The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set

by Christopher Lowery

  The Guadeloupe account was in the name of Esther Bonnard, her maiden name, which she had used since fleeing Switzerland after d’Almeida’s death. She had renewed both her passports, in that name and her married name, Rousseau. By using the passports alternately she was able to move between countries without leaving a complete trail. Although she had no information on the police enquiry after the Klein Fellay robbery she assumed she had become a suspect, so she was taking no chances of being found by Interpol, nor of the little money she had managed to accumulate being taken away from her. No one, including Dudley and Slater knew her married name.

  The balance on her account was now close to fifty thousand dollars, nothing like what she’d hoped for with the ransom plan, but better than nothing. And she wasn’t yet finished. She was sure she could extract more cash if she handled the next step well. Her mobile had rung five times on the train and as she waited for her Belfast flight. Now that she’d kept him waiting and had made the first successful transfer, it was time to call Slater back. She had rehearsed her story and was ready. She called his number.

  “Sorry, chéri, I was rushing for the train and then going through security so I didn’t manage to phone you back earlier.”

  “You mean you’re on your way back?”

  “No, not yet. I’m leaving in an hour for Geneva.” For the moment she had to keep the door open, although she was going to slam it shut fairly soon.

  “Why Geneva? Have you spoken to Dudley? I’ve been trying to get him all morning but he isn’t answering. I don’t know what in hell’s going on.”

  “I went to his apartment this morning, as I promised. That’s why I’m on my way to Switzerland. To get the transaction back on track”

  “So the deal is still alive? Are you sure? Have they got the boy in Zimbabwe?”

  “Apparently so,” she lied convincingly and heard a deep sigh of relief at the other end. “But it seems Arthur’s connections are not what he led us to believe. The Harare people are actually managed out of Geneva and with all the recent activity they’ve realised that they’ve been underselling their assistance. I’m going over to sweet talk the boss into clearing the way for the transaction to continue. It’s going to cost us some money, but Arthur has dropped the ball and I’m going to pick it up again.”

  “I don’t fucking believe it! You know how difficult it is for me to get money from my partner. It’s like blood from a stone. How much is it this time?”

  Esther quickly weighed up the odds of getting a small amount easily or missing out by asking for too much. “I think I can resolve it with twenty-five thousand dollars in cash and some feminine persuasion, but I’d need it in my account immediately so that I can settle the matter on the spot.”

  “What do you mean, ‘feminine persuasion’? You mean sex, don’t you?”

  “Chéri, we’re talking about you and me and the rest of our lives together, nothing is more important than that. And if I have to be a little generous with my attentions to arrange that, I’ll do it willingly, as long as I know it will work. But for that I need to have the cash available.”

  “Who is this man?”

  “He’s called Sébastien. Sébastien du Pasquier. He’s apparently half Swiss, half French and he’s an ex-banker. Arthur told me he’s now the Zimbabwean money manager in Geneva.” Esther skilfully embroidered her story with more details. She knew that the more elaborate the lie the more easily it was believed.

  “When are you meeting him?”

  “Tomorrow night for dinner, so I should to be able to get it agreed by Monday morning. That’s when I’ll need to make the payment.”

  “And you’ll come straight back here to be with me?”

  “You know I will, I can’t wait. As soon as I can get a flight, I promise.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then, “Are you sure this will fix the problem and we can finish the transaction?”

  “I can’t promise until I meet the man concerned, but I’d be astonished if I failed to get him to do what I want. Don’t you agree?”

  He knew her powers of persuasion better than anyone. But was she using them on him? And what about this man she was proposing to seduce? Another thought came to him. “What if I could find the twenty-five thousand myself? We might be able to rearrange the participations. If we save the situation we have every right to demand a larger slice. What do you think?”

  “It’s a brilliant idea. I should have thought of that. If you can convince your partner, I can certainly persuade Arthur. They’re both desperate to produce some real money from all the work that’s gone into the plan. We could do very well out of this setback if we handle it properly.” Esther couldn’t believe how naïve this man was, but she wasn’t about to argue.

  “Right, I’ll do it. Send me the account details and the funds will be there by Monday first thing.”

  Esther walked to the departure gate for her flight to Belfast, congratulating herself on the conversation. I haven’t lost my touch, she told herself. That’s fifty thousand dollars recovered from a dead deal. And I still haven’t finished.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  Malaga Airport, Spain

  Espinoza stood aside as Emma hugged and kissed her son for a long moment. Leo looked around the crowded arrivals hall in an embarrassed fashion and pulled away from his mother as soon as he reasonably could. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry, I’m really fine.”

  Reluctantly she released him and turned to embrace the Spaniard. “You must be exhausted, Pedro. You’ve been travelling non-stop for days and you’ve kept your promise to me. I’ll never forget it. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I was rather lucky, Emma, but I’m happy that everything has ended this way. Now you’d better get Leo home. It’s lunch time and he’s probably hungry. He seems to be hungry all the time.” He tried to lighten the emotionally charged atmosphere.

  “Actually, the food on both flights was really good. Nothing like the plastic stuff in economy. How did you manage to wangle business seats?” Leo grabbed his bag and started off towards the exit doors.

  “I’ll explain it all to you in the car. It’s a very long story.”

  They walked along to the parking area where Juan was waiting for them in the Jaguar. “Are you coming back with us, Pedro?”

  “I’ll take a taxi home and relax with my family if you don’t mind. I’ve actually only been away for two days, but it seems a lot longer. And,” he continued thoughtfully, “I don’t want to cause any unnecessary speculation in Leticia’s mind. I’ll call later this afternoon.” He shook them both by the hand. “By the way, have you got a photograph of Tony Forrester?”

  Emma looked a little embarrassed. “Actually, I’ve got one here. I keep it just for old time’s sake.” She opened her purse and handed him a small plastic case with a well preserved colour photo inside. It was of a good looking, fair haired man with an appealing smile, in his late twenties. She made sure that Leo didn’t see it.

  “May I take a copy and bring the original back to you?”

  A sense of foreboding entered her mind, but she said nothing in front of her son. “Of course.”

  They climbed into the Jaguar and Espinoza watched them drive away then walked over to the taxi rank. I wonder, he said to himself.

  “I think some parts of Leo’s story are invented, but in the end I don’t think it matters.” Espinoza had called Jenny from the taxi to give her a more detailed account of everything that had occurred in Johannesburg. “It seems that Coetzee was not involved at a high level. He took this job to solve his financial problems and when he realised what it entailed he backed out. But he didn’t leave Leo to his fate, he removed him from danger and probably saved his life. If you know anything about Mugabe’s country you’ll have an idea of what would have happened to him if he’d been taken there. “I would say he has probably learned his lesson and if Leo wants to leave it at that, we should let it go.”

  “It sounds as if Coetzee’s wife might hav
e been the key to his change of heart.” Jenny said. “Although, judging from his previous background he can’t have been very comfortable in this scheme. He’s a life saver, not a life taker. To have Leo back is all that really matters and if he doesn’t want to testify against Coetzee we can’t force him to. But what about the people at the top, the real conspirators? We still know nothing about them.”

  “That’s not entirely true, I know quite a lot about them. But I’ll have more information over the weekend and I’ll keep you informed as soon as I get a clear picture. In the meantime, enjoy a quiet time with your family.” He had decided to say nothing about Leo’s revelation of the ‘Voice’. No need to disturb their enjoyment of Leo’s homecoming. It could wait until Monday.

  “A quiet time thanks to you, Pedro. Thank you for everything. Take care.”

  London, England

  Hmm. She’s quick off the mark! Arthur Dudley was looking at the Joburg bank account in Panama on his laptop. He immediately saw the transfer of twenty-five thousand dollars that morning to Esther Bonnard’s account at the Credit Bank of Guadeloupe. He supressed a laugh, Cheeky creature. He could have reversed the transaction, since the value date was not until Monday, but he decided to let it go. She deserves some recompense for her efforts and for that kiss. Besides, I’m still two hundred thousand to the good.

  He transferred the balance to the Swiss Credit Bank of Lugano, with Monday’s value date, leaving a balance of one hundred dollars to cover any late costs and to avoid further contact by the bank. The Lugano account was in the name of Arturo D’Uddlio, which he found quite amusing. He’d been a client there since long before the compliance restrictions on banks had made it almost impossible to open new accounts and it was a useful transit point. Finally, he transferred two hundred thousand dollars from Lugano to his account in the Bahamas with Tuesday’s value date to permit the arrival of the funds from Panama. It wasn’t a perfectly secure trail, but it had always served him well in the past.

  Already that morning, Dudley had deleted the Internet browsing history and every single document and message in the Leo Stewart dossier from his laptop and iPad and then permanently deleted them from the Trash files. A few years previously he had acquired a software programme written by one of his star former pupils at Cambridge, which scrambled files of every type when they were permanently deleted. Even if the files could be restored by a professional IT technician or hacker they would be incomprehensible. In his line of business he could not afford to leave traces of any kind. He replaced the Bouygues SIM from the French phone with a new one then spent an hour feeding every document concerning the abduction transaction into his shredder. He was certain that there was nothing incriminating on the T-Mobile SIM, but he replaced that one too. Although it was July, there was a fire in the grate in his office and he threw the SIM cards and paper strips onto the flames.

  He was disappointed with the outcome but he had survived many such disappointments in his career. The plan had been a good one and had failed only due to a combination of unfortunate circumstances. He had earned a reasonable fee for his services and in his estimation that was the end of the matter. He was convinced there was nothing to fear from any of the other participants. No one in South Africa knew anything about him, and Esther Bonnard and Slater had as much, if not more to lose than him. In any event, he was not directly involved in any of the criminal events that had occurred. If everyone kept their mouth shut it would be a case of mutual protection and not mutual blame.

  Dudley looked at his watch. It was twelve forty-five. He had a table booked at the Petrichor in the Cavendish for one o’clock. It was a beautiful day, so he set off on the fifteen minute walk, already savouring his champagne aperitif.

  Marbella, Spain

  “So who’s this guy, Tony Forrester? Is he my father?” Leo and his mother were in the taxi on the way to Marbella. She had coached him in what to say to Leticia and he reluctantly agreed to keep to himself what was to him an incredible adventure story. He and Emma had always been totally open with each other and now it was his turn to ask awkward questions.

  “I was expecting that. No, he’s not your father, but he had a lot to do with you becoming my son. I’ve got thirty minutes to tell you about him and why you were abducted. But first I have to tell you about an incredible girl. Your real mother, Mutesi.” Emma gathered her thoughts and began the story for the second time that week. The story of the Rwandan genocide and Leo’s biological parents.

  Malaga, Spain

  “Buen provecho amor mio. Bon appétit, dearest.” Espinoza clinked his glass of rioja against Soledad’s glass and took a slice of the delicious Iberian ham. “Did you miss me?”

  “I didn’t have time to miss you. You were hardly gone at all. How did you get back so quickly?”

  “It was partly thanks to you. You made me think about the problem in a different way and suddenly it became much clearer. You saved me a lot of time.”

  “So the case is closed? Does that mean you get paid a big bonus?”

  “It’s almost closed. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that it will never be fully wrapped up, it’s all rather complicated.” He had received an email with the photo he’d requested from DS MacCallister in Sydney, but it didn’t tell him anything for the moment.

  “You didn’t answer my question. What about the bonus? If I was of so much help I should get at least a part of it.”

  Espinoza laughed and leaned over to kiss her. “I’m sure my client will be very generous. Enough to buy you flowers in the market.”

  Marbella, Spain

  “Come and walk with us, Leo.” Jenny led the way through the house to the garden. Fortunately, Leticia and Emilio had gone to meet Patrice at the beach so that the boy’s arrival at the house aroused no complicated explanations. Jenny was overjoyed to see her nephew again and they had enjoyed a pleasant lunch on the terrace, just the three of them. Encarni didn’t speak English so they were able to talk freely about the recent events. She was happy and relieved to see that Leo seemed to be unfazed by his mother’s story, he was used to having no father and in his mind he now found that he’d had two mothers, both of whom had obviously loved and cherished him. Many of the kids at school had unhappy home lives with absent or abusive fathers or mothers or both, and he was content to have a close and loving relationship with Emma, however it had come about. But he was hiding his feelings well.

  Emma had never talked to him previously about Rwanda, restricting her short involvement in the aftermath of the genocide into a brief summary with very few details. In the taxi she didn’t disclose the identity of his presumed father, just that Mutesi had been a rape victim and she had helped her give birth before she passed away.

  At that point, he said quietly and thoughtfully, “My God. She was younger than I am when she gave birth. And then she died. That’s terrible.”

  After Emma managed to explain how she had smuggled him out of Rwanda and into England, he didn’t speak for a while. “Isn’t that illegal?” He finally asked.

  “I suppose it is. But if you love someone enough, doesn’t it become perfectly legal?”

  “Is that why you did it? I was just a little African baby.”

  “Not to me. I helped to bring you into the world. Who else could care for you when Mutesi died?”

  Leo didn’t speak, just took her hand and looked at her in a way she’d never seen before.

  When she finished the story, he asked many questions about her experience at the clinic and the work she had done to save mothers and their children. What kind of a man was Tony? Why had he left her and the child he had rescued to go off with another woman? How had those events affected her life back in the UK? Leo understood the principles of cause and effect.

  As far as he could see, she had handled it brilliantly, bringing him up and looking after them both whilst finding the time to earn a living as a successful author.

  When they arrived at York House he helped her out of the taxi and gave her a ti
ght hug. “Thanks for saving me from an African orphanage. I much prefer being Leo Stewart and having you as my mother.”

  Now, they climbed the stone staircase alongside the stream that Charlie had designed four years before at the wheel of a tractor and came to the small lake on the plateau above the house. Looking to the South, Leo had never seen such a wonderful vista. Visibility was so good that the Atlas Mountains in Morocco stood out clearly, one hundred and fifty kilometres across the Mediterranean. On arriving at the house he had realised that Aunt Jennie must be a very wealthy lady; the place was simply fabulous, but she was the nicest and most modest person he’d ever met. Over lunch they hadn’t talked about his abduction, she’d shown a lot of interest in his life, his schooling and hobbies. He knew she’d been a school teacher and had lost her husband and wondered why she hadn’t remarried and had children. He didn’t like to ask such personal questions, he’d find out in due course.

  His mother had also told him that she was prepared to pay the ransom money. She must be incredibly fond of my mom, he thought. She paid for her to escape and she was ready to pay the ransom to free me.

  “Do you know anything more about the people who abducted me? I mean the real organisers? Pedro told me that he had some ideas but he wasn’t sure yet, it needed more detective work. He seems to be really smart, he tied the murders up in South Africa in just a few hours. The police chief was on TV taking the credit, but I know it was Pedro who did all the work.”

  “Let’s put that aside for now. We’ll leave it to him and just enjoy our few days together. You’re on holiday now.”

  London, England

  Dudley had put his US mobile onto silent to avoid disturbing the other clients at the Petrichor. He had spotted two cabinet ministers at the bar and a group including a couple of TV celebrities and he didn’t want to attract attention to himself. The phone vibrated gently on the table four times whilst he was eating, always showing the same 0033 number. It was his contact in Marseille, no doubt calling about the merchandise on the Erzurat. The ship was due to dock there the following day and he had given no delivery instructions, nor did he intend to. He had employed that channel of delivery several times over the last several years, but never before involving drugs. He had always known the time would come when he would have to close it before it became compromised and him with it. That time had now come.