“I’m rather surprised to hear that,” I responded, hopefully displaying a straight face. “We hired that aircraft out a few weeks ago to a crowd from the States with their own pilot. I understood that they were exploring the Muan area in Botswana. They said something about a movie to be filmed in the Okavango Delta. But of course, they were free to fly to any of the neighbouring countries other than Angola. We put a ban on Angola for insurance purposes, as you well know.”
“You know why I’m curious, don’t you?”
I would be a bloody fool if I pretended that I didn’t.
“The briefcases, I guess.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’m sorry that I disturbed you, but do me a favour and find out what the An2 was doing there and whether they had any reason to be clearing the airfield. I’ll make my own enquiries. And I’m sure we will be seeing each other again.”
With that, he rose, Rockell following suit. The prick had never said a word. I didn’t like the smirk on the young man’s face. He never did like me.
I wondered whether Trichardt words contained a veiled threat as I watched through the slatted blinds of my office window as the black Mercedes departed. Its dust had not yet settled when Gavin burst into my office.
“What the fuck was that all about?” he asked with unconcealed dismay.
“Guess,” I said softly.
He just stared at me.
“The bloody Antonov and the briefcases, that’s what. At least, the good thing is that they couldn’t recognize anybody on the ground from the photos they had. God, it was that fuckin’ over fly that we never anticipated - damn it.” The over fly had been a chance in a thousand; just bad luck! “It’s just struck me, I think he didn’t ask for you because he still considers you his ace-in-a-hole. Be sure, he’s going to call on you expecting you to spy on me! Hell! Just imagine when he finds out you’re a party to this!”
Gavin blanched.
I didn’t think Gavin actually had yet realized the true implications of what he was letting himself in for, and I could see the thought suddenly strike home.
“Gavin,” I said seriously, “You have to remember that whoever took those cases is perceived to be a criminal. It doesn’t matter that the diamonds were extracted from the rivers at gunpoint, that people have been killed for them, or that they were used to buy weapons to kill others. In Trichardt’s eyes, that’s all horseshit. He believes we may have stolen them - period. The implications for us are serious, and we’re going to have to come up with a brilliant plan to convert the diamonds to cash and then secrete the cash away. And, of course, stay alive.”
I must confess my enthusiasm for the whole diamond affair was somewhat on the wane. Developments clearly indicated that the game was getting dangerous, and I was in the forefront. I realized I could be killed. Giving them back might have been an option, but it was now too late for that - something was bound to happen to us, or at least me!
“What about the police?”
“The police! That’s difficult to say. I would think that outside South Africa he dare not bring any police into it - nobody’s supposed to be buying these conflict diamonds, so I think we can exclude the cops. Though here in South Africa, it could be a different matter. I’m convinced that he’ll get BOSS involved but without police dockets, etcetera. They would want to deny any knowledge - I don’t think they would want the government, I mean those in the higher echelons, to know. This will be a private affair, you know, you scratch my back and I scratch yours. He’d probably share the spoils with his BOSS buddies and keep it quiet - capisce?”
“Ja I think I’ve got it. Well, we’d better get together with Maria. Christ! Now I know why you need her,” Gavin said sourly.
Chapter Fourteen
I contacted Maria during the course of the day and arranged that we would again meet at her hotel suite around eight. I then had to phone Francine and tell her that I was tied up for the evening. Although she didn’t ask, it was clear that she expected me to volunteer some reason. I was not about to lie again, so remained silent. That did not go down well either. I said I would see her the next day.
The atmosphere in the hotel suite that evening was subdued. We all realized that Trichardt was about to bring his big guns to bear. For us to try and outsmart BOSS with the investigative resources they had at their disposal, was no mean task. Maria remained our trump card. Nobody knew she was in the country. In fact, she could clear the decks for us, and all discriminatory evidence could disappear.
If you couldn’t find the money or the diamonds, they had nothing - or so I thought.
“Listen,” I said. “Be prepared. As sure as there are little apples, one of us will probably be taken in for questioning. I believe they’ll go for me. The idea is to stick to our original story - it will take time before they’re able to verify anything. After all, they who supposedly hired the An2 to take it to Muan have long since left the country and we don’t know where they’ve gone. Besides, the hire was an upfront cash transaction anyway. We don’t have any forwarding addresses.”
“But the bloody plane’s still at Alldays loaded with the Zodiac and bikes!” Gavin said loudly.
“I know; we need to fly it out of there to Wonderboom Airport in Pretoria; then we can say the aircraft was left there,” I snapped.
Gavin pondered my comment for a second.
“Okay, tomorrow first thing we fly to Alldays. I’ll fly the kite to Wonderboom. You arrange to have me picked up. We’ll hide the raft and bikes elsewhere. God help us if they check the airport logs.”
“They won’t,” I said although not sure whether I was right,
“Okay. Now..., what about the diamonds? We’ve got to get those bags out of the country - quickly!” He said.
“Forget about taking them on any commercial airline. It would be too risky, what with x-rays and occasional body and luggage searches. The chances of being nabbed are too big!” Maria said quietly but forcefully.
I looked at her. She was smartly dressed in a narrow beige skirt, which I thought to be part of a business suit. A cream silk blouse complemented this, and it appeared that she had had her hair done; the highlights shimmered in the light. She was exquisite.
“We need to get the stuff across the border, by car or by train -but to which country? If we can them out, we can stash them for as long as we like, well, at least until everything has been resolved - whatever,” Gavin ventured But still appearing to be somewhat at loss.
I had an idea. “None of the countries bordering on South Africa are advisable, except maybe Namibia. I mean, they’ve just gained their independence, a new government is taking over, all the previous sanction barriers are coming down, and there’s been a major influx of tourists - maybe that’s the way to go. Rest assured, BOSS, the South African secret police, certainly one of their arch-enemies definitely is no longer operative there,” I wasn’t entirely sure that I was correct but I was sure SWAPO was not about to listen to anything BOSS had to say.
“But Peter, how are we going to do this?” Maria asked.
I smiled.
“Easy. You put all your belongings into a crate and use a cartage company to take these as personal effects. Of course, this all accompanied by proper and certified documentation. Amongst your personal belongings will be our loot. This would then go into a truck, a very large truck, with a host of other consignments. They never search these - it’s too tedious and requires too many hands. They’d only initiate a search if there were any suspicion. You have to remember that the Namibian border post with South Africa at Nakop, is in the middle of bloody nowhere.”
I refilled my glass and continued.
“Hell! They haven’t even put a border gate up yet, let alone passport and proper documentation control. A couple of months ago Namibia was still part of South Africa. Besides, the two countries are still using the same
currency.”
“All right. I’m going to retrieve the satchels and pack them, and as you suggest, have these consigned to Windhoek as personal belongings. Of course, I’ll disguise the contents; add clothes, shoes etc. - make it look like excess luggage going by road. I’ll address it to myself care of the transport company’s storage facility in Windhoek, to be personally collected by me. I’ll use an American passport to enter. I’ve a foreign diplomatic passport I can use to leave Namibia. Anyway, the country is full of foreign diplomats who continuously coming and going, they setting up embassies and consulates.”
“Sounds grand,” Gavin said, his sullen look gone, his expression now one of relief, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Of course, that’s still leaves our friends Trichardt and company,” I said feeling compelled to remind them
I then addressed Gavin. ”Please, whatever happens, you know bugger all, okay? You’ve got to play dumb. Can you do that?”
“Of course I can!”
“Just remember, you never were on the original flight, which Trichardt knows, and that the An2 was seen at Simjembela is news to you. In fact, you’re slightly pissed off with me because I hadn’t kept you in the loop about the hire-out of our private plane, the An2,“ I said, “I just want to divert attention to myself for a while until the bags and Maria are gone. All we need is a few days. But you have to be around to get me out of the shit if Trichardt tries something. Use Mike if you have to. Let’s just remember, kidnapping and murder are capital offences in South Africa - Trichardt will be wary. He won’t want to involve the South African Police.”
“I’m glad you think so. I don’t think he gives a damn about the cops or BOSS,” Gavin spat. “Is there anything else? My family is waiting.” He rose to his feet from the couch.
“No, that’s it, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Gavin left, and Maria came towards me. I held her close.
“I’m worried for you,” she said. “Trichardt’s dangerous - I know a lot about him.”
“I’ll be all right,” I whispered in her ear. I must sound like a bleeding hero, I thought. In reality, I was scared shitless but this had gone too far, there was no turning back now. I couldn’t imagine Trichardt’s goons finding Maria, and I didn’t think they would put pressure on anybody else. The others couldn’t tell them much. I wasn’t quite sure I could say the same for myself. Clearly, Trichardt was yet not done with me.
“Look, I’m going now,” I said.
She drew away from me and looked up at my face.
“Aren’t you going to stay for a while?”
The insinuation wasn’t lost on me.
“No, better I go. I need to keep you safe,” I said. I could see she understood my concern. “Just keep in touch - play the Mary Donkin bit, nobody will be any the wiser. You know I’ll always respond.”
We kissed passionately. She then left, driving back to my bungalow in Broederstroom.
Chapter Fifteen
The car’s lights illuminated the tunnel that cut through the bush as I drove up the incline that led to my bungalow. The loose gravel foundation of the track crunched beneath the car’s wheels. I drove slowly, passing one of the tracks that forked off to the right. A large car was parked a short way along it, but I didn’t think anything of it as there a number of dwellings on the property and some of the families owned multiple cars.
I swung the car into the clearing that bordered my bungalow and saw Francine’s white Opel Astra parked below the porch. The bungalow’s lights were on and I realized she was waiting for me. She had keys to the bungalow.
The kitchen light was also on so I entered through the backdoor. I called to Francine, but heard no answer. I strode through the empty kitchen into the adjoining dining room and then through to the lounge. Here, only the table lamps were on, the lighting subdued.
I jerked to a halt. Francine sat on the couch, with two men dressed in suits and ties occupying the easy chairs facing her. I know a police officer when I see one, be he in uniform or not - and they were definitely police!
They did not stand when I walked in.
“Mr van Onselen?”
The large man nearest to me spoke abruptly, simultaneously pulling an automatic from inside his jacket. He didn’t point this at me but merely held it in his lap. The significance of this was not lost on me!
“Please don’t be alarmed and don’t try anything stupid. I would hate to have to shoot you in the leg or something.” He grinned falsely. He spoke English with a guttural Afrikaans accent. He was a large man with dark hair and a moustache. “I’m Warrant Officer Herbst and my colleague here is Warrant Officer Gerbers. We’re from the police - the security division.”
The security division: well, he may as well have said BOSS. No wonder his partner pulled a gun, only the security people would do that, not an ordinary police officer.
I looked at Francine - she looked scared but not terrified, her eyes wide as she stared at me. I saw the empty glasses on the coffee table in front of them and realized that she had offered the men a drink. Obviously, they’d been waiting a while.
I didn’t think the man would use the gun; he was just trying to scare me. Well, he was succeeding. It wasn’t the gun, it was what I knew would come next.
Gerber indicated I should sit, which I duly did, joining Francine on the couch.
“We have it on good authority that you flew into Zambia,” Herbst began.
“That’s not true,”
“Really? Well, then where is your An2 that was parked on the road at Simjembela?”
“Actually, I don’t know, but according to the rental agreement it is only due to be returned day after to-morrow. What the hell is this all about?”
God, I thought, I hope they believed that; we still needed a day to clear up our tracks.
“We are investigating a case of theft. In fact, we are looking for two briefcases containing money - US dollars and uncut diamonds. They’re the property of Mr. Trichardt.”
I realized I should ask him to produce a search warrant. He couldn’t just enter my house! Then I realized that Francine had let them in. Still, I was damn sure no police docket had been opened.
“I suppose you’re referring to those that went up in flames in the plane. Hasn’t this matter been resolved? All has been explained.” I said feigning surprise and some impatience.
Gerber chuckled. “Mr van Onselen, we’re not stupid.”
I know nothing else about those briefcases and their contents.” I responded with a show of barely concealed irritation.
“Well, seeing that you propose being hard-assed about this you’ll have to come with us. If you struggle or protest, I’ll have no choice but to clip you over the head with my gun. That’ll hurt, so please cooperate.”
He reached behind his back and produced a set of handcuffs, while his colleague produced another set. With the automatic now pointed at us both, they manacled our hands behind our backs.
“Why are you taking the woman?” I protested loudly.
“Just in case you refuse to talk,” he explained nonchalantly.
The implication was clear. I felt myself grow cold. These bastards were past experts at extracting information, as many would be able to testify. Their antics were legion amongst the black population. Some of their victims had jumped through the glass of sixth floor windows in police headquarters, unable to take the pain and humiliation these men had inflicted on them. Once you were in custody, they could legally hold you without trial for a hundred and eighty days.
“Please... leave the woman,” I said; I was close to begging.
They ignored me. They marched us outside and down the gravel track to where their car was parked a hundred or so yards away. It was the car I had seen when I arrived. They bundled us in the rear and drove off. The rear doors
had no means of opening from the inside and neither could the windows be lowered. A bar was bolted to the floor, no doubt to manacle prisoners’ feet to it. Fortunately, they did not consider it necessary to do this to us.
“Where are you taking us?” I asked. They ignored me.
“Don’t worry, Francine,” I whispered.
Gerber swung round in the front seat.
“Silence!” he said harshly, “Another word and you’ll feel the butt of my pistol.”
I could see that he meant it. The latest developments had reduced Francine to a near catatonic degree of shock. Our hands were cuffed; there was little I could do to comfort her. I just leaned slightly sideways so that our shoulders touched, hoping that this would give her some comfort.
I tried to take note of where we were going. I expected that they would head for John Vorster Square, the notorious main police headquarters in Johannesburg, where a few of the many tortured apartheid dissidents had opted to rather plunge to their deaths than undergo further ingenious applications of torture at the hands of their captors. The windows were now shuttered; the outcry from the rest of the world had left the security police with no alternative. The simplest solution would have been to stop the torture; then there would be no need to ‘jump’. Of course, many said that the ‘jumping’ was helped along by the interrogators once they had what they wanted.
The car, however, travelled north towards Pretoria and then before the city, it turned off the highway and onto a gravel road. I realized that we were amongst the agricultural plots that surrounded the outer rim of the capital. Sure enough, we stopped in the front of an old Afrikaner homestead that still had a corrugated iron roof with and an enormous porch in the front, which stretched the length of the building. There were a few out buildings and two garages. I saw a few black men in a uniform I did not recognize; they armed with South African military R5 assault rifles.
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