The Rwandan Hostage

by Christopher Lowery

  Lunch was finally over and Encarni had served coffee when Emma’s mobile rang. A shiver ran up her spine when she saw it was a 027 prefix, a South African code.

  She excused herself and walked to the other end of the terrace. “Hello, this is Emma.”

  “Hello Mum, it’s me.”

  It was one hundred and fifteen hours since Leo had been taken.

  SIXTY

  Johannesburg, South Africa

  Espinoza was having a well-deserved early evening nap when his mobile rang. It was CS Hendricks. He was so excited that the Spaniard couldn’t understand anything he said.

  “Please slow down Johannes, my English isn’t so good. Tell me again so I can understand exactly.”

  “I said we’ve just received the DNA report back from France, from the St Christopher Clinic in Nice.”

  “And?”

  “It’s unbelievable. It matches with a sample from a doctor who used to work there until earlier this year. A Doctor Antoine Constance.”

  “Estaba en lo cierto! I was certain of it!” Espinoza mentally doffed his hat to himself, his hunch had paid off. “Blethin and Constance were one and the same person, there was no other reasonable explanation. Thank you Johannes, this is of the utmost help in my European investigation. I can go back and put this business to bed. I am deeply indebted to you.”

  Hendricks didn’t ask for any further explanation. He had what he wanted, closure on three murders. Espinoza’s problems were, fortunately, nothing to do with him. The two men exchanged a few more words then rang off.

  Espinoza took his jigsaw puzzle and drew another square on it, ticking off an item on the list. He was making further notes when his phone rang again. “I was just about to call you, Jenny. For once I believe it was a coincidence. What news do you have?”

  “Leo’s free, Pedro. He’s free!”

  She breathlessly explained the chaos that had ensued at the end of their lunch when Emma had received the call. Somehow she had managed to get her upstairs and then blamed her hysteria to the others on too much sun and wine. Leticia was relieved to remove Patrice from Jenny’s questioning and they decided to take Emilio to Marbella. They drove off in rather a hurry, Patrice looking suspiciously back over his shoulder as they went out the gates.

  After his initial reactions of surprise and relief, Espinoza listened calmly, waiting for Jenny to get it all off her chest. He knew how much this revelation meant to her. The money had never been her main preoccupation, it had always been the safety of her nephew and the mental anguish of his mother.

  When she finally stopped for breath, he asked, “Do you know where he and Coetzee are now?”

  “Actually, Coetzee’s wife and daughter are with them, but as we suspected they’re not in Phalaborwa.”

  “As you suspected, not we. Your dreams could replace old fashioned detective work if they were less random. Is he close enough for me to take a car and bring him to my hotel?”

  “He’s apparently at a hotel a couple of hours south of Joburg, but Coetzee is going to drive him to meet you this evening, at about eight o’clock if that’s OK?”

  Espinoza considered for a moment, it now seemed that Leo would be returned safely, but he remembered Jenny’s second instruction; ‘bring the culprits to justice’. “Do you want me to arrange for the police to be here when Coetzee arrives? I could ask CS Hendricks to send someone over. Although the explanations would certainly complicate matters, especially for Leo.”

  “I was about to tell you. Leo himself has decided on that. He told Emma that he’s convinced Coetzee became involved only because he was lost and broke after his divorce from his wife. He never had any intention of hurting him and when he saw that might happen he took him away from harm. He says he’s been well treated and Coetzee just wants to get him back to us without any further delay. He also says, and I must admit I believe he’s right, that it would only complicate everyone’s life if the police got involved now. What do you think?”

  “He’s right. Making this public would prevent him from leaving here for some time while investigations were in course. And we have no idea where they might lead. The best thing we can do is to get him safely back to Emma as quickly as possible.”

  “I agree. I’ll confirm to Coetzee that he should bring Leo to the Packard at eight. Now, why were you going to call me?”

  The Spaniard quickly relayed the results of the DNA tests. “I suspected they might be the same person. They were both French and there were too many coincidences in their backgrounds and careers not to be the case. Aesthetic Procedures and Reconstructive Surgery are the same, what we laymen would call plastic surgery.”

  “And they both worked at that French hospital. I never put the two together. So this explains the transfer of knowledge between Constance and the South Africans. Blethin knew about Leo’s birth because he was there. This business is so complicated that I suppose nothing should surprise me any longer.”

  The line went quiet for a moment. “Hello, Jenny, are you still there?”

  “Yes. I was just thinking about Emma. She had a high regard for Constance. How is she going to react to this?”

  “I think we’d better not inform her yet. When she has Leo back these unpleasant facts will be of much less importance.”

  “You’re right, better wait until you get back. I suppose this news ties up our business in Johannesburg?”

  “I believe so but the trail doesn’t end here. Don’t forget we’re still missing the other links; how did they find out about your wealth and how did they know about the football trip. Constance couldn’t have known that without help.”

  “Do you think that’s where Esther Rousseau comes into the picture?” Jenny was praying that her previous experience with the French woman had not been the cause of Leo’s abduction.

  “It’s possible, but I don’t think she sent Constance down here to help with the abduction. There’s still a connection somewhere that we haven’t found and that means there are other culprits involved, but not here in South Africa. It has to be nearer to home. We still have a lot of work to do when I get back.”

  “We can start with that tracking business in London. There must be a way we can find out about this Lord Dudley person and EzeTracker.” Jenny was also thinking about Leticia and Patrice but she decided not to mention it. She needed to find out more.

  “I believe Nice is also an important focus but we can discuss it when I’m back in Spain.”

  “Then you’ll want to come back right away with Leo?”

  “Exactly. I’ve got Leo’s passport with me, so can you please arrange flights for us as soon as possible and email the details to me?”

  “I’ll get onto it now. Congratulations Pedro and all our thanks for your help. We can’t wait to see you and Leo here in Spain.” Jenny closed the call and went to give the news to Emma. Leo should be home tomorrow!

  Espinoza reflected on the consequences of the news. Leo was free, which could mean that Jamie had been mistakenly taken to Zimbabwe in his stead. The possibility had been preying on his mind but now it seemed most likely. His sympathy went out to the young man. Another victim in this dreadful adventure, he thought, but there was nothing he nor anyone else could do about it.

  Vereeniging, Gauteng, South Africa

  “I suppose you’ve talked with your mother?” Coetzee and Karen were still on the deck when Leo and Abby got back. “I hope she forgives me. I’m giving up a million dollar reward just to curry favour with you three.”

  “That’s enough of that! Remember our deal.” Karen interrupted. “Right, Abby and Leo. Mr Coetzee has made me a proposal. He is begging to come back to a peaceful, loving and civilised existence with us and I’ve set the conditions. On his side, the requirements are; no booze, no cheroots, no kidnapping and no murdering people.”

  “And on our side?” Abby caught on quickly. “We promise to be loving, understanding and provide three square meals a day. What do you think, Guys? Should we take him back
?”

  Abby ran across and threw her arms around Coetzee. “Please come back. We’ve missed you every single day since we left.”

  “I’ve got one more condition, if you don’t mind,” Leo said. “Can we get something to eat before you take me back? I’m starving.”

  London, England

  Lord Arthur Selwyn Savage Dudley was in a maudlin mood. Even the call from his bank in the Bahamas, confirming that one hundred thousand US dollars had been received on his account that afternoon hadn’t cheered him up. Prince Sam Bensouda obviously has too much money, he reflected. I should have asked for more.

  He was sitting in front of the TV with a glass of Gevrey Chambertin. In the light from the screen it shone with a deep ruby hue. This was his third glass, on an empty stomach. A performance of Verdi’s La Traviata, with Anna Netrebko, was playing but his attention kept wandering off. He was thinking about Esther. He was jealous. Dudley had never had a relationship with a mature person, male or female and had never previously been tempted to embark on one. But being in close proximity to Esther for the last week had stimulated his desires more than he could ever have imagined. Her flattering remark to him that morning, her kiss and the fragrant beauty of her form had gone completely to his head. He was in love. At the age of fifty-nine, Lord Arthur Selwyn Savage Dudley was in love with a woman half his age about whom he knew virtually nothing, except that she was as corrupt as he.

  He took another sip of his wine. It was just after six o’clock, another hour before he could expect news from Harare. He’d asked for a photo of Leo to be sent as soon as they arrived in Beitbridge. He’d spent the afternoon imagining the worst possible events, not concerning Leo Stewart, but Esther and her friend from Paris. In his experience Frenchmen were arrogant, ignorant bullies with no civility or even common manners. He shuddered at the thought of him having dinner with such a beautiful creature. Other thoughts, much more intimate, crowded his mind but he refused to countenance them. Esther wouldn’t be attracted by a person of that ilk, she was too refined, too lady-like, too … perfect.

  Marbella, Spain

  “When’s the earliest flight they can get?” Emma was impatiently watching her sister looking for flights from Johannesburg.

  Jenny was trawling through a series of cost comparison websites, looking for single stopovers and the shortest transit time. “They can’t fly direct, and so far I’ve only found one-stop flights tomorrow evening. There don’t seem to be any in the morning, so they wouldn’t get back until Sunday.”

  She saw Emma’s disappointed expression. “Wait. What about tonight? It’s only just after six over there. If there’s a flight late enough, they could make it. See, there’s a departure with Swiss at ten fifteen this evening to Zurich. It gets in at nine in the morning, and then they’ve got a connection for Malaga at ten twenty, getting in at ten past one. What do you think?”

  “I think we should call Pedro right away and get him moving.”

  Johannesburg, South Africa

  Espinoza looked at his watch. “It’s six twenty now. We should be able to make it if Leo arrives within an hour or so. It all depends on the traffic between Vereeniging and here. We only have carry-on luggage so we have should time for the transfer in Zurich.”

  “I’ll call Coetzee right away. I was looking at the map and it would be quicker for him to take Leo straight to the airport. The R59 goes directly there from Vereeniging and avoids central Joburg. You could go and wait for him and be sure of being in time.” Emma’s voice sounded strong and decisive. Her sister had wisely let her take over the proceedings, it would do her good to feel in charge of her family again.

  “Jenny’s reserved the seats and you just have to check in. Pedro, thank you for everything. You’ve been amazing and I can’t wait to see you and Leo in Malaga tomorrow.”

  Vereeniging, Gauteng, South Africa

  They were eating hamburgers at the deck restaurant when Abby’s phone rang. “Hi. Is that Abby? This is Leo’s Mum, Emma. I’m looking forward to meeting you. Can I speak to Mr Coetzee please?”

  Coetzee reluctantly took the phone, a pained look on his face. “Hello, Emma. Look, I’m sorry about what happened, I…..”

  “Mr Coetzee, please save your breath. You did a very bad thing and now you seem to be putting it right. I just want to get Leo back and forget about this whole business and that’s what Leo wants too, so listen very carefully.” She quickly explained their plan.

  He responded just as rapidly. “It’s six forty-five and we can leave in ten minutes. I can be at the airport by eight thirty latest. Is that good enough?”

  Emma described Espinoza, an easy task because of his shortness and red hair. “He’s an ex-Chief Inspector of Police and a very clever detective, so be nice to him and don’t cause any more trouble.”

  “I don’t intend to and what’s more important Karen isn’t going to let me. Thank you, Emma, I hope you’ll come back to South Africa one day and we can meet under better circumstances.”

  “One thing at a time, Mr Coetzee. Get my son to the airport, pronto. Then I’ll believe you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

  Johannesburg, South Africa

  Since he wasn’t going to stay the night, Espinoza went down to reception to negotiate a reduced rate for his room When he mentioned he was a friend of Ms Stewart and had managed to locate her son, they cancelled the room charge, refunded his credit card and offered him dinner. Every little helps, he reflected as he went back up to repack his bag. He could have something to eat and still get to the airport in good time and make his calls while he waited for them to arrive. He was looking forward to his business class seat and getting to know Leo over a glass of champagne. Leaving his bag at reception he took a table in the almost empty restaurant and ordered dinner, with a glass of Merlot.

  Marbella, Spain

  Leticia and Emilio returned at seven thirty without Patrice, explaining that he was tired and had gone home to get an early night. After she had put her son to bed she came down and sat with Emma and Jenny on the terrace. She looked tired and unhappy.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” Jenny knew she could talk to her like that, she sometimes had to behave like a mother to the younger woman.

  Leticia looked at Emma. “No, it’s nothing, I’m just a bit tired.”

  Emma said, “I’ve got some writing to do. I’d better get on with it.” She went into the house and upstairs to her room.

  “Now talk to me, Leticia. I feel there’s something wrong. You know you can trust me and perhaps I can help. Why don’t you get it off your chest?” She went over to sit beside her.

  “Oh, Jenny. I’m so unhappy. I don’t know what’s going on with Patrice and it’s causing such problems. I sometimes think he doesn’t want to have the wedding in October. I don’t know anything anymore.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Let’s take one thing at a time and we’ll talk about them. Do you want to start with the papers you mentioned to me? The financial papers?”

  “All right. He told me not to ask you about them, but it’s such a lot of money and I don’t know how it happened. It’s my account at the Banco de Iberia. Wait. I’ll get the file.”

  She went along to her apartment, leaving Jenny wondering what was going on. Patrice was a manager at the bank and looked after Leticia’s account. Jenny had asked for a different manager to handle her own affairs, not wanting to mix business and personal matters. She sighed, something else to worry about.

  “Let’s sit at the kitchen table, so we can look at the papers properly,” she said when Leticia returned with a thick green file, Banco de Iberia. Statements 2008 - written on the front.

  “You know after Charlie died, we divided the money in Spain between us?”

  Jenny remembered very well. Charlie had foreseen the upcoming crash in early 2008 and had sold off his investments. The balance on his account was eight million Euros. Patrice had set up accounts for each of them and they had transferred the funds eq
ually to the new accounts. “It was almost exactly four million Euros each. I remember you said you didn’t know there was so much money in the world.”

  Leticia smiled wryly. “It turned out I was right. Patrice told me it was a waste to have so much money sitting in cash. It would lose value because of deflation.”

  “You mean inflation, but I understand his point of view, after all he’s a banker. So you invested it?”

  “Not straight away. And that was lucky, because when the big crash happened I didn’t lose anything, I still had all that cash. But afterwards, at the beginning of last year, he told me that the markets were very low and it was a good time to buy shares.”

  “Again I can’t disagree with him. It was a very good time to invest, depending on the investments you bought.”

  “That’s what I don’t understand. Look.” She opened the file and showed her the last statement, dated June 30th 2010.

  Jenny gasped. The total on the bottom of the statement was two million nine hundred and sixty thousand Euros. Over a million Euros had gone from the account in less than eighteen months. “That’s twenty-five per cent of your money gone. Are you sure you haven’t been spending it on silly extravagances?”

  “No, Jenny. I know you think I spend a lot, but it’s really only on clothes and trips and on Emilio, after all, it’s really his money. But I budget myself every month and I know that over the last two years I haven’t spent that amount. It would be impossible to spend it unless I bought a yacht or something. We have three cars here, the house has no mortgage and I pay my mother and Juan five thousand Euros a month between them. I couldn’t have spent such a huge amount.”

  “Have you looked carefully at these statements?”

  “Yes. But there’s so many transactions and currencies and debit and credit notes that I get completely lost. Patrice has a Poder on the account and he’s managed it since I started investing last January.”

  “A power of attorney, you mean. So he just buys and sells shares when he feels like it, without discussing it with you?”