Jigsaw Lovers

  ‘Did you see that bit with the handkerchief?’ asked another. ‘That certainly put a smile on his face.’

  ‘And when I showed that to my old man, do know what? He wanted us to try it out. Said it looked quite fun,’ commented another not quite so shy secretary.

  ‘And did you?’ asked her friend sitting on the edge of her desk, with a wicked grin.

  ‘No of course not,’ she blushed. ‘It’s perverse. Quite disgusting. Can you imagine? All that mess.’

  ‘It’s not natural,’ said a teller.

  ‘You wouldn’t think Smithy would do things like that,’ said a pretty little twenty year old. ‘I mean he’s so old and boring. It’s like watching my parents doing it.’

  ‘Well he certainly put on quite a show. Let’s see if Carol knows any more about it,’ suggested another.

  ‘Maybe they’ve been doing it on his desk,’ chirped the twenty year old.

  The male members were somewhat more graphic in their descriptions of the scenes they had witnessed.

  ‘I can understand the dressing-up in her silk underwear. Silk’s quite a turn on,’ said one.

  ‘I agree, but that bit with the handkerchief. I’m not sure I’d enjoy that.’

  ‘You mean you don’t like it up the bum. What a shame,’ joked Tiaan, an overtly camp member of staff. ‘I always thought I had a chance with you, but now you’ve ruined my day.’

  ‘He really seemed to enjoy it as she pulled it out of his bottom. Is that sort of thing truly fun, Tiaan?’

  ‘How would I know?’ he minced with hand on hip. ‘Are you implying I’m some sort of faggot, darling?’

  John Smith could not understand why so many of the people he came into contact with that morning averted their eyes and smirked. At first he thought his trousers were unzipped but having surreptitiously checked that this was not the case, was at a loss to know what was the cause of such general amusement.

  He called Carol into his office and asked her if she knew what was going on.

  ‘I’m not sure, sir. Someone said something about a video that they’d seen, and I think that’s what they’re discussing,’ she answered in all innocence, since at that moment in time she had yet to be apprised of the real situation and how it affected her boss.

  As the Bank opened for business a motorcycle messenger entered the building and dropped off thirty A4 envelopes, marked ‘PHOTOGRAPHS – DO NOT BEND’. Each was addressed personally to various members of staff, including Carol, John Smith’s secretary. As the messenger left, the first person to open her letter was a junior teller and what she found inside nearly caused her to choke on the piece of chewing-gum she had in her mouth at the time.

  Within half an hour virtually everyone in the Bank had seen a series of photographs of their assistant manager indulging in the most intimate of activities in bed, on the sofa, on the floor and even on the kitchen sink, with the branch’s most glamorous client.

  Reactions ranged from amusement to disgust, but whatever the person’s feelings, there was non-stop speculation as to how he had managed some of the things depicted in the photographs. People gathered around at their coffee-breaks to compare pictures. It turned out that there were over a hundred different poses.

  Someone noticed that in most of the photographs there was a newspaper and from this they were able to deduce that these scenes had taken place over a three-month period.

  By lunch time there were only two people who were unaware of what the messenger had delivered that morning. These were the branch manager, who was out of the office for the day, and John Smith himself, who could not understand why all the staff seemed so jovial.

  CHAPTER FIFTEENThe manager, Johannes Stephanus, was not happy with what he had just seen. This was not the kind of thing he wanted to have to deal with when he was nearing retirement. Such a thing, if true, could reflect badly on his record, which over the years had remained unblemished.

  He had worked hard all his life for the Bank, starting at the age of fourteen as a messenger. His home background and upbringing were strictly Calvinist. This imbued in him, from an early age, the Christian work ethic, and a set of moral values, which had governed every aspect of his entire life. He believed there was no substitute for hard work and no place for taking risks of any sort. It was these values that he had tried to inculcate into his staff, and until today he had considered himself quite successful at so doing.

  He had very little time for the new breed of manager that was becoming more and more prevalent these days in the banking world. He had thought, until just now, that he was fortunate in having John Smith on his staff. He had viewed him as his protégé. In many ways, he had considered that Smith and himself were very similar. He had seen resemblances in the way Smith behaved towards his clients and the careful approach he had towards lending money. One day he had hoped Smith would have taken over from him when he retired.

  He wondered how he could have been so mistaken, so wrong, for such a long time. It was with these thoughts in mind that he called his assistant manager into his office, just after ten.

  As he hadn’t been at the Bank the previous day, he had only just viewed the DVD that had been delivered to him the day before. The contents of it went some way to explain why the staff were frequently seen huddled together gossiping and generally behaving in a frivolous manner. He had approached one of these groups and asked what it was they were looking at.

  ‘Just a few photographs, sir,’ the chief teller said, hurriedly concealing the half dozen snap-shots he had in his hand.

  ‘May I see?’

  ‘I don’t think so, sir. It’s just that they’re private, sir.’

  ‘In that case look at them in your private time. Not the Bank’s.’

  Going through his mail he had found the DVD. There was no message with it or any description as to what it might contain. He assumed it was another staff training disk from the Bank’s communications department.

  Having seen to his immediate business, and not feeling the urge to pursue anything in particular, such was the privilege of his position, Stephanus went into the training room. He pulled the DVD player out of the cupboard, plugged it in and inserted the disk.

  The Bank’s logo appeared on the screen, accompanied by some classical trumpet music that he didn’t recognise. There followed a shot of the street in which the Bank was situated. The camera panned along the street and came to rest on the facade of the Bank, and the bronze lettering which stated its name.

  As the music faded, a male voice narrated:

  ‘This proud institution has been offering outstanding service to its clients for the last one hundred and fifty years. Today we are going to take you behind the scenes and show you an aspect of modern banking service that is rarely seen.’

  The camera cut to a man walking down the other side of the street. He was wearing a dark suit and carried a briefcase and umbrella. As he turned to cross the road Stephanus recognised him as his assistant manager.

  ‘This man, John Robert Smith, is the assistant manager at this branch.’

  The camera tracked him as he walked through the doors into the marble-floored main banking hall area.

  ‘By day he is the very epitome of what the public would expect of a bank manager: cautious, reasoning and conservative; loyal and dedicated to his employers, faithfully observing the ethos of an institution that has served the community for so long. He even conducts business after hours, but by night it is with a different set of ethics.’

  The screen filled with the image of a couple in bed. Their conversation was unusual considering the circumstances under which it was conducted.

  ‘How much is it?’

  ‘One million rand.’

  Stephanus watched fascinated, and a little excited, as the woman got closer to Smith.

  ‘Maybe I might be able to arrange something through the Bank.’

  Now they were making love, the beautiful woman on top, her face in view for the first time. Stephanus realised i
t wasn’t Smith’s wife.

  ‘I think I could let you have the money for a month, just as an unsecured overdraft.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, but won’t you get into trouble giving me all that money?’

  ‘Nobody else need know. I can delay filing the authorisation, pretend that I’ve mislaid the valuation report … and I can cancel the whole transaction.’

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

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

  ‘No, I want to do this for you. You’re not forcing me … Let’s view it as one of the perks of the job.’

  Stephanus couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. He would never have expected such behaviour from Smith. He had always thought of him as a happily married faithful husband. It was most disappointing. Rarely had his judgement of someone been so far in error. And as for the business about an overdraft for such an enormous sum of money. Whatever was Smith thinking?

  He watched it again, pausing at a number of frames to look in more detail at the young lady.

  His opinion of Smith took a further decline as the video continued. He learnt that Smith viewed him personally as a doddery old coot, who was going senile. He also had a very low opinion of the way in which the Bank’s management, both at this branch and at head office, operated. But a more serious aspect was Smith discussing with this woman, confidential details about individual clients and their accounts.

  Returning to his office he picked up the telephone, dialled Smith’s extension and summoned him immediately.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said without greeting, as he led the way into the training room.

  ‘I received this in the mail this morning. Maybe you’d like to explain what’s going on.’ He pushed the play button and sat down to observe Smith’s reaction.

  Smith was horrified. As he watched the video the blood drained from his face, and his hands trembled. He remembered that particular Saturday afternoon clearly. The video had been cleverly edited to give maximum impact and emphasis to the matter of his arranging an overdraft for her. There were none of the bits where he was expressing doubts or her reluctance to involve him. It looked as though he had offered the money without any initiative from her. And, as for the comments about Stephanus and the Bank, he was in serious trouble.

  The video came to an end. Both men sat perfectly still and silent for some time.

  Then Stephanus stood. ‘I’m not that concerned about what you think of me. I’m sure you’re not the only one to hold such views. I am a little surprised though. I’d expected better of you. There are more serious matters at issue here.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Smith mumbled.

  ‘Is the woman a client of the Bank?’ He cleaned his glasses on his handkerchief.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her name’s Diana Johnston.’

  ‘And how long has this – this affair been going on between you? He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Three months, sir.’

  ‘I am right in assuming that you didn’t arrange a facility for this young lady.’ It was more of a statement than a question. ‘That it was no more than just pillow-talk.’

  Smith could hardly speak. ‘No, sir, you’re not.’

  ‘What do you mean, “No, sir, you’re not”?’ he asked the question very quietly, with a sense of foreboding as to what the answer was going to be.

  ‘I authorised a facility for her.’ There was a tone of resignation in his voice as he realised the terrible situation he was in. Stephanus noticed that Smith’s hands were shaking.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Six weeks ago.’

  ‘I’ve seen nothing about a facility of that size in the last month. Something like that would have to be authorised by me.’

  ‘You weren’t here.’ Smith held his hands together in an effort to stop them shaking. ‘I spread the amount over three different accounts. That way I didn’t need higher authorisation. I could approve the amounts myself.’

  ‘I’m going to have to report this irregularity to head office, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’

  ‘In the meantime we’ll cancel the facilities, before things get any further out if hand.’

  ‘It’s not that easy, sir.’

  ‘Meaning?’ He asked in a menacing tone.

  ‘She’s already taken the money.’

  ‘Then we’ll put a hold on her account. She can’t have spent that much already.’

  ‘She took the money in cash, sir.’

  ‘Cash? What do you mean cash? Cash cash?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She took it all in cash.’

  ‘What!’ Stephanus lost his temper that he had managed, up until this moment, to hold in check. Ultimate responsibility rested with him. ‘Are you telling me you gave this woman one million rand in cash? In cash! Didn’t it seem unusual to you?’ He smashed his fist down on the table.

  ‘She was very convincing at the time.’

  ‘I bet she was, you fool.’

  ‘I thought I knew her well enough to trust her.’

  Regaining his composure Stephanus sat down and took a deep breath.

  ‘I think you’d better tell me everything that has happened, and I mean everything. After I’ve heard what you have to say we’ll take it from there.’

  For the first time in almost two months Smith found himself in a position to share his problems with someone else. It was with relief that he began to tell his story. Hesitant at first, his reluctance faded and soon he was pouring out the entire sequence of events that led up to this morning’s meeting.

  He told of how Diana came to the Bank to invest money, how they began having an affair, how he had fallen in love with her, how he was going to leave his wife, and how he had been convinced that the franchise plan was a sound investment. He went on to describe the arrival of the jigsaw photograph and the CD, Diana’s disappearance and the complete transformation of her apartment.

  Stephanus listened attentively, and carefully observed the man in front of him. It was a most intriguing tale, which stretched the limits of credibility. His first reaction had been that Smith had set out, with this woman as an accomplice, to perpetrate a fraud on the Bank.

  However, as he listened, the experience which a lifetime of meeting people, of all different types, had given him, convinced him that John Smith was telling the truth; that Smith and the Bank were the victims of an ingenious, well-crafted and cleverly executed scheme, which had defrauded the Bank of one million rand.

  Smith stopped talking. He felt exhausted from the effort of reliving the last four and a half months.

  Stephanus walked over to the DVD player and ejected the disk. He placed it on the table in front of his assistant manager.

  ‘Has it occurred to you that this didn’t just happen?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Smith was bewildered and uncomprehending.

  ‘You’ve been set up from the very beginning.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Somebody’s planned this with meticulous attention to detail.’

  ‘They’ve used me to help them rob the Bank of a million rand. It was so easy. I fell for the woman the moment I laid eyes upon her,’ he said almost reminiscing. ‘I was and still am in love with her. I was going to leave Catherine, once Diana came back.’

  ‘But there’s more to it than that,’ mused Stephanus. ‘Why should they go to all the effort of sending you pieces of a photograph? Then a CD. Why did I receive this video?’

  ‘Somebody is trying to blackmail me.’ Smith said.

  ‘If they were trying to do that they wouldn’t have involved me. They’ve already got the money.’

  ‘Maybe they’re going to demand more money.’

  ‘What is the point of sending you and me th
ese photos and the video?’

  There was a knock on the door. It was the manager’s secretary.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you sir, but there’s a special delivery for Mr Smith.’

  ‘Oh thank you. Would you bring it in please.’

  ‘That might be a bit difficult, sir. It’s rather large. It’s downstairs in the main-banking hall.’

  ‘Well how big is it?’ asked Smith.

  ‘Big, sir. It won’t fit through this door.’ she said sizing up the aperture.

  ‘Very well.’ Stephanus rose and headed for the doorway. ‘Come, let’s see what’s arrived.’

  James had sat outside the Bank all morning from nine o’clock. He was wearing a discreet flesh-coloured earpiece, but unlike a normal hearing aid this one was connected to a high-powered miniaturised receiver recorder. It had picked up the entire conversation between Smith and Stephanus, which had been transmitted from a small microphone hidden in the casing of the DVD, that had been sent to Stephanus the previous day.

  On the basis of this conversation he decided that it would be appropriate to send in the card. The two men had been waiting in a truck, parked around the corner, with it all morning. The man who was going to compère the little show that had been planned for Mr Smith was also ready. It was the beginning of lunch time and the Bank was full of people.

  The timing could not have been more perfect.

  From mid-way down the staircase that led from the first floor into the main banking hall they could see that a large crowd had gathered. It was lunch time and the Bank was filled with customers going about their business.

  In front of the enquiries desk in the centre of the hall there was a huge package, being held up by two men. It was like a giant-sized envelope. At a rough guess Smith estimated it to be two metres high and 4 metres wide. It was wrapped in brown paper and around it from top to bottom and from left to right ran a wide red ribbon, and which culminated in an enormous bow.

  Across the package in hand-painted letters a foot high was written ‘JOHN SMITH – HAPPY ANNIVERSARY’.

  Smith walked down the last few stairs in a trance-like state. He was dreading what would be revealed when the wrapping paper was removed.