by Marion Leigh
Petra was tempted to do what she had done so many times in the past – go undercover, join a group and see what she could find out. Carlo wouldn’t like it, though, because they’d made commitments to the Brosellis. Best to start by expressing interest then take it from there.
She got up swiftly and went to look for Ali. He was in the galley supervising the creation of what looked like much more than a snack.
‘Ali, does Mrs. Pinderally have a computer?’
‘Mrs. Pinderally is not literate.’
‘She loves to read romances,’ Petra said, surprise showing in her face.
‘Naturally. But literate with computers she is not. However, the captain is very literate. We have all mod cons for him. A computer with charts for navigating on the bridge and a second computer for plotting in the office.’
Petra nodded. The second computer would be for plotting Scheherazade’s course using navigational software. With any luck, the yacht would be equipped with internet too. She had seen two enormous domes on top of the flybridge.
‘May I use the computer in the office, Ali? I need to check something very urgently.’
‘Come with me.’
He didn’t seem at all bothered that Petra was wearing a towel. He led the way down a steep companionway forward to a small office area. ‘There, Miss,’ he said, proudly indicating a large screen next to a printer and a mouse. ‘When tiffin is ready, I will get you.’
‘Thank you, Ali. Is there a password?’
‘It is arabiannights, small letters with no spaces.’
Petra sat down and entered the password. It worked like a charm. She went into Google and accessed an email account she had set up under the name boatgirl for use when she didn’t want to reveal her real identity. Thinking quickly, she typed in the email address given in the brochure followed by a short message:
I am very interested in the opportunities you offer to do volunteer work in African villages. Please let me know how I can join your outreach programme.
She paused. Everything would be fine if they responded before she left the yacht; after that she would be on the road and wouldn’t always have access to email. In the end, she added her phone number and signed off using the name of her best friend Alice in Canada. She pressed send and wondered how long it would take to receive a reply.
Chapter
32
Mrs. Pinderally brushed pastry crumbs off her ample bosom onto the wave-patterned rug. ‘Now something sweet would tickle my fancy.’
Petra reached into her bag and took out the second tin of dragées she had planned to give to Vicky Dunlin. ‘I think you finished yours last night, but we could eat some of these.’
She held the tin out to Mrs. Pinderally who grabbed it with a greedy sigh.
‘Red, blue, white and yellow. The stone in the centre is white,’ she said, stating what Petra had already noted. ‘The label on the bottom is the same. We will take a look.’
The tin was sealed shut with clear tape, as the other one had been. With surprising dexterity, Mrs. Pinderally found the end of the tape and unwound it. ‘Your gift, you open it!’
Petra held her breath as she prized off the lid, not wanting to scatter dragées and diamonds all over the floor. She handed the open tin back to Mrs. Pinderally. ‘You are better than expert.’
Mrs. Pinderally studied the dragées. She poked around in the tin with a bejewelled index finger then emptied the contents onto an empty plate.
‘No diamonds,’ she said. ‘No danger to teeth. Try one.’
Petra took a dragée and tried to hide her disappointment.
‘Like you, there is no wind in my sails.’
If ever she wanted to hide anything from Mrs. Pinderally, Petra realized she would have to be very clever. In a snap decision, she determined not to reveal that she had more tins in her luggage. She would examine them later with Carlo. He was the one investigating breaches of the Kimberley Process.
To avert questions that might put her on the spot, she asked about rough diamonds versus cut diamonds. ‘Cut diamonds are more valuable than rough diamonds, aren’t they?’
Mrs. Pinderally nodded her head like a marionette on a string. ‘The better the cut, the more valuable the diamond.’
Textbook English again.
‘A good cutter can make even a mediocre stone look fantastic,’ she continued. ‘It is a question of faceting. You must learn the 4 Cs: Colour, Clarity, Cut and Carats. And you must learn how to use the loupe for seeing flaws. The best place to do this is in my suite. Thanks to Mr. Pinderally, God rest his soul, I have magnificent specimens.’
Mrs. Pinderally’s suite was so full of jewellery that Petra wondered how she would find the pieces to illustrate her lecture. But she knew exactly which lady held which ring or necklace. After the first half hour, Petra realized there was a subtle hierarchy among them.
Taking a splendiferous ring from the centre of the headdress worn by the first lady next to her bed on the right – at least three carats Petra estimated based on what she had learned – Mrs. Pinderally waved it in her face. ‘What colour and clarity is this? What is the most valuable colour of diamond? Use the loupe!’
To Petra, squinting through the jeweller’s magnifying glass, it looked flawless and so white as to be nearly ice blue. ‘It can’t be a blue diamond, can it? FL?’
‘Bob’s your uncle!’
Petra felt an inordinate sense of pride.
‘Now I teach you about tanzanite, the essence of Africa.’ Mrs. Pinderally selected a heart-shaped pendant from the arm of a lady dressed in a blue off-the-shoulder evening gown. ‘What colour is this?’
Petra looked carefully at the gem. ‘Sapphire blue.’
‘And now?’
‘Violet.’
Mrs. Pinderally moved the pendant so that it caught the light differently. As she did so, Petra remembered the first dinner at Vredehof when she had been sitting next to Julia. Sandrine had rebuked Julia for not wearing her diamonds. Julia had shown Petra her mother’s tanzanite ring.
‘Burgundy!’ Petra almost shouted out. ‘The mood changer. And it can restore spiritual balance and good fortune.’
‘Eureka!’
Julia had talked about spiritual balance. Was that what Florian too had meant by restoring a balance? If so, it might explain the involvement of Father John. Petra turned the idea over in her mind. She had the feeling she was missing something important.
Mrs. Pinderally was flipping open the cover of a watch that was part of the gold bracelet on her left wrist. ‘Only one hour more to Saldanha Bay. Teaching is most tiring, even if the student is attentive. I will take refreshment and see you later.’
Petra knew when she was being dismissed. ‘Thank you, Mrs. Pinderally. I know much more about diamonds now than I ever thought I would.’
She made her way to the aft deck and sat in one of the teak chairs. The yacht’s wake unfurled evenly behind them creating a smooth path through the waves. How she wished there was a clear path going forwards. Here she was, supposed to be on vacation, worrying about girls she didn’t even know. She could phone A.K. – in fact, should she phone him? – and tell him that Vicky Dunlin hadn’t returned to Cape Town and that she, Petra, was now going to spend the rest of her valuable time off enjoying her holiday, exploring South Africa and Namibia, seeing the exotic animals she had come to see.
But once a cop, always a cop. The instincts and suspicions never went away. Having sent her email, she could only wait. If she received a reply in the next day or so while she was in the Langebaan area, she would do her best to check up on Vicky Dunlin. Otherwise Carlo would insist on their heading north to the Broselli’s lodge.
The waiting was the worst part of any operation. Like the deadly calm that preceded a major tropical storm, it weighed you down. There was nothing to be done except prepare and sit tight.
Petra pulled out the phone Tom Gilmore had given her and checked the signal. He had assured her it would work, but she didn’t hold out much hope miles off shore on board a boat heading for a sparsely populated area. The screen was blank.
She looked up to see Ali who was bringing her a glass filled with pink juice.
‘Guava,’ he said.
Petra took a sip. It was thick and delicious, unlike anything she had tasted before.
‘We approach Saldanha Bay, Miss. You should watch for dolphins.’
‘Are there whales too?’
‘No, Miss, wrong time of year. Sorry. But there are many birds – gannets, cormorants, oyster catchers, penguins, pelicans … on the granite islands, you will see.’
Petra drained the glass of juice and jumped up. Time to move to the bow. Penguins and pelicans were among the birds she loved best.
Ali had come to find her at exactly the right moment. They were coming closer to land and beginning to turn to starboard to enter Saldanha Bay. An ore carrier passed in front of them. As she watched it make its way to the harbour entrance, she felt a faint vibration in her pocket. Her heart in her mouth, she pulled out the phone.
‘Yes?’
A.K.’s raspy voice was faint. ‘Good wedding?’
‘Oh, yes, Sir.’ Petra guessed it was a good one as weddings go. A.K. didn’t want details, he was merely being polite because she was doing him a favour.
His next question hit her before she had time to prepare.
‘How’s Vicky Dunlin?’
Petra hesitated. ‘I don’t know. She …’
‘Isn’t back at work?’
‘No. Apparently she signed on for a longer stint with the Tabernacle Youth Collective.’
Petra thought she heard something like a groan.
‘Doing what?’
‘Working at one of their community villages.’
‘It’s imperative that you find her.’
‘I’m trying my best. Why …?’
‘Do whatever you have to do. Just keep me informed.’
‘Of course.’
And that was that. End of conversation. She didn’t have a clue why Miss Vicky was so important to A.K. that she had to upset all her plans.
Chapter
33
‘Carlo!’
‘Carissima! I’ve been waiting for your call. Where are you?’
‘We’re coming in to Langebaan. We’ll be anchoring near the Club Santorini Resort. Where are you?’
‘Not far from there, at Calypso Beach.’
‘Go to the yacht club at the resort. Mrs. Pinderally will send her tender for you at seven o’clock. You can’t miss it. It’s a pink and white custom limousine named Sheri-baby. I didn’t realize it at the time but it followed us from Cape Town. Dinner’s on board Scheherazade at eight. Greek, I’m told. And you can stay overnight.’
‘That’s very kind of Mrs. P. I’m looking forward to meeting her. Should I bring flowers?’
‘Something edible would be better. By the way, I haven’t told her we have more tins of dragées. I think we need to keep that secret and check them out ourselves.’
‘Fine, I’ll see what I can find.’
‘See you later.’
Petra went with one of the deckhands and one of the lackeys to pick up Carlo and food from the resort’s Greek restaurant. Ali had set the table on the aft deck. When they returned, Mrs. Pinderally was ensconced in a large chair awaiting their arrival.
‘This is your cousin Carlo.’
‘No, my friend. It was Carlo’s cousin who got married.’
‘Just so. Welcome, young man!’
Carlo twinkled at Mrs. Pinderally and handed her a rectangular package beautifully wrapped in gold paper and tied with a red ribbon. She tilted her head sideways. ‘A charmer. Be careful the snake doesn’t turn on you.’
Petra hid a smile at the expression on Carlo’s face.
Throughout dinner, Carlo picked Mrs. Pinderally’s brains about diamonds. ‘I can see that your husband had a great eye for fine jewels. How did he get them?’
‘Ah, Mr. Pinderally, a lovely man, God rest his soul. Boarding school men! Always they maintain excellent relationships. He could buy the best stones.’
‘Did he cut them here in South Africa?’
‘Yes and no. There are many diamond centres: Antwerp, Amsterdam, Geneva. Now India.’
‘What does a diamond cutting machine look like, Mrs. Pinderally?’ Petra asked suddenly.
‘In equipment I am not expert. In design, yes. Now I think we have laser machines. Not so big and heavy as once upon a time.’
Petra remembered the photograph showing a diminutive Mr. Pinderally and had visions of him trying to carry a large machine like the one Florian and Tony had been moving. As soon as the two of them had gone, she had inspected it quickly before making her escape from the area.
‘Do you still cut diamonds and make jewellery?’ she asked.
‘The next generation family business is in the pink. In Europe and India. I have everything I need. Excepting Miss Vicky to sort my pains.’
During the meal of succulent lamb kleftico and the lively conversation about diamonds, Petra had stopped thinking about Vicky Dunlin and the lack of response to her email. Now her worries came flooding back.
‘Dessert, Ali, if you please. Then I will retire. Tomorrow is a busy day.’
‘How so, Mrs. P.?’
Mrs. Pinderally didn’t seem to mind that Carlo had begun calling her Mrs. P. to her face, shortening her name in his usual roguish way.
‘Ali, explain what is arranged,’ she said as Ali placed a plate full of sticky baklava on the table in front of her.
‘At ten o’clock, the water limousine will take you to the yacht club. Madam’s driver will meet you. You will go to the West Coast Fossil Park. There you will learn much. At teatime Madam will answer questions.’
‘Aren’t you coming with us, Mrs. Pinderally?’ Carlo asked.
‘I am busy taking the waters. Saltwater is good for the body and soul.’
Petra and Carlo lingered on the aft deck after Mrs. Pinderally had gone to bed. The air was warm and still.
‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ Petra said. ‘Aren’t you glad to be here?’
Carlo shrugged. ‘I still think it’s a waste of time.’
‘What about the diamond in the tin of dragées I gave Mrs. Pinderally? You can’t tell me it was accidental.’
‘The only way to know is to examine the other tins.’
‘We should each keep a couple to take home. Mrs. Pinderally told me that most of the ones she sent back to her relatives in Geneva were stolen out of the luggage.’
‘I must say I thought it odd that Sandrine gave us so many to take home with us.’
‘Did you find any tins at the factory in Montagu? What happened there?’
‘I was waiting for you to ask.’ Carlo swirled the Cape brandy in his glass. ‘It was a dark and stormy night, the cats were on the prowl …’
‘Mercutio! You’re as bad as Mrs. Pinderally with her “Once upon a time”.’
‘The factory is quite a place. Three buildings in a compound surrounded by a high wall, controlled access gates.’
‘How did you get in?’
‘Don’t ask and you’ll hear no lies. But I was able to disable – temporarily of course – the night watchman and complete his rounds for him. It’s definitely the place where the dragées are made. All the ingredients are there.’
‘And the tins?’
‘Yes, but they appear to be brought in from China undecorated. There’s a workshop full of equipment for cutting, welding, engraving, and so on.’
‘Diamond cutting?’
‘I’d have to bring in the experts to answer that, and to t
est the stocks of stones I found.’
‘Were there any diamonds?’
‘There were some clear stones, but I don’t think the Brosellis would leave diamonds lying around, and I didn’t spot anything that could have been rough.’
‘Did you find anything to connect the factory to the Brosellis?’
‘Nothing specific. I didn’t have time to go through all the records. Some of the files were locked and there was a large safe in the manager’s office.’
‘Still, you confirmed that the tins are decorated and filled here in South Africa, and we know that at least one contained a good-size diamond. It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to, not to mention risk, to smuggle a diamond out of the country.’
‘Remember I told you about the Kimberley Process that controls the supply of diamonds throughout the world, ostensibly to prevent war and terrorism from being financed by the trading of rough diamonds? It also makes it difficult for people who find caches of rough to sell the diamonds for what they’re really worth – and there are independent prospectors who search promising areas and sometimes hit the jackpot. If they’re forced to take them to the big mining houses to get a certificate, they’ll inevitably get a lower price.’
‘So what you’re suggesting is that the Brosellis may have found a source of rough diamonds and are trying to maximize their profits from them.’
‘Something like that.’
Chapter
34
The Langebaan lagoon was an incredible turquoise blue. Like the shallow waters around the Bahamas Petra thought, as she studied her surroundings next morning. Carlo was still in his cabin, sleeping no doubt. Petra’s early shifts as a Marine Unit Sergeant jibed well with her natural body rhythms. As a result, she loved the quiet period between sunrise and the rush of people going about their business. Carlo was a night owl and his work at Interpol kept him close to his desk.