“No. Just mentioned his name.”
Luc thought for a moment. He didn’t want to unnerve Lieve again, but it might be worth a try. “Lieve, do you happen to know why she’s afraid of her first husband? César? And their daughter? Cassandra.”
Lieve was quiet for a while. “Professor, I’m not sure. Miss Ammie is quite confused nowadays. I think César was an evil man. I think she believes their daughter inherited the evilness.”
“On what grounds? As far as I know she never knew the child.”
“She believes it’s in the blood, Professor.”
The way dullness ran in his blood? Why couldn’t he have inherited his father’s brilliance? It had clearly been diluted by his mother’s blood. From the little Jacq had told him, he only knew that she had been good and kind and had died much too young. And that she had been some kind of assistant at the university. But with Ammie as the mother figure in his life, he hadn’t really wondered too much about his own mother.
“This Elijah. Do you think he was her lover?” he mused rather than asked.
“Goodness, no, Professor. That would be a sin. She was married.” Lieve sounded scandalized.
“True,” he reassured her. But he knew very well that love, particularly passion, didn’t recognize sin.
However, if Elijah had been Ammie’s lover, how could she be so sure Cassandra was César’s child?
There were a number of possible answers, but he would like to hear what Ammie said.
The steak was cold when he sat back down at last, but he hardly noticed.
Caz
Leuven
Caz was just about to give up when the email came through from the airbnb landlady. She had room and Caz was welcome. Fifteen minutes later Caz was on a bus. She asked to be let off at the Ghent-Sint-Pieters clinic. There was no doubt that Sint Pieter, whoever he might have been, was a popular saint around there.
She was met at the bus stop by a pleasant young woman who identified herself in perfect English as Jennie, took Caz’s case and dragged it the last hundred meters to a lovely old house, where two cats were waiting.
Caz suddenly realized how much she missed Catya. The feeling caught her off-guard, but it was soon replaced by gratitude that she had found a bed for the night.
When she sat down on the bed in her charming room, Caz was yet again on the verge of tears—this time for a different reason than in Kieldrecht. A demon and an angel seemed to be battling for the welfare of Caz Colijn. Tonight the angel had won.
Erevu
Ghent
“Leuven. We have the address as well.” Dove smiled and looked up from his tablet.
Erevu breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, I’ll go there tomorrow. You’ll have to keep things going here. It’s a pity we didn’t know the Colijn woman next door was going to be out most of the day. You could have taken a look around inside. Most of Cassandra Colijn’s luggage must still be there. She left for Doel with very little.”
Dove shrugged. “We can’t risk it until we have determined our neighbor’s new routine. I think now that the old woman is dead, she’ll go out more often.”
“You’ll have to watch her.” Erevu got up and stretched. “My fingers are getting stiff, I’ll take out the mvet tomorrow. Nothing like a little traditional music to remind one of one’s roots, don’t you think?”
Dove smiled. “I take it I must air the dreadlocks tonight? Dust off the ankle rattles?”
Erevu patted his shoulder. “You read me like a book, Dove. Like a book.”
Luc
Damme
Lieve’s call brought back all the questions he had been trying to banish from his mind. Who was Elijah? Who did Ammie flee with? How did she pay Josefien Colijn? And he kept wondering about the plane crash.
He entered “Mbuji-Mayi” in the search box, clicked on a few articles and skimmed over the text to get an idea of the contents. A piece of information on the website allaboutgemstones.com caught his eye. He had read the same story the previous time he researched “Bakwanga.” In the early 1980s, a young girl found an 890 carat rough stone near the town of Mbuji-Maye. It was found by accident while she was playing in a mound of tailings from the Bakwanga diamond mine.
It was more than an anecdote, he soon discovered.
The little girl had shown the pretty stone to her uncle. The uncle had realized it was a diamond and had sold it to local Congolese diamond dealers.
Luc didn’t even want to guess what the man must have got for it. Certainly nowhere near its true value. Next, it was sold to Lebanese buyers, who took the diamond to Antwerp. A few transactions later the magnificent diamond was put on display at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC, before the cutting process began.
It took four years to cut the biggest part of the diamond to a stone of just under 408 carats—at the time the second largest faceted stone after the Cullinan.
The stone was named Incomparable, not only because of its size, but also because of its exceptional shades of yellow and brown and its unique shape.
In October 1988 the Incomparable became the largest diamond ever offered for sale on auction. The reserve price was twenty million dollars. The closest offer was a meagre twelve million and the stone remained unsold.
In 2002 the stone was offered on eBay for fifteen million pounds, but again remained unsold.
The diamond’s present whereabouts were unknown.
The staggering amounts sparked Luc’s curiosity and he learned that the most expensive diamond sold to date was the Graff Pink in 2010, for forty-six million dollars.
This record price was nearly surpassed when the Pink Star drew a bid of eighty-three million dollars at a Sotheby auction, but the prospective buyer could not honor the deal.
Luc also read about the Millennium Star, considered the most beautiful diamond in the world. But what impressed him more was learning that the mother stone had weighed 777 carats and that it had been found in the Mbuji-Mayi district in 1990. Like the Incomparable.
Mbuji-Mayi, where Ammie’s father died in a plane crash four months after Ammie’s marriage to César Ronald Bruno Janssen. According to Lieve, Ammie had said César Janssen was an evil man. So evil, in fact, that she had been hiding from him for more than half a century.
Evil and an unnatural death, both linked to Mbuji-Mayi, known for monstrous diamonds. Interesting. Chillingly interesting.
Thursday, 25 September
Caz
Leuven
When she got up, Caz’s muscles protested, but by the time she had had her second cup of coffee and Jennie had given her directions to get to the university’s administration building, she felt better. Only the muscles in her arm had not forgotten how far she had dragged the suitcase the day before.
Her mood varied between excitement at the thought of exploring the city and uncertainty about her proposed visit to the university. Did she really want to raise ghosts from the past?
Outside the sky was overcast and there was a chilly breeze. Maybe she should have worn a jacket. But, no, then she would have to carry it over her arm when it got warmer. It was bliss to walk with only the backpack. She could even put her handbag inside.
She had been really lucky to find Jennie. She was not only friendly, but her lovely old house dating back to the seventeenth century was beautifully restored and full of character. And it was only a ten- or twelve-minute walk from the university.
Leuven, Caz discovered, had a completely different ambience from Ghent. It was less laid back, though there were cyclists everywhere, and students, dragging cases or standing around in groups, talking. Even the buildings looked starker, though when the Town Hall came into view, she noticed it had no lack of Gothic excess.
Amazed, Caz walked round the wedding-cake-like building before carrying on along Naamse Street to the registrar’s office. She had picke
d a bad time, she realized as she watched the students come and go. Of course, Njiwa had mentioned that it was the start of the academic year.
At ten o’clock sharp she entered the administration building through the arched doorway, to the accompaniment of a clock chiming in a church spire somewhere, or perhaps even in the Town Hall itself.
Inside there was a jumble of people and voices and movement. Three enquiries later she was directed to another building in the same street. Inside it smelled of mouldy documents and stale breath. After being sent from one office to another, Caz reached a gray-haired woman who was prepared to listen to her stuttering enquiry after someone called DeReu who used to work there.
“DeReu? Yes, of course, Professor DeReu. Which of the two do you mean? Father or son? Not that either of them still lectures here. Professor Jacq DeReu passed away a long time ago and Professor Luc DeReu ... Well, he left a number of years ago. Fourteen, fifteen, if I’ve got it right. Yes, it was about two or three years after Professor Jacq’s death.”
“Do you happen to know where Professor DeReu junior finds himself now?”
With a shake of the head the woman reached for the phone. “I’m afraid I don’t know, but I’ll call someone who might.”
“I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“I’d much rather do this than deal with the students. Like lost sheep, most of them.” She lowered her gaze. “Ingrid?”
The woman switched to a dialect Caz didn’t understand. Through the window the sky looked a little bluer than when she had left Jennie’s house—still grayish blue, but at least not pure gray any more. An airplane trailed a white line behind it, like the wake of a ship.
“That’s strange.” The woman put the phone down, frowning. “Inge says no one has asked about the DeReus in years, but this is the second enquiry she’s had in the past few weeks. From you and another woman. Or are you Lieve Luykens who’s enquiring again?”
Caz shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
“Nevertheless, Ingrid doesn’t know where Professor Luc DeReu is either. Apparently he went from here to Maastricht but he left there as well. We don’t know where he went from there.” She shook her head. “He probably decided to stay under the radar after the debacle. And rightly so. To think his father was the epitome of integrity and moral values.”
“What debacle?” Perhaps it would give her a clue.
The woman snorted. “Who would have thought such an unassuming man could get so carried away that he would destroy his reputation?” She lowered her voice. “Sexually harassed one of his students. Apparently ambushed her round every corner, making indecent proposals. To make matters worse, she was an exchange student. From Suriname. Her nickname was Suri. She left before the end of the academic year.
“When it became known, the professor handed in his resignation. I must say, the girl was asking for it, the way she behaved, but one would hope a professor would be immune.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I hope the professor isn’t a friend or a relative?”
Caz shook her head. Should she try her luck with this gossipmonger? “You don’t happen to know what became of Ammie Pauwels? His mother, I understand.” Shit, that would make this man her half-brother. The thought nearly knocked the breath out of her body.
“Ammie Pauwels? Now, there was a piece of work! Professor Luc’s stepmother, Professor Jacq’s second wife. His first wife worked here at the university, but Luc was just a baby when she died.”
Caz was relieved that there was no shared bloodline to further complicate matters.
“Yes, Ammie. One day, out of the blue, she left Professor Jacq and disappeared. The poor man was never the same again.” She shook her head. “That was probably where the damage was done to Professor Luc.” The phone rang shrilly. “Sorry, that’s all I can tell you.” She picked up the receiver.
Caz raised her hand in a silent greeting. The woman nodded and turned her attention to the call.
Caz walked to a restaurant opposite the Town Hall and sank down on a chair. The fountain she looked out on was in the shape of a man reading a book and simultaneously pouring water into his own head.
“That’s our Fonske.” A waiter stopped beside her and smiled. “The eternal student with beer for brain cells. Officially the Fons Sapientiae, Latin for ‘source of wisdom.’”
Caz couldn’t help smiling. “If beer is the source of wisdom, I’ll take one. Kriek, please.”
“What kind?”
She shrugged. “Surprise me.”
The waiter double-clicked his tongue in agreement, almost as if he was calling a horse.
Caz had no sooner taken her handbag out of her backpack than the cherry beer was placed in front of her in a goblet with an ornate logo that read Lindemans.
“Alstublieft.” And the waiter was gone.
The kriek was even tastier than she remembered from the single sip she had taken from Tieneke’s glass. Maybe it was because she was thirsty. Maybe because it took the nasty taste of gossip from her mouth.
Lieve Luykens. Why would she enquire about the DeReus? She stared at Fonske but he offered no answer, just kept pouring water into his head.
Luc
Ghent
Luc’s eyes swept over the heads of the young people who, in a few years’ time, would be holding the future of his generation in their hands. He had fewer students than ever this year. And they seemed even less interested in his lectures than before.
He had updated today’s lecture, but he knew in advance that none of them gave a damn about the difference between insurgents, revolutionaries, rebels, terrorists and warmongers.
In Stellenbosch a student had got up and said his father had hunted terrorists, and now those very terrs were sitting in parliament. What did one call them now, he wanted to know.
“Politicians,” Luc had answered. Only a few had laughed. It had been the liveliest conversation ever to take place in any of his classes.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he tried to call the group in front of him to order. If he thought they would pay attention to him instead of their conversations, cellphones and tablets, he had another think coming. Not that the thought had entered his mind.
“A diamond of 890 carats,” he spoke into the microphone. Heaven knows where he was going with that, but it worked. Especially the girls were suddenly all ears.
“A country where a little girl picks up a pretty stone in a pile of mine waste that later turns out to be a diamond of 890 carats,” he continued while he groped in his mind for a link with the lecture he had prepared. “A country where a diamond of 777 carats was discovered a few years later.” He paused for effect. “A country that produces the coltan your cellphones and tablets need to work. The largest producer of cobalt ore in the world, and one of the largest producers of copper and industrial diamonds.” He pushed his spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “You’d think a country like that would be one of the most thriving in the world.”
The students were silent.
“But it isn’t. It is a country where there are almost more rebel groups at present than members of parliament.”
“What country is it, Professor?” a thin wisp of a girl in the first row asked.
“It’s the country your forefathers and mine exploited for their own objectives.”
A whispering ensued, and for the first time in his life Luc knew he had the students in the palm of his hand. If only he knew what to do with that victory.
Caz
Leuven
Caz walked back to her lodgings, deep in thought. She was aware of the buildings towering above her, but she wasn’t really taking anything in.
She had a biological mother, or had had one. Surely a father too. And a stepfather. And a stepbrother. But none of them had ever become family. Only the stepfather had taken the trouble to try to contact her. Lord knows why.
/> She used to have a father, a mother and a sister, only they turned out not to be what she had thought they were. A father-in-law, mother-in-law and a husband, who hadn’t wanted her or her child.
Except for Lilah, she was alone in the world. And Lilah had her own life to lead. One that took her progressively further away from Caz. You can’t see a child once a year and expect to remain a part of her life. Superficially, yes, but the umbilical cord was being stretched thinner and thinner.
Ammie Pauwels. A piece of work, according to the gray-haired gossip. Tieneke had described her as a breathtakingly beautiful woman who had caused an irreversible upheaval in the lives of the Colijns.
A woman who had led an adventurous life. Lived in the Congo. Fled from the Congo. Landed in South Africa. Had a child and left her there. Returned to Belgium. Got married. Raised another woman’s child. Walked away. Remarried. Disappeared after her husband’s death.
She might have been heartless, but she was certainly brave as well.
If she had disappeared, her stepson might not know where she was either.
Why would Lieve Luykens be looking for him?
She became aware of the rhythm of her footsteps. Lie-ve Luy-kens. Luc-De-Reu. Lie-ve Luy-kens. Luc-De-Reu. Lie-ve Luy ... Caz stopped and tilted her head when another sound got through to her. The music against a background of swishing bicycle tyres, the drone of cars and the rattling of buses had an unmistakable African sound.
He was sitting some distance from the bus stop where she had got off the night before. The dreadlocks covered his face. His shirt was brightly colored, the musical instrument in his hands strange for these parts. A kind of zither. A bent stick with a few strings attached to it, and a gourd for resonance. Around his ankles were strings of seeds, shells and beads, making percussion sounds as he kept time with his feet.
He didn’t look up when she approached. Words flowed from his lips in a strange singsong language. He seemed to be telling a story rather than singing a song.
On the ground in front of him lay a cap, the hollow part facing up. A few coins glistened inside it.
The nostalgia that overcame her was as unexpected as it was intense. The musician wasn’t even someone from her own country, at most someone from her continent. Yet the sudden longing she felt was like a blow to her heart.
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