African Pursuit (17 page)

‘My apologies for the somewhat unconventional approach,’ Clive began, ‘and as we have delicate matters to consider I can assure you that nobody in the building other than your secretary is aware of my visit. I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why.’ The ambassador’s haunted look told Clive that no explanation was necessary. Here was a man who knew he was about to hear some unpleasant truths.

‘First, in fairness to you and out of common courtesy, I must tell you that your cousin Luke is dead. He fell while attempting to ford a river and was attacked by crocodiles. I don’t know how close he was to you but please accept my sympathies at your loss.’ The ambassador
nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He wanted to know what was coming next. In truth he had never been close to Luke, and apart from being jealous at his academic success, had not had any interest in him. On the few occasions they had met, when the ambassador had worked in the Rio embassy, he had not particularly liked him. The ambassador was, however, desperate for the fortune that his association with Luke had promised to yield, to save him from professional ruin, and that now seemed very unlikely to materialise.

‘The other thing I want to talk about,’ Clive continued, ‘is this.’ He slid the faxed telephone transcript across the desk. ‘I think I’m safe in saying that if this goes to the right desk in London you can say goodbye to the Foreign Office, your reputation and probably your pension.’

The ambassador paled under his tan but remained completely impassive as he read the document. Then he looked at Clive and said.

‘This is blackmail, isn’t it? Who are you and what do you want?’ Clive thought carefully before replying.

‘Yes, I’m afraid it is blackmail. I am not, however, seeking to destroy you, I simply want you to correct the injustice you have done to me and my friends the Bonaventure family – who incidentally have now discovered their missing child, Grace.’ What happened next took Clive completely by surprise. He had expected denial, expostulation, aggression, threats, even violence, but the ambassador slowly leant over the desk and put his head in his hands.

‘I’ve been such a fool,’ he said, his voice trembling.

Clive instantly felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. He knew only too well how the professor could manipulate people. After a moment’s thought he reached over and retrieved his transcript.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘this document isn’t in the public domain; I came across it by chance and the malpractice discussed in it will never actually take place now that Luke is dead.’ The ambassador nodded. ‘So if I destroy this, London will never know about it and in return you can lift the unjust restrictions placed upon us and set about legitimizing Grace’s position with a British passport and a proper birth certificate.’

‘I could certainly do that,’ the ambassador replied. He had a hunted expression, ‘and I appreciate your decency in offering not to expose me but I’m afraid there’s another complication. I will almost certainly no longer be ambassador by the end of the month – that’s next week – and embassy business will be thrown into turmoil. Grace’s complicated passport application will then be merely routine business and may have to wait until a new ambassador is appointed. It could take weeks or even months.’

‘Why might you not be ambassador?’ asked Clive.

‘It’s a long story,’ said the ambassador wearily, ‘and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.’

‘I’ve got all the time in the world,’ Clive retorted. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it anyway? You’ve got absolutely nothing to lose: at best this is probably going to cost you your job and your reputation; at worst, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a Congo jail.’ He paused briefly before adding grimly, ‘– and that would be a very short life from what I‘ve heard.’

The distraught man thought in silence for several moments. Then he looked up.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘you’re right – but first let’s have a cup of tea. He pressed a buzzer and spoke to his secretary. ‘May as well make use of these little privileges while I can,’ he said giving Clive a twisted smile.
‘Now let me bare all. As you say, I’ve nothing to lose. The reason I so desperately needed money from Luke was because I have a secret passion for gambling –
had
I should say, because now, although it’s too late, I’ve given up the habit completely. I got into debt with a gambling syndicate based here in Kinshasa and my debt reached such a level that they demanded some kind of security until it was repaid; otherwise they would expose me. I stopped gambling and repaid the debt – fortunately I had a generous legacy from a distant aunt. Then, to my horror, they refused to return my security. I had thought there was some honour among thieves, but realise now that I was being totally naïve.’

‘What was it – the thing you gave him?’ asked Clive.

‘You won’t believe I did this,’ said John, ‘but remember I had no choice.’ The secretary came in and gave them tea and biscuits on beautiful Victorian crockery. ‘The embassy has certain assets,’ the ambassador resumed after she had closed the door behind her. ‘In addition to financial credits in banks we actually own a significant number of artefacts. These are mostly presents from visiting potentates, heads of government, other ambassadors, tribal chiefs and similar dignitaries. They are often indigenous products – traditional wooden carvings, tapestries and such like. Some are extremely valuable and are kept in a vault to which only I have access. By far the most valuable of these assets is a diamond that was owned by King Solomon, a truly fabulous stone called “The Wisdom of King Solomon”. Legend has it that when Solomon was visited by the Queen of Sheba she saw the stone on a pendant round his neck and tried to seduce him into giving it to her. He was wise enough to refuse and that is how the stone got its name.’ Clive nodded – he had read Rider Haggard and knew that King Solomon’s legendary diamond mines were thought to
be somewhere in Africa. ‘I’m sure that I don’t now need to tell you,’ continued the ambassador, ‘that it was this precious jewel that I used as security against my debt and when the syndicate refused to return the stone I was simply devastated. I couldn’t tell the police or make a fuss because of course my gambling and my “borrowing” of a precious embassy possession would be exposed and I would be ruined.’

‘How much do they want?’ asked Clive bluntly.

‘Agreat deal – as I suspect you’ve already guessed,’ the ambassador replied. ‘The actual stone is flawless but isn’t much use to them; they can’t sell it because it is too famous and its provenance is universally known. If they cut it up its value will only be a fraction of what it is worth as a single unblemished gem. So, of course, they’d rather have money and it’s insured for one million pounds. That is the amount that Luke was going to give me.’

‘Where is it?’ asked Clive. The ambassador gave a hollow laugh.

‘Don’t even think about it. Retrieving the stone would be quite out of the question. It currently resides at the home of one of the gambling syndicate. He lives by extortion and is one of the richest men in Kinshasa. His enormous villa is in the western suburbs of the city and is impregnable.’

Clive suddenly remembered something that had been said earlier.

‘You said you might not be ambassador in a week,’ he asked. ‘What’s magic about a week?’ The ambassador groaned.

‘That’s the final twist of the knife,’ he said. ‘Every year the embassy assets are checked and audited. The audit is usually in late September, but for some bureaucratic reason to do with tax or insurance or whatever, they’ve brought it forward. The auditors come in on Monday. Once I open the vault I’m destroyed.’ He drank his cup of tea then put it down and walked to the wall cupboard. ‘I think I
need something stronger – will you join me?’ Clive nodded and they sat together drinking the finest whisky the embassy possessed as they contemplated the bleak situation.

‘It does seem to me,’ said Clive slowly, ‘and without in any way condoning what you have done, that it would be in everybody’s best interests if the diamond could be in your vault before the auditors arrive on Monday. It would help me and my family, especially Grace, it would preserve the reputation of our embassy and indeed our country, and it would also help you. The only ones for whom it would be bad news are the extortionist syndicate who have cheated you.’

‘That would all be fine, even though I wouldn’t deserve it,’ said the ambassador, ‘but for one single fact, which is that the retrieval of the stone is simply not feasible.’ Clive took a sip of whisky as he pondered on how to say what he wished to say.

‘You have been very honest with me,’ he eventually said after a long pause, ‘and I will now be honest with you in return, but I must first ask you a question. Did Luke ever tell you how he proposed to make this fortune?’

‘No. All I know is that he said he’d invented something incredible that couldn’t fail.’

‘Well first of all, just to set the record straight, it wasn’t
his
invention, though it did come out of his department. I can’t tell you exactly what it was because I’m honour bound to keep it secret. I can tell you, however, that his description was no exaggeration. It
is
incredible and it
does
work. It is also in my possession and I intend to return it to its rightful owner, a young scientist in Rio. In the meantime, however, I intend to use it to get us out of the situation we are in.’

‘But how can you possibly make enough money in time for it to be any use?’ said the Ambassador.

‘It only makes money in an indirect way,’ Clive explained, picking his words carefully. ‘What it actually does is to make people unaware of what is actually going on.’

‘You mean a kind of hypnotism?’

‘I suppose that’s as good a way of imagining it as any,’ Clive replied, with a nod. ‘It’s certainly all I’m going to tell you about it. You’ll have to trust me that I think we’ve got a chance of retrieving your precious stone. The great thing is, the villains won’t know that you’ve got it back – they’ll just think it has been pinched from them. If they should ever bring up the question of payment with you again you simply ask to see the stone first and there can only be an embarrassed silence. And they certainly can’t ever check in the embassy vault to see if you’ve got it or not.’ The ambassador’s face lightened. He was beginning to believe that Clive’s plan might be just feasible, and was already looking more animated than he had so far looked since Clive had first come in. Then he frowned.

‘I believe everything you’ve told me about the invention,’ he said, ‘Luke was very convincing about it and you sound just the same. There is a problem, however – a very big problem.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Clive.

‘This hypnotism – or whatever – may work with people, but this character’s villa is protected by animals – dangerous animals. He has rottweilers and cheetahs roaming the grounds, and his valuables are rumoured to be protected by crocodiles. Your invention will presumably be useless against them. I never heard of anyone hypnotizing a croc.’ Clive just smiled.

‘It’ll be OK. Trust me!’ He drained his glass and pulled a town map from his pocket and spread it on the desk between them.

‘Now, where exactly does this interesting gentleman live?’

A minute after Clive had left the room the ambassador saw that he had left the fax transcript on the desk. He quickly rang security at the front gate.

‘I’ve just had a visitor,’ he said, ‘and he’s left something behind. Please let him know and then send someone up for it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ A few minutes later, the security guard rang back and the secretary put him through. ‘We’re just about to close the main gates for the night sir, but there’s been no sign of your visitor. Shall I wait a few moments more?’

‘No-oo,’ said the ambassador thoughtfully. ‘No, he must have left earlier. Thank you. Good night.’

‘Goodnight, sir.’

So, whatever this invention is, it really does work, thought the ambassador as he put the phone down. He picked up the fax. Maybe Clive had left it as a sign of good faith. He locked it in his private wall safe and picked up the phone to his secretary.

‘Put me through to the Bonaventures in Salonga please – oh, and while I’m on the phone to them, check and see if anyone’s still working down in passports.’

T
hat evening Clare rang her parents in Salonga to tell them that the situation was improving and was delighted to learn that the ambassador had already contacted them to tell them their travel restrictions had been lifted, that their visa problems would soon be sorted out and that he was working on Grace’s passport.

‘It looks as though he’s keeping to his side of the bargain he made with you,’ she told Clive, ‘so we’d better get on with ours!’ They all then had a long discussion about the best plan for retrieving the diamond. Clive had assumed that he would be the one to go, but Lucy said that if they could adjust the invisibility robe to fit her it would be better, as she could talk to any guard animals directly.

‘In case you’ve both forgotten,’ said Clare after listening to them arguing. ‘We’re in Kinshasa where they speak French. As you’re both hopeless at French, you won’t know if anything useful is being said.
I’m
the one who should go and Lucy can fix the animals from outside before I go in. Anyway,’ she added with a smile. ‘I’m dying to have a go with that robe at least once.’

Her logic was unassailable so it was agreed that she should go and they adjusted the robe to fit her. She then rang the ambassador on the home number he’d given Clive to get an exact description of the diamond.

‘He’s not getting you to go in there is he?’ the ambassador said in genuine distress. ‘These are vicious ruthless people who’ll stop at nothing.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Clare reassured him. ‘It’s going to be a combined operation.’

‘Well, the very best of luck to you,’ said the ambassador. ‘I think you’re very courageous. Oh, and please thank Clive for leaving the fax and tell him that after he left today I rang his parents in Salonga.’

The next morning Clive and Lucy took a taxi from their hotel and went to a large villa in an affluent suburb. The villa was invisible from the road because it was surrounded by a high wall surmounted with barbed wire. An imposing drive led from the main road up to a guard house adjacent to two massive iron gates. Beyond the gate a cheetah was just visible, sauntering across the drive.

The taxi door opened.

‘Goodbye! Good luck!.’ The door closed. The taxi driver glanced in the mirror before driving off and was astonished to see that there were still two people in the back. Tourists! he thought. Always changing their mind. He was just about to ask where they would like to go instead when the door opened again.

‘What about the animals?’ a voice said.

‘Gosh, sorry, I forgot all about it!’ Lucy and Clive got out and asked the driver to wait a few moments. They walked up and down as though admiring the gates while a security guard with a heavy automatic weapon eyed them suspiciously. They walked away from the gates to some nearby trees and soon a monkey swung down to sit on a low branch. He seemed very interested in Lucy. After a few moments Lucy spoke – apparently to nobody in particular, as far as the guard could make out.

‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘He’s intelligent. In fact he’s going to go in and stick around all the time you’re there. He says the crocs aren’t too bright and may not get it quite right, so it’s best if he’s there.’

‘Crocodiles! Nobody said anything about crocodiles!’ said a disembodied voice.

‘Well, you were the one who insisted on going.’ replied Lucy. ‘It was a straight choice between speaking French and speaking crocodile and you won the argument.’ Clive smiled at this sisterly interchange. Lucy suddenly grinned.

‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘I was only teasing. Good luck!’ She and Clive went back to the taxi as the monkey swung effortlessly over the wall into the villa grounds.

‘Were you really teasing?’ said Clive as the taxi moved off. ‘I thought the ambassador did mention crocs, but maybe I didn’t tell you.’

‘No, I wasn’t teasing,’ said Lucy with a grin. ‘But she was being a bit of a wimp and I’m sure the monkey’ll see she’s OK.’

After the taxi had driven off Clare suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. Her confidence of the night before suddenly seemed to have evaporated. She began to worry what would happen if the robe’s energizer suddenly failed – it didn’t bear thinking about. Even Lucy’s reassurance that she and Clive would soon hear from the animals if anything went wrong didn’t completely assuage her fears.

Just then a large car drove up to the gates and the guard jumped to attention. He spoke to two other heavily armed guards who came through a small door beside the main gates and asked the occupants of the car to get out. They then frisked them and examined the contents of their briefcases, the interior of the car and the boot, before nodding to the guard and standing back and saluting. He then pressed a button
and the gates swung open and the car passed through followed closely by Clare. Once inside she felt a surge of adrenaline and confidence. The guard hadn’t taken the slightest notice of her – so the robe was effective, and a cheetah sniffed at her, then nonchalantly strolled away – so Lucy’s instructions to the monkey seemed to be working. She hurried up to the house where the door was open and a maid greeting the visitors who had just arrived. Clare slipped in and followed them into a meeting room. It was thick with acrid tobacco smoke and, she thought, possibly other kinds of smoke and she had to resist a sudden desire to cough. The newcomers sat at the only three remaining vacant spaces at a large ebony table. At the head of the table sat a large, fleshy man with a nose stud and a cruel face. He was dressed in expensive clothes, wore a large Rolex watch and had heavy rings of gold and precious stones on his stubby fingers. To Clare’s horror he started speaking in Lingala, but after a brief statement in this tongue he switched to French and she relaxed.

‘Thanks again for coming, and welcome to our syndicate,’ he said. ‘I think our little club is getting so large,’ he continued, ‘we may have to meet in a larger room next month – or even a larger house.’ The group all laughed at this – they all knew there wasn’t a larger property anywhere in Kinshasa. Clare couldn’t believe her luck. She had obviously stumbled in on a meeting likely to provide a great deal of information.

‘Anyway, it’s a sign of our continuing success that we are growing in number and I’m pleased to announce that, for the first time since we formed our little business group, our returns this month from the – ahem –
personal
documents and photographs that have fallen into our possession, has actually exceeded the income from our legitimate gambling saloons and casinos.’ He turned and addressed the three
newcomers directly. ‘And I understand that, as a little gesture of goodwill on being invited to join us, you have brought along some new paperwork to add to our little collection.’

The leading newcomer smiled, nodded, and passed a large folder to the main man. He flicked through the letters and photographs and beamed after looking at one or two in detail.

‘Excellent, excellent,’ he murmured and he started to pass examples round to his crew. There were approving noises and grunts as the group perused the documents and several members congratulated the newcomers on the quality of their material. They went on talking for another two hours and Clare was just beginning to wish she hadn’t had that extra coffee after breakfast when, to her intense relief, the chairman called the meeting to a close. He gathered up the new material into a folder, and led the way into a large reception room lavishly decorated with polished hardwood furniture and imported cutlery, glassware and china. Exquisite African carvings filled numerous alcoves and the floor was covered in exotic animal skins. The tusks and horns of various protected and endangered species adorned the walls and the head of a magnificent leopard graced the panelling behind the top of a polished mahogany table which was covered in canapes and cocktails.

As the group helped themselves to the nibbles and drinks the boss man excused himself for a moment and left through a side door with the folder under his arm, followed closely by Clare. He went along a corridor and out of the house on to a large flagstoned patio which was open on all sides and was covered by a thatched roof supported on wooden beams. On the patio there was a long table covered with delicacies. These were protected from flies by embroidered muslin covers and cooks were preparing a further selection of meats on
barbecues and spits. The smell was delicious and Clare began to feel hungry. The man she was following nodded to one of the cooks who immediately picked up a large hunk of raw meat and accompanied him. Still followed by Clare they walked through a small garden, where peacocks strutted, and soon they came to a small lake which was entirely surrounded by a high fence of steel netting. The top of the fence curved outwards and was strung with barbed wire bearing a voltage sign with a skull and crossbones on it, to indicate it was electrified. There was an entrance gate in the fence and from this a concrete causeway led across the water to an island on which stood a small wooden cabin. Along each side of the causeway ran steel grooves. Something moved as the three of them approached and Clare saw that the pool was teeming with crocodiles, three or four of which were basking on the causeway. She made a mental note to deal with Lucy later.

At the entrance to the gate was a security panel. The man lifted the flap on this and inserted a key from a gold chain around his neck. He then gave another nod to the cook who lifted the flap on a small aperture in the fence and threw the meat he had brought into the pool. There was a thrashing of tails as the crocodiles fought to reach the snack and the animals on the causeway immediately slid into the water to join the fray. As soon as they had all gone the man turned the key and two metal fences arose from the grooves alongside the causeway. He turned and made a dismissive gesture to the cook, who returned to his duties.

The man then tapped out a code on the security pad. Clare was now standing right beside him and memorized the six-digit code. As soon as he pressed the last button the gate slid open and he now had a clear path to the cabin door, the steel fences on either side of the
causeway protecting him from the crocodiles. He moved quickly across the causeway, followed by Clare and went into the cabin using the same code. There were three rooms inside: a large office, a kitchenette and, much to Clare’s relief, a toilet. The office contained a table with a phone, a filing cabinet with three drawers, and a computer. The top drawer of the filing cabinet was labelled (in French) “Syndicate accounts”; the second drawer, “Letters and photos”; and the bottom drawer,“Items”. The man put his folder on the table and took out the material the newcomers had given him. He opened the second drawer, put the documents in a file marked “unsorted” and closed it. The cabinet was unlocked, somewhat to Clare’s surprise, then she reminded herself that the entire crocodile enclosure was, in effect, one large walk-in safe.

The man went to the door, keyed in the same code as before, and returned across the causeway. Once the far gate had closed behind him he took the golden key from his neck and stuck it into the security console. Seconds later the causeway rails retracted into their seatings and within moments some crocodiles had hauled themselves out onto the causeway again for a sunbathe. The man hurried back to join the pre-lunch reception and, after a quick trip to the loo, Clare set to work. The top drawer of the filing cabinet contained accounts related to the restaurants, bars and casinos run by the syndicate and seemed straightforward and non-incriminating. They were obviously documents concerned with the legitimate front of the organization and would, no doubt, be the only ones submitted for perusal by auditors and tax officials. The second drawer was much more interesting. It contained, in addition to the ‘unsorted’ file, a meticulously labelled set of envelopes, each with a name and address on it. Clare opened one which contained a letter of a highly personal
nature and a photograph, which Clare suspected, the owner would dearly love to have back in her possession. She flicked through some of the other envelopes; all contained similar documents. Some bore the titles and addresses of people who were prominent officials – either on the outside envelope or on the material within. All the letters and papers contained information about which the original owners were obviously being blackmailed. Clare knew that the names and addresses on the envelopes would be in the computer and every week or month an address label and letter would be generated with a request for a monetary payment. If the payment didn’t appear, the secret material in the cabinet would be made public – a risk none of those being blackmailed could possibly afford to take.

Clare remembered what she had come for and opened the bottom drawer. It was the most fascinating section of all, containing a vast and motley range of items: cuff-links, scarves, wristwatches, brooches, knives, a handgun, theatre tickets, a nightclub cloakroom tag, and various articles of clothing including a pair of slippers and, bizarrely, a single shoe. Each item was tagged neatly with a name and address and a note as to where it had been obtained. As she gazed at the apparently innocuous pile of assorted objects she realised that every one of them, because of the circumstances in which it had been found or stolen, was so compromising to its original owner that he or she was prepared to pay a fortune to the blackmailers in order to protect themselves from exposure. She felt physically sick as she thought of the ongoing mental anguish and torment that the contents of the cabinet represented for the hundreds of victims of the extortionists. At the bottom was a box covered in maroon felt bearing the British royal coat of arms and Clare knew without examining the label that she had found what she sought. She opened the spring lid with a
click and gasped in wonder as she saw the exquisite stone nestling in its bed of finest satin. Clare had brought under her robes a large bag. She had expressed surprise at its size when Clive had produced it, for she already knew from the ambassador the modest dimensions of the lost diamond box.

‘I just think you may find it comes in useful,’ Clive had said enigmatically and now, as she looked at the files in front of her, she knew what he had meant. First she took the jewel box, then she took all the contents of the document and photograph file. There wasn’t much room left in her bag but she took some of the smaller items from the bottom drawer and squashed them in. Then she walked to the door and prayed that the security code didn’t change according to a protocol every time it was used. She tapped in the code she had memorized and the cabin door slid back. She saw the crocodiles scattered across the causeway and faltered, but then, on the meshed roof of the enclosure, she saw Lucy’s monkey calmly sitting grooming himself and felt reassured. She wedged the door open with a chair then returned to the filing cabinet and threw the remaining contents of the items drawer into the pool. The shoe and slippers and pieces of clothing were instantly swallowed or torn to bits by the crocodiles. The inedible items sank into the soft muddy bottom and disappeared.