Rough Cut (14 page)

   When Jacques had finished telling Eloise his life story, he looked at her and tried to discern, from the expression on her face, what she thought of what he had told her.

   “And she’s never told you who your father is?” she queried, her tone clearly indicating how strange she felt that was. Jacques shook his head.

   “And now you know everything about me,” he said.

   She smiled. She didn’t say anything but her smile voiced her feelings perfectly. It wasn’t a smile of pity, nor was it a joyous or seductive smile. What Eloise’s smile conveyed to Jacques was intimacy and tenderness, and a depth of feeling known only to those in love.

   Then, her smile faded and a serious look came into her eyes. She put out her arm and pushed him back onto his towel before leaning over him, pressing herself against him and kissing him deeply on the lips.

   After about a minute had passed, Eloise pulled her head slowly back from him and looked down at him. He smiled and put his hands behind his head in a nonchalant manner.

   “I have another charter tomorrow,” he announced. “Will you crew for me?”

   “Why? Is Yvonne not available?”

   “No. It was a last minute booking and Françoise is away, so she has to work in the gallery.” Eloise smiled and nodded.

   “Then of course I will,” she said, “I’d like that.”

   Jacques sat up, a happy smile on his face. “Good!” he said. “Shall we get some lunch?”

   Eloise nodded as Jacques stood up and started gathering his things together. She followed suit and before long they were walking along the beach together towards the Capitainerie and the hotel.

   “I have a suggestion,” said Jacques as they reached the Capitainerie and came to a stop near the Esprit. Eloise looked at him enquiringly before he continued. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to spend money on a hotel. Why don’t you come and stay on the Esprit?”

   A little surprised by his suggestion, Eloise gave him a shocked look, not sure what to say. “On the Esprit?! With you?!” she said and Jacques realised what she was thinking. He reacted quickly.

   “I didn’t mean....” His face broke into a smile. “Although that would be nice. No, there’s a spare cabin. You could stay in the forward cabin. Yes?”

   Eloise looked at him intently and a smile spread across her face. “OK. Why not?” she said. “I’ll get my stuff together and check out of the hotel. I’ll be back in about half an hour, OK?”

   Jacques nodded and smiled and Eloise gave him a quick kiss on the lips as they parted. Jacques watched her as she headed for the hotel, a noticeable spring in her step.

CHAPTER 9

Very early the next morning, Carter and Conrad, dressed in their suits, were seated side by side on Jet2 flight 202 from Leeds to Nice.

   “The guys in New York say they think the code is some sort of alphanumeric substitution, probably based on a key text,” said Carter. “It’s a simple but effective coding system.”

   “So what use is another message we can’t decode?” questioned Conrad.

   “None. But where we find a message there’s a good chance we might also find the key text. The message is useless without that, so it must be somewhere. We just have to find it, that’s all.”

   “Simple,” said Conrad jokingly as Carter settled back into his seat and closed his eyes to review, mentally, the progress he had made over the last week.

   Initially, he had been unable to get beyond Philippe Lacoste and the mine in Guinea. He had satisfied himself that the synthetic diamonds were not being made there; it just wasn’t practical. In any case, he knew that it would not be the appropriate point at which to feed them into the distribution system. He had seen enough synthetic diamonds over the years to know that they look more like cut diamonds than uncut ones and that the best point at which to introduce them into the system would be at the cutting house stage. That meant they were much more likely to be making them somewhere else.

   Carter also knew that the creation of man-made diamonds could only be achieved effectively in two ways. One of these required the construction of a pressure chamber made up of several large pyramid shaped pieces, with their apexes meeting in the middle of the chamber. Then, enough pressure had to be applied to the base of each pyramid such that the cumulative pressure at the apex of the pyramids was enough to push the tiny quantity of graphite in the small  container at the centre of the chamber over the conversion pressure barrier. But to reach the necessary pressure, the ratio between the base area of the pyramid and the area of the apex meant that the pressure chamber had to be at least ten feet across. And the process was slow, requiring the pressure to be applied for several days to produce a one carat diamond.

   The other method involved taking a tiny crystal of diamond and placing it in a solution of graphite such that the tiny crystal grew into a gem sized diamond. This method did not require the large bulky equipment that the first method needed but it still needed a chamber the size of a wardrobe in which to conduct the process and it took even longer than the high pressure, high temperature method. Using the chemical vapour deposition method, it could take several weeks for the crystal to grow to a size where it could be used in jewellery.

   Although Carter was very well acquainted with the theory of synthetic diamonds, their atomic construction and the ways in which they could be synthesised, Conrad was the Federation’s technical expert on the case. As well as being very handy with a gun, which had come in useful on more than one occasion in the past, Conrad was the one with detailed first hand experience of the latest technology being used for the manufacture of synthetic diamonds. He had told Carter that even with the most advanced equipment available, it would still require a very large space to house enough units to produce the diamonds in significant quantities.

   And then there was the coded message. There would surely be some clues in that. But they would have to find the key text before they could decipher the message and the experts in New York had told him that the key text could be any book as long as both the sender and the recipient of the message were using exactly the same edition of the same book. It didn’t even need to be a published book, any sufficiently large body of text would do although it was more usual to use published works as these were less obvious.  The experts had also said that if the key text could be found, then decoding the message would be a simple task with each group of numbers representing the page, line, word and letter in the text.

   Then Nicole had told him about Eloise finding another message on Jacques’ boat. Did that mean that the book could also be on the boat? If it was, it should be fairly easy to find. How many books could there be on a boat? But Nicole had told him that if he wanted her continued co-operation, he must not let Eloise get involved. That would make things more complicated, especially as she had also told him that Eloise was spending a lot of time with Jacques. What if she was on the boat with him? How could he avoid involving her? Especially if Jacques was mixed up in what was going on?

   As he pondered these things, Carter’s brain grew tired and before long he was asleep. The next thing he knew was his arm being shaken by a stewardess as the plane started its descent into Nice airport.

   “We’ll be landing in a few minutes, sir. Please fasten your seat belt.”

   Carter looked out of the window as the plane turned east after crossing the coastline of southern France. As it did so, Carter was able to see the French Riviera bathed in the early morning sunshine. The deep blue sea running up to golden beaches, and bordered by hotels and palm trees, was a beautiful sight. Inland the holiday scene gave way to the mountains of the Alpes Maritimes. Before long they were passing the Cap d’Antibes and Carter could see the runway at Nice airport reaching out into the sea. A minute or two later, the plane turned north and the runway disappeared beneath it.

   It was a few minutes past nine o’clock when Carter and Conrad stepped off the plane onto the steps leading down to the tarmac and as they did, the heat enveloped them, reminding them that it was the height of summer. Inside the airport buildings, air conditioning provided welcome relief from the heat and Carter turned to Conrad.

   “We’ll need to find a taxi to take us to Sainte Maxime,” he said.

   “How far is it?” asked Conrad.

   “About fifty miles, as the crow flies.”

   “Then I’d better pay a visit before we leave,” said Conrad, as he headed for the public toilets.

   Soon Carter and Conrad were in the back of a taxi, racing along the Autoroute la Provençale which runs from Nice to Marseille. At Fréjus the driver turned off the autoroute to take the coast road to Sainte Maxime. It was a Sunday and the volume of local traffic was somewhat reduced so the journey took only a little over an hour but the absence of air conditioning in the car meant that by the time they arrived at the Hotel du Promenade, their shirts were wet with perspiration and they were tired and irritable.

   “Pay the man,” said Carter as he got out of the taxi. “I’ll go and check in.”

   Ten minutes after they had checked in, Carter and Conrad were sitting in the hotel lounge, close to where Eloise had been sitting only a couple of days earlier. They had changed into more casual clothes and were starting to cool down as they enjoyed a refreshing glass of ice cold coca cola.

   “Ah, that’s better,” said Conrad as he downed the last drop before putting his glass on the table and turning to Carter.

   “So, what’s the plan from here?” he asked.

   “First, we check out Jacques Armand’s boat,” responded Carter. “New York say someone called du Bois, from an agency in Sainte Maxime, should have hired it for us for the afternoon. He’s supposed to be meeting us here at one to take us to Port Grimaud.”

   “Then what?”

   “Then…” Carter was thinking hard but no plan presented itself, “Then we play it by ear. Somehow we have to try and search Jacques’ boat and find the book, if it’s there, without him being aware of what we’re doing.”

   “It’s not much of a plan,” said Conrad matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell him what we want and ask him for it?”

   “I agree it’s not much of a plan. And that it would be easier to come straight out with it and ask him if we can search his boat. Except for one thing, we don’t know who’s involved and who’s not and it’s entirely possible that Jacques is involved. So I think it would be better for us to keep our powder dry for now. And for another, according to Nicole, Eloise is seeing him and I promised her I would try to keep Eloise out of it. So, that’s what we’ll do, if we can.” Carter paused to allow Conrad to consider his plan. “But if you’ve got a better plan, taking all of that into account, then let’s hear it.”

   Conrad did not have a better plan, he was an engineer not a detective and was there mainly for his technical input and to provide Carter with back up. He let the matter drop.

   “Let’s go and find ourselves some lunch,” suggested Carter as he drained his glass and got up.

_________________________

   After Carter and Conrad had finished their lunch at a café in Sainte Maxime, they returned to the hotel lounge to await the arrival of du Bois. While they were sitting there enjoying a beer, in front of Carter was a folded letter from the FIDT which he had removed from his pocket, re-read and put on the table. It had been emailed to him before he left the UK and provided him with the name and contact details for the private detective they had hired to assist him as necessary in Sainte Maxime. He had printed the letter out at the hotel in York so that he would have the information easily accessible when needed.

   As they relaxed in the lounge, Conrad drained his glass and called the waiter over. He ordered two more beers just as a short man dressed in cream trousers and a colourful patterned shirt appeared at the entrance. The man was also wearing sunglasses and a panama hat and Carter spotted him looking in their direction. He changed Conrad’s order to three beers, acknowledging Conrad’s enquiring look with a nod towards the man.

   “Is that him?” asked Conrad.

   “I think so. He looks like he could be our man in Sainte Maxime,” answered Carter.

   The man approached the table and removed the hat he was wearing. He also removed his sunglasses as he addressed Carter and Conrad who were sitting expectantly at the table.

   “Monsieur Jefferson?” he asked.

   “Oui, c’est moi,” said Carter, standing up and offering his hand. “You must be Monsieur du Bois.”

   “Yes, that is my name.” The man took the offered hand. “But please, call me Antoine.”

   “OK, Antoine,” said Carter, “This is Conrad. He’s working with me on this case.”

   Antoine acknowledged Conrad and sat in the empty chair beside Carter. The waiter appeared with their beers and placed them on the table.

   “I took the liberty of ordering one for you when I saw you come in,” said Carter, “I hope you drink beer.”

   “Thank you. It is most acceptable,” replied Antoine lifting the glass and draining it at one go.

   “Would you like another?” asked Carter as he watched in amazement.

   Antoine raised his hand as if he were trying to stop traffic. “Thank you, no. We must get on with business. Time is short.” Carter nodded in agreement as Antoine continued. “I have spoken to Jacques Armand, as you requested, and his boat is booked for you for this afternoon, commencing at two o’clock. It will take half an hour to get to Port Grimaud from here; the traffic is bad at this time of year, you know. So many tourists! So we must leave now. I have a car and a driver waiting outside to take us there.”

   “That’s excellent. Thank you,” said Carter.

   “Monsieur Jefferson…” said Antoine hesitantly.

   “Carter, please call me Carter.”

   “Ah, bien. Carter. Are you able to tell me what this is about?”