opportunity to lace his drink with more Rohypnol, to find out who also knew about my mother. He said that, to his knowledge, it was just an old Spaniard in San Roque called Don Eduardo Martínez and whoever had given him the file. Slowly, Josh began to lose control of his body. His speech became slurred and I realised at that moment I could not let him live. I had to stop him and the others from revealing the truth. Which is why I took a cushion, covered his face and pressed down hard until he breathed no more.’
Sister Clara fell silent. Sullivan and Broderick looked on in shock. At last Broderick was able to speak. ‘What happened next?’
