Diamonds Are But Stone

by Peter Vollmer

  Gerber opened the car’s rear door.

  “Get out!” he barked. He then led us into the house passed an unmanned reception desk in the front room and down a corridor.

  We were pushed into two adjoining rooms. My room was equipped with a lockable grille door, the normal wooden door being on the passage side. The single window was barred. The room contained a small steel table bolted to the floor, with a metal jug and cup. A bed-length, three-inch thick felt mattress lay on the floor, covered by a single folded blanket. A stainless steel toilet without a seat stood in a corner with a roll of toilet paper next to it.

  I assumed Francine’s room was similar.

  They removed my cuffs and the steel door clanged shut behind me as they pushed me in, followed by the wooden door.

  I knew what was going to happen next, and the thought filled me with dread. Francine’s safety was my greatest concern: I was the sole cause of her current predicament, she an innocent bystander. They had taken her simply because they believed I would talk to stop her coming to any harm.

  I knew that our arrest or abduction was illegal. The police here were fanatical about paperwork, just as the Nazis had been. Yet in this case, no documents had been written up or fingerprints taken - this was ominous. This was no police investigation, as it were.

  I made a careful inspection of my cell. I soon realized that there was no escape; even McIver, the favourite escape artist on South African TV, would have had to agree.

  About an hour later, there was a rattle at the door. It opened, as did the grille door. Two men walked in, one of whom I didn’t know; the other was Rockell. I should have known that the prize prick would be deeply involved with Trichardt and his minions! He came to stand in front of me and leered, a sneer on his face.

  I couldn’t help myself; I just had to get my bit in.

  “Well, if it isn’t the motherfuckin’ prize supercilious prick himself. I should have known; shit consorts with shit,” I said with as much contempt as I could muster.

  The look of scorn disappeared from his face. The next moment a haymaker connected with my nose. I never saw it coming. I felt the crunch of cartilage as my head exploded and I dropped backwards to the floor, my head hitting the wooden planks with a resounding thump. I went out like a light.

  It must have been only a few minutes later when I came round. My breath gurgled through the blood and remnants of my nose; blood had spattered my clothes. I became faintly aware of an altercation between Rockell and his companion as I slowly rose to a sitting position, the blood now dripping onto my pants.

  I noticed Rockell leaving the room. I slowly staggered to my feet, supporting myself with one hand on the table. Rockell returned and stopped in front of me, derisively offering me a roll of paper towel. I made to reach for the towel and then kicked with everything I had, my foot in heavy Oxford brogues landing in his groin. He bent double grabbing his genitals as I brought my knee up. It smashed into his face. I felt his nose go. I hoped it would look worse than mine. At that moment, I could’ve killed the bastard with my bare hands!

  That was the last thing I remembered.

  Having been rendered unconscious for a second time, I came round with an excruciating headache and was hardly able to open my eyes. I was sure somebody had hit me over the head. I gingerly felt my scalp with my fingers and sure enough soon found the swelling. Slowly I became aware of my surroundings; I was now in another room. I was naked except for my skants and sitting on a rattan kitchen chair. While my hands were free, my feet and torso were tied to the chair.

  My breath still rasped through my nose, which hurt like hell. At least I could breathe, and somebody had attempted to clean me up.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that somebody sat a yard or two behind me. I twisted my head round and with a shock recognized Francine. She too was tied to a similar chair; she was stripped down to her bra and panties.

  Rockell and Gerber were also in the room.

  “You motherfuckers!” I screamed.

  They ignored me.

  I looked at Francine and saw that she had been crying. A feeling of dread and despair washed over me. This was entirely my fault.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, realizing what a stupid question it really was. She just nodded.

  “Let her go,” I said, but I knew this was not going to happen.

  “If you don’t tell us what we need to know, we’ll hurt her,” Rockell promised.

  “You touch her, you bastard and I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” I spat, simultaneously trying to rise from the chair. He just laughed. At least my retaliation had left him looking distinctively ugly and I felt a moment of satisfaction..

  Again, I couldn’t help my mouth running off.

  “I believe you won’t be wanking for a while,” I grinned.

  He took a step towards me but Gerber grabbed him by the arm.

  “Los dit!” he said in Afrikaans, his hold on Rockell preventing him from getting any nearer, only releasing him once he saw the man had himself under control again.

  Gerber approached looking down at me.

  “You’re hard-assed, aren’t you? You think you’re tough, eh.” He said it more as a statement than a question.

  I grinned, hoping I appeared confident.

  “Awright,” he said, his Afrikaans accent thick, “I want to know where the briefcases are.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied.

  Gerber nodded at Rockell who stepped towards Francine and smacked her hard across the face. I lost it, screaming and shouting, trying to lift my chair from the floor but it was securely bolted down. Eventually, I calmed down, breathing heavily, consumed with hatred.

  “Don’t play stupid with me,” Gerber said. “I’ve got a job to do, and the sooner it is done the better. I advise you to talk, and please - don’t lie. It can only get worse for her.”

  I looked at Francine: she was crying, the one side of her face fiery red.

  It was at that moment that I promised myself that I would kill both of them.

  Gerber asked me again.

  “Kowalski left them in the plane,” I yelled. “They were destroyed by the fire.” I waited for Rockell to smack Francine again. He didn’t.

  “Then why did your aircraft land at Simjembela?”

  Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief. The bastards weren’t sure!

  “As I’ve told Trichardt before, we hired the plane out to some guy, Drummond, I think his name was, and his crowd from the States; they’re actually from Houston in Texas. They said they were going to Muan. We never stipulated where they could go; only that they were not to fly to Mozambique or Angola - you know, because of insurance.”

  He stared at me for a moment and then looked at Francine. She was listening intently.

  “You know, of course, that if you’re lying you’re both dead.”

  My heart sank, I knew he really meant it; these BOSS thugs had already killed so many, two more victims wouldn’t make any difference. But I realized they were still guessing. That was my only hope.

  “Take them back to the cells. Give them their clothes,” he suddenly said to Rockell. He looked at me again. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  He then left.

  I lay on the felt mattress in only my underpants, covered by the single blanket. The sun’s light shone through the window and I was wondering what everybody would think when they established that neither Francine nor I were at work and nor were we answering our phones at home. I assumed that Gavin would take a ride out to my place to check.

  The lock rattled and a black security guard walked in with a tray, Gerber held the door open. No words passed between us.

  When I looked at the contents of the tray, I thought they were fattening me up for the kill! There were eggs, b
acon and sausage plus the other usual breakfast trimmings, and a large cup of coffee. Well, they had never asked me how I liked my coffee, but then who was I to complain? I was famished. Hopefully they were doing the same for Francine.

  Every time I thought of her, I cringed. And what was worse, this wasn’t over yet. I had yet to add my liaisons with Maria to my list of dastardly deeds. If she knew it all, I’d be in serious trouble! That’s the trouble with us men; all it takes is an attractive and willing woman, the right time, the right place and suddenly we’re able to cast off all obligations of the heart. Even if for a short while only.

  I finished the breakfast and felt better except for my nose and the puffiness around my eyes. I was sure I had two beautiful shiners in the making. I was also sure my nose required professional attention; at least it needed to be straightened and splints put in. I did not want to imagine what I looked like! At least, the throb in my head had diminished.

  My biggest concern was Francine’s welfare. She was an innocent party to this and must surely rue the day she met me. Other than telling them, I had no solution to our problem and to admit to taking the cases could well aggravate matters. My one hope was Gavin, but I could not imagine how he could assist if he was not aware of our whereabouts.

  The door opened again: it was Gerber accompanied by a black police Askari. I was not surprised; nobody really knew for sure, but it was believed that the Askaris were black dissidents whom the police had turned, probably being the only way these blacks could avoid torture and death.

  “Where’s Rockell?” I asked, hoping the bastard had died. Probably gone to the doctor, I thought. Not that he would be able to help. One thing I was sure of, he wasn’t going to be humping for a while.

  Gerber ignored me. The Askari approached with a pair of handcuffs. After cuffing me, they frog-marched me off to the interrogation room. Francine was already there she already tied to a chair. I looked at her and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” She gave me a hardly discernible broken smile.

  Christ! The woman has guts! There was no missing the bruise displayed on her cheek.

  “Listen,” I said with a snarl, “I warn you people. You can do what you like, but leave the woman alone - she knows nothing. She doesn’t even work for me.”

  “We know all that, but she’s all we’ve got to make you talk,” Gerber said.

  “Your fuckin’ scum! Do you usually torture black mothers and sisters to make their sons talk?” I could feel a rage about to overcome me. I got myself under control; I needed to remain lucid.

  “Nou luister jy vir my!” the bastard said, reminding me that I had better listen carefully. “I’ve got a converter here and I can adjust the voltage. I can attach these terminals to a couple of interesting places on her body and apply the current and have her shrieking the roof off, or I can put her thumb in a thumbscrew,” he said, waving an evil-looking device in the air. “Or I can extract a molar; of course, without anaesthetic.” He pointed at the forceps on a table. “What will it be?”

  “Please... please don’t do it,” Francine whimpered. My heart bled.

  Suddenly there was a thumping of footsteps on the wooden floor of the passageway and then Trichardt and Rockell burst into the room.

  “Wat de fok gaan hier aan?” Trichardt shouted, “Maak haar los!”

  I experienced the first glimmer of hope. Trichardt obviously had not known that they had taken Francine. Kidnapping women was going too far even for him it seemed, and now he was demanding her immediate release.

  He walked up to me and slapped me from side to side, my head rocking and ringing like a church bell.

  “Don’t think because I’m releasing her you’re off the hook. I know you and that Garcia woman have my money and I want it back. I’m letting you go so that you can discuss it with her, wherever she may be, but you will bring me my money and diamonds.”

  As if to give credence to his threat, he drew his fist back and smashed it into my face.

  Actually, the blow wasn’t that hard, but I blacked out - I could only take so much pain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I came to, I found myself lying on a gurney in a hall with a grey, vinyl tiled floor and enamel painted white walls. Bright fluorescent strip lighting illuminated the room. Looking down, I saw that I was again dressed in my blood-splattered suit. I felt groggy and really just wanted to go to sleep again, but a nurse approached me with a clipboard in her hand.

  “Where am I?” I asked.

  “Midrand Medi-Fix Clinic,” she smiled professionally.

  “When did I get here?”

  “A while back, but because your nose is so bad, we gave you a strong sedative, that’s why you’ve been asleep so long. It will take a while before it wears off. We’ll be taking you into theatre now, but I just need you to sign this consent form.” She held the clipboard out to me.

  I signed: I could feel my nose needed attention. I had already gingerly touched my face; it was badly swollen and my eyes were mere slits. As soon as I signed, she wheeled me into a cubicle and handed me one of those stupid hospital gowns, which you have to tie behind your back. A junior nurse was called in to assist me and ensure I didn’t fall.

  “What are you going to do with my clothes?” I asked.

  “We got your business address and telephone number from your wallet. Your partner’s on the way. He’ll bring other clothing. But don’t rush; you’ll be here for a day or two,” she laughed sympathetically.

  I was hardly back on the gurney when two male-nurses arrived and wheeled me into an elevator. The sedative suddenly kicked in again and I fell asleep before I found out where they were taking me.

  I woke the next morning at six and was immediately aware of the beating I had taken. Every muscle and joint in my body ached, my eyes were almost swollen shut, and my nose was completely blocked from where the doctors had obviously inserted splints and plugs. Even my lips were swollen. Between Rockell and Gerber, they seemed to have really made a meal of me. It would definitely be more than a few days before I was mobile again.

  A nurse dressed in a navy blue nursing outfit walked into the single private ward.

  “You’re awake,” she chirped. With my eyes looking like they did, I wondered how she realized this! I’m sure I looked like Frankenstein waking from the dead in one of those old black and white movies, my head bandaged, and my nose crossed with plaster strips. I hoped she was not going to administer another of those fantasy-world injections; I was already dancing with the fairies. Fortunately, she had no needles but I dropped off to sleep again anyway.

  When I opened my eyes the next time, both Shirley and Gavin were standing round my bed.

  Shirley squeezed my hand.

  “God, you look awful!” she said. She seemed close to tears, not that I could see too well through those slits of mine.

  “Christ, they really beat you up badly,” Gavin said.

  “Actually, it looks worse than it really is. It’s only my nose that’s broken,” I mumbled through my swollen lips, but that was not my first concern. “How’s Francine? More to the point, where is she?”

  “She’s fine except for the bruise on her cheek and a slightly puffy eye,” Shirley said. “She said you’re not to worry yourself: she’s a strong woman.”

  Shirley was still applying her stamp of approval to the relationship Francine and I had. God knows what her reaction would be if she knew the full extent of my liaison with Maria! She’d go ballistic, making our work relationship near impossible. I would become the new dog on the block.

  Shirley left to return to the office without asking me what was going on; I assumed that either Gavin or Francine might have filled her in without telling her the whole story.

  Gavin brought up a chair and sat down, bending towards me.

  “Trichardt got hold of me, wanting to know if I
had anything to tell him,” he said once he was sure Shirley was out of earshot. “I stuck to my original story. When he left, I could see that he was not sure what to believe. He asked me whether I had ever seen or spoken to ‘that American woman’ as he put it, who had returned from the plane crash with you. I played dumb and said no.”

  “Good boy,” I said. “Have you heard from Maria?”

  “All I can tell you is that she’s retrieved the cases and presumably is busy getting them out of the country. The An2 is back at Lanseria and you’ll never find the Zodiac or the quads. I’ve hidden Maria’s special arsenal in my office, so if you ever want to shoot somebody just come to me,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  I tried to smile through my puffed lips.

  “She also said that we should blame her and Kowalski for the disappearance of the cases. She said that they would never find her even though Trichardt seemed to have BOSS assisting him. She’s a trained operative - did you know that - and has her employer’s network at her disposal. She thought we’d both know who that is!”

  “Brave woman.”

  He nodded.

  “Peter, I’ve been thinking about what Maria recommended, you know, that we blame her. It’s actually not a bad idea. Why you don’t say that she and Kowalski dealt with the cases and that they instructed you not to mention them to anybody - you don’t know what they did with them, but before the UNITA patrol arrived, they no longer had them in their possession. What happened to them, you don’t know.”

  ”That would put a lot of pressure on her,” I grumbled.

  “So what? She’s already being hunted as we speak. Only they don’t know where to start.”

  “Okay, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. No doubt Trichardt is already planning his next session with me,” I murmured.

  “You can be sure of that. The bastard knows that in the condition you’re in, you’re not going anywhere in hurry.”

  When dealing with Trichardt, getting as close to the truth as possible would be the way to go. Why not say ‘yes, the plane crashed and Kowalski lugged the two briefcases with him, slowing us down. He never indicated to me what they contained but it was obvious it must be something of value, because he was so determined not to part with them. The one danger we all feared was being confronted by a patrol, be it UNITA or MPLA. They would examine the cases’ contents and if there was anything of value, they would disappear as so would be - they’d not want any witnesses. Maria and Kowalski had discussed this at length, out of my earshot. I thought she was affiliated with you. Maria and Kowalski disappeared for a while and then reappeared sans the briefcases. I never questioned them as to their whereabouts. Of course, I realized they had hidden them, because that was the only thing they could have done.’