Digging Deeper: An Adventure Novel (Sam Harris Series Book 1)

by PJ Skinner

  The diamonds were still in their natural rough state.

  ‘I've never seen unpolished diamonds in bulk before,’ said Sam. ‘They don’t look like much do they? It looks like the glass from a car crash.’

  ‘Their appearance is deceptive,’ said Jim. ‘These diamonds are gem quality with a large size and minimal flaws, meaning that they sell for very high prices at auction. That’s why Gemsite can afford to pay big expatriate salaries and cargo costs.’

  Sam could see that the diamonds were large and some of them had perfect shapes. No wonder people were fighting over the right to mine these lands.

  They left through security and went out to the front room again, where Jim inserted his hand though a rubber sleeve into a sealed iron box and pulled out a black ball which he gave to the guard. He nodded at her to do the same.

  She hung back, unwilling to put her hand into the box.

  ‘Put your hand into the rubber sleeve and pull out a ball,’ said Jim.

  ‘Why do I have to do this?’ asked Sam.

  ‘This box of balls acts as a filter for randomised security checks. You have to pull a ball out of the box and show it to the security guard. If you pulled out a black ball, you can go. If the ball is white, you have to empty your pockets and so on for the guards to check. A South African guy, who got the white ball the first time he went out through security, was made to strip and bend over as a joke. He was on his own and didn’t know any better.’

  She was glad that she was not alone and was happy to get a black ball and leave with her dignity intact.

  The next day, they returned to the diamond recovery plant to supervise a second weighing of the diamonds which were to be soaked in hydrofluoric acid (HF) for cleaning. The diamonds were first boiled in ceramic saucepans to give them an initial clean and then they were decanted into plastic bottles. HF was poured into the bottles on top of a table in a small, unventilated room full of observers and security men.

  Sam found it bizarre to see HF handled with such abandon. It was a corrosive acid, and if spilled on skin, caused a horrible death by eating through the flesh. It could not be washed off with water. Only special creams prevented it from burning right through flesh and she could only see one small tube. There was a fume extractor in the room but it wasn’t being used. Since she did not need to handle the acid, she kept her worries to herself.

  The constant threat from landmines had lowered people’s sensitivity to fear and HF was not considered very dangerous in comparison with the chances of being blown up. She suspected that people would sneer at her if she voiced an opinion, so she swallowed her objections. The idea of Brian Lynch getting a nasty burn was not such a bad option.

  Black had told Sam in their meeting in Johannesburg that she could run the mining operations when Jim went away on leave for a month. She knew that she had to be ready to take over the operation by then. Jim had been generous with his technical information and she absorbed every detail. If she worked hard enough, the barriers that had been erected to her entry to the management team should begin to crumble.

  The heat and dust was now just background and she was even beginning to feel at home in Kardo. She hoped Mondongo was as welcoming when she returned there. She fancied a long flirty lunch with Pedro.

  Sam was woken up before dawn the next morning by a loud bang somewhere in the house. Her heart thundered. She grabbed her emergency rucksack from beside the bed. If it was an attack, she was supposed to wait for Frik, the security guard, and to run off into the bush and hide with him for a couple of days to avoid being raped or murdered by MARFO forces. She felt sure that she would get eaten by a crocodile before she was rescued, but, nevertheless, she prepared an emergency rucksack just in case.

  She calmed down a bit and listened carefully but could not hear anything except for a strange banging coming from inside the house. She sat on the bed, forcing herself to be logical. The sound was coming from the kitchen or maybe the laundry room. Why would someone be thrashing about in the laundry room? There was nothing to steal there. Despite her terror, she forced herself to go and look. She switched the light on in the kitchen and shoved the laundry room door open. The main pipe from the outside water tank to the laundry had burst free from its bindings and was swinging around in a circle bashing the washing machine and walls and filling the utility room with water. She ran around looking for the key to open the padlock to the back door. Wrenching it open, she let all the water rush out into the dust.

  The pipe was still spraying gallons of water all over the electric circuits of the hot water tank, washing machine and pump. She hoped that they would short, which they did at the slightest excuse. But when she wanted something to happen, it invariably did not. She tried to re-attach the pipe and was saturated with cold water. Then she spotted the switch for the water pump. Praying not to get an electric shock, she pushed the switch. Nothing. Again. Nothing. She grabbed a big piece of wood and poked the switch box hard. No result.

  She knew she could not leave the water running all night, so she threw on some clothes. After negotiating the padlock, she ran out into the road. There was no way she could contact someone in the camp. Despite being senior management, Sam had not yet been allocated a radio because they were in short supply and she always drove around with one of the senior team who all had radios. The internal phone service did not work and looked like it had not worked for years. She realised then that she had no idea where anyone lived. They disappeared from the office at the end of the day or went to the bar beside the canteen. Apart from Jim and Jorge, who was nice to everyone, no one had shown the slightest interest in working with her or talking to her.

  She ran to the prefabricated house where the Filipino technicians lived at the back of the canteen, ringing the doorbells of several houses on the way that went unanswered. She found two nonchalant Tamazian security guards having a cigarette on the steps of the prefab.

  ‘Excuse me, there is a water leak in my house. Can you help me, please?’ she asked. They failed to grasp the urgency of the situation and carried on smoking and chatting and ignored her. She went right up to within inches of one of them and tried again.

  ‘I need you to go inside the prefab to wake up a plumber and an electrician, who can come to the house and fix the damage.’

  ‘Okay, wait here.’

  Five minutes later Sam walked back to her house with the electrician and the plumber.

  ‘Did you open the water pipe to the washing machine?’ asked the plumber.

  ‘Yes, I did, I was trying to use it.’

  ‘It hasn’t worked for years. It’s got a blockage, that’s why the water was cut off.’

  The electrician sniggered.

  ‘Don’t worry, lady, we will fix it now. Not your fault anyway.’

  They were good humoured considering that she had woken them up in the middle of the night. They fixed the problem quickly and left still smiling.

  She was shattered by the time they left. To her amazement, she managed to sleep but woke up knackered and still grumpy.

  The next morning no one seemed surprised in the site office. ‘Oh, that’s always happening,’ said Bob, who was in charge of fixing this sort of thing, as well as maintaining the heavy machinery, and resented it bitterly. ‘The ancient wiring and plumbing in the compound are a constant problem.’

  Sam wondered why he could not figure out a way of preventing it from happening if he had so much practice but she did not comment. That night, she slept like a baby but turned the water off at the mains just in case.

  The next day on her way out of the canteen after lunch, two small boys approached her and begged her for food. They were thin almost to the point of emaciation and covered in red dust. The older boy held on to the younger boy to stop him from touching Sam.

  ‘Hello, I haven’t got any food today,’ she said in Portuguese.

  They looked startled as they realised they could understand her.

  Fred, who had followed her out of the
canteen, stepped towards them and they cowered by the wall of the canteen. Fred turned to Sam. ‘Those little bastards are always trying it on. We’re not allowed to give them food, so don’t go getting all bleeding heart about it.’

  ‘Message received,’ said Sam. ‘Next time,' she said in Portuguese to the small boys and winked.

  They ran off giggling, glancing back at her with their huge brown eyes.

  Sam went to the administration office to inquire about her air-freighted luggage.

  ‘Your luggage?’ said the clerk. ‘I believe it arrived in Mondongo airport a few days ago,’ ‘Has anyone been to collect it yet?’ asked Sam.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Are you waiting for anything in particular?’

  Sam bit back a complaint. ‘Not really but the laundry here is ruining all of the shirts that I had intended for office wear in Mondongo. I’m pretty sure that no one in the laundry at Kardo has ever seen silk before and they throw my shirts in a normal wash. They now look as if they were meant for fieldwork after all, as they’re faded and streaked. I would be really grateful if you could organise the collection of my field gear, before my office clothes are ruined forever. I know this is a trivial request but I would be so grateful.’

  ‘Well, I am busy but let me see what I can do.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sam giving him her best smile.

  As if by magic, she received news that evening that her luggage had been collected from customs in Mondongo airport. Dirk was the bearer of the glad tidings. He arrived at her house with a couple of tapes, that had arrived on the flight from Mondongo. He had obviously offered to bring them so that he could see her. He was standing on the steps outside shifting from foot to foot.

  ‘Hi Sam, someone sent you these tapes from Mondongo.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘There’s a note I think. Yes, here it is’

  Sam read the spidery writing. It was from Pedro.

  ‘Thank you. Do you want to come in?’

  ‘Sure, it would be nice to hear some new music.’

  He made her nervous. She tried not to get involved with anyone at work in the field, as it caused problems. Being senior made it worse. Since she spent most of her working life in exploration camps, this cramped her style a lot.

  She distracted herself by putting on the tapes. Pedro had sent her two tapes of ghastly middle-of-the-road tunes normally reserved for lifts. After a short while pretending to enjoy the music, she caught Dirk’s eye.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the tapes are a nice gesture but not something I would ever listen to, being a rock and roll sort of chick.’

  ‘They are a bit crap really.’

  ‘Ghastly.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘Shall I put on something else?’

  ‘That would be great. Have you got any Led Zeppelin?’

  ***

  That evening a huge rainstorm hit the compound, heralding the start of the rainy season. At first, Sam was alarmed by the thunder in the distance. She had not been expecting rain and thought that it might be a MARFO attack. However, as the storm rumbled nearer and nearer, she knew what was happening. The lightning was continuous. The rain came in waves, which reminded her of being in a car wash. It hurled against the roof in the most violent manner. Louder and louder. The water poured off the roofs in torrents. She hoped that her damned jinxed house would not collapse. She expected the power to go any minute. It was phenomenal. It reminded her of working in the high altitude rain forests in Sierramar, in South America. She never thought she would ever see more rain. The storm lasted only an hour or so.

  She fell asleep but was woken at about two a.m. by a grumpy, drunken Jim ringing her doorbell.

  ‘Hi, Jim, what’s up’?

  ‘No water or electricity in my house. Can I come in’?

  She was too sleepy to wonder why he was at her house instead of one of his colleagues’.

  He wandered around looking uncertain for a while, as if he wanted to say something but was not sure how to start. He smelled of beer. Sam directed him to the spare room, went back to bed and shut her door.

  Jim left early in the morning. It occurred to her that the vicious gossip machine in camp could have got the wrong idea when his car was outside her house. But what was he doing at her house anyway? He should have been used to having no light or water. He did not need any light or water to go to sleep, so why her house? He was very drunk. She gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  Living in these remote sites for long periods away from their families was tough for most men. She had seen even the most faithful succumb to the temptations offered by nubile young local women throwing themselves at expatriate wallets in other companies where she had worked. The fact that these women were not fussy about who they slept with had its own problems. They did not have access to condoms and they were riddled with every type of venereal disease including HIV in some cases, which put off some of the more sensible men.

  This meant that any non-local woman was bound to get lots of attention, whether they wanted it or not. Sam, the spy, was an exception. Apart from her, there was only one senior expatriate female in camp. Jean worked in the canteen as the assistant administration manager and was going out with Bob. There were also half a dozen girls from the Philippines who did the laundry and ministered to senior management. Murphy had told Sam in London that Black’s girlfriend Marybelle had graduated from their ranks. They got transferred from camp to camp as their ‘boyfriends’ got bored and made a swap.

  Jim Hennessey became irritable before his leave, scowling and muttering. He ignored Sam completely and made her feel very isolated. She wondered if it was something to do with his drunken visit to her house. She had not been welcoming but then he had not been forthcoming either. She would find an opportunity to ask him.

  The other members of the management team still shunned her, so she was surprised when she was invited to join them for a drink in the bar one night. She did not like beer or enjoy drinking in the bar, but she did understand that drinking was an important part of life for these men and in order to fit in, she had to drink, too. She felt content walking over to the bar. She hoped that maybe the ice was melting after her frosty reception. She arrived to find the whole crew had got there before her. They were standing and chatting in a big group.

  ‘Get yourself a beer,’ someone suggested.

  She went to the bar and signed a voucher. She turned around smiling and approached the group. Almost imperceptibly, they moved together forming a tight circle. She stopped about two metres away, her smile frozen on her face. She stepped forward, and they shuffled closer together. Nobody looked at her. She stood there with the cold beer in her hand, condensation dripping onto the floor, trying not to get upset.

  A couple of metallurgists, who were not in the group, looked up from their table and looked back down again. She went back to the bar and sat down on a stool with her back to the group. She was stunned by their nastiness. She gulped back a sob. The barman looked like he might be about to say something, but she gave him a shake of the head. She forced herself to drink the freezing liquid and put her glass down on the bar.

  ‘Thanks,' she said. ‘Enjoy your evening.’ She walked out as slowly as she could bear.

  She felt the rush of gloating laughter follow her out of the bar and she heard jeering as she stumbled down the steps. By the time she turned onto the road, tears were streaming down her face. She felt herself drowning in the misery of the rejection implied by this ambush. She ran home and struggled with the padlock on the outer door, swearing and crying and kicking it. She got through the two doors into her house and sat down in the dark, swallowing hard to muffle her sobs. She stayed like that for a long time.

  ***

  Back in the bar, the men were all congratulating each other on the success of their plan.

  ‘That’ll teach the stupid bitch,’ said Brian. ‘Who the fuck does she think she is anyway? Did she really imagine we wanted to have a drink wit
h her?’

  ‘Black did it on purpose,’ said Bob. He shouldn’t have sent a fucking woman in here to spy on us.’.

  ‘Fucking bitch,’ said one of the engineers.

  ‘We’ll break her soon; no one can take that for long,’ said Brian, who knew a thing or two from his army days about breaking new recruits. ‘Let’s liven things up a bit. Why don’t we take bets on her?’

  ‘On her leaving?'

  ‘No, she’ll be leaving soon, that’s too easy. Let's bet on who will have her first. She'll be looking for comfort after tonight. Someone should cosy up to her and pretend to like her. You can bet on someone else or on yourself.’

  ‘Brilliant. I’m in.’

  ‘Me, too, but I’m betting on Dirk. I’m occupied,’ said Bob who was sure that Jean would not be happy if he was seen flirting with Sam. Also he had a grudging respect for her but he would not have admitted that to any of these men. He did not like to stand out from the crowd.

  ‘Me, too.’

  ‘Hmmm. Dirk is a good bet,’ said Brian. ‘Maybe we should all bet on Dirk and how long it will take him. I’ve seen her look at him. That’s not a work-related glance, lads,’ He prided himself on knowing all about women and their needs.

  ‘Fucking right.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll run the book. You tell Dirk that he’s nominated.’

  ‘What if he won’t play ball?’

  ‘He’s new. He’ll play ball if he wants to be one of the lads.’

  ‘Brilliant. That'll be a bit of fun. Whose round is it anyway?’

  ‘Get them in Bob, it’s your turn.’

  They went back to the serious business of getting drunk.

  VI

  Several days later, a discovery in the riverbed of one of the new diversions engineered by Jorge raised moral in Kardo.

  'We found a great big pothole, Sam,’ said a jubilant Jorge.

  Jim slapped him on the back.

  ‘You found it, Jorge.’

  ‘Is that the same as finding one in an alluvial gold deposit?’ asked Sam