He inserted the key card into the lock of a full length door adjacent to the entrance, then entered a code on a keypad and opened the door. The cupboard, as it was revealed, held rows of keys on a rotating cylinder, covering it from top to bottom. He turned the cylinder, removed a key and took them across to box no. 72. It was a quarter size door on the bottom row.
“Please enter your keys, Mesdames.” He indicated two keyholes, midway down and near the bottom of the door. There was also a keypad on the door.
“Is there not one key from you and another from us, Mr. Gilles?” Leticia had in her hand the larger key from the Klein, Fellay safety deposit box, the one with the yellow elastic band. Neither woman understood his instruction.
“My key goes into the top lock, Madame, this one here.” He indicated a third lock at the top of the door. “Your two keys go in these locks underneath.”
The women looked at each other anxiously. Why had Charlie left them only one key?
Jenny explained, “Actually, Mr. Simenon, we only received this key this morning, it was left to us by someone who passed away. We didn’t know we would need another key. Is there some way we can obtain a duplicate?”
“That’s impossible I’m afraid. The third key looks the same but it is quite different from the others, there are no two keys the same. The access code completes our security measures – three levels of protection. Some companies are more sophisticated, or technological, but no one else provides three security barriers. That is one of the reasons for our success. “Security is our Watchword”.” He coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. “That’s our company motto, you’ll see it on our brochure. Well, it seems that we have a problem here. If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll bring our directeur, Mr. Jolidon, I’m sure that he can assist you.”
The man who approached them must have been about forty, but trying to look thirty, with brown hair almost down to his shoulders. Clad in a tight blue suit, he walked with a mincing step. He wore a pleasant aftershave, but which didn’t disguise his sour breath. After listening to Jenny’s explanation, he replied, “I’m awfully sorry, Madame Bishop, I’ve only been in this job for six months and I didn’t know your father-in-law. I sympathise with your problem but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. We need three keys to open the box and between us we have only two and each key is unique, as is, of course, the access code.” He pushed his long hair back in place, revealing a silver ring in his ear. “I hope it’s nothing too valuable?” he said to Leticia ingenuously.
“It might be very valuable.” She immediately regretted her answer, and the warning look that Jenny gave her. “But we don’t really know,” she added, rather lamely.
“Then I hope you can find the other key and return when you’ve done so.”
Jolidon escorted them back through the security lift and up to reception. “I assume you’re staying in town, so you can easily come back when you’ve resolved the problem?”
“We’re staying on the other side of the lake, at the Hotel de La Grange, only ten minutes by taxi.” This time it was Jenny who replied.
“Oh yes, I know it well. A lovely, quiet hotel. It’s in the park right next door to the Restaurant des Eaux-Vives. You really should try to dine there if you have the chance. Elegant, historic building, wonderful views over the lake and the food is divine. I highly recommend it, but you’ll need to book. It’s awfully popular with the Geneva set.”
The women thanked him and exited the building.
The directeur stood watching them until they walked out of sight. Going inside, he read the women’s names from the register, then went into his office, picked up his notebook, then went down into the circular room and walked over to box number 72. He remembered the look that Jenny had given the other woman. After making a couple more notes, he came back upstairs and pulled out his mobile phone. “It’s Claude calling. There’s something I think we should talk about. I’ll come over about eight tonight.”
“Well, that was very disappointing,” Jenny said. She avoided mentioning Leticia’s error.
“I know. Charlie is making this difficult for us. We have to think like him, very clever.”
“Well, I suppose there can only be one explanation.”
“Yes, one of the other partners has the third key. It has to have two people.”
“Exactly! Charlie didn’t use the safety deposit at Klein Fellay and he arranged this box with double keys so that no one could open it alone. He was smart and he was suspicious.”
“But why didn’t he say this in his story? There are lots of things we don’t understand. We don’t even know what’s in that box.”
“I know.” Jenny shook her head. “But in each note he has told us enough to work out the next step. Like the safety deposit boxes. The first key came from you, the second from Banco de Iberia, the third from Klein Fellay. Now, where will the next one come from?”
“Like you said, he was smart. So, tomorrow we’ll find out who has the next key, right?”
“Right. My bet is that each partner has a key, but Charlie’s is the master key and the others are all the same.”
“And what about this access number we need? Where do we find that?”
“I think I know the answer. We’ll see, tomorrow.”
They were very near to the IDD office on the Rue de la Gare and decided to walk over to the office to meet Gloria. The appearance of the area improved as they made their way up to the Rue de Lausanne and walked towards Cornavin Station. No. 362 was half way along the Rue de la Gare and they saw from the post boxes that the IDD office was on the third floor. When they rang the bell, a square-built, burly man with a small moustache came to the door.
“Good afternoon. Mr. Vogel?”
The man didn’t smile. He said, in English, “What can I do for you?” He had a thin reedy voice, not at all in keeping with his appearance, and a hard, Swiss-German accent.
“My name is Jenny Bishop, Charlie Bishop’s daughter-in-law and this is Leticia da Costa, Charlie’s companion.” Leticia blushed at this description of herself, but said nothing.
Vogel hesitated, looking uncomfortable. “Oh, I see. Well, er, come in, ladies.” He stepped aside and ushered them into a small reception area-cum office
This was apparently the secretary’s domain, but there was no one there. A smart looking wooden desk was situated opposite the entrance door, with a PC placed under it on the floor and a keyboard and screen on the working surface. Apart from the equipment and a filing tray and telephone, the desk was bare. Gloria was obviously a very tidy person. On the wall above her desk was a map of Africa and a large photograph of polished diamonds, spilling onto a silver tray. A cabinet with a printer-photocopier and a fax machine on it stood next to a water machine murmuring in the corner. Another wall housed open shelving units full of box files of several different colours. The files were labelled in neat handwriting.
Vogel led them into another, larger room. It was very untidy and smelled of cigarette smoke. A navy blue raincoat and felt hat hung on a coat stand in the corner of the room. Books and papers covered every available surface. A battered partners’ desk had a pile of open dossiers on it. A briefcase lay open on a table by the desk, it was full of papers and files. On a sideboard against the wall was a pile of travel books and in the corner stood a metal filing cabinet with two of the drawers open, more files lying on the floor below.
“Please sit down.” The accountant gestured to two office chairs ranged in front of his desk. He removed a number of ski magazines which were strewn over the chair seats.
He sat in a leather armchair on the other side of the desk. On the wall behind him hung a certificate with Vogel’s name on it, Diplôme d’Expert Comptable, Qualified Accountant. There were also several diplomas from a ski academy. He looked at the women, saying nothing.
“You may be unaware that Mr. Bishop passed away a short while ago. That’s why we’re here in Geneva.” Jenny decided to avoid any small talk, this man didn’t se
em the type.
“I was advised of this by Mr. Schneider, at Klein, Fellay, just yesterday. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well the thing is that we have now become part owners of IDD. We wanted to meet you and Gloria, but it seems that she isn’t here today?” Jenny didn’t mention their appointment with Gloria. She might get her into trouble.
“No, she’s not. She should be in on a Thursday and she never said anything about it yesterday. She usually takes the Friday and Monday off. She only works three days per week.”
“Is she married?”
“I don’t think so, but Gloria doesn’t talk much about her private life. She is very busy with her work, only coming in for three days.”
“How long have you worked for IDD, Mr. Vogel?”
“I started part time last April, and took over last June. So it’s a bit less than a year.”
“Did you know my father-in-law well?”
“Not very well. He interviewed me before I started, but I’ve only seen him twice since then, in July and then in October after his heart attack. Our business was mostly done by email, telephone and fax. He came in December, but I was off skiing and he hasn’t been back since.”
Jenny thought back. Charlie came here in February, but not to the office. Why?
Leticia interjected. “Probably you know Nick Martinez and Laurent Bonneville as well.”
“I’ve met them a couple of times.”
Jenny said, “Can you provide us with a copy of the accounts and bank statements, Mr. Vogel? We are coming to the meeting tomorrow and we’d like to be up to date.”
Vogel’s eyes were darting about. He waved his hand around the messy room. “Well, I’m busy getting the accounts ready for tomorrow. I expect Mr. Bonneville or Mr. Martinez to come by in the morning, prior to the meeting and collect everything. I believe that’s what has been done in the past.”
“So, you can’t let us have them today?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ll be working quite late this evening to get them ready, I’m sorry.”
“Very well, Mr. Vogel. We look forward to seeing everything at the meeting tomorrow.”
They got up and Jenny asked, “You don’t happen to know where Gloria lives, do you?”
“She lives in Divonne, just over the French border. She’s not resident in Switzerland, she’s got special papers as a French frontalier worker.”
“Do you have a phone number for her?”
Vogel pulled out a phone book from his desk drawer and jotted a number on a slip of paper. “You have to dial 0033, then 450 for the frontalier zone,” he informed them.
They left him surrounded by his paperwork and walked down the Rue du Mont-Blanc.
“That’s the third disappointment today. We’re not making much progress, are we?”
Leticia was looking thoughtful. “Jenny, what is your impression of Mr. Vogel?”
“He certainly seemed very nervous and I can’t think why. He’s got to prepare a set of accounts. How difficult can it be?”
“No, not that. I mean a different thing.”
“I’m not sure I understand?”
“I think he looks like a man who is clearing up. He has his briefcase, lots of files and papers and I think he was sorting them out. Also, he has piles of travel and ski books, like when you go away for holidays.”
“I don’t know, Leticia. The problem is that we don’t have any idea about him or the business and he doesn’t know us, so it’s difficult for us to insist. I’m sure everything will be ready for the meeting in the morning. But I wonder why Gloria wasn’t there.” She pulled out her mobile phone. “I’ll try her number, see if we can meet her.”
When there was no reply, Jenny said, “She must be out. Perhaps she’s got a problem and hasn’t gone to the office. But you’d think she’d call and leave a message. Especially when we had an appointment.” Trying to sound unconcerned, she put away her phone and said nothing more.
It was four-fifteen in the afternoon. The breeze had dropped and it felt warmer. Since they could not achieve anything further, the women decided to look around the town. They strolled back across the bridge, enjoying the vistas to the East, over the lake to the mountains ranged along the horizon, snow visible on the peaks. The Jet d’Eau was still propelling its waterspout skyward and planes passed high above their heads, coming and going from Cointrin airport.
In the Place du Molard, stalls were selling freshly cut flowers. A rich combination of aromas permeated the square. The smell of coffee from the cafés mingled with the the scent from the flowers and the perfumes of the shoppers. Everything was clean and smart, the people, the cars, the streets and sidewalks and the blue and white trams and orange buses which ran constantly in every direction. It was as if everything had been through a giant washing machine and put back all cleaned and polished, to brighten up the city.
They wandered through the narrow streets of the Old Town, full of antique shops, bars and restaurants, admiring the Cathédral de St. Pierre and the Confédération Centre, then walked past the elegant shops on the Rue du Marché on their way back to the hotel.
“If we have time, we should come here tomorrow for some shopping. We need to check out the prices. It’s right, Jenny?”
“Perfectly right. Let’s check them out.”
Back at the hotel they sat talking in the lounge for a while, until Leticia announced, “I have to go and do two things now. I need to call Emilio and I need a hot bath.”
“Bonsoir Monsieur Jolidan.” The well built man standing in the hall of the Casino de Divonne was an expert in both martial arts and physiognomy. He never forgot a face.
“Bonsoir Mathieu.” Jolidan greeted him then walked through the magnificently decorated gambling hall. There were few players at the tables, but he knew that some would be dining in the hotel and more would arrive much later in the evening. He entered a small office at the back where two large men were waiting for him. They were dressed in over-tight tuxedos, which made them look like badly creased penguins.
The directeur sat opposite the men. “I think I may have found the answer to our problem,” he announced.
“It’s not our problem, Claude. It’s yours. A fifty thousand Euro problem, to be precise.” The man took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to his colleague. They both lit up, looking keenly at Jolidon.
He waved the smoke away and coughed nervously. “Well, I think there’s a chance of making a lot more than that. Let me tell you what happened today.”
At dinner in Le Parc restaurant, the women discussed the day’s events and didn’t notice a man in the brasserie reading Le Temps. But he watched them, as he had done all day.
It was now one day until the meeting of the Angolan Clan.
SIXTY-FOUR
Friday 25th April 2008
Geneva, Switzerland
It was one minute past ten on Friday, 25th April, 2008, the thirty-fourth anniversary of the Revolution of the Carnations. Thirty-four years since the lives of everyone in Portugal and in their African colonies had been changed for ever. Now Jenny and Leticia were waiting to meet Charlie’s partners, men who had confronted dangerous and life-changing experiences with him and had emerged safe and wealthy. Unlike so many others who had not.
They were back on the sixth floor of the bank, sitting in a large conference room around a fine Louis XVI table with a delicately worked marquetry inlay. A series of hunting prints lined the walls, which were clad in a patterned fabric. It all looked very chic. From the ten available chairs they chose the two at the end of the table, furthest away from the door and nearest the double French windows. There was a small balcony outside, but it was a chilly morning so the windows were closed. Mademoiselle Rousseau brought them fresh coffee then left them alone and Leticia poured out two cups.
Jenny sipped her coffee thoughtfully. Why did Olivier, Carlos, Manuela and Henriques have to die, when Charlie and the others survived? What extraordinary turn of fate decreed the destiny of so many peo
ple whose lives had become inextricably intertwined? Deciding who lived and who did not. She shivered, remembering the deaths in Charlie’s narrative. Little by little she was changing her views on her father-in-law and the origins of his wealth. Maybe there are fortunes without crimes, she wondered. And maybe Charlie was the exception.
She was still lost in thought when Leticia said, “It’s ten twenty now and nobody is here.”
“I don’t understand why not. They’ve had this meeting every year for thirty-odd years. What’s so different this year?”
“This is the last year, so it can be different I suppose. We are different partners from last year, but they don’t even know about us. Anyway, we are ready for the meeting, aren’t we?”
“Not quite,” replied Jenny. “That man Vogel isn’t here either, with the accounts.” She took out her mobile phone to call the accountant.
Just then the door opened and Mr. Schneider entered, looking more pompous than usual. “I have some news for you, Ladies. let me introduce Mr. Adam Peterson. A new partner!”
Adam walked slowly into the room, looking slightly sheepish. Immediately behind him entered Mademoiselle Rousseau, bringing them more fresh coffee. Jenny put away her mobile and looked at Leticia in astonishment.
The Swiss banker introduced them rather formally. “Madame da Costa, Madame Bishop, Mr. Peterson.” They shook hands with Adam for the third time in almost as few days, utterly confused. “Mr. Peterson has produced the necessary documents and signed our internal formulaires, so I can confirm that he is a new partner of the Angolan Clan. I’ll leave you to conduct your meeting. Please call me if you need anything.”
The banker left the room, closing the door behind him and they heard the sound of a nose being blown violently.
Adam sat opposite them at the other end of the table. He kept as much space between them as he could. The women looked at each other. Things were not proceeding at all to plan. What was going on? Once again they were faced with more surprises, more unexpected events.
Jenny sat in silence, her mind feverishly trying to fit this latest piece into the jigsaw puzzle that had become their lives over the last few days.
The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set Page 40
