The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set

by Christopher Lowery

  In the farmhouse Leo was helping to clean up and was getting to know Karen and Abby. His first reaction had been to ask for a mobile phone to call his mother, but it was the middle of the night and he was still worried about the incriminating events he’d been involved in. He decided to wait until morning, when he could talk quietly with Coetzee and agree on a mutual truce; a life for a life. He was still coping with the revelation of his Special Forces career and his deadly skills. In the space of just four days he’d been exposed to abduction, drugging, accidental death, police corruption, violent death and now an incredible demonstration of murderous expertise from a man whom he’d taken to be an unscrupulous stadium security guard, with not many redeeming qualities. There was a lot more to Marius Coetzee than met the eye, he now realised.

  Karen didn’t question him about the abduction. Nwosu had already bragged about it to her and she didn’t know what to believe, except that the boy must have endured a very traumatic experience. Kidnapping was a serious criminal offence, far too important to be simply put aside by Marius, as she knew he did with so many things. It had to be discussed, examined and somehow resolved, but it wasn’t the time for that yet. She kept the conversation as light as possible in the circumstances, talking about schooling and life in the UK and South Africa. Successfully engaging Leo with her and Abby and moving them both away from the horrific scene they had just experienced.

  He would occasionally ask a question, trying to get to know more about them and about the man who had taken him away from his mother so brutally. Wondering why they were no longer together and what the story was behind their African child, Abby. And why would a highly decorated SA Special Services Officer kidnap him, an unknown, unimportant schoolboy from Newcastle? Trying to understand why that same man would risk his own life to save his. Despite his recent experiences, deep down he was beginning to admire Marius Coetzee.

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

  FIFTY-FIVE

  London, England

  At six forty-five am Lord Arthur Dudley called his contact in Harare. Despite having heard nothing since the previous evening he had slept well, was trying to remain positive and enjoying his morning cup of tea. He was looking forward to some good news about the recapture of Leo Stewart. His frame of mind changed when he was informed that the field agents had not been in contact since they were instructed to drive to Delmas. The man agreed to contact them and find out what the situation was.

  Dudley showered and dressed in a sombre mood. The funder was arriving in a couple of hours and he had absolutely no news of the whereabouts of Leo Stewart. He was sitting waiting anxiously by the phone and snatched it up on the first ring. His heart stopped at what he heard. The contact gave him the news that the field agents could no longer be contacted, their phones appeared to be switched off. He immediately called EzeTracker.

  Cambridge, England

  Simon Pickford was an early riser and in his office by seven in the morning. He grabbed a coffee from the machine in the hall and went into his inner sanctum. His phone rang as he walked into the office, it was Tom Owen, his chief technical officer.

  Pickford replaced the phone. He had awoken with Lord Dudley’s questions still foremost in his mind and he was concerned. Now he had just been informed that the two mobile phones were in Delmas, obviously because the person they had been tracking from Phalaborwa had driven there during the night. This whole scenario was looking more and more dubious. His ruminations were interrupted by the phone ringing again. Dudley was seeking an update and sounded less ebullient than usual.

  He reported the latest news and waited for his mentor’s reaction. Dudley seemed rather preoccupied and merely thanked him. Pickford opened up his laptop. He was asking himself again why the man would be secretly tracking two people in South Africa when he had their mobile phone numbers? And now they were both in the same locality. With a fortune in the bank and a public company to protect he couldn’t afford to take the chance of being involved in anything compromising. He owed Dudley a lot, but there were limits.

  He searched online for the name of a local newspaper in Phalaborwa. There was nothing. He checked for Polokwane and found the Observer and the Express. Both newspapers carried stories of a mysterious death the previous day, a murdered white man whose body had not yet been identified. A cold chill ran down his spine. What were the odds against the two events, his Master’s initial request, to find someone in Polokwane, and a murder occurring there on the same day, being a coincidence? He was a mathematician and he knew the answer was, not great. He needed to cover his backside before anything happened that might implicate him. Looking up the contact list on his mobile he found the number of an old college friend in London, Detective Inspector Callum Dewar at Scotland Yard.

  London, England

  Lord Dudley was becomingly increasingly worried. From Pickford’s report, it seemed that both Coetzee and Nwosu were now in Delmas, presumably with Leo Stewart. What was more, the two agents sent down to neutralise them and snatch the boy had disappeared off the face of the earth. Why would they not be answering their phones, he asked himself. It could only be because they didn’t want to or weren’t able to. Either explanation was very worrying and he had no way of finding out which it was. He thought of calling one or other of Nwosu’s mobile numbers but decided it was too risky. If there was some plan being hatched between them, or if on the contrary there was a disagreement, his intervention might alert them and cause further disruption to the programme.

  He called back the intermediary in Harare to ask if they had any resources available in Johannesburg in the event he might need assistance. After receiving so many instructions and counter-instructions and with two of his agents missing, the man was rather uninterested. He said his first priority was to locate them. If he had the time he would check and call back if they could offer any further help. Dudley sat waiting nervously.

  Marbella, Spain

  At seven thirty, Emma rushed into her sister’s room. “It’s a text from Leo!”

  Jenny was at her desk. “Is it good news?”

  “I don’t know. He’s in a different place, Phalaborwa. And he’s with Coetzee.”

  “Phalaborwa. Where’s that?”

  “In the Kruger. That lodge is a safari destination on the river.”

  “So, Coetzee must have taken him to the Kruger to hide him from the others and wants to arrange his return. It seems he was telling the truth. That’s good news, it means the others are lying.”

  “There’s also an email from the ARGS people which confirms that as well.” She showed her the email and photograph she’d received from the abductors. “It’s similar to the photo Coetzee sent, the same chair and background, but Leo’s holding the newspaper to show the date. We know the other one was genuine because of the properties but this one is pasted onto the message so we can’t see where it came from. They might have obtained that photo from Coetzee to pretend they have Leo. I’m starting to believe he has reverted to type, as he was when he saved those children three years ago. If he really has Leo, it could bring this nightmare to an end.”

  Jenny said, “I’ll text Pedro right away, he’ll be arriving soon. We need to speak to him immediately he lands. There’s no point in him flying to Polokwane if Leo’s in the Kruger ...” She paused. “There’s something else I have to tell him also.”

  “That sounds ominous. What is it?”

  “I had one of my dreams last night.”

  “About Leo?” Emma was aware of her sixth sense. Jenny nodded her head. “What was it?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s one thing I can tell you. The text from Leo was received at nine last night and I don’t think they’re still in Phalaborwa. Wait until we speak to Pedro and you’ll hear it at the same time. We’d better get ready now, we have a lot to do today.”

  Emma went back to her room and closed the door. She opened up Leo’s message again and typed, Hello Leo darling. I got your texts. Be
strong and don’t worry, I’m coming for you. I love you and I’ll see you soon. MXXXX. She hesitated for a moment then pressed Send.

  Delmas, Mpumalanga, South Africa

  Everyone in the house was up and about by eight thirty. Coetzee took a swig of the black coffee that Karen had prepared for them. The house had been more or less in order when they returned from the quarry and they had managed to get a few hours’ sleep. She had taken a mug up to Nwosu, who, she said was remorseful and repentant, “He says he’s learned his lesson and just wants to forget the whole affair and get back to Diepkloof with Jamie.”

  “He says lots of things, but very little that’s true. Ignore him until I decide what to do.” Coetzee was looking at the phone he had taken from the policeman in Polokwane and the one he’d confiscated from him that morning. There were only a few numbers stored in the second phone, including one beginning with the prefix 32, labelled, ‘Voice, Belgium.’ There were three numbers on the recent call list; two were to Nwosu’s own phone which Coetzee now had and the third to the Belgian number. There was no recording App on the new phone so he couldn’t check the conversations. He opened the calls list on Nwosu’s first phone. The call made from Joburg on Wednesday was to the same Belgian number.

  Leo and Abby had taken the dogs for a walk and now he could hear them setting the table for breakfast. The smell of toast and fried eggs made his juices run. Leo saw him with the two phones and came to sit by him. “What’s up?” He was starting to feel a sense of complicity with the South African.

  “I wondered how the opposition knew where we were and it’s very simple. Nwosu called and told them we were coming here. He called their number last night.” Coetzee’s logic was faultless but his conclusion was wrong.

  “Why would they beat him up if he invited them here? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Karen came to call them to the table and Coetzee asked, “Did you see what happened when the thugs arrived?”

  “Yes. Nwosu thought it was you. Then they broke the door down and smashed his wrist. They were asking where you and Leo were. They thought you were already here. He told them you were on the way with Leo.”

  “Sounds like you’re right again, Leo. They didn’t get the address from Nwosu ‘cos he didn’t know they were coming. Where the hell did they get it?”

  “Breakfast is on the table. Come and sit down.”

  They all sat at one end of the dining table. Jamie had been sent upstairs with a tray for him and Nwosu. Coetzee knew he didn’t have anything to fear from a man with a broken wrist and a busted shoulder and Jamie was no threat of any kind. He would work out what to do with them later.

  “Do you remember anything else?”

  “Yes. They said they’d come from Phalaborwa.” Abby spoke up with confidence. “The old man said that they’d left after you and how come you weren’t here yet.”

  “She’s right. I remember now,” Karen agreed.

  “The phones! It has to be Nwosu’s phones, Marius. They followed us to Phalaborwa and then to here. There’s no other link to those two places except the phones. You used one to call someone about the abduction when we were in Phalaborwa, I know because I heard you. Then Nwosu called you in Phalaborwa from here on the other one. Somehow they’ve got the phones tapped and they’re following our trail through the mobile signals.”

  Coetzee gave Leo a look. “Normally I’d give you shit for listening to my calls, but this time I’m glad you did. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Two gorillas from Harare drive down here and they know exactly where to go, even the lodge where we were staying. Then they leave an hour later to come here because they got new instructions. You’re right! It has to be the phones.”

  “By the way, here’s the phone I took off Blethin.” Leo took the mobile from his pocket and gave it to the South African. “The battery’s dead, but I was keeping it just in case.”

  “Speaking of phones, Marius, it’s about time Leo called his mother, she‘ll be worried sick about him.”

  “I sent her a message last night, so she knows he’s fine and he’s with me. Can we wait until we get rid of Nwosu? I want to talk to all of you and set things straight before he speaks to her. Just a couple of hours?”

  “It’s OK.” Leo said. He also wanted to get things clear before he spoke to Emma. He was well aware he was still in the country where he’d injured a police officer and accidentally killed a French doctor. “I managed to text her before the battery died, so we can wait a little while.”

  Coetzee gave him a begrudging look of admiration as Karen announced. “Very well, but you have to call this morning without fail. Now will you eat your breakfast? Abby and I have gone to some trouble and we’d appreciate you enjoying the meal before it gets cold.”

  They tucked into the toast and eggs, Coetzee’s mind working overtime. If the phones can bring them to the right place, they can also send them to the wrong place.

  London, England

  “Oh, my God! Harder, harder. Don’t stop.” The man’s voice was strained as he arched his back and pushed his hips upward.

  Esther’s magnificent breasts swayed and bounced as she gripped her knees tighter around his body and pushed herself up and down on him in an ever faster rhythm until with a scream she climaxed. Finally collapsing alongside him on the bed she kissed him passionately, her tongue thrusting into his mouth. They lay side by side, completely satiated.

  He was drunk when she returned to the hotel the previous evening. Drunk and incapable of sex. Even the sight of her magnificent naked body failed to arouse him as she reluctantly helped him undress and fall onto the bed, immediately lost in a semi-comatose state. She lay down beside him, watching him snoring gently, aching with unspent passion until she finally fell asleep. Esther was a highly sexed woman and her first action on waking that morning had been to arouse him and this time he had been ready for her.

  She cradled his face in her hands. “Chéri, I missed you so much yesterday. Being stuck with that pompous ass Dudley all day is too much. I couldn’t believe it. We spent two bloody hours watching a ballet about homosexual swans. Then he invited me to stay the night. I thought he was into men, not women.”

  “I think it was students of both sexes, but he’s too old for it these days. Come on, in the shower. We have to go to the hotel to prepare for this afternoon’s meeting with my partner. I hope to God Dudley has found the boy, there’ll be all hell to pay if he hasn’t.”

  She noticed that his voice trembled when he said those words. He’s in bad shape, she thought. I wonder how he’s going to fix it. It’s not just money. It’s never that easy.

  Slater watched her as she went to the bathroom. Her body was the most beautiful he had ever seen. When he wasn’t with her he fantasised about it like a prurient adolescent and fretted until the next time he could feel her moving under him again. Even now he was becoming aroused for the third time. “What are you wearing for the meeting?” He called.

  “Something suitably serious and business-like of course. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down. I’ll play my part like a true professional.” She came back into the room and removed a man’s navy blue business suit from the wardrobe. “Here. Put this one on, it makes you look like an experienced conspirator.” She laughed, her head thrown back and mouth open, white teeth against her pink tongue.

  Slater resisted his overwhelming urge and picked up his mobile. It was time to make an important call before getting ready.

  Delmas, Mpumalanga, South Africa

  “Right, Nwosu. You’re not looking great this morning. Jamie’s taking you to the clinic to get your wrist fixed. You’re booked in for ten o’clock.”

  Nwosu looked like a clown impersonating Admiral Lord Nelson. His nose was still red and blue, his eye was black and almost closed, his right wrist was in a sling and Jamie had pushed his left hand across his chest into his buttoned jacket to ease his shoulder. He hadn’t slept all night and had a day’s stubble on his face.

 
; “This better not be a trick, Marius. I need urgent help or I’ll lose the use of my right hand. Do you want that on your conscience? You didn’t need to book me in, I can go to any clinic. Just let us go, Marius, I’m begging you as a friend. Just let us go and you’ll never see us again.”

  Coetzee ignored the reference to ‘friend.’ “That’s very ungrateful, Jonathon. I’m thinking of your wellbeing. You don’t really want to go to a clinic near Diepkloof, do you? They’ll question why the neighbourhood’s star police officer looks as if he’s been arm wrestling with a gorilla. You’re going to a clinic to get special attention and no questions asked. It’s the Newtown Private Clinic, in Mayfair. You know where it is, don’t you?” Coetzee waited to see if the name rang a bell with the policeman.