The Diamond Chain

by Patrick Slaney

  My brain was now working overtime. All sorts of new possibilities were opening up to me. I obviously should visit the mine in Limpopo, wherever that was, and that would necessitate me hiring a car. I had been debating in my mind whether I would need a car; however, if I had to travel to Limpopo, the matter had been answered for me.

  With an action plan in place, I was ready to get going. I forced myself to relax and actually managed to grab some sleep before we landed in Johannesburg, slightly behind schedule, at 9.30 a.m.

  An hour and a half later I was driving out of the airport and heading to the Holiday Inn Hotel in Sandton. The roads were surprisingly good and well signposted, and I managed to negotiate the traffic without too much trouble. A friend, who knew South Africa well, had told me to stay clear of the Toyota Hiace Taxis. They were evidently a law unto themselves and packed to overflowing with large quantities of the local populace. I had to avoid a few who decided to stop suddenly to drop off passengers, blocking the road and exits of the motorway. I could see why I had been warned.

  I was hot, dusty and exhausted by the time I checked into the hotel. I decided to shower, grab some sleep, and then activate my brain. The time difference with London was only 2 hours, so there was no jet lag to overcome, just the fact that I hadn’t slept much.

  Waking up much refreshed at 3:0 p.m., I went down to the ground floor and ordered a cup of coffee and a sandwich. While I consumed my sandwich, I got out my notebook to confirm the next step of my plan.

  Phone Moira Fortuin to try to make an appointment to meet her this evening and see if she could help.

  I also needed to go and visit the Mookgopong mine which, having looked at a map, I now knew to be situated north of Pretoria. The expedition to Limpopo would take me most of a day once I factored in a two to three hour visit to the mine. With a bit of luck and Moira Fortuin’s help, I might be able to arrange that visit for tomorrow. Having come all this way I wanted to get into the meat of the investigation as soon as possible.

  I needed to get my mobile phone working as it would be extremely difficult to communicate with people just relying on the land line phone in my hotel room. The porter directed me to the hotel shop, and they were able to sort me out.

  With a new SIM card and credit on my phone, I dialled Moira Fortuin’s number.

  The phone was answered on the second ring.

  ‘Hello, Moira Fortuin, can I help you.’

  ‘Hello Moira, my name is Vince Hamilton, and I have been given your name by Harold Fortiscue. I hope that you don’t mind me phoning you.’

  ‘No; that’s fine. Harold sent me an email telling me that you were coming to Johannesburg and would be in touch.’

  ‘Well, if it is not too much trouble, I would like to meet with you and have a chat,’ I asked, hoping that she would agree to see me.

  ‘No trouble at all. In fact, you can come over now if you want and we can have a drink together; or is that too soon.’

  ‘No, it would be lovely to see you this evening,’ I replied. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Where are you staying Vince?’ She fired back at me.

  ‘I am staying in the Holiday Inn, in Sandton,’ I replied. As soon as I gave her the hotel’s name, I realised that I had blown any cover that I had. It would have been a lot wiser not to have told her the name of the hotel.

  ‘Well I am living in Randburg which is easy to find from where you are as we are on the same side of the city. All you have to do is take the highway going west and then follow the off ramp for Randburg.’

  ‘If you just give me your address I will find you easy enough as I rented a sat nav when I hired the car. All I have to do is punch in the address, and it will take me to you.’

  ‘That sounds good. I live in 14 Jesse Road, Ferndale and I will expect you in about forty minutes.’ I wrote down the address.

  ‘I look forward to seeing you. Bye for now,’ I hit the red button and put my phone away.

  I went out to my hired car, set up the Tom Tom, punched in the address and set off. Thirty five minutes later I was pulling up outside her house in Ferndale.

  Another difficult meeting was in prospect. Moira’s husband Jacques had been missing now for about six weeks. Harold had told me that he was presumed dead; however, as far as I knew, no body or car had been found. It must be a dreadful time for Moira and any of the family.

  A very high security wall surrounded the property with electric fencing on the top and large steel gates guarded the entrance. I left my car parked on the road and pressed the button on the intercom. As I spoke into the microphone, I looked up and realised that I was being observed by a CCTV camera.

  ‘You must be Vince,’ a voice came back to me. ‘Just push the small gate and you will be able to come in.’

  Hearing a loud click, I pushed the small gate as instructed and gained admission. As I closed the gate an elegant looking woman, classically dressed in a dark long length dress, and I would say in her early fifties, came out onto the veranda that swept around the front of the house.

  ‘Just come up here Vince and you can enter through this door off the veranda. It will save you the bother of going through the front door,’ Moira called out to me.

  I walked up the driveway and went up some wooden steps, joining her on the veranda.

  She extended her hand towards me which I shook warmly.

  ‘You made very good time Vince. The traffic can be quite congested at this time of the day, and it gets snarled up.’

  ‘The traffic was heavy, but it was moving quite well and there were no hold ups,’ I answered, following her into a spacious living room.

  ‘Sit down over here and I will get some drinks organized,’ she said to me as she indicated a chair in a bay window that looked out on the garden. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘A beer is OK for me thanks if you have one,’ I replied as I sat down.

  ‘A beer it is then. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She went off to where I presume the kitchen was, and I heard her talking to someone whom I assumed was a servant.

  I took stock of the house that I had come to. It was large, dark and sprawling. There were a lot of pictures, ornaments and other bits and pieces spread out in the room. The house had a lived in feeling, and there was evidence that they were well off. I had also noticed a brand new BMW Z4 sports car in the driveway which I assumed was hers.

  Before I could do any more evaluation of the room she was back, but empty handed.

  ‘Maggie will bring in the drinks, and we can do the serious talking as soon as we have one in our hands,’ Moira said as she sat down in the chair beside me. ‘Did you have a good flight last night Vince?’

  ‘It was as good as long distance flights can be and I got a little sleep. It’s also not too long a flight being only 12 hours, so, all in all, it wasn’t too bad.’

  ‘I used to fly around the world a lot with Jacques on business, but recently we have been able to cut down on travel. As you probably know he is an agent for a number of overseas companies and that necessitated a lot of international travel in the past.’

  The maid, Maggie entered the room, and conversation ceased until both of us had a glass in hand.

  ‘Harold told me the terrible news about your husband,’ I decided to meet the situation relating to her husband’s disappearance head on. ‘Is there any news of his whereabouts or what happened?’

  ‘It is still as big a mystery now as it was three months’ ago, when he disappeared. I am afraid that I have given up hope of ever finding him alive,’

  ‘Do you mind me asking what happened and where he was when he disappeared?’

  ‘If it helps in your investigation then I suppose that I had better give you the details; however, I don’t know a lot other than where he was heading for.’

  I was surprised th
at she had mentioned that I was carrying out an investigation. I thought that Harold Fortiscue would have kept that piece of information to himself.

  ‘So Harold must have told you why I was coming to South Africa,’ I asked her directly.

  ‘Yes, he told me that you were coming out to South Africa to try and find out if there could be a source of stolen diamonds; as a by-product, he said that I might find out what happened to Jacques,’ she replied.

  ‘You were about to tell me where your husband was going at the time of his disappearance,’ I said to bring her back onto the information that I needed to know.

  ‘Sorry, yes I was. He left the house that morning saying that he was going to a meeting with the Manager of a small private diamond mine in Limpopo and that he would be home in time to go to drinks with the Digby’s that evening.’

  ‘Do you know the name of the mine?’ I asked, feeling that a piece in my jigsaw was now starting to get a shape.

  ‘I’ll have to look it up for you as it is an unusual name,’ she got up and went over to a roll top desk in the corner of the room.

  Opening one of the drawers, she rummaged around until she managed to find the piece of paper she was looking for.

  ‘The name of the mine is Mookgopong, and the manager’s name is Brett Polline. Jacques knew him pretty well.’

  My suspicions had been confirmed. The Mookgopong mine was the same one that had been mentioned in the newspaper article on stolen diamonds that I had read on the plane.

  ‘Can I clarify something with you Moira? Your husband left home that morning to go to a meeting with Brett Polline at the mine, but when during the day did he disappear?’

  ‘He definitely had his meeting with Brett, and he also had lunch at the mine. Brett says that Jacques left the mine just after three, and he hasn’t been seen since. He has just vanished off the face of the planet.’

  ‘Have they found his car?’ I asked her.

  ‘No they have never found his car, but you must realise that South Africa is a vast country and there are many areas where the population is very sparse,’ Moira replied.

  ‘I find it incredible that someone can just vanish like that without any trace,’ I scratched my head. It was hard to believe what I had just been told.

  ‘Had he been involved in any other business deals that might have put him in danger?’ I asked, changing the direction of my questions.

  ‘He just has his regular overseas customers, like Fortiscues, whom he has dealt with for years. He also deals in some of the exotic metals which originate in the mines near Palabora, but that is extremely small beer compared to the diamonds.’

  ‘Have sales been up to the normal levels recently or has the world recession affected the situation?’ I asked, trying a new angle on the problem.

  ‘He never tells me the details of his sales, but he seemed to be bringing in more money recently and had bought me a new car and a large black Mercedes 500 for himself.’

  ‘It certainly doesn’t sound as if he was worried about anything. Was there anything about his behaviour that would have indicated something was wrong?’ I asked.

  Moira considered my question before answering, ‘No, he was in remarkably good form and full of the joys of spring. I hadn’t seen him in as good form for ages.’

  ‘Thanks for talking so frankly about your husband Moira; I appreciate that it must have been upsetting for you to recall the memories of his disappearance. Have you any suggestions as to what my next step should be?’

  ‘If you feel it would help, I can arrange for you to go and talk to Brett Polline, the Manager at the Mookgopong mine. As I mentioned before he is a friend of ours,’ she suggested.

  ‘That would be marvellous Moira and very kind of you,’ this was far more than I could have hoped for and was a brilliant bit of luck.

  ‘He won’t be at the office now so I will call him first thing in the morning. Do you have a mobile number that I can get hold of you on?’

  I wrote my number on a scrap of paper she gave me.

  ‘It was very kind of you to see me so soon after my arrival in the country, and you have been extremely helpful. Let’s hope that I can pick up something that may give me a clue as to where your husband could have gone.’

  ‘No problem Vince,’ she said as we went towards the veranda door that I had entered the room by. ‘If you find out anything please feel free to phone me.’

  ‘Of course I will. Thank you again for all your help.’

  I let myself out through the gate and went to my car feeling highly energised after my meeting with Moira Fortuin. I now at least had a way forward that looked quite promising. As I walked down the drive to the gate I mentally noted the registration of Moira’s car, and, back in the car, I wrote this down in my notebook before I forgot it. It was obviously a personalised number plate and was easy to remember - BMW004GP.

  Chapter 7

  Arriving back at the hotel I dumped my bag in my room and went for a drink in the bar on the ground floor where I was able to find a quiet spot to update my notebook.

  I wrote down:

  Jacques Fortuin - Diamond dealer - missing presumed abducted or murdered?

  Moira Fortuin - Wife - Doesn’t seem to be as upset as I would have expected - either an exceptionally mentally strong woman or knows something that she wasn’t willing to tell me.

  In talking about her husband she never said ‘was’ but always said ‘is’. Was that force of habit or is it more significant than that.

  No signs of any other family members living at home and no family photographs in living area.

  Mookgopong mine in Limpopo province - Diamonds missing presumed stolen and last place that Jacques Fortuin was seen, before he disappeared.

  Brett Polline - manager of mine and good friend of the Fortuin’s.

  Link between Fortiscues in London and Jacques Fortuin seems to be quite strong as he is their SA contact.

  Clear next step - Visit the mine and talk to Brett Polline.

  I thought a bit more about the personalities that I had met so far and the pieces of the jigsaw that were starting to get a shape. So far I had found no common link between all the people I had met - there must be some common thread connecting them.

  My drink and deliberation finished, I had a good dinner and, in deference to my lack of sleep the previous night, went to my bed. Sleep grabbed me as soon as my head hit the pillow and I slept, without interruption until woken the following morning by the sound of my mobile ringing.

  ‘Hi Vince, its Moira here. I hope that I haven’t woken you up,’ I had automatically put my hand out and grabbed my phone as I struggled from a deep sleep.

  ‘Hi Moira, sorry I must have slept in. Go ahead,’ I sleepily replied.

  ‘I managed to get hold of Brett Polline this morning at 7:00 a.m. He will see you at 2:00 p.m today if you can get to the mine by then. Is that OK?’

  ‘That’s brilliant Moira and many thanks for phoning me so early.’ I was now wide awake.

  ‘With Jacques not here, I find that I wake up at the crack of dawn, so it was no problem.’

  ‘I’ll let you know how I get on. Thank you very much again and have a good day,’ I put the phone down and sat up in bed.

  Looking at my watch I saw that it was 8:45 a.m, so I had two hours before I had to leave. I could have a leisurely drive to Limpopo and still be there in plenty of time to have a look around before I had to go in to my meeting.

  I had a full English breakfast to set me up for the day and then went back to my room to ring Harold at the London office to bring him up to date. He was delighted to hear that I had already met with Moira and was about to head off for the Mookgopong mine. In return, he brought me up to date on his brother’s murder investigation. It wasn’t good news as there were no fresh leads and nobody had
been apprehended.

  I left the hotel just before 11:00 and took the N1 to Pretoria. There was no need for the sat nav as the N1 would take me practically the whole way with little opportunity of getting lost. I even had time to stop off in a service area on the way and grab a coke and a sandwich. I pulled into the car park at 1:50 p.m and relaxed for a few minutes.

  From my vantage point in the car park, I could see that the mine workings seemed to be quite a distance from the offices and the administrative block. Tall barbwire fences separated the mine from the admin buildings and were obviously there to control where the miners and other staff were able to go. It looked more like a concentration camp than a mine.

  I brought my notebook and left my bag in the car. It was likely that I would be subjected to a lot of searches and I wanted to keep the inconvenience to a minimum.

  A sign directed all visitors to an entrance door where I was welcomed by a security officer. Taking my details, he then phoned up the manager’s office to verify that I was expected. Receiving a confirmation, he directed me to walk through an arch which incorporated a scanner, and, in addition to this, he searched me.

  Satisfying the security man that I was not carrying anything illegal, I was given a security badge and allowed to proceed to the offices about 50 meters away.

  I entered a very refreshing air conditioned office block and was instructed to sit down and wait. The receptionist told me that Mr Polline would be with me as soon as he was free.

  About twenty minutes later this fit looking man, of about 35 years of age, stood in front of me. The best description I could think of, looking up at him, was that he played front row for some rugby team. He was massive with a neck like a tree trunk, but with a body well-honed for sport. He had closely cropped hair and was about 5ft. 8ins tall with a flat nose and a sneer on his face. He was a truly impressive specimen of a man if not particularly friendly.

  I stood up and took his outstretched hand. That was a mistake as his handshake matched his look and my hand suffered.