Jigsaw Lovers

  In the street he was thinking that he had last seen Diana in that flat on June the thirtieth. Two days later the Williams said they saw it and it was like a builder’s yard. He didn’t understand what was going on. Was he losing his mind?

  CHAPTER ELEVENIt had been almost a month since the last piece of the jigsaw, together with the complete picture, had arrived in Smith’s post. Nothing else had happened. There had been no notes or demands for money. No attempt at blackmail or any type of threat had been made. The behavior of his wife was no different from normal, and as far as he could judge she was totally unaware of what was going on.

  Smith wrestled with the problem. When he had received the photograph he had automatically assumed that he would be the target of some form of blackmail.

  The two things he couldn’t understand or work out were, what was the point of sending him the photograph and then doing nothing, and secondly, he had no idea as to who would be likely to send such a photograph, in such a manner.

  These aspects gave him great cause for concern. It had dominated his waking thoughts. As the month had gone by and each day brought forth no new surprises in the post, he began to relax a little. He was sleeping better, and was feeling a lot more comfortable about the situation than he had been a month ago. Maybe whoever had sent it had changed their mind or had become scared about getting involved with blackmail. Perhaps that would be as far as the whole episode would go. He should attempt to put it behind him and forget about it.

  What he couldn’t forget about so easily was Diana Johnston. She had completely disappeared. He had waited several days after the enquiries he had made at her flat and still she had not come back or telephoned. He was worried that something may have happened to her. He couldn’t believe how much he loved her and missed her, and how much she had come to mean to him in such a short time. It was as if something fundamental in his whole life was missing.

  He had tried to the best of his abilities to attempt to track her down.

  He had telephoned the airlines to see if she had been booked on any flights that had arrived in the country, a week either side of her expected return date. They had been remarkably patient and accommodating with him, but had managed to find no reservations in the name of Diana Johnston.

  On an impulse he asked if they had a record of her flying from Cape Town to London on 30 June. It was confirmed that she had flown from Cape Town to Johannesburg, but surprisingly there was no record of her having carried on to London on that flight. He checked with all the airlines that operated the route and none of them had taken a Diana Johnston from Johannesburg to London, or any other destination for that matter.

  She had disappeared without trace. This baffled him and at the same time made him extremely worried.

  One night he had a terrible dream. It was filled with gruesome images of Diana being mugged, raped and killed in Johannesburg, and left in a reeking gutter. So powerful had the images in the dream been that it occupied his thoughts all the next day and barely allowed him to sleep the next night.

  He even went to the extreme lengths of telephoning the police to ascertain whether they had any unidentified corpses that fitted Diana’s description. Fortunately for him in this instance, they too could find no trace of her.

  Not long after these episodes, the letters he had written to Diana in England were returned to him. They were unopened. Diana’s name had been circled in red on the front of the envelope, and across it was scribbled ‘Return to sender, not known at this address’.

  He had exhausted all the avenues of investigation that he could think of to try and locate Diana. She had just vanished off the face of the earth. It was as though she had never existed. He was heart-broken and miserable, but more than that he was desperately concerned about her welfare. If only she would contact him to let him know that she was alive and well, he would be able to relax a little.

  Another aspect, associated with Diana’s disappearance, which was also causing him to worry was the overdraft that he had arranged for her; an overdraft which was totally unsecured. Interest was accumulating at an alarming rate. If the auditors picked up on it in the next audit he would have some very difficult questions to answer. He had behaved in an unethical fashion, allowing his personal desires to overcome his business responsibilities. Such behaviour was totally out of character. It could even affect the plans for his promotion, for which he had worked so long and so hard. He remembered, with a mixture of longing and increasing anxiety, the afternoon he had suggested the idea to her.

  It was late one Saturday afternoon and John and Diana had been making love on and off for most of it. He didn’t know from where he found the energy for these prolonged bouts of passion. It had been years since he’d been so sexually active. Diana was able to coax him into action time and time again. She was quite exquisite and he had to admit something that he had realised a while back but had tried to dismiss as nonsense. However, if he was honest with himself, and he liked to think that he was honest in all of his dealings, both business and personal, he had to come to terms with the fact that he had fallen in love with Diana Johnston. She had completely captivated his heart.

  It was at this moment, as she lay snuggled under his arm, playing with the dark hairs on his chest, that she looked up into his eyes, and he felt a great warmth and affection for her. She kissed him gently on the chin and rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Darling,’ she began somewhat hesitantly, ‘there’s something I need to speak to you about.’

  ‘Well, you have my undivided attention,’ he said genuinely, hanging on her every word.

  ‘I’m not quite sure how to begin, or whether I should even be asking you.’ There was a note to her voice which Smith had not heard before. She sounded worried and indecisive and it disturbed him, and at the same time aroused his protective instincts.

  Hugging her more closely to him he muttered reassuringly that she could ask him anything.

  ‘I feel you might think that I’m taking advantage of our relationship,’ she said, then added. ‘No, forget I even mentioned it.’

  ‘But you haven’t mentioned anything yet.’ He stroked her hair. ‘Please tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t be fair on you.’ She tried to sit up and pull away from him.

  ‘Why don’t you let me decide that? Just tell me what it is. Please, darling,’ he implored.

  ‘I don’t think I should,’ she persisted.

  ‘Please, I insist.’ he said leaning on one elbow.

  ‘All right then, but if you don’t want to do it then you must say, and I won’t mind, honestly.’

  ‘If I don’t want to do it I will tell you. I promise.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ she said sitting up in the bed and putting her legs over the side, and turning away from him. ‘I need to borrow some money.’

  Smith’s eyes took in the contours of her wonderful body. ‘Is that all? No problem,’ he said relieved, that it was so simple to solve for her. ‘I’ve got a couple of hundred on me, but we can always go down to the cash machine and draw more if you need.’

  ‘It’s not quite that easy, John. I need a lot more than you can get out of a cash machine,’ she said leaning across the bed.

  ‘How much?’ He still couldn’t imagine there would be a problem.

  ‘It’s quite a lot. Look, I really don’t think I should ask you. It’s better I forget the whole thing.’

  ‘Forget what whole thing?’ He was very puzzled now. What was the problem that she had?

  ‘It’s silly really. It’s just an idea I had, which seemed quite good at the time.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he said softly.

  ‘It’s a business opportunity that I’m interested in,’ she began. ‘You remember that man James, whom you met the night you came here for drinks?’

  ‘Yes. Englishman out here on business of some sort.’ He answered not really remembering him that well, but remembering the rest of the evening
clearly.

  ‘Well, he sent me a brochure the other week concerning one of the companies that he deals with. He thought it might be of some interest to me, if I was wanting to stay out here.’ She took his hand and sucked his finger before carrying on. ‘Which you’ve probably guessed, I’d quite like to, since I’ve met you.’ She giggled and put her leg over his, entwining their calves.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that because as you’ve probably guessed, I’ve fallen in love with you. I want to spend all my time with you. I’m going to be so lonely and miss you when you go back to England.’

  ‘It’ll only be for a month. Hopefully less if I can settle my affairs sooner.’

  ‘What was this brochure about?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a company called “The Outfit”. It started in America eight years ago, with the aim of producing the latest high quality designer fashion clothes, just like the major houses were producing, but at realistic prices.’

  ‘What’s so special about that?’ he interrupted her, sceptically. ‘Doesn’t everyone copy the big fashion houses once they launch their season’s collections? Catherine goes on about it all the time.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. But the difference with this company is that they’ve negotiated an agreement with most of the main European houses to produce mass copies of their haute couture. They get the designs and patterns before the collections are revealed and are able to start manufacturing their ranges long before any of the competition. That way a day after the launch in Paris or Milan of the season’s new look, “The Outfit” has similar clothes for sale in all of its outlets. It’s been very successful both in the States and Europe.’

  ‘I see, but what’s that got to do with you?’ He couldn’t quite work out a connection.

  ‘The business is run as a franchise. The first store, opened in New York, was and still is run by the original owners. All the other ones are franchised. It’s a tried and tested business formula. It’s successful and as such the risks that are normally involved in setting up a new business are very much reduced, because they’ve all been encountered before. They see a potentially lucrative market here for their products in South Africa,’ she explained.

  Now he began to realise. ‘You want to buy into the South African franchise, is that it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ she said. ‘I have an option to buy the exclusive rights to franchise “The Outfit” in Cape Town and Johannesburg; the two most profitable centres for such a venture here. Don’t you agree?’

  He nodded.

  ‘The problem is that unless I come up with the money by Tuesday 30 June the option falls away, and that’s the end of it.’ She looked glum.

  ‘I see. So that’s why you need money,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘How much is it?’

  ‘One million rand,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

  ‘That’s quite a lot of money to borrow,’ he said, unconsciously adopting the tone of voice he used in the Bank when some poor unfortunate came to him for a loan.

  She looked at him accusingly. ‘You think I’m stupid. I can tell by the tone of your voice.’ She sat up. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you. You’re just like all the others.’ Her anger flared.

  ‘Hang on a minute. What’s the matter? What have I said?’ he asked in genuine bewilderment. ‘What others?’

  ‘I went to all the other banks to see if I could borrow the money to buy into this franchise. They all said they’d love to lend it to me if I had security.’

  ‘That’s normal banking practice these days,’ he said. ‘The banks have lost a fortune in unwise loans inspired by their enthusiasm to be seen to be embracing our new found democracy.’ He was beginning to sound pompous.

  ‘I know all that, but I don’t see why it should affect me. I’ve got two-hundred and fifty thousand rand on deposit. I just need an overdraft facility of seven hundred and fifty thousand rand for a month.’ She looked at him with confused incredulity. ‘I mean, that’s only about fifty-five thousand pounds. Less every day, the way the rand’s falling at the moment. I’ve sold my house in England and will be bringing in three times that amount in a month’s time. We’re always hearing about how much this country needs foreign investors, but the idiots in the banks obviously don’t read the papers or watch television. They’re so out of touch with reality.’

  ‘They don’t know you. They need money here,’ he started.

  ‘I’ve this flat,’ she waved her arms around, ‘which I’m told is worth about million plus. They’re happy with that as security, but there’s so much red tape that it will take six weeks to process a loan. The opportunity will be lost after Tuesday.’ She shrugged her shoulders, ‘I might just as well forget about it. It was a nice idea and I’m sure it would have worked, but I can’t get the money in time, and that’s that,’ she said with frustrated resignation. ‘The banks and the managers here have got no balls. They’re not prepared to take even the slightest risk. They’re a spineless bunch of greedy bureaucrats, tied up in red tape. I find it hard to see how any one can start a small business here.’

  ‘That’s not always the case,’ he interjected.

  ‘From what I’ve experienced the institutions here go out of their way to find problems and obstacles to stifle real inventiveness and enterprise,’ she stated angrily.

  It upset him to see her so unhappy, and he was disturbed by her view of the banking community of which he and his family had been had been a part for so many years. He wondered if there was any way he could help her in this situation.

  ‘I know you’ve already sold your house in England. How soon before you receive the funds from the sale?’ he asked.

  ‘Two to three weeks. I just have to go back and sign the final documents and that’s that. All the paperwork’s been done long ago,’ she said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Maybe I might be able to arrange something through the Bank.’ He was still thinking through the implications of what had leaped into his mind.

  ‘Oh darling, that would be wonderful.’ she hugged him. ‘I knew you’d be able to help me.’ she gushed. ‘I should have come to you sooner, but I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position. That’s why I went to the other banks.’ She pushed him onto his back, threw her leg over his, and kneeling, sat on top of his stomach.

  ‘What do you think you can do?’ she asked gently sliding herself up and down on his groin. She smiled as she felt his penis gradually stiffen beneath her buttocks.

  ‘It’s difficult to think when you do that to me,’ he gasped as she raised herself slightly, reached down below, and grabbing his erection gently pushed it into her.

  ‘Is that any easier?’ she grinned leaning down to kiss him.

  ‘I think I could let you have the money for a month, just as an unsecured overdraft.’ She plunged down on him and at the same time put her hands under his bottom pulling him deeper into her.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ she moaned. ‘But won’t you get into trouble giving me all that money?’ she panted.

  ‘Nobody else need know.’ He raised his hips to meet her downward thrust. ‘I can delay filing the authorisation, pretend that I’ve mislaid the valuation report on this flat and by the time anyone asks, not that I think they will, you will have paid it all back with your money from England, and I can cancel the whole transaction.’

  ‘That’s good. You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘Besides, I think I know you well enough – much better than any of my other clients,’ he laughed, ‘to make a fair assessment of the risk.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to do anything unethical, that you didn’t want to do, just because we’re sleeping together.’

  ‘No, I want to do this for you. You’re not forcing me,’ he said. ‘It will be all right. Let’s view it as one of the perks of the job. Cutting through some of that red tape you complained about.’

  ‘But would you treat all your clients the same way?’ she persisted.

  ‘Only if I knew and liked
them as much as I do you. So I’m not treating you any differently from the way I would treat any one else under the same circumstances,’ he said with warped logic.

  This seemed to impress her. ‘Darling, you’re so clever, and you feel so good. Isn’t this a good way to do business. You really are a good bank manager, but an even better bonk manager.’ With a final thrust he grunted as he expended himself inside her for the third time that day.

  After a few minutes she pushed herself up off his now sweaty chest and with her arms stretched out resting on his shoulders said, ‘I suppose that’s what you could call client servicing,’ and laughed. ‘I must say you are pretty good at it. Are you sure you haven’t done this with any of your other clients before, you naughty man?’

  ‘No, most of them are far too ugly,’ he laughed. ‘Ugly ones only cause problems. Always wanting to borrow money, and never any idea as to how they are going to pay it back.’

  ‘Well, I hope you don’t have too many pretty ones. Here, let me show you the “Outfit” brochure.’

  As Smith flipped through the glossy pages of the very expensively produced brochure he was extremely pleased at the decision he’d made earlier to help Diana. True, he’d been a little apprehensive when he’d first thought of it, but seeing the type of organisation she was buying into he felt sure that both he and she had made the right decisions.

  CHAPTER TWELVEDiana Johnston may have disappeared but the surveillance teams were still monitoring John Smith. Hamilton received a daily update of how Smith was coping with life without Diana, and how he had reacted to the photographic jigsaw.

  He had just been watching a sequence of videos of Smith walking from his car to the office each morning. He had compared the ones taken at the height of Smith’s romance with Diana to the ones that had been taken after the photograph had arrived, and those taken recently, now that Diana had not returned as Smith was expecting.

  The differences when viewed together were considerable. Most noticeable was the way in which he walked. Early on it had been quick, large, confident strides, with which he ran up the front steps of the Bank each morning. Now the spring in his footstep was gone, replaced almost with a shuffle; his shoulders had become hunched and his gaze rarely left the pavement in front of him. He trudged along. His expression was downcast, his face paler, and bags had formed under his eyes. His hair was dishevelled. It looked as though he had aged ten years in as many weeks.