“Thank you everyone. That concludes our business and you’ll be receiving further instructions from Leticia and I, properly signed, in due course.” She got up and went over towards the door. Only Bluchner came to shake her hand.
“I’ll just tidy up here, Jenny.” Prideaux was still fussing over the papers on the desk. He shook hands with her and turned back to his administrative work. “My secretary will send copies of everything together with my invoice in a day or two.”
I’m sure she will, thought Jenny. There’s the first chunk of the money gone and I did most of the work myself. Her agreement with the lawyer was an hourly consulting fee plus one per cent of the settlement. This was going to cost her and Leticia almost two hundred thousand dollars. She shrugged resignedly and replied, “Thank you, Sylvestre. Au revoir.”
“Let me accompany you, Mme Bishop.” Schneider opened the door for her and they went to reclaim her coat from the cloakroom. Stepping into the lift, he once again pulled out his handkerchief, this time only to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“May I say something, Mme Bishop?” He held the handkerchief against his mouth and she could smell the fragrant after shave he had sprinkled on it.
When she nodded, he said, “I have never witnessed such a magnificent performance in my life. Mr Bishop would have been proud of you. I must say I miss his visits, and now I suppose I’m going to miss yours too.”
“Thank you, Mr Schneider. I’m pleased it’s over, but thank you for your kind words.”
They walked to the door and he asked if she needed a taxi.
“I don’t think so. A walk in the fresh air will do me good. Goodbye Mr Schneider.”
Jenny shook his hand and walked away, pulling the collar of her coat around her. It was still bitterly cold. There was a taxi stand on the corner of Rue Jaques-Balmat and she climbed thankfully into the one waiting cab, giving the driver an address in Pâquis, the red light district on the other side of the lake. She hadn’t wanted Schneider to know where she was heading. Switching on her mobile she texted two words, ‘12 million’, then sent it to Leticia, in Spain. She couldn’t know that it was the same as the message sent by d’Almeida, the murderer, to Esther, his girlfriend, just before he died.
Good job I got her to agree to joint signatures, she thought to herself. Unlike Jenny, Leticia was a new born big spender, revelling in the fortune she’d inherited from Charlie, her former lover and father of her son, Emilio. Hopefully Patrice, her French fiancée, who was a banker, could advise her well enough to cover her expensive tastes. Anyway, this money’s going to be safe, she thought, then put the matter from her mind for the moment.
Jenny hadn’t told the truth about her airline booking. She had a reservation on a Swiss International flight to Malaga at two thirty, which gave her enough time to make two more visits before leaving this freezing place. As they passed over the lake on the Pont du Mont Blanc the Bise brought the air temperature down to well below zero and she admired the fantastic shapes created by the frozen waves as they were blown along the sides of the Lac Leman. The taxi pulled up in front of a six storey building and when Jenny rang the bell, one of the heavy double doors swung back, revealing a young man in a dark blue suit.
“Madame Bishop. How nice to see you again. Please come inside from the cold.” He ushered her into the reception area and shook her hand.
“Gilles Simenon. What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d still be here after almost two years. Young people change jobs quite a lot these days.”
“It’s not so easy to get a good job here anymore, Mme Bishop. The economic problems are starting to affect Switzerland now, like every other country. So I’m glad to be in a secure position with a very good company. I suppose you wish to visit your safety deposit box?”
“Yes please.” Jenny signed the large book that Gilles opened for her. “Is Mr Jolidon still in charge?” She asked, as they walked to the lift which he opened with a code on the key pad.
“He is, although he spends a lot of time in the offices on the other side of the building. We’re a bit short handed because they’ve cut some staff. That’s where he is now. Do you want to see him?”
“No, it’s not necessary.” Jenny was relieved. She neither liked nor trusted the manager.
They descended two floors then went through two sets of steel doors into the massive circular vault. Gilles removed a key from the cylindrical rack in the secure key cupboard and inserted it into the top lock of box 72 and turned it. Jenny took two keys from her purse, each with an elastic band on it, one green, which she turned in the middle lock, the other yellow, which opened the lower lock. Gilles turned away as she entered fifteen-eleven-forty-five on the keypad and the door clicked open.
“Excellent! I’ll wait for you upstairs Mme Bishop.” The young man closed the security doors behind him and left her alone in the vault.
She took out the steel box and placed it on the large central table, self-consciously looking around to ensure there were no prying eyes, even though she knew the room was virtually hermetically sealed. She removed Charlie’s battered old briefcase from the box, opened it and laid the ten chamois leather pouches on the table. Untying each one, she spilled the contents into ten piles on the table top.
Jenny hadn’t been back to Ramseyer, Haldemann since April, 2008, almost two years ago, when she was accompanied by Leticia and Adam Peterson, just before his tragic death at the hands of d’Almeida. Her breath was once again taken away by the burst of brilliant light reflected from the ten miniature pyramids of Angolan diamonds in front of her. Beautiful, but deadly, she mused, not for the first time. Henrique’s diamonds had been the source of great wealth and happiness and great poverty and revengeful jealousy in equal measure.
Because of the long drawn-out dispute with Klein Fellay, Jenny had never found the time or the energy to move them to another safety deposit facility, as she’d originally intended. Now, she realised, she might just as well leave them where they were. No one else knew she had both keys and she intended to keep it that way. She had taken the second key from Adam because she didn’t fully trust him. There were parts of his story which didn’t ring true and he had lied about the terms of the contract with Charlie. Who knew what might have happened if he had survived the confrontation with d’Almeida?
The immense fortune they were inheriting was also causing her more and more concern. She knew that great fortunes and happiness don’t always go hand in hand and subsequent events had proved her sixth sense right. Leticia, who had given her the other key, was too young and inexperienced and she had taken it from her to avoid inviting any further tragedy in their lives.
Jenny didn’t consider that the diamonds belonged to her. She thought of them as belonging to no one. They would stay untouched and unannounced in the vault until, God forbid, there ever there came a day when one of her or Leticia’s family needed them, then they’d still be there.
She trickled the diamonds through her fingers back into their pouches and replaced them in the briefcase. Before closing up the box, she picked up a felt bag and took out a framed newspaper article with a photograph. Olivier and Charlie, she smiled ruefully, if only you’d known how it would end. She sighed and replaced the box in its cubby hole and locked the door then pressed the bell to recall Simenon.
“Will you be returning soon, Mme Bishop?” He asked as they went up in the elevator.
“I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that the annual rental fee will become payable again at the end of this year. I was just looking at the file. It seems that the previous owners usually paid five years at a time to avoid any complications, since we didn’t have an address for them. I’ve printed out an invoice with the payment instructions and the amounts for one to five years.”
“Thank you, Gilles.” Jenny took the invoice from him. She had completely overlooked the fact that fees were payable and, unlike a bank, there was no account to debit to pay them from.
&
nbsp; Gilles saw her eyes open wide at the amounts listed. “Yours is quite a small box, Mme Bishop. The larger ones are much more costly.”
“Small mercies, Gilles,” she said, thinking about what was in the box. She had looked up some data about diamond prices before coming over to Geneva and knew that prices had fallen by about twenty per cent since 2008. But twelve hundred carats of finest quality Angolan diamonds should still be worth between ten and fifteen million dollars at today’s full wholesale price. She told herself that the fee wasn’t unreasonable. It was a bit like an insurance policy and fifteen million dollars’ worth of diamonds would cost a fortune to insure. “I’ll make arrangements to transfer five years of fees when I return home.”
She folded the invoice and put it into her handbag as he opened the door for her.
“Thank you Mme Bishop. I hope you have a safe flight home and an enjoyable weekend.”
“The same to you, Gilles. It’s been a pleasure to know you and I wish you lots of success in the future.”
She turned and walked off in the direction of Cornavin railway station, impervious to the resentful looks of the underdressed women freezing in the doorways of the bars and night clubs. She had one more appointment and she was looking forward to it.
Jenny hurried along the Rue de la Gare, pausing for a moment outside no. 362 with a feeling of nostalgia. The IDD offices had been closed down shortly after the d’Almeida tragedy and all the documents and paperwork packed into boxes and moved to a storage facility. The name was no longer among those on the mail boxes.
She pulled her collar around her neck and continued for another hundred metres to the corner of the Rue du Mont Blanc, where she went into the Banque de Commerce de Genève. Mme Aeschiman, the manager, came out to reception, greeted her warmly and escorted to her office.
“It’s a while since you’ve been to visit us, Mme Bishop. I hope everything is well with you and Mme da Costa?”
“Things are finally getting back to normal, thank you. That’s why I came over to see you.”
The two women talked inconsequentially for a few moments, then Mme Aeschiman opened up a file on her desk. “Well, I’ve prepared everything as you asked. You’ll need to fill out quite a lot of forms then I’ll call in our Head of Portfolio Management, M Philippe Jaquelot. ”
Thirty minutes later, Jenny had arranged to transfer her own and Leticia’s funds from Klein Felly into new accounts with the Banque de Commerce and opened an account for the twelve million dollars from the Angolan Clan settlement, ‘In trust for Emilio Salvador da Costa’, with both her and Leticia’s signatures. With M Jaquelot, the investment advisor, she agreed on a conservative, low risk portfolio strategy and her business at the bank was finished.
She thanked Philippe and Valerie, as she now knew them and took copies of the documents for her UK tax accountant and the remaining forms for Leticia’s signature when she got back to Marbella. They shook hands and Jenny walked out to find a taxi at the station rank to take her to the airport.
At Ramseyer, Haldemann, Claude Jolidon, the director of the safekeeping department was examining the signature book. He turned to Gilles. “I see that Mme Bishop was here this morning.”
“I asked her if she wanted to speak to you, M Jolidon, but she said it wasn’t necessary. She sent her best regards, to you,” he added, untruthfully.
“You should have called me,” Jolidon said, rather petulantly. “Was she alone?”
“Yes she was and she seemed to be in a hurry.”
“Really? And Mme da Costa wasn’t with her. Was she able to open her safety deposit box?”
“Yes. She had both keys with her, but I’m sure she didn’t remove anything. Anyway, she was only here for a few minutes and I knew you were busy. She’s going to pay five years of fees when she gets home,” he said brightly.”
“That’s alright Gilles, but next time, please call me. It’s been two years since I’ve seen Mme Bishop. I would have liked to say hello.”
Jolidon walked away, a thoughtful look on his face. He took his coat from the wardrobe. “I’ve got a lunch appointment. I’ll be back by three o’clock.” His car was parked near the Richemont Hotel. He drove off in the direction of the French frontier and pulled up in front of the Hotel du Lac, in Divonne.
“Bonjour, M Jolidon,” said the well-built man at the door of the Casino de Divonne.
“Bonjour, Hervé. The new man had been guarding the casino entrance for only a few months, but his visits were so frequent that he was already well known to him. He walked through the gaming rooms to the offices at the back and knocked on a door.
“Entrez!” A voice called out. Jolidon went into the office and closed the door behind him.
Jenny took out her mobile and called Linda, at the kennels in Ipswich. Because of the break in her journey to visit Geneva, she’d had to leave Cooper, her West Highland Terrier in the UK. It seemed that he was well and enjoying his stay, as he always seemed to. As she put the phone back in her pocket, a text message came up. It was from Leticia. It said ‘Well done, Jenny. Gracias y hasta luego’.
She sat back and made herself comfortable in the taxi for the twenty minute ride to Cointrin airport. Her day’s work was accomplished and she felt rather pleased with herself. Now she could get away from this freezing cold weather and down to the warmth of Marbella.
THREE
London, England
The woman shivered as she walked quickly along Jermyn Street, behind Piccadilly, and entered the Cavendish Hotel. She made her way to the Petrichor Restaurant and left her outdoor coat with the hostess, glad to be inside. The fabric wasn’t as warm as the weather deserved. “No thanks,” she replied when the Maître d’Hôtel asked if she wanted a table, “I’m meeting someone here.” She looked around the busy room, ignoring the admiring glances of several male customers, until she spotted her lunch appointment sitting at a corner table by the window. He stood up when he saw her and pulled aside a chair.
“Thank you, Arthur,” she said and he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She had put on a close-fitting blouse and skirt for the ‘date’, from a fairly limited choice. Sitting down, facing him across the table, her impressive bust line was subtly revealed by two undone top buttons. “And thank you for inviting me for lunch. I’ve heard it’s a wonderful restaurant.”
“One of my favourites, nowadays. The chef is an old friend of mine from the River Room at the Savoy. That was before they destroyed its lovely ambience with a facelift, of course.”
The man must have been in his late fifties, with a comfortable paunch under his baggy, worn tweed coat and a dark blue and green striped tie tucked into the top of his trousers. He wore tortoiseshell framed spectacles and had a generous, rather French looking moustache.
“A smidgeon of Laurent Perrier?” She nodded and he waved the waiter over to pour a generous flute for her and a fill up for his own glass.
Looking around, the woman saw one or two faces she recognised from the newspapers. “Keeping up with the right company, I see. Santé. Here’s to us.” They clinked their glasses and sipped the champagne. “That tastes good.”
Neither broached the subject of their meeting until after he had ordered her lunch. “Just leave it to me. I know exactly what you’ll enjoy.” She was happy to do so. Her fine wining and dining days had been few and far between of late.
“Now, my dear,” he said, when the waiter had taken their order. “Judging from your call yesterday and your immediate trip to these shores I am bound to assume that you have some important revelation for me. I beg you not to leave me in this dreadful state of suspense for one single moment longer.”
The woman looked carefully around the dining room, leaned forward across the table and said, “She has the keys and nothing has been taken.”
“You’re sure? Absolutely sure?”
“Absolument! She has never been back until this week and she opened the safe but removed nothing. Everything is as it has been for the last two
years.”
The man’s eyes gleamed from behind his spectacles. “And you have received this news from a reliable source?”
“The best possible source. It comes directly from the Director of the Safe Keeping Department himself. It will cost us a small commission of course, but my connections through Divonne Casino have finally borne fruit.”
“They have indeed. Then I think we deserve another glass of Laurent Perrier before we partake of our delicious repast and discuss our plan in somewhat more detail.” He counted on his fingers. “We have four months to get ourselves organised.” Raising his glass again, he said, “To a very profitable partnership, my dear.”
Just before three o’clock the woman reclaimed her coat and bid Arthur farewell with a modest peck on the cheek. She walked up Piccadilly and into Fortnum & Mason’s tea department. As she waited to pay for the expensive tin of leaves, she selected a speed number on her mobile. “Cheri,” she said, “wonderful news. Arthur is up for it. He’ll manage the whole business. With my help, of course. He bought me a delicious lunch and couldn’t take his eyes off my poitrine. He’s even invited me to the ballet next Thursday, at the Royal Albert Hall. It’s Minkus’s Don Quixote with Simon Ball. I think he’s falling for me.”
“So, he’s hooked. Good. Be careful to keep him at a distance and on the boil. Did you get an idea of the cost?”
“He’s going to call me when he’s prepared an initial plan, but he wants to move very quickly.”
“Now I have to make sure I can get the money.”
“Phone me when you’re sure. And you need to contact the doctor also. There’s a lot to be done in a fairly short time.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I can at your hotel and I’ll see you next week.”
The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set Page 62
