Cashback

by Duncan James

  ***

  Will eventually managed to get hold of his contact, who was very agitated.

  "Things are not going well in the country," he said. "People in the government are getting very nervous, and anything could happen. The demonstrations are getting bigger and noisier and are now all over, even in rural areas. I am afraid for my own safety. If I get caught, I'm a goner, but if I survive and there is a new government I shall be all right. I need to survive. It's best if you don't ring me again."

  "But I need to know about the diamonds," pleaded Will.

  "It's more than I dare," replied his contact.

  "Nobody will ever suspect you of being involved, I promise," said Will desperately. "They will think it's the President stealing them all for himself. Come to think of it, I will make sure that's what they believe. I shall tell them. But everything is in place, except that I don't know when to start things going."

  There was a moment's silence.

  "I can't talk now," said his contact after what seemed an eternity. "I'll ring you later if I can, when I get home."

  With that, he ended the call.

  Will was exasperated. He told Bonkers what had happened, and he, too, was at his wits end to know what to do for the best.

  "There is no-one else who can help," said Will. "The President is organising the collection of the diamonds and their move to South Africa, so none of my other contacts will know what he plans or when he plans that they should be moved. Only my man in his outer office."

  "I can understand him being nervous," said Bonkers. "If it was me, you could go to hell, and I'd look after my own safety."

  "I suppose you're right," said Will. "But there is nobody else."

  "What about the police?" asked Bonkers. "There's bound to be a police escort, surely, so Captain Conteh should know what's going on."

  "They're not being involved, apparently," said Will. "I could certainly trust him, and he's very much with us, but it's all being done with the minimum of fuss, unless there's been a change of plan, so he won't know anything about it. I gather that diamonds are easy to move about, in spite of their value, because they are so small."

  "What about the British - your friend at the embassy, perhaps?"

  "Definitely not," said Will firmly. "They will be very keen to know what happens, but equally keen not to get involved. Bowman has made that plain enough."

  "So there's nothing we can do but sit and wait, and hope your man does us one last favour."

  "He'll be doing himself a favour, too, if only he realises it."

  "Let's go and have a beer," said Bonkers. "And you can tell me how you got on with Kipling Bangura."

  When Will's phone rang, it quite made him jump. He wasn't expecting anyone to ring - not yet, anyway. He put down his beer.

  "Hello?"

  "I've slipped out of the office," said his contact. "They're in small leather sealed pouches in an ordinary black briefcase, under some files and papers. No Government crest or anything. They leave here tomorrow, late afternoon. Just the courier, from here. No escorts or anything. By road to Charles Prince airfield, then a small charter aircraft to the strip at Plumtree, and by road from there on, across the Botswana border at Vakaranga."

  He rang off.

  Bonkers looked inquisitive.

  "That's all we need to know," Will told him. "God bless the man."

  Will rang Tiger.

  "I've got the details we want," he announced.

  "Nothing over the phone - I'll meet you. Where are you?"

  Will told him.

  "Large beer, please," said Tiger. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

  He was there in eight.

  Will introduced Bonkers, and passed on the details he had just received.

  Tiger thought for a moment.

  "Right," he said. "Listen carefully. Just outside Plumtree, there's a dirt track on the left. Not the road to Embakwe, but the next one. The track that leads to Madabe. About ten miles down, after you've crossed the Umpakwe River, there's an old disused gold mine. Closed in about 1968, because it wasn't producing, but they had cut a rough landing strip out of the bush, just off the road. We can still use it. Be there. Park at the south end of the strip, and if it's dark when we get there, use your headlights so that we can see the strip. Otherwise, keep out of sight and out of the way, but when you hear us in the circuit, make sure there are no stray animals in our way before we land. We'll probably do a low pass first - White-knuckles enjoys low flying. Any question?"

  "Er, no," said Will. "Just make sure they think it's the President behind this."

  "Sure - that's neat. See you tomorrow evening then," said Tiger, who burped and left them.

  Afterwards, they agreed that neither of them had ever seen a litre of lager downed quite that fast.