The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set

by Christopher Lowery

  She replaced the documents in the same envelope, then opened the second one. It contained a single sheet of paper, in Charlie’s writing.

  Well done again, my dears. So far, so good.

  Next stop: Safety Deposit Box 72, Ramseyer, Haldemann &

  Company, Geneva.

  Think of Ellen.

  Much Love, Charlie.

  She shook the envelope onto the table and two keys fell out. One was a small, hollow barreled key, well worn and obviously very old. The other was flat and larger and had a yellow elastic band through the hole in the end. More safety deposit boxes, more unknowns, she thought unhappily.

  She shook the third envelope upside down. Another key, for a Yale automatic door lock, fell onto the table. The envelope also contained another single sheet of paper, written once again in Charlie’s hand.

  Hello again.

  This key is for the IDD office at 362, Rue de la Gare, just opposite the Cornavin Hotel, at the train station. I don’t know whether you’ll need it or not. The accountant is there on weekdays, his name is Kurt Vogel. The secretary is part time, her name is Gloria Smouha.

  Love, Charlie

  “Gloria should be waiting for us there this afternoon, so we won’t need the key,” Leticia observed. “But better to be safe than sorry. Thank you, Charlie”

  The women split the keys between them, Leticia guarding the two safety deposit box keys, and Jenny placing the other two in the zipped part of her own purse. She put all the papers and notes into one envelope and called back the bank employee. Then they went out to the reception and waited nervously for Mr. Eric Schneider.

  SIXTY-TWO

  Thursday 24th April 2008

  Geneva, Switzerland

  Eric Schneider was only in his early forties but he had already lost most of his hair. What was left was combed across from a parting on the left, so that it covered his head with a sparse layer, like wisps of brown thread. He was tall and thin and rather pompous and constantly blew his nose into a white handkerchief, quite vigorously and loudly. The handkerchief must have been doused with some kind of cologne. Each time he pulled it out there was a slight whiff of a pleasant fragrance.

  They were in a comfortably furnished meeting room on the sixth floor of the bank. On the wall behind the banker’s desk was a large poster of Zermatt. A skier dressed in plus fours stood in front of an old lodge with a steam train behind him. He was holding an ancient pair of very long, wooden skis and poles. The poster said “Willkommen in Zermatt. Die Schweizerische Spitzenskistation. Welcome to Zermatt. The Top Swiss Ski Station”

  The two women sat in armchairs across the desk from Schneider and he served them with coffee and water from a small side table.

  “Welcome to Genève, Mesdames,” his English was perfect, but with a slight Germanic lilt. He had a haughty way of addressing his clients. “Is this your first visit?”

  After a few moments of smalltalk, the banker addressed the matter in hand. “Do you have the documents we discussed on the telephone, Mme. Bishop?”

  “Well, we have better than that. It seems my father-in-law did the work for us ahead of time.” She laid Charlie’s documents and the Spanish affidavits in front of him.

  He examined the papers and opened up a dossier on the otherwise empty desk. He compared Charlie’s signature on the forms with another sheet from the file, then, at his request, the women both handed over their passports.

  “This is excellent. With these documents I don’t need any further confirmation of your beneficial ownership. We just need to witness your own signatures on the forms and we can make the necessary changes in our records immediately.

  “Please sign first with your proper signature and underneath it the numbered account signature, the way that Mr. Bishop has done it. In future you must only sign with the special signature to operate the account. We have a sophisticated scanning system here to authenticate the signatures, so it is highly secure. You should never sign with your own name.”

  Schneider called in his assistant, Mademoiselle Rousseau, an attractive, shapely woman of about thirty, wearing a tight blue sweater. She witnessed their signatures and added her occupation and the date.

  “Merci, Mlle. Rousseau. Would you please make copies of these documents?”

  She exited the office with the forms and the banker blew his nose enthusiastically, folded his handkerchief back into his pocket and said, “Please accept my condolences for the death of Mr. Bishop. He was a very pleasant and clever gentleman who had more financial expertise than most of the people in this bank. But please don’t repeat that to anyone.”

  Addressing Jenny, he went on, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mme. Bishop, and to welcome you as a new client of Klein, Fellay. I hope that you will stay with us for many years.”

  Jenny noted that he hadn’t mentioned Ron, although he had seen from the form that she was a widow. She nodded and said nothing. She didn’t have the nerve to ask him to call her by her first name. It might not be appropriate in Swiss banking circles.

  “And I’m delighted to meet you too, Mme. da Costa. May I ask what your relationship with Mr. Bishop was? It’s only for our files, we have certain reporting requirements.”

  For the first time, Jenny saw Leticia blush. The slight colouring of her cheeks made her look even more lovely. Knowing that her English tended to let her down when she was flustered, Jenny waited to see how she would handle the question.

  “Yes, Mr. Schneider. You see my English is not like Jenny’s, but I will tell you.” She paused, then blurted out, “Charlie and me, we had a baby two years ago. A baby son, Emilio!”

  The women sat quietly, waiting for the banker’s reaction. He said nothing for a moment then he pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose again and they smelled the slight aroma of cologne. Replacing the handkerchief in his pocket, he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Leticia’s hand. “Many congratulations Mme. da Costa. I am very happy for you.”

  Nonplussed, the two women looked at each other. Should we blow our noses now? thought Jenny. Perhaps it’s an old Swiss banking custom.

  “Now, ladies,” Schneider continued. “I understand the circumstances behind your visit. What exactly can I do for you this morning?” He looked at his watch, then back up at them in an impatient way, as if his time was really too valuable for this meeting.

  Jenny indicated the file on the desk. “We’d like to talk to you about these two accounts, we actually know nothing about them. Can you bring us up to date please?”

  “Of course. I have here the latest statement for Mr. Bishop’s account. You and Mme. da Costa have the right to all available information, copies of documents, statements, anything that you need for this account, for the last five years. That is the mandatory preservation period for the bank documents, but I doubt that we will need to consult anything from so long ago.”

  He opened the file and removed two sheets. “For your information I am a Senior Vice President of the bank and was personally responsible for Mr. Bishop’s affairs. Because it is a numbered account, in the interests of security and confidentiality, only you and I and the Board have access to the full details. My assistants and some senior staff know certain signatory details and they may see transactions as they are processed. But they can never access the financial status of the account. This is for your own protection, and that of the bank.”

  He handed the sheets to Jenny. “Here is the latest statement. You will note that it carries only the rubrique “Triumph TR4” and the account number.” He gave a wry smile. “I have no idea why Mr. Bishop chose that name, but I am sure there is an interesting story there. The statement runs from October 1st up to 31st March of this year. Mr. Bishop had already received the statements up to September last year. The balances are now entirely in cash deposits, in accordance with his instructions. The various currencies are shown, with the corresponding balances in Swiss Francs.”

  “Very efficient, Mr. Schneider, thank you.” Jenny an
d Leticia scanned the sheets together. On the first page was a list of transactions executed over the last six months and on the next page several balances were listed, in Euros, US Dollars, Pounds Sterling and Swiss Francs. The amounts were converted into Swiss Francs in the right hand column. The total on the bottom of the statement was fifteen million two hundred and twelve thousand Swiss Francs.

  The two women looked at each other in disbelief. From the exchange rates that they had seen in Marbella, the balance was equal to slightly less than ten million Euros.

  Just then, his assistant came back into the room with the copies she had made.

  “Merci Mlle. Rousseau. That will be all for now.” She placed the documents next to the statement on the desk.

  The door closed behind her and the banker said. “I see that you are a little overcome by the news, ladies. May I first congratulate you, and repeat that Mr. Bishop was an unusually competent investor. I have no knowledge of his other affairs, but in the case of his accounts with Klein, Fellay, he has left you with an impressive legacy.”

  “Perhaps we need another coffee, Mr. Schneider.” Leticia took Jenny’s hand and squeezed it, as if to wake them both from a dream. After Mlle Rousseau brought fresh coffee and water they discussed the account with the banker for another few minutes. He considered that the cash deposit position was prudent, the world might be facing a difficult period. His advice was to do nothing until they had had time to review their new situation then he would then be delighted to help them. He also mentioned that they had a highly secure system of Internet banking which Charlie had used. They might consider implementing that when they had time to think about it.

  Leticia changed the subject. “We noticed that your bank is part of BIP, we understand it’s a very large bank.” She didn’t mention Patrice. If Charlie hadn’t done so, it was best ignored.

  “That’s quite right, in fact one of the largest in the world. When Mr. Bishop first came here back in the seventies, we were a small private bank, with branches in Geneva, Zurich and London. That was before my time, of course. But I was already here when we were acquired by BIP, about fifteen years ago. Now we operate in just about every country in the world, all the way from Alaska to New Zealand. This is most useful to our international clients of course.”

  They were suitably impressed with this news. “Thank you very much for all of this information and help, Mr. Schneider. It will take Leticia and I a little time to come to terms with all of this. There have already been a lot of surprises that we are still digesting.”

  The banker nodded and said nothing. Jenny continued, “Now, would you kindly help us to understand the other account, for the Angolan Clan?”

  The two women waited while Schneider went through his nose blowing routine once more. He put away his handkerchief and said in his pompous tone, “I cannot deny that there is such an account open with us, since you now have signatory powers on it. However, without the agreement of another signatory I am unable to disclose any further information. You will understand that the same rules apply to everyone for reasons of security and confidentiality.”

  “Of course,” Leticia interjected., “Jenny and me did not understand exactly the signature part. So, the best is for us to come tomorrow for the annual meeting. That will be alright?”

  “I was about to suggest the same thing. When your three partners are present you will be able to access everything you wish. If you come to the bank tomorrow morning at ten, I will be pleased to introduce you to them. After all, I have known them now for fifteen years.

  “Now, Mesdames,” he said importantly, “I’m afraid I have to prepare for another client.” He called in his secretary to clean the things away, and helped the women into their coats. “Are you comfortably installed in Geneva?”

  “Yes, we’re in a small hotel next to the Parc La Grange. It’s très cosy. I booked it myself.” Leticia gave Jenny a haughty look. Even the banker smiled at her pantomime.

  As Mr. Schneider escorted them out of the meeting room towards the elevator, Mademoiselle Rousseau went back into her next door office and made a call on her mobile phone. When the number answered, she said, “Bonjour, chéri. I have some more news for you.”

  SIXTY-THREE

  Thursday 24th April 2008

  Geneva, Switzerland

  “Ten million Euros. Diez millóns! I never knew there was so much money in the world!” Leticia took a large sip of her mineral water and looked at Jenny in amazement.

  After leaving Klein, Fellay they had walked across the Plaine de Plainpalais. The weather was cool, a slight breeze blowing, but it was a fair and refreshing day. Even though they were near to the lake, the air smelled clean and dry, unlike the humidity of Marbella. There were several cafés in the area and they chose one to go in for lunch.

  Jenny didn’t reply. All this money was starting to make her uneasy. She remembered Espinoza’s questions about a motive for the deaths. Ten million Euros is a fairly big motive. She put the thought behind her, she didn’t want to consider it.

  While the waiter brought them their Plat du Jour, they looked up Ramseyer, Haldemann & Company’s address in the phone book. Then they located the street on the city map the concierge had given them. The office was on the other side of the lake in an area called Pâquis. It was not far from the station and therefore near to the IDD office. They decided that they had time to go there on their way to visit Gloria.

  After coffee they asked the waiter to call a taxi to take them to Pâquis. He gave them a strange look then went to make the phone call. The cab driver asked them to repeat the address then he shrugged and set off. Going over the Pont du Mont Blanc, the main bridge that links the two parts of the city, they had a fine view of the famous Jet d’Eau, the one hundred and forty metre high fountain which stands at the edge of the lake. The water tumbled down from its great height like a waterfall over a cliff, and splashed into the lake below.

  There were ferry boats moored at the shore and a couple of passenger boats were crossing under the bridge. Further away on the water they could see the brightly colored spinnakers of yachts making their way across the still surface towards Lausanne. Large flocks of swans and ducks crowded the jetty area, where some bird lovers were throwing bread for them. In the distance they could see the outline of mountains, virtually all around the city.

  Only a couple of blocks from this beautiful area, the taxi deposited them in an unprepossessing part of town. They were surrounded by run down bars, amusement arcades and night clubs with lurid posters and photographs in the windows and at the door. There were a few seedy looking hotel entrances and many restaurants and cafés specialising in cuisine from all over the world, multi-lingual menus in their windows. Despite the time of day, several premises had neon lights on, spelling out Sex Shop, and a few young women in unseasonably flimsy attire were standing smoking on the street corners. Groups of men of all nationalities and colours stood in side streets, glancing around furtively as they talked.

  Jenny looked around. “We’d better get inside before they think we work here.”

  Leticia just giggled. Her good humour was returning and she was fazed by very little, as the English woman had discovered.

  No. 475, Rue de Mauvergny was a solid six story edifice faced with white stone. There was a metal plate on the double doors to the building, announcing:

  Ramseyer, Haldemann & Company.

  Sécurité Privée et Commerciale.

  They rang the bell and then replied to a male voice that came over the intercom. A moment later one of the doors swung back and a young man in a smart grey suit appeared.

  “Bonjour Mesdames. Soyez les bienvenues. Veuillez me suivre s’il-vous-plaît? Welcome, ladies. Please follow me.”

  As they followed him to the reception desk, Jenny said, “Can we speak English, please?”

  Not surprisingly, he replied with an impeccable accent, “With pleasure, ladies.”

  The young man, Gilles Simenon, was in charge of the
safety deposit boxes. He asked them to sign a register, then escorted them to an elevator which he opened with a code punched into a key pad. He inserted a key card into the panel and pressed a button. They descended two floors and emerged in an anteroom with a steel grid which he opened with the key card. In front of them were massive steel double doors. Gilles entered another code on the keypad and the doors swung back. They entered an enormous, almost completely empty room.

  The young man stood to attention, as if he was in the Swiss army. “Mme. Bishop, Mme. da Costa, welcome to one of our safety deposit vaults.

  “This building is exclusively for the safety deposit vaults and related activities. It’s one of our main businesses,” he explained. “There are five levels of vaults below and above us. It was specially built when the company moved its headquarters here from Berne almost forty years ago. The walls are constructed from triple layers of reinforced concrete. It’s still the most secure design in Switzerland.” He pressed a button and the doors slammed shut behind them.

  The room was built in a circle, with no windows or doors apart from the one they had entered through. The wall was constituted by a continuous series of metal boxes surrounding them. Some of the boxes were from ceiling to floor and others of every height in between. There must have been thousands of them built into the circular wall. A long polished steel table with a wooden top stood across the centre of the room, with six chairs around it.

  “We have installations in Zurich, Berne, Basel and other cities in Europe, and an even bigger vault on the outskirts of Geneva,” he added proudly. “I’ll get the key for your box.”