by David Alric
“Dear Clive,
Hope this helps.
Love, Dad.
John Moriarty, currently British Ambassador in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo. Was born Johannes Klaus Moriarty in Wilhelmshaven, Germany in 1949. He was the son of a German Naval Officer, Lucius Moriarty and an English Army Nurse serving in BAOR. The family came to England in 1952. Hans (as he was known) was educated at Wimbledon College and studied law at King’s College London. After working in a legal capacity for the civil service he became a career civil servant and with his fluency in several languages entered the foreign office, now calling himself John Moriarty. After a meteoric rise in the FCO and service in embassies in New York, Paris and Rio, he was appointed as ambassador to the DRC in 2004. He is married with two children but there are no other known living relatives. His mother was an only child. His father had one sister who is believed to have emigrated with her husband to Brazil at the end of World War II, but whose current whereabouts, if she is still alive, are unknown.’
‘Wow, you’re right Clive,’ said Clare. ‘He obviously is Luke’s cousin. Luke must have been named after his uncle, Lucius.’
‘And now he’s up to no good,’ said Clive, nodding in agreement. ‘Either Luke had something over him or, in return for favours …’
‘… Such as fake mining concessions…,’ Clare burst in.
‘… exactly,’ said Clive patiently. ‘In return for those, the professor is cutting him in on the fortune he hopes – hoped – to make on the invisibility robes.’
‘And more importantly for us,’ Clare exclaimed, ‘after the professor saw us at the crater he obviously tipped the ambassador off to make life as difficult as possible for us all.’
‘Yes,’ said Clive slowly, ‘the question is, has he actually got the authorities involved – which would be pretty risky if the truth came out – or has he just lied to Mum and Dad to put the frighteners on us all and stop us moving about, a certain way of making sure none of us could visit a certain photogyraspar deposit.’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Clare, ‘that’s to ask him, and remember, we now hold all the trumps. We’ve got the incriminating fax, the invisibility robe and two sisters for whom any animals will do anything. Let’s get started! But first I’ll ring Mum and Dad so they can start to relax a bit.’
After Clare had rung Richard and Joanna, Clive rang the embassy and spoke to the ambassador’s secretary. She told him that the ambassador was in meetings all day and couldn’t take any calls. Clive smiled grimly to himself.
‘Can you just pop in and say that it’s Luke with a message for Hans. I’ll hold the line.’ A moment later Hans came on the line after he had gestured for his secretary to leave the room.
‘Luke,’ he said. ‘Good news, I’ve tracked them down and slapped some fake restrictions on them. I can guarantee you’ll be free from further interference.’
Clive had the phone on speaker mode and the three of them grinned at each other. All their hunches had been correct.
‘This isn’t Luke, I’m afraid,’ said Clive, ‘it’s Mr ‘X’ from London who is very interested in your extra-curricular activities. I’ll see you in half an hour in your office.’ Before the stunned ambassador could answer Clive put the receiver down.
‘That’ll make him sweat a bit,’ he said cheerfully. The girls laughed and Clare clapped her hands.
‘Very subtle,’ she said. ‘I just loved that dramatic “Mr X’’. What a cliché!’
‘Now where’s that invisibility robe?’asked Clive. I’ve been dying to try it out.’ They got it out and as Clive was taller than the professor they adjusted the velcro hem so that his feet were invisible. Though they had all “seen” the professor in the robe they had never actually seen anyone disappear in front of them at close quarters, and when Clive stood in front of the mirror and activated the robe and the helmet and then simply vanished they were all lost in wonder at the almost miraculous power of the invention.
‘Bye girls,’ said a disembodied voice and the door opened, apparently by itself, and then shut itself again. A few seconds later it opened again and a few seconds later the faxed transcript rose up from the desk, folded magically in space, then disappeared.
‘Sorry,’ said the voice again, ‘forgot the main exhibit! Bye again.’ The door finally shut.
Outside the ambassador’s office Clive looked up and down the corridor, slipped his robe off and folded it into a bag he had held hidden under the robe. He then walked in without knocking. The secretary looked at him aghast. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, ‘and how did you get past security?’
‘I’m Mr X,’ replied Clive. The ambassador is expecting me. Oh, and I think security were all fast asleep.’
‘The ambassador has just made me cancel all appointments because of you,’ she said coldly. ‘It had better be good. I’ll tell him you’re here.’ She went through to the next room where the ambassador was sitting with his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands, and announced the arrival of Mr X.
‘Thank you,’ said the ambassador wearily. ‘Please show him in – and close the door. Nobody is to disturb us under any circumstances.’
Clive walked in and caught his breath. If there had been any doubt in his mind that this man was a relative of Luke it was now dispelled. The cousins could have been identical twins.
‘My apologies for the somewhat unconventional approach,’ Clive began, ‘and as we have delicate matters to consider I can assure you that nobody in the building other than your secretary is aware of my visit. I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why.’ The ambassador’s haunted look told Clive that no explanation was necessary. Here was a man who knew he was about to hear some unpleasant truths.
‘First, in fairness to you and out of common courtesy, I must tell you that your cousin Luke is dead. He fell while attempting to ford a river and was attacked by crocodiles. I don’t know how close he was to you but please accept my sympathies at your loss.’ The ambassador nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He wanted to know what was coming next. In truth he had never been close to Luke, and apart from being jealous at his academic success, had not had any interest in him. On the few occasions they had met, when the ambassador had worked in the Rio embassy, he had not particularly liked him. The ambassador was, however, desperate for the fortune that his association with Luke had promised to yield, to save him from professional ruin, and that now seemed very unlikely to materialise.
‘The other thing I want to talk about,’ Clive continued, ‘is this.’ He slid the faxed telephone transcript across the desk. ‘I think I’m safe in saying that if this goes to the right desk in London you can say goodbye to the Foreign Office, your reputation and probably your pension.’
The ambassador paled under his tan but remained completely impassive as he read the document. Then he looked at Clive and said.
‘This is blackmail, isn’t it? Who are you and what do you want?’ Clive thought carefully before replying.
‘Yes, I’m afraid it is blackmail. I am not, however, seeking to destroy you, I simply want you to correct the injustice you have done to me and my friends the Bonaventure family – who incidentally have now discovered their missing child, Grace.’ What happened next took Clive completely by surprise. He had expected denial, expostulation, aggression, threats, even violence, but the ambassador slowly leant over the desk and put his head in his hands.
‘I’ve been such a fool,’ he said, his voice trembling.
Clive instantly felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. He knew only too well how the professor could manipulate people. After a moment’s thought he reached over and retrieved his transcript.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘this document isn’t in the public domain; I came across it by chance and the malpractice discussed in it will never actually take place now that Luke is dead.’ The ambassador nodded. ‘So if I destroy this, London will never know about it and in return you can lift the unjust restrictions
placed upon us and set about legitimizing Grace’s position with a British passport and a proper birth certificate.’
‘I could certainly do that,’ the ambassador replied. He had a hunted expression, ‘and I appreciate your decency in offering not to expose me but I’m afraid there’s another complication. I will almost certainly no longer be ambassador by the end of the month – that’s next week – and embassy business will be thrown into turmoil. Grace’s complicated passport application will then be merely routine business and may have to wait until a new ambassador is appointed. It could take weeks or even months.’
‘Why might you not be ambassador?’ asked Clive.
‘It’s a long story,’ said the ambassador wearily, ‘and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.’
‘I’ve got all the time in the world,’ Clive retorted. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it anyway? You’ve got absolutely nothing to lose: at best this is probably going to cost you your job and your reputation; at worst, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a Congo jail.’ He paused briefly before adding grimly, ‘– and that would be a very short life from what I‘ve heard.’
The distraught man thought in silence for several moments. Then he looked up.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘you’re right – but first let’s have a cup of tea. He pressed a buzzer and spoke to his secretary. ‘May as well make use of these little privileges while I can,’ he said giving Clive a twisted smile. ‘Now let me bare all. As you say, I’ve nothing to lose. The reason I so desperately needed money from Luke was because I have a secret passion for gambling – had I should say, because now, although it’s too late, I’ve given up the habit completely. I got into debt with a gambling syndicate based here in Kinshasa and my debt reached such a level that they demanded some kind of security until it was repaid; otherwise they would expose me. I stopped gambling and repaid the debt – fortunately I had a generous legacy from a distant aunt. Then, to my horror, they refused to return my security. I had thought there was some honour among thieves, but realise now that I was being totally naïve.’
‘What was it – the thing you gave him?’ asked Clive.
‘You won’t believe I did this,’ said John, ‘but remember I had no choice.’ The secretary came in and gave them tea and biscuits on beautiful Victorian crockery. ‘The embassy has certain assets,’ the ambassador resumed after she had closed the door behind her. ‘In addition to financial credits in banks we actually own a significant number of artefacts. These are mostly presents from visiting potentates, heads of government, other ambassadors, tribal chiefs and similar dignitaries. They are often indigenous products – traditional wooden carvings, tapestries and such like. Some are extremely valuable and are kept in a vault to which only I have access. By far the most valuable of these assets is a diamond that was owned by King Solomon, a truly fabulous stone called “The Wisdom of King Solomon”. Legend has it that when Solomon was visited by the Queen of Sheba she saw the stone on a pendant round his neck and tried to seduce him into giving it to her. He was wise enough to refuse and that is how the stone got its name.’ Clive nodded – he had read Rider Haggard and knew that King Solomon’s legendary diamond mines were thought to be somewhere in Africa. ‘I’m sure that I don’t now need to tell you,’ continued the ambassador, ‘that it was this precious jewel that I used as security against my debt and when the syndicate refused to return the stone I was simply devastated. I couldn’t tell the police or make a fuss because of course my gambling and my “borrowing” of a precious embassy possession would be exposed and I would be ruined.’
‘How much do they want?’ asked Clive bluntly.
‘Agreat deal – as I suspect you’ve already guessed,’ the ambassador replied. ‘The actual stone is flawless but isn’t much use to them; they can’t sell it because it is too famous and its provenance is universally known. If they cut it up its value will only be a fraction of what it is worth as a single unblemished gem. So, of course, they’d rather have money and it’s insured for one million pounds. That is the amount that Luke was going to give me.’
‘Where is it?’ asked Clive. The ambassador gave a hollow laugh.
‘Don’t even think about it. Retrieving the stone would be quite out of the question. It currently resides at the home of one of the gambling syndicate. He lives by extortion and is one of the richest men in Kinshasa. His enormous villa is in the western suburbs of the city and is impregnable.’
Clive suddenly remembered something that had been said earlier.
‘You said you might not be ambassador in a week,’ he asked. ‘What’s magic about a week?’ The ambassador groaned.
‘That’s the final twist of the knife,’ he said. ‘Every year the embassy assets are checked and audited. The audit is usually in late September, but for some bureaucratic reason to do with tax or insurance or whatever, they’ve brought it forward. The auditors come in on Monday. Once I open the vault I’m destroyed.’ He drank his cup of tea then put it down and walked to the wall cupboard. ‘I think I need something stronger – will you join me?’ Clive nodded and they sat together drinking the finest whisky the embassy possessed as they contemplated the bleak situation.
‘It does seem to me,’ said Clive slowly, ‘and without in any way condoning what you have done, that it would be in everybody’s best interests if the diamond could be in your vault before the auditors arrive on Monday. It would help me and my family, especially Grace, it would preserve the reputation of our embassy and indeed our country, and it would also help you. The only ones for whom it would be bad news are the extortionist syndicate who have cheated you.’
‘That would all be fine, even though I wouldn’t deserve it,’ said the ambassador, ‘but for one single fact, which is that the retrieval of the stone is simply not feasible.’ Clive took a sip of whisky as he pondered on how to say what he wished to say.
‘You have been very honest with me,’ he eventually said after a long pause, ‘and I will now be honest with you in return, but I must first ask you a question. Did Luke ever tell you how he proposed to make this fortune?’
‘No. All I know is that he said he’d invented something incredible that couldn’t fail.’
‘Well first of all, just to set the record straight, it wasn’t his invention, though it did come out of his department. I can’t tell you exactly what it was because I’m honour bound to keep it secret. I can tell you, however, that his description was no exaggeration. It is incredible and it does work. It is also in my possession and I intend to return it to its rightful owner, a young scientist in Rio. In the meantime, however, I intend to use it to get us out of the situation we are in.’
‘But how can you possibly make enough money in time for it to be any use?’ said the Ambassador.
‘It only makes money in an indirect way,’ Clive explained, picking his words carefully. ‘What it actually does is to make people unaware of what is actually going on.’
‘You mean a kind of hypnotism?’
‘I suppose that’s as good a way of imagining it as any,’ Clive replied, with a nod. ‘It’s certainly all I’m going to tell you about it. You’ll have to trust me that I think we’ve got a chance of retrieving your precious stone. The great thing is, the villains won’t know that you’ve got it back – they’ll just think it has been pinched from them. If they should ever bring up the question of payment with you again you simply ask to see the stone first and there can only be an embarrassed silence. And they certainly can’t ever check in the embassy vault to see if you’ve got it or not.’ The ambassador’s face lightened. He was beginning to believe that Clive’s plan might be just feasible, and was already looking more animated than he had so far looked since Clive had first come in. Then he frowned.
‘I believe everything you’ve told me about the invention,’ he said, ‘Luke was very convincing about it and you sound just the same. There is a problem, however – a very big problem.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Clive.
>
‘This hypnotism – or whatever – may work with people, but this character’s villa is protected by animals – dangerous animals. He has rottweilers and cheetahs roaming the grounds, and his valuables are rumoured to be protected by crocodiles. Your invention will presumably be useless against them. I never heard of anyone hypnotizing a croc.’ Clive just smiled.
‘It’ll be OK. Trust me!’ He drained his glass and pulled a town map from his pocket and spread it on the desk between them.
‘Now, where exactly does this interesting gentleman live?’
A minute after Clive had left the room the ambassador saw that he had left the fax transcript on the desk. He quickly rang security at the front gate.
‘I’ve just had a visitor,’ he said, ‘and he’s left something behind. Please let him know and then send someone up for it.’
‘Yes, sir.’ A few minutes later, the security guard rang back and the secretary put him through. ‘We’re just about to close the main gates for the night sir, but there’s been no sign of your visitor. Shall I wait a few moments more?’
‘No-oo,’ said the ambassador thoughtfully. ‘No, he must have left earlier. Thank you. Good night.’
‘Goodnight, sir.’
So, whatever this invention is, it really does work, thought the ambassador as he put the phone down. He picked up the fax. Maybe Clive had left it as a sign of good faith. He locked it in his private wall safe and picked up the phone to his secretary.
‘Put me through to the Bonaventures in Salonga please – oh, and while I’m on the phone to them, check and see if anyone’s still working down in passports.’
22
Clare Copes with Crocs
That evening Clare rang her parents in Salonga to tell them that the situation was improving and was delighted to learn that the ambassador had already contacted them to tell them their travel restrictions had been lifted, that their visa problems would soon be sorted out and that he was working on Grace’s passport.