Detective Kubu 01; A Carrion Death

by Michael Stanley

  Cecil looked at her. “I think you and I could work well together, make a lot of money for the company and enjoy doing it. I’m not sure that would really interest your brother.”

  Dianna moved over to the pool and sat on the top step with water up to her calves. She turned her head towards Cecil. “Well, it’s in the bag, isn’t it? Angus will vote the Trust shares in your favour, and you’ll get the support of the government directors with their ten per cent. You’ve made quite sure of that.”

  “You seem well informed,” said Cecil carefully.

  “As you just said, Uncle Cecil,” Dianna murmured, “whoever controls the Trust controls the board.” She stood up and said brightly, “Are you going to have a swim? The water’s lovely.”

  “I’ve got to get to the office. Actually, I’ve got an appointment with Jason Ferraz at eleven about Maboane.”

  Dianna stretched and walked to the deep end of the pool, ready to dive. She glanced at Cecil. “As a future director, I can start getting up to speed on BCMC’s resource interests. Why don’t you invite Jason to dinner? Let me know. I’ll come over from the hotel.”

  Cecil wasn’t sure he wanted the young geologist’s charm turned towards Dianna, so he muttered something noncommittal. He’d better get going, or the morning would be wasted. Rising, he meant to say goodbye to his niece, but she was already back in the pool, swimming underwater towards the far end.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 10

  Arriving at the office, Cecil warmly greeted Jonny, his secretary, and accepted some freshly percolated coffee. Fifteen minutes before his appointment with the geologist, he extracted a brown envelope from his desk drawer and carefully reread the contents. Satisfied, he put the letter back in the envelope and into the drawer. He ran his hands over the leather inset on the top of his desk as though smoothing it, enjoying the feel of the well-used antique. It had been Roland’s desk. He had changed nothing in the office when he took over as chairman.

  He didn’t bother to rise when Jason entered, waving him to a chair and exchanging the usual pleasantries. Jason was of average height, heavily tanned, and sported a thick black beard. He wore the ubiquitous khaki shirt and slacks—with shoes, however, not boots. He asked how Angus was getting on with his orientation trips and then said how much he had enjoyed Dianna’s company when she had visited the mine. Cecil decided he might as well follow the preferences of the two young people and invited Jason to dinner with them that evening. After all, Jason was pleasant enough and kept a bottle of whisky good company. Jason hesitated and then accepted. But he seemed more relaxed after this promising beginning.

  Cecil turned to business. “Let’s talk about the Maboane mine. Is it still producing the same level of gems?”

  “Actually, even better. We will be comfortably in the black this quarter, at least on the mine operation itself. Exploration costs have gone up, though.”

  Cecil could have done without the qualification, but he nodded, waiting for Jason to continue.

  “We’re in a very rich part of the kimberlite. We’re now pulling out diamonds of multiple carats as well as the smaller ones we’ve been getting all along. It confirms what I’ve always suspected: that De Beers missed the gradated development of the ore body and walked away from what you might misname a gold mine.” He chuckled at this perennial joke, but Cecil wasn’t pleased to be reminded of the joint venture with De Beers. It was supposed to make their fortunes, but when the diamond giant rejected the prospect as not commercially viable, it had left him seriously out of pocket. Since then he had been less susceptible to the geologist’s enthusiasm and less gullible about his claims. And now there was the letter to add to his concerns.

  “The thing is that we don’t know how far this rich section will extend,” Jason continued. “For the moment we have a mine that’s going to make a substantial profit, but it’s the tip of the iceberg. The rest of the iceberg is in the surrounding kimberlite pipes. That’s where the real mine is.”

  “De Beers also knew about those pipes.”

  Jason shook his head. “No, they found the kimberlite dyke swarm, but they didn’t identify the surrounding pipes. They aren’t magnetic so the De Beers magnetometer survey missed them completely. We picked them up with a ground gravity survey. I’ve had Aron supervising it, and he’s done a careful job. Look at this map showing the anomalies.”

  He unrolled a map on Cecil’s desk, pushing papers out of the way. The map showed the range of gravitational attraction, with indigo representing regions of low density and thus low gravitational attraction, red representing regions of high density and thus high attraction, and a rainbow of colours in between as the values changed from one extreme to the other. A number of substantial, roughly elliptical indigo areas were easily visible even to Cecil’s untrained eye. Kimberlite, the magic host rock of diamonds, had a low gravitational signature. So the low-gravity ellipses could well be a swarm of new kimberlites around the mine. If they were diamond-bearing, it represented a huge increase in the value of the ore body.

  Jason could see that Cecil was impressed and pointed out the relative sizes and positions of the anomalies. In spite of himself, Cecil was excited. Could it be that his white elephant was the real thing after all?

  “Cecil,” Jason said, dropping the ‘Mr Hofmeyr’ he affected when things were going less well, “these pipes are almost certainly part of the same kimberlite extrusion we are mining, and we know from the existing mine that they will be diamondiferous. We need to do some initial work proving that these anomalies really are kimberlite. Then we get in one of the major mining houses. The obvious one is BCMC itself, of course, but if you’re not comfortable with your company taking all the risk, we could bring in another major with diamond expertise and do a joint venture. Once we are into developing this mine, it will be much too big for the two of us. But we’ll keep a decent interest and sell out the rest for a fortune. I think it will be an impressive sum of money even by your standards.”

  He looked at Cecil carefully, gauging his interest. “I think that Angus is pretty keen on it too. He may want to take the whole thing over for BCMC.”

  Jason realised at once that this had been the wrong thing to say. Cecil didn’t want to be reminded about Angus’s approaching control.

  “Yes, that all sounds wonderful if it works out,” Cecil snapped. “But these kimberlites can’t be close to the surface or De Beers would have picked them up with sampling. They must be too deep to show. We’ll have to drill them. That’s very expensive. Where’s that money going to come from?”

  “We’ll have to put in a million dollars, say, to get it to the stage where a major will start drooling.”

  Cecil snorted. “That’s the opposite of the royal we, isn’t it? In this case it means me. You don’t have that sort of money.”

  “Perhaps we can leverage the money from the mine’s operations?”

  “How much profit do you expect from it this quarter?”

  “Perhaps a hundred thousand dollars.”

  He’s a dreamer, Cecil thought. He believes all this—and, to be fair, he has some good science to back it up. But one prospect in a hundred produces an ore body, and only one in a hundred of those becomes a really worthwhile mine. Am I looking at one of that tiny percentage here, or is this gravity map a picture of a black hole into which my money—the Trust’s money, he corrected himself uncomfortably—is disappearing at an alarming rate?

  “Mr Hofmeyr, this could be the start of a whole new diamond province. We’ve got a really big prospecting lease, too. If we do a deal with BHP Billiton, they can fly their Falcon aerial gravity system over the area. We could end up with a world-class mine! Remember that the richest diamond mine in the world is at Jwaneng, less than a hundred kilometres away as the crow flies.”

  Cecil ignored that and changed tack. “You say this Aron Frankental is a good chap? What does he feel about this?” He nodded at the map.

  “Look, Aron’s solid. But he
’s young and doesn’t have much flair. If it’s not in a respected textbook or taught to him by an academic with a PhD, he’s uncomfortable. But he stands behind that map.”

  “I’d like to see him and get his perspective.”

  Jason didn’t like the implications. “That’s a good idea. We could have a team session with the others too. When could you get down to the mine?” He knew that there was little possibility of Cecil leaving the comfort of his offices and home in Gaborone.

  “No, let’s get him up here.”

  Jason smiled to himself. “Well, we can do that, but I need him carrying on work on the survey. He’s out in the field right now. It would take a while to set it up.”

  Cecil briefly considered showing Jason the letter. Perhaps he should confront him with Aron’s suggestion about the stolen diamonds. He bit his lip, then decided against it.

  “Well, there’s really no hurry, is there? If those pipes are full of diamonds, they’ve been there a long time, and they seem to be quite content. They’re not going anywhere. In the meantime, if you can get the mine up to full production of the good gems, we can start building up a bit of money in the kitty. I don’t have unlimited resources, you know, and I’m taking all the risk as it is.”

  He rose to indicate that the meeting was over. “Shall we say seven-thirty this evening? Casual.” Then, as Jason started to roll up the map, “Oh, I’d like a copy of that gravity map too, by the way.” Jason just nodded, shook hands, and muttered that he looked forward to the dinner. He was obviously disappointed by the way things had turned out.

  Cecil watched him leave. Without that letter, he thought, I probably couldn’t have resisted it. I would probably have gone for one more throw of the dice and given him the money. He shook his head, not quite sure which scenario he was rejecting.

  Shortly after Jason had left, Jonny reminded him that it was time for his appointment with the two government-appointed directors of BCMC. He was taking them to lunch at the Phakalane Country Club, north of town. The director of the CID would be making up a golf foursome afterwards. That would lend some respectability to the proceedings, Cecil thought with a smile. Actually, he liked Mabaku. Could be a helpful chap with speeding fines and the like. Not a bad golfer, either.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 11

  Jason arrived promptly at half past seven. He had taken trouble to look casual yet smart. The safari suit had been replaced by white slacks and a black open-necked shirt with a bold African pattern based on Xhosa beadwork. He was carrying a large bunch of yellow and orange roses—for Dianna, he explained—and presented Cecil with a bottle of decent French claret from a good, if recent, year. Cecil appreciated wine and was pleased that Jason had gone to the trouble of finding something worth drinking. Cecil upgraded the wines for the evening, but he wondered if this expensive gift was aimed at smoothing over the rather fractious conclusion of the morning’s interview.

  Cecil was feeling mellow. He had enjoyed a good lunch and a pleasant afternoon of golf, and he had lost graciously to his black colleagues, who had each walked off with a thousand pula in side bets. They had been effusive in their thanks for an enjoyable day while downing an obligatory Scotch at the nineteenth hole. The directors had promised to have a word with the minister about the irritating Bushman land issue. He felt that the day had worked out well, and that his support at the crucial board meeting was sewn up. It would be possible to resolve the diamond-mine issue in due course. He could afford to make Jason feel welcome.

  A few minutes later, a taxi brought Dianna to join them. She had also gone to considerable trouble with her appearance. She wore a simple black dress, strikingly embroidered with a birdwing butterfly in emerald and crimson, which clung to her when she moved. Cut to show glimpses of her long stockinged legs, it plunged between her breasts. In a surprisingly formal touch, she wore a double chain of heavy pearls, and plain gold bracelets. She had found time to have her hair done.

  Dianna walked over to Jason, threw her arms around him, and gave him a strong kiss that lasted several seconds. “Hello, darling,” she said. “I’ve missed you!”

  Jason held her at arm’s length and appraised her carefully, lifting his eyes from her slender waist, past her cleavage, past the pearls, to her face and the glisten of her hair.

  “You are looking gorgeous, Dianna,” he said quietly. “What an incredible dress.” Turning, he presented her with the roses. She smiled as she took the flowers and called one of the servants to deal with them.

  Dianna turned towards a numb Cecil, whose mouth worked like a fish in astonishment. “Didn’t I tell you, Uncle Cecil? Jason and I have been seeing each other ever since I went hunting in the Kalahari with him about six months ago. We met at one of the camps I was staying at. He took me down to see the Maboane operation, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “I had no idea you knew each other well,” Cecil stammered. Jason’s face expressed his own surprise at Cecil being in the dark.

  Cecil ushered them to the sparsely furnished lounge for a drink before dinner. “I like the modern minimalist style,” he said to Jason, recovering some of his composure, and mentioned the name of the interior designer who had produced their austere surroundings. Jason looked impressed and nodded, assuming that the name would be well known to people who had the money for this sort of thing.

  “It’s brilliant,” he said, “uncluttered, almost spartan, but completely comfortable.” This seemed to be an adequate comment from someone whose furniture had to fit into the back of a four-wheel-drive truck. He settled back to enjoy the excellent whisky. Cecil had added half a dozen drops to it when Jason had asked for water; he was glad he hadn’t tried for soda. Dianna was drinking a dry Martini with an olive. He found it easy to watch her and avoid the immediate need to say anything.

  “How long are you going to be in Gaborone?” she asked him.

  “Probably a few more days. It’s really up to your uncle. We need to go over some issues connected with the mine. After that I must get back. As you know, we have an active exploration programme under way, as well as the production from the mine itself.”

  Dianna turned towards Cecil. “Actually, Uncle Cecil, I’ve been doing research on Maboane for some time. It’s quite a substantial investment for the Trust, and it isn’t really clear to me how it should be handled.”

  Now it was Jason’s turn to be confused and concerned. He and Dianna had had several conversations about Maboane’s future, and he had been sure that she supported his development plans. If she changed her mind, it could cause him all sorts of problems and cost him a lot of money.

  “What is your assessment, Uncle?” she asked.

  Cecil felt panic welling up. He didn’t want to explore this issue in detail in front of Jason, and he didn’t want to explore it with Dianna at all. She had obviously already researched the mine. Did she know how much money the Trust had lent to the operation under various harmless-sounding debenture entries? Did she know how much it had lent him? She had completely fooled him about Jason. How much more did she know that she was not revealing? He carefully savoured the whisky, buying time to decide what to say.

  “We’re getting some excellent gemstones from lower in the ore body now,” he eventually said. “I think the mine is going to be very profitable and, as Jason says, we have lots of promising possibilities to extend the resource. Of course, we must be careful not to overstretch our investment.” The last sentence was directed at Jason, but it was Dianna who responded.

  “But in the joint-venture project report, De Beers didn’t think much of its long-term prospects. That’s why they walked away from it.”

  Jason looked at her, surprised. He thought he had given her all the information she wanted, albeit carefully selected to support his point of view. “We believe that they made a big mistake,” he said. “The heavy mineral indicators were not right. Micro diamonds and some of value lower down in the kimberlite, but nothing really payable. That wa
s the conclusion from the bulk sampling. However, on closer examination, and after spending a lot of time there doing the geology, I’m convinced otherwise.”

  “Shall we go in to dinner?” Cecil interjected. “I think the chef has prepared a special main course for us. Pigeon with foie gras. He doesn’t have guests to show off to as often as he used to. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.” He led the way to the dining room. They took their drinks with them.

  Dianna was pleased with herself. Jason was visibly concerned that she had read the De Beers report. Cecil was shocked by her liaison with Jason and by the fact she was prying into BCMC affairs. She had expected him to be surprised, but she wondered why he seemed so concerned. The first few minutes of the dinner passed in complete silence, other than a few quiet acknowledgements for the waiters. Cecil and Jason stared at their smoked springbok carpaccio starters, eating without enthusiasm. On the other hand, Dianna savoured the food and their discomfort in equal measure.

  The dinner was excellent and impeccably served with appropriate wines, whose pedigrees Cecil described in some detail. So there was little need of small talk until they were past dessert and into coffee and—in Cecil’s case—port and cigars. Everyone was more relaxed. Dianna was radiant, slightly tipsy, and having fun.

  “I think I’ll have a glass of port after all, Uncle Cecil,” she said. Cecil turned to call the waiter, who had discreetly retired to the kitchen.

  “No, let me!” Dianna interrupted. For a moment she was quite still, concentrating. Then, in an almost perfect replica of Cecil’s voice, she called, “Johannes! Bring back the port. Miss Dianna would like a glass.” The waiter appeared at once, looking at Cecil, but was greeted by Dianna’s laughter. Cecil was smiling too. “That’s fine, Johannes. Give the guests new glasses and top mine up.” Then, to Dianna, “I had forgotten about your party tricks, my dear. I see you haven’t lost your touch.”