She and Bob had a long talk. Bob was moved by her plight, and he felt a bit responsible since Debbie had quit her job over a mission involving his coffee plantation. He didn't like to see her looking so burnt out and hopeless.
"You know, Debbie," he told her, placing one hand on hers in a gesture of kindness and also an effort to stop her from taking another big gulp of her beer, "there are other things you can do. Have you ever thought of being a freelance spy? You've already gone rogue, so there isn't much left for you. It's an option though."
Debbie shrugged. "Who the hell is going to hire me, Bob? I work as a waitress. The only people who could afford me are snooty Harvard and MIT kids who want me to sneak into a professor's office and change their final exam grades!" She looked exasperated.
"That's not true, Debbie," Bob scolded, "come on, where's your business sense? You need a good contact. And I have one."
Debbie perked up when she heard this. She knew Bob was very well connected and she trusted him. Maybe this was the break that was going to turn her life around.
"Her name is Harriet Rothchild. I believe you know of her… I seem to recall you rambling on about her over cocktails back at Dartmouth," Bob winked. It took Debbie's beer addled brain a moment to work, and then a glow washed over her face.
"Oh yeah, she was so amazing! I remember her. A lesbian billionaire. What a gal!" Debbie gushed.
Bob nodded. Then he filled Debbie in on Harriet's current situation and how she needed help solving the mystery of her lover's death.
Debbie agreed to take the case right on the spot. She didn't even bother putting in two weeks notice.
Harriet flew Debbie out to San Francisco for a briefing. By the time Debbie presented herself in front of Harriet she had sobered up, bought some new clothes, and got a haircut. She looked like a million bucks, although Harriet was still skeptical that this litte girl in front of her really had the bad ass skills of a Navy SEAL. But she knew that looks could be deceiving.
Harriet and Debbie discussed the situation and what had happened in Kenya. Debbie would have done the job practically for free, but her business sense was restored and she decided to play a little hardball. Knowing a little bit about Harriet Rothchild, and judging from the house she was living in, she was doing better than ever before. Maybe her Kenya deal had gone sour, but it didn't seem to have hurt her much.
"I am willing to take on the assignment, but I am going to need a large, steady stream of cash flowing in order to carry out this mission," Debbie told Harriet seriously. "I am going to need money for weapons, a private jet at my disposal for travel around the world, and lots of new wardrobes for disguise. I am going to need fighting wardrobes, casual wardrobes, and upscale rich people wardrobes. I also will need a collection of Rolex watches to match different occasions. Does that sound agreeable to you?"
Harriet smiled. This girl reminded her of Sara in her brashness. And she had the shocking red hair to match her fiery attitude.
"Of course," Harriet said, without missing a beat. "I know spies for hire are hard to come by and you will be provided with everything you need and then some."
They shook hands, and Debbie got to work planning out her first moves.
The first stop would be Kenya. That was obvious. Sara had been trying to negotiate a deal at a gem mine, and Debbie knew that in Kenya there resided a large group of international gem miners and dealers who worked together to operate the world's largest gem mines and set distribution prices and government regulations and so on. They were the powerful overseers of a wealthy trade, and they would know what had happened to Sara.
Debbie spent a few days planning for her trip, buying clothing and weapons, while Harriet got a new private jet prepared and hired a pilot. Then Debbie was off to Kenya. Her first stop was a high end bar called the Brew Bistro in Piedmont Plaza on Ngong Road. The Bistro was a gorgeous place with a lot of glass fixtures. It looked distinctly Western, and most of the food being served had an American or European slant. However, Debbie noticed there was also a lot of fresh game being offered. There were all sorts of craft beers on tap, and the beer and the food all looked positively mouthwatering. Debbie saw people eating fresh guacamole served in the rind, and she saw a number of tables with classy, handmade "Reserved" markers. They were being saved for some of the wealthiest patrons and business men.
Most of the people in the club were African, as far as Debbie could tell. Some wore the subdued garb of a Western business person, others, especially the women, were dressed in brighter colors and patterns that bespoke of their African heritage. Everyone had impeccable makeup, hair, and nails. There was live jazz being played in a peppy, danceable tune, and some people were mingling on the dance floor and tapping their feet or swaying to the music, but most were in deep conversation. Debbie was dressed in a gorgeous patterned one piece with high pumps and large hoop earrings. She looked stunningly exotic but also distinctly foreign. She was hoping that someone would be enticed by her vibe, someone with some power in Kenya who might be able to lead her to the international gem association. They were supposed to be having a large meeting in a few days, and there would certainly be a lot of people fraternizing in one of the country's most popular international bars.
Debbie saddled up at the bar and ordered the cocktail of the day. She sipped it as she scanned the crowd. It looked mostly heterosexual, and Debbie was concerned she would have to end up bedding some gross middle aged dude to get the intel she needed. All the sudden, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was greeted by a stunning Kenyan beauty who looked like she had walked right off the pages of Vogue. She was tall, slender, with beautiful skin and big eyes. She had a brightly painted smile, and she wore a super chic green dress with high shoulders and a matching bag with a bamboo handle. She introduced herself as Tizz Tiziana.
Debbie invited her to take a seat, and she and Tizz got to talking. Tizz ordered a round of drinks, pushing Debbie's cocktail of the day away and ordering something off menu. It was delicious.
Tizz was definitely hitting on Debbie, and Debbie was enjoying the attention. It seemed that Tizz was very well connected, and Debbie thought she might be the perfect contact. She was also a pretty cool chick, very down to earth but also fast and fun. After the second round, the band began to play some more funky, swing style music, and Tizz took Debbie's hand and led her to the dance floor.
"I heard white girls can't dance," Tizz whispered playfully into Debbie's ear, "but I don't know about the red heads. Show me."
Debbie lit it up on the dance floor with some classic moves that wowed Tizz.
"I never seen a tourist keep up," Tizz laughed to her, leading her off the dance floor and into a dark corner of the room for a kiss. Debbie engaged with her and when they were done kissing, Tizz asked her frankly, "I know you aren't a run of the mill tourist here for a safari and some cheap jewelry. Now tell my why you're here."
Debbie told her that she was, in fact, interested in jewelry, but not the cheap kind.
"I have a lot of money I have been saving up and I wanted to invest in the jewelry business. I was hoping to get access to the international gem association meeting this week so I could get a foot in the door."
Tizz laughed heartily at this. "The jewelry business? Oh, girl! You gotta have old money for that these days. But hey, no harm trying, right? I tell you what, I know someone, she is the owner of the hotel Olare Mara Kempinski. She's my cousin. Now, some of the wealthiest gem mine owners in the country get together at her place on a regular basis. If you are willing to help me out a little bit," she squeezed Debbie's left ass cheek as she said this, "I might be able to help you out too."
That was no problem for Debbie. She would have gone to bed with this Kenyan vixen even if there was no information to be had. Tizz was hot. And boy was she wild in bed. Plus, who could turn down a night in the Olare Mara Kempinski in the Masai Mara, it was one of the nicest luxury hotels in the entire continent.
Chapter 4 , Twin Siste
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Tizz delivered on her promise and her cousin was able to negotiate two tickets for the international gem association's event. Debbie decided to take Tizz with her, and she took her out clothes shopping on Harriet's dime. They picked out some stunning designer outfits, and on the day of the event, Debbie surprised Tizz with a gift Rolex.
The event was very classy and almost entirely white. It was held in Nairobi, and it was attended by the most wealthy and influential jewelry dealers. The theme was "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend, Let's Keep Them Clean." It was all about keeping the image of the diamond clean and marketable, and there were a lot of congratulations all around about how well the dealers had been doing in making sure diamond sales were up and the gems were considered as precious and pure as ever. Most of the people attending owned mines in Africa, but Debbie was surprised to see a small group of attendees representing Russian mines.
Debbie was actually pretty impressed by what she saw. She had not expected this to be such a nice bunch of people devoted to lofty goals. The statements they made were very positive and uplifting. However, the last speaker surprised Debbie. Jennifer Rothchild, who in her older age and with her graying hair looked strikingly similar to Harriet, took to the podium and introduced herself as the heiress of B.J. Jewelry International in the United States. She gave a pretty boring and vague speech about diamonds in the United States, and there was a smattering of polite applause. Then she took her seat, next to a man that Tizz informed Debbie was the heir of the Debrew Diamond International Corporation, Charles Debrew. Jennifer snuggled up to Charles, intertwining his arm with his.
When it was time to socialize, Debbie went over to Jennifer to chat with her. Debbie told her that she was an investor looking to break into the jewelry business, and she would be very interested in purchasing Jennifer's company. Jennifer perked up quite a bit when she heard this, and she seemed more than interested in making the sale.
"That sounds great," she shared, "I am hoping to get married to this fine fella soon," she said, patting Charles on the back, "and I won't have much need for B.J. Jewelers once I'm heiress to Debrew." She gave a shrill, fake sounding laugh.
Debbie smiled, "yes, well, I can't imagine the stocks are doing too well after the death of one of the company's CEOs in a plane crash," she cooed.
Jennifer's eyes widened, and she seemed to blanch a little bit. She recovered quickly. "Let's talk later, when we have a bit more privacy," she said, and she slid Debbie her business card.
Debbie returned to Tizz and they were chatting for a while when they were interrupted by an African man dressed in a powder blue suit.
"Miss, if I can interrupt for a moment," he began.
Debbie welcomed him to sit down. This was a mixer after all.
"I heard you speaking to Miss Rothchild over there and I just wanted to inform you that Sara is not dead. She may wish to be dead, as Miss Rothchild has locked her away somewhere horrible, but she is very much alive." He looked over and saw Jennifer glaring at him, and he excused himself and walked away.
A few days after the event, Debbie decided to give Jennifer a call to talk selling. Jennifer picked up on the second ring and was gushing and excited to hurry along the deal. She invited Debbie and Tizz over to her mansion, a six bedroom house in the neighborhood of Runda in Nairobi. The house is just one of the many suburban mansions owned by Charles Debrew, who was letting Jennifer live there for free.
They lounged out on Jennifer's sprawling patio as the house's waiter brought them cold cocktail after cold cocktail, as if they were hanging out at a resort. They were getting quite drunk and dehydrated in the African sun, and at some point Jennifer blurted out that she was all ready to sell but the only thing holding her back was her sister Harriet.
"If she was gone, I would have full control of B.J. Jewelers. I am afraid she is not just a dreamer but a meddler, and it will be difficult to get her to go along with the sale." Jennifer was feeling especially whiny, and she continued, telling them, "if that bitch was out of the way I would sell to you in an instant and then I could marry Charles and live happily ever after."
Knowing what she did, Debbie was chilled to the bone by this woman's selfishness and cunning. But she was a trained CIA agent, and she didn't let on. She and Tizz shook hands with Jennifer and told her to contact Debbie whenever she was ready to complete the sale. Tizz continued to work her local contacts, and she discovered from one of the household staff at the mansion where Jennifer was living that there was an older white woman locked up in the basement. No one knew why.
Debbie contacted Harriet and told her everything she knew. Harriet was outraged and despite Debbie's protests, she decided to fly out to Kenya and get involved in this mysterious business herself.
Harriet arrived in Kenya and met Debbie at the hotel where she was staying. She told Debbie that they should go into the mansion Jennifer is renting with guns blazing and break Sara free. She said she would fund mercenaries if Debbie needed backup.
"Whatever it takes, we need to rescue Sara," Harriet said, with tears in her eyes. Debbie wanted to face palm, but she kept herself in check, this was the woman who was funding her and it would be rude to do anything of the sort. So she gave Harriet a thin lipped smile and advised her that was not the best plan.
"Right now I am deep undercover," Debbie told Harriet. "You catch a lot more flies with honey than you do with a fly swatter, right? Well, Jennifer thinks I am about to buy the company for billions of dollars and make her a very wealthy woman. She is eating from my palm right now. That's the position we want her in. We need a lot more information before we just storm the place with guns drawn."
It took some time to make Harriet see reason. Love can blind us, after all, but eventually she settled down and accepted that it was not time yet to bust Sara out of her basement prison. Still, she couldn't help but worry. She needed some sort of distraction.
By this time Debbie had worked up a good, trusting relationship with Tizz, and she believed the girl could be trusted. She decided to spill the beans to Tizz and have Tizz keep Harriet occupied and out of the public eye. The last thing Debbie needed was Jennifer catching wind that Harriet was in Kenya, and staying at the same hotel as Debbie no less! It would be a disaster. And it might just cost Sara her life. Tizz was shocked, but not too much.
"I always knew there was something deeper," she told Debbie, "you are just too smart of a girl to be going around buying jewelry companies like that. Besides, with your body, I knew you were doing more than just flying around the world and making business deals from behind a computer all day." She punctuated this sentiment with a smack on Debbie's ass. "Get it, girl," she laughed.
Harriet was not particularly amused by the goings on between Tizz and Debbie. She was paying top dollar for Debbie to work not for her to get laid. But the most important thing was that Sara was alive and they were working on a plan to free her, so Harriet held her tongue. Sex could be powerful and as long as Debbie was using it for good, I guess it didn't really matter. Anyway, maybe it was just a twinge of jealousy after being celibate since Sara's disappearance. Harriet had found in her old age that she just got hornier and hornier, and it had been a tough few weeks without her partner by her side at night.
Debbie introduced Tizz and Harriet, and told Tizz that Harriet needed to be out of Kenya for about a week. Tizz said she would be happy to help.
"What do you want to do, Ma'am? Safari? Snorkeling in some blue waters? Fine dining?" she asked.
Harriet shook her head no to all of these. "Actually, Miss Tizz," she said, "I was thinking about purchasing a diamond mine. I want to know more about the diamond business in Africa. Do you think you could help?"
Tizz looked a bit upset, and for a second Debbie thought she was going to stomp her foot on the ground like a child. But she calmed herself down, airing out her anger with a playful twist of the body, then told Harriet sternly, "Ma'am, I know you must have no idea what you are talking about to be talking such way. S
ure they present it all fine and dandy at the international gem association, clean this and clean that, but I am willing to bet you have never seen a diamond mine yourself."
Harriet nodded, she had only ever seen rough and polished diamonds imported to the United States or Europe.
"Well, let me tell you Miss Rothchild, there is not one thing 'clean' about that whole business. No matter what kind of polish or slogan you want to put on it, diamonds are dirty, dirty things. So, if you want something to do, I can give you something to do. What do you say you and me visit a half dozen or so diamond mines. You can see it for yourself, then you can make up your mind if it is something you want to take part in."
Harriet agreed, and Tizz got ready for the tour. She was going to bring along one of her many cousins (Debbie marveled at how many cousins Tizz had!), this one a woman named Faith. Faith was a bright girl who had gone to school to get a degree in journalism. She had been researching and writing about diamond mining for years. She had uncovered all sorts of shocking facts about the industry, from mines that cut off the hands and arms of children to profits going to fund civil wars and slavery rings. It was a horrible trade. That was why they called it blood diamonds, because those clear crystals were really red when you looked close at them, washed in the blood of innocent Africans.
Unfortunately, in spite of all of her research, Faith had a real hard time getting any of her work published. The Kenyan jewelry dealers had a lot of clout and they were involved in international efforts to promote clean diamonds. Of course, almost none of those diamonds were actually clean, but money talked and it also blocked Faith from getting the word out about all of the horrible things that were really going on. Even large international relief groups were unable to publish Faith's work, less they lose the support and funding of Kenyan based organizations. So Faith waited, gathering more information. She was currently working on a book that was now spanning over three hundred pages of monograph. She hoped one day the silence would be lifted and she would be able to publish all the grisly details about blood diamonds. Being so well informed and always eager for a chance to learn more, Faith agreed to serve as a tour guide for Harriet's tour of the diamond mines.
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