[African Diamonds 01.0] The Angolan Clan

by Christopher Lowery

  “I warned you, Irish bastard!” The murderer shifted his aim with the pistol and fired it at Adam. There was a flash from the barrel and the shot rang out loudly above the sound of the storm. The bullet caught him in the left side of the chest and spun him round. A second shot came and he fell to the ground on his stomach, blood starting to soak through the back of his coat from the exit wound.

  Leticia screamed Emilio’s name and tried to run towards him. Jenny put her arms around her and held her back behind the police car.

  As the gun recoiled, d’Almeida felt another deep spasm of pain from his shoulder. The fingers of his left hand were cramping and his hold on Emilio slackened. The little boy squirmed out of the raincoat onto the ground and crawled away from his grasp then scrambled up and ran towards his mother. “Mamá, Mamá.”

  The Angolan pulled up the gun again, pointing it at the running child. Espinoza aimed his pistol with both hands and fired two shots into the middle of the murderer’s chest. Leticia ran to scoop up her son, and brought him back behind the police car, holding him to her, out of harm’s way.

  The gun blasts slammed d’Almeida back against the barrier. The weakened stanchion lifted from the sodden earth and the fence fell to the ground. With a cry, he fell backwards towards the edge of the crater. As his head went back, he saw the AVENIDA PARC sign hanging right above him. He reached up to grab the frame around the edge of the huge billboard with his left hand. The cramped fingers throbbed with the effort, but he managed to hang on and stay on his feet. He lifted the gun to return Espinoza’s fire.

  His weight caused the remaining upright to lean towards him and the sign slipped further down, forcing him backwards over the crater. He realised that he couldn’t hang on with his left hand alone because of the pain in his fingers. Desperately trying to avoid falling into the void, he dropped the pistol. He took hold of the sign with his other hand, ignoring the stabbing ache in his shoulder and attempting to pull himself back onto his feet. The upright leaned further over and creaked, almost painfully, as it tried to withstand the uneven contest. The billboard fell slowly down towards the excavation. His hands gripped tighter until his knuckles whitened as he tried to prevent the massive board from collapsing behind him and taking him with it. The effort forced the veins on his neck to stand out like cords.

  The group stood stock-still as they watched the scene, unable to move, mesmerised by the final dramatic act of the night’s events. Leticia held her son in her arms, and turned his head away from the awful sight. D’Almeida, blood soaking through his shirt from the pistol wounds, was desperately clinging onto the sign and slowly slipping backwards towards the deep pit behind.

  With a sharp crack, like another gunshot, the remaining upright snapped half way up and the sign fell away towards the crater, dragging the murderer back off his feet. Still hanging on to the billboard, he was projected back over the edge of the excavation, flying headfirst and backwards into the void. He passed through the glare from the car headlight and with a final cry, disappeared into the darkness. Into the depths of Avenida Parc.

  Jenny ran over to Adam. He was lying on his stomach, still breathing, still conscious. She knelt beside his head, whispering into his ear. “Adam. Thank God you’re alive. It’s all over. D’almeida’s gone. Hang on for the ambulance. Just hang on and you’ll be alright.”

  Leticia carried her son over towards them. She leaned down to speak to him. “Thank you Adam. For Emilio’s sake. Thank you.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her, struggling to speak. There was blood around his mouth. “It wasn’t just for Emilio. It was for him and Greg.”

  The Policía Nacional officer motioned them away. He placed a cushion from his car under Adam’s head, a rug over his body. Leticia took hold of Jenny’s hand and they walked back to Espinoza’s car.

  Martín, the other officer, was kneeling beside Felipe. His body was sprawled out in the road, motionless. He checked the pulse at the wrist and at the neck, then looked across at Espinoza and shook his head. The Chief Inspector was standing at the edge of the crater, looking down into the void and shouting into his mobile phone. Organising an ambulance and other back up support. He saw the sign from Martin and shaking his head, he spat down into the darkness. Then he looked over at the two women. He nodded at Jenny, Gracias, Sra. Bishop.

  Martín drove the women and the little boy back to the house. The other Policía Nacional officer took notes as they gave him the details of Adam’s family name, his parents, his Durban address, that his mother was in Florida for his father’s funeral and they should call her there, and other responses to his questions. It all seemed so complicated to Jenny when they had to explain it like that.

  When they arrived at York House the rain had slackened off, but water was still flooding down to the street from the staircase. The small gate was still ajar. Jenny turned the emergency switch again to open up the big sliding gates and Martín drove up the driveway. He insisted on searching the property from top to bottom then saluted and went to sit in his car. Espinoza had ordered a twenty-four hour guard in case the murderer had any accomplices. Martín waited for the first patrol to arrive before leaving.

  Emilio was fast asleep again, his fingers gripping his mother’s hand. He was dirty and scratched, so Leticia gently woke him and they tended his wounds and bathed him. She put him back to bed in the small bedroom, tucked him in and they kissed him goodnight again. He fell asleep immediately. She left the door open so they could hear him should he awaken. They hoped that he would soon forget the trauma of the last hour. Or, if he didn’t, that he might recall it only as a bad dream.

  The women cleared up the debris in the kitchen and mopped up the traces of blood in the hall. They talked quietly about the dreadful scenes of violence they had just witnessed and wept at the deaths of d’Almeida’s victims, some known, some unknown. They thanked God for their own and Emilio’s safe delivery and prayed that Adam would also survive the murderer’s savage attack without permanent harm. They talked for a long while, trying to put the night into some kind of perspective so that they could accept it and understand it for what it was. The work of a madman. A brilliant, pathological madman.

  Finally, Jenny said, “It’s strange, but this story didn’t just start tonight, or last week, or even with Ron’s or Charlie’s death. It’s been going on for a long time, for over thirty years. The day Charlie and his friends brought those diamonds from Angola they started a chain of events that kept going, like a train or a juggernaut. Nothing could stop it and tonight it finally caught up with us.

  “And Adam and Ray were caught up in that momentum. They were both after the diamonds, but for different reasons, and tonight their paths crossed. The momentum finally caught up with them and we happened to be in the way.” She shivered, remembering the awful events of the night.

  “But it’s over now, Jenny, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so, but I honestly don’t know,” she replied. “There are millions of dollars of diamonds sitting in a vault in Geneva and you have only one key. I’m sure that Ray didn’t have one, or he wouldn’t have been so obsessed with getting them both. So maybe it wasn’t him who broke into our rooms. Was Adam’s stolen or did he lose it, or is there another explanation?”

  “You mean that someone else stole it and is still out there, waiting to try to get the second key, the one I’ve got?”

  “I can’t tell you. But we may be the only surviving members of the Angolan Clan and we can’t get those diamonds with one key and we probably can’t recuperate the stolen money. It’s probably a very good thing. The diamonds and that money were never ours. They belonged to many people, most of whom have disappeared. Maybe we should just leave them and their fortune in peace. We don’t need it and we don’t deserve it.”

  When they had talked themselves out, Leticia carried Emilio upstairs and laid him in the double bed in Jenny’s bedroom. The counterpane had dried out. There was a slight stain to be seen, but there wa
s no sign of Fuente. She slept in the bed next to her son and Jenny slept in the bedroom next door. It was four in the morning before sleep came, but it was a dreamless sleep.

  Esther Rousseau waited in the arrivals hall at Luton airport until the very last passenger from the very last flight had left. Ray hadn’t turned up. She had called his BlackBerry at least a dozen times, but it was switched off or out of range, she didn’t know which. She didn’t leave a message. Ray had told her never to do that, something about it being traced.

  She looked up when she heard the ground staff attendant’s question. “I’m fine thanks,” she replied, then got up and walked out of the building, pulling her suitcase behind her. She had five hundred pounds in her purse and a case full of beach clothing. It was freezing outside.

  NINETY-THREE

  Monday, 28th April 2008

  Miami, Florida

  Chief Inspector Espinoza called the Miami Police Dept. on Monday at six o’clock in the morning, Florida time. He had worked through the night after returning to Malaga and had received the report from the hospital at five thirty am in Spain. He decided to grab a few hours sleep in the office before making the call, he didn’t want to give the family such news in the middle of the night. He recounted to Detective Sergeant Giannada a complete history of the night’s events, to complete the three page report that he’d faxed through earlier. Then he gave him Nick’s address on Ocean Boulevard.

  Giannada and his partner, Detective Debora Allen, rang at the intercom in the lobby at seven-thirty. Rachel and Hanny hadn’t come up from their bedroom yet and Suzie was preparing breakfast when she answered. It took her a few moments to understand the policeman. On hearing that they needed to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Peterson, she knew there was something wrong. She opened the door as the two officers emerged from the elevator. “It’s Adam isn’t it? What’s happened to him?”

  When they advised her that they could only explain to Adam’s parents, she hurried downstairs to wake them, her mind filled with dread. Hanny and Rachel were still in their dressing gowns. They came into the living room in a daze, not understanding why the police officers were there. Rachel repeated Suzie’s question, “What’s happened to Adam?” Giannada asked them to sit while he made his report.

  Detective Allen sat with Suzie on one of the couches. She took her hands in hers. Hanny sat with Rachel opposite Giannada, holding her hand. They all waited in fearful silence for the policeman to speak. He didn’t mess around, he kept the story brief and to the point. He’d been contacted by a Chief Inspector Espinoza, of Malaga, in Southern Spain. A serial murderer had tried to kill Adam, Jenny and Leticia, while robbing them in their house in Marbella. He had been caught and killed. But Adam had been shot twice, trying to save Emilio, Leticia’s son. The women and little boy were unharmed. Adam had been taken to the hospital and had been in surgery for three hours.

  Hanny’s face blanched and he took Rachel’s other hand, squeezing until it hurt. They were too shocked to speak. Rachel’s mind went back to the waiting room of the hospital in Durban, ten years ago. Then they had lost their first son. Surely it couldn’t be possible that they had now lost their second. Adam has to come back for Nick’s funeral tomorrow, she thought to herself. He has to come home. She held her breath, praying that the news would be different this time.

  The sergeant paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m very sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news, but your son, Adam, died at five am this morning, Central European Time, in the intensive care unit at the Marbella General Hospital, in Spain. The cause of death was breathing failure subsequent to lung damage sustained from a bullet wound.”

  “No! It can’t be true. Adam’s coming back today for his father’s funeral. It’s not possible.” Rachel turned to Hanny. “Tell them. Tell them he’s coming back. It’s a mistake. Tell them, Hanny.”

  Hanny couldn’t speak. Tears ran down his face as he held Rachel tightly in his arms, stroking her face and head, her wracking sobs piercing him like sharp arrows. Detective Allen put her arm around Suzie’s shaking shoulders.

  Giannada waited respectfully before continuing his report. “It seems that the first bullet was lodged dangerously close to Adam’s heart and his right lung was torn by the second bullet. The left lung was working overtime and threatened to push the lodged bullet into the heart. They tried to patch up the torn lung again and again, so his breathing would be stabilised and they could get out the bullet before it moved. But the damage was too severe. It just kept tearing and the lung wouldn’t reflate.”

  “And so he suffocated to death. Oh, my God. Adam.” Rachel collapsed back into Hanny’s arms.

  Giannada said nothing more, leaving them to cope with the shock and distress.

  After a few minutes, Rachel’s weeping subsided and Hanny said, “What can you tell us about this killer? This man who killed our son and his friends. What kind of a monster was he?”

  Giannada told them what Espinoza had told him of d’Almeida’s history and his aborted plan. “Espinoza lost one of his men, a local policeman,” he added. “The Angolan just shot him out of hand, just another murder. God knows how many people he’s killed all together. He told me he’d never witnessed anything like it.”

  He continued, “I’m afraid there’s another thing. They were too late to prevent him from transferring a large amount of money from Adam’s account, over the Internet. I doubt it can be traced. Usually these crooks transfer the money several times over, until you can’t find or retrieve it.”

  The others knew, even if the policeman didn’t, that the reason for this attack was the Angolan Clan. Those cursed diamonds from more than thirty years ago. Fleetingly, Hanny hoped that there would be no consequences for them or the women as a result of the police enquiries. All of them had already suffered enough.

  When the two officers were satisfied that they could do nothing more, they gave Hanny the contact details for Espinoza and the hospital. Arrangements had to be made for Adam’s body to be returned home to Durban.

  Hanny thanked the officers and escorted them out. Rachel and Suzie were holding each other tearfully on the couch. He closed the door behind them and stood in the hall, alone, tears running from his eyes as he tried to come to terms with the loss of his remaining son. His adopted son. Rachel and Nick’s son. In just a few days Rachel had lost her lover and her son. He knew that the next few months would be much more difficult for his wife than for him. He went into the kitchen to make tea and brought it in and poured it for the women.

  Rachel sipped her tea distractedly, her mind wandering everywhere. Memories came flooding back, some happy, some sad. Apart from her father, whose life had ended at the age of seventy-six, she had lost three men that she loved dearly, taken from her before their time. Her lover, Nick, lost to her for many years, then taken by a vicious cancer. Her stepson, Greg, victim of a tragic accident. And now Adam, her true son, murdered by a madman, for money.

  She looked over at Hanny. He was speaking quietly to Suzie, comforting her in her loss. Just as he had comforted Rachel every day of their life together, for the last thirty-four years. Even during the last days of Nick’s illness, Hanny had never begrudged her the long hours she spent tending to his needs. He knew that she had never stopped loving Nick. It was something that he was prepared to accept because he loved her so much himself. Now, Nick was gone, Greg was gone and Adam was gone, but Hanny was still there. As he had always been. At her side.

  At that moment, Rachel took an important decision. When I get home, I am going to hand over the management of the hospice and give up my consulting work at the hospital. From now on I’m going to share every minute of my life with Hanny, for as long as we have together.

  She went over and gave Hanny a loving kiss on the lips. Then they sat together and talked with Suzie.

  NINETY-FOUR

  Monday, 28th April 2008

  Marbella, Spain

  “Please come in Chief Inspector Espinoza. José Luis,
how are you?”

  Before calling Giannada, Espinoza had phoned José Luis. He gave the lawyer a similarly succinct account of the night’s happenings and the tragic news that he’d just learned. The death of Adam Peterson. For once, the old man was speechless.

  “Can you come over to York House with me? We need to close this off with the two ladies. I think it’ll be better if you’re there.”

  He called Jenny and sadly informed her of Adam’s death. Although the women were half expecting the news, it was a terrible blow. Yet another death caused by d’Almeida in his murderous quest to steal their fortune. As she had foretold, he had ended up with nothing, but he had left them with a dreadful legacy. She thought about Adam’s parents, attending Nick’s funeral whilst preparing for their remaining son’s. It was too much for anyone to bear.

  Espinoza agreed that he and José Luis would come over at one in the afternoon. Jenny wanted to have time to talk to Leticia and agree on what they needed to tell the policeman. As José Luis kept saying, sometimes it’s better not to know everything.

  For the first time since she’d come down to York House, Jenny led the way into the sitting room. The marble floor was covered with silk rugs from Iran, in soft pastel colours, and there were several fine pieces of antique furniture, as well as the comfortable couches and armchairs. A lovely old grandfather clock stood against one wall and many paintings, a mixture of classical and modern, adorned the walls. Ellen’s magnificent Steinway grand stood towards the back of the room. Jenny hadn’t had the time or the nerve to try it yet. She made a mental note to try to do so before leaving.

  The two men sat facing the French windows looking over the swimming pool across to the golf course. It was completely flooded. The weather had settled again and the reflection of the sun was sparkling on the natural lakes created on the fairways by the flood water. It looked as if there wouldn’t be any golf for a while. Dozens of striped whoopee birds could be seen, pecking away at the soft, wet turf, in search of insects and grubs for their lunch.