Jigsaw Lovers

  There were photographs of him and Diana in all the places they had been together. On the top of Table Mountain, Chapman’s Peak, the hotel in Franschhoek, the Waterfront and in her apartment.

  Someone had been following them the whole time, and had created a very comprehensive and detailed record. On the back of each there was a type-written message which stated the date, the time and the excuse he had given Catherine, as to why he’d be late, or away for the weekend, or whatever else he was supposedly doing.

  ‘Catherine, I’m sorry.’ He didn’t really know what to say. ‘I was going to tell you but there never seemed to be a right time. I don’t know why I did it. Part of me didn’t want to, but it just happened. I couldn’t resist her.’

  ‘That’s plain to see.’ She looked at the television.

  ‘Everyday I said it would be the last time I saw her, but whenever I was with her, I wasn’t in control of myself. It was as if she had cast a spell over me.’

  ‘I don’t want to know. I just want you to go and leave me alone.’ She was trying to control her tears.

  ‘But I’m trying to explain, so you’ll understand the situation.’

  ‘I understand the situation very well. It’s all there on the video. Your actions speak louder than any words you can now say to me.’

  ‘Catherine, I’m sorry. Please try and forgive me.’ His face was contorted.

  ‘You expect me to forgive you. You really are a pathetic little man. I have always wondered how I would react to something like this. I’ve seen it happen to friends of mine, but I never thought that one day it would happen to me. Would I be angry, would I forgive you, and try to forget it ever happened?

  ‘Men are different from woman. They can’t resist a pretty little girl. At least you went for one that was beautiful. Watching that video, I thought I could find it in myself to excuse such a slip, since you’ve been a good husband all these years.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. It’ll never happen again.’ The relief was evident on Smith’s face.

  ‘I don’t care whether it does happen again. I’m leaving you.’

  ‘But you’ve just said you could forgive my slip. What do you mean?’

  ‘John, I’m prepared to forgive you being unfaithful to me sexually with a beautiful woman, but what I can’t forgive is what you said about me to her.’

  ‘But I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘It’s too late now. How could you say such things? You totally humiliated me. You revealed so many personal things that should have been kept just between the two of us. I feel violated, degraded and made to look a fool for having trusted and loved you. For those reasons, I’ll never forgive you.’

  ‘But no one else is going to see it, and I really didn’t mean what I said. It just slipped out in the heat of the moment.’

  ‘My parents also received a copy of the disk. Can you imagine what it’s done to them?’ She stated it with quiet resignation. Smith couldn’t begin to comprehend the implications of this last remark.

  ‘They’re on their way over to collect me and the children. As I said, I’m leaving you. I’m going to stay with them for some time.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go. Please stay, or at least tell me you’ll come back.’ He was begging.

  ‘It’s over between us, John. I’m going to divorce you.’

  ‘But think of the children.’

  ‘I have done. They’ll stay with me.’

  ‘Listen, Catherine, somebody’s doing this to me. Stephanus received a disk this morning. I don’t know who it is or why they’re doing it.’

  ‘I don’t either, John and what’s more, I don’t care. My father will be here shortly. It would be better if he didn’t see you, so perhaps you could go out until we’ve left. I don’t think that’s too much to ask under the circumstances, do you?’

  ‘Can’t we discuss this, darling,’ he begged.

  ‘There’s nothing to discuss. You’ve said it all.’

  She stood up and went to the bedroom. She had already packed two suitcases. She carried them out to the front door.

  ‘I’ll be back for the rest of my things later. Good-bye.’

  Smith recognised the determined look on her face that he had seen many times before. He realised there was nothing further he could say or do to change her mind. She was leaving.

  He walked out into the night.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEENThe nationally distributed weekly Herald was a newspaper widely respected for its provocative, investigative journalism. It had a reputation for integrity, based upon its track record of exposing corruption in high places of both government and industry.

  The editor, George Somerset, was in his early forties. He was relatively young for the responsibilities of the post he held, but it was a testament to his incisive mind and forthright approach to issues, which others less sure of themselves would rather avoid. He had never allowed officialdom or intimidation to prevent him from finding the truth in all of the stories his newspaper ran. He held the DVD in his hands enquiringly.

  ‘What’s this, Jeanne?’ he asked his personal assistant who had brought it into his office.

  ‘It arrived by courier this morning. It was dispatched in Cape Town. Addressed to you by name. The name of the sender on the waybill is John Smith. No indication as to what it contains or where it’s from.’ she answered all the questions she knew he was going to ask. It wasn’t for nothing that, at times, he called her ‘Little Miss Logic’.

  ‘This was also in the envelope.’ She held up a slightly bulging, sealed brown envelope, on the front of which was typed, ‘PLEASE DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOU HAVE VIEWED THE ENCLOSED DISK’.

  Somerset gave an inquisitive grunt. ‘I’m curious. Is that it?’

  ‘There was nothing else.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we’d better have a look at it.’ He slipped it into the player, kicked his office door shut and sat back in his chair with the remote control. He pushed play.

  A head and shoulders shot of a normal, almost clichéd non-descript, reporter with a microphone looking into the camera, came onto the screen. He started to speak.

  ‘Today we take an in-depth look at modern banking practices. We ask the question, how easy is it to arrange an overdraft? We went to four of the main high street banks and asked the managers there how we should go about arranging a loan for a million rand to start a new business.’

  There then followed brief interviews with people identified as being managers at the various banks. They all said much the same thing. The person looking to raise that amount of money should preferably have banked with them in the past, have a clean credit rating, and be able to offer security for the amount being borrowed. Security could comprise a mortgage bond on fixed property, assignment of an insurance policy, share certificates or unit trusts, or the person could find somebody suitably wealthy to stand guarantor for the debt.

  ‘So you see, basically you have to have money in order to borrow money.’

  ‘I’m not exactly riveted by the subject matter,’ commented Somerset, adjusting the position of his feet on his desk.

  ‘Maybe it gets better. I wonder what point they’re trying to make.’

  As if in answer to this question, the commentator continued.

  ‘However, that is not always the case. If you come to this bank in Cape Town, and speak to this man, John Smith, the assistant manager, you’ll be able to borrow a million rand without any security or any previous banking history.’ The accompanying images showed a man walking briskly up the steps of the Bank.

  ‘There is, however, one small proviso. It helps if you’re young, female, blonde and are prepared to have sex with him. If you are then you too could quite easily walk off with that amount of money in cash.’ Somerset sat up in his chair, and looked at Jeanne with an eyebrow raised.

  ‘Watch carefully. We’ll take you through a step-by-step guide as to how to go about arranging an overdraft facility with this gentleman.

  ‘First arrange a meeting, outsid
e of office hours, in comfortable surroundings where you can both relax.’

  The video showed a bedroom, with the man previously identified as John Smith and a very pretty woman lying naked entwined around each other. They were discussing arranging a loan. It seemed she had had difficulty with the other banks, but he volunteered to lend her the money as they made love.

  ‘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.’

  The manager went on to explain a means of circumventing normal procedures so he could give this woman an unsecured loan.

  ‘Ugly ones only cause problems. Always wanting to borrow money, and never any idea as to how they are going to pay it back.’

  The commentator’s voice was heard again.

  ‘As you’ve learnt from this episode it is important to be pretty. It would seem that there is a direct correlation, in the eyes of this bank manager, between good looks and being deemed credit worthy.’

  The scene changed to a shot of the woman walking along the street and going into the Bank. She was carrying a tan leather briefcase.

  ‘Three days later she went to the Bank to collect her money, in cash.’ The commentator continued. ‘There was a tiny camera concealed in the interior of the brief-case, which has enabled us to bring you these fascinating moments. Just look at all that money. Each one of those wads of notes contains ten thousand rand. And this is how she showed her gratitude.’

  ‘Thank you darling for arranging this so quickly.’ She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘The sight of all this money makes me feel quite excited.’ She kissed him again and pushed him back onto his desk. She rubbed his groin and began to unzip his trousers. He made an attempt to resist but it was too late, he was already aroused.

  ‘Let me lock the doors,’ he said.

  ‘No, I want you now. Immediately.’ She turned and sat on the edge of his desk, lifting her skirt as she opened her legs. He saw she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She pulled him towards her, and put her legs around his bottom as he entered her. It was over very swiftly.

  ‘Um, that was a nice way to make a withdrawal,’ she said as she straightened and smoothed down her skirt. ‘I must go. I have to pay these people by twelve. See you later.’ She kissed him and closed the briefcase.

  The commentator’s voice was heard again. ‘So you see it wasn’t that difficult to raise a loan. If you think you could benefit from banking with Mr Smith and you have the necessary qualifications, then here are his details should you wish to contact him.’

  His name, branch address, and telephone number appeared on screen.

  Somerset switched off the disk.

  ‘Well, well, well. What do you make of that Jeanne?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s either a joke, or someone’s trying to tell us that this man Smith is misbehaving. Either way someone went to a lot of time and effort to put that video together. Very professionally done,’ she answered.

  ‘Yes, and if that scene in the office were genuine and filmed by a hidden camera in the brief-case, then they’ve got some very clever equipment, which costs money.’

  She picked up the envelope. ‘I can’t wait to see what’s in here. That video’s quite a hard act to follow,’ she laughed.

  ‘Open it up.’

  She slit the top of the envelope. Inside was a CD and several photographs of two men, sitting in a dimly lit bar. One they recognised as the man identified as Smith on the video, although he was looking very long-faced by comparison. The other was somewhat older and carried himself with a certain authority.

  A type-written note attached to the back of one photograph read, ‘THIS IS JOHN SMITH AND HIS SUPERIOR, JOHANNES STEPHANUS, CONSPIRING TO COVER UP SMITH’S INDISCRETION AND EXPLAIN AWAY THE MISSING R1 000 000 TO THE BANK’S HEAD OFFICE. LISTEN TO THE ENCLOSED TAPE TO FIND OUT HOW THEY PLAN TO ACHIEVE THIS END.’

  Somerset flipped the CD to Jeanne. ‘Put this in the machine, won’t you?’

  She went over to the side desk, switched on the sound system, inserted the disk, and pushed the play button. Stephanus’s voice filled the room.

  ‘I may have an idea for salvaging something out of this unholy mess.’

  ‘... if I report it in such a way that it seems like a genuine case of blackmail...’

  ‘We must work out a story between us. We’ll say you received a telephone call, threatening to expose you if you didn’t hand over another million.’

  ‘But what about the video?’

  ‘Only you and I have seen it. I’ll destroy it. We’ll pretend it never existed. All you received was the jigsaw puzzle and the card.’

  ‘How are we going to account for the missing money …?’

  ‘The Bank would rather write the money off, than face the public embarrassment …’

  ‘Now this is becoming more interesting by the moment.’

  ‘What do you make of that bit about a jigsaw and a card?’ asked Jeanne.

  ‘No idea, but I think it’s worth a look. Maybe there’s nothing in it, but if there is, it could be quite a story.’

  Somerset picked up the telephone and dialled the number that had been on the screen at the end of the video.

  ‘Good morning. Does a Mr John Smith work at this branch? He does, and what’s his position? What? I see. Thank you very much.’

  ‘I take it from your expression that he is the assistant manager?’ asked Jeanne, although it was more a statement.

  ‘Yes, he is. But when I asked her what his position was she laughed and said “on his desk”. Make a copy of these disks. Send them to Edwards in Cape Town and tell him to get an appointment to see this man Smith. He should be able to tell if this is Smith’s office on the video, once he’s been to the Bank. Tell him to ask a few pertinent questions. We’ll decide what we do from there, once we hear from him.’

  Three days later Edwards telephoned. He had made an appointment to see John Smith on the pretext of wishing to transfer his account to his branch, and to try and arrange a short-term loan. He said he found the man’s attitude to be condescending and unhelpful, and at times unnecessarily rude.

  He was able to confirm the man’s identity and the fact that his office was the one that was featured in the video.

  He had arrived at the Bank ten minutes early for his appointment. He introduced himself to the young lady at enquiries and said he had come to see Mr Smith. While he was waiting, and as the she didn’t seem particularly busy, he started to chat to her.

  Now in his early forties, Edwards had been extracting information from people for over twenty years. He had developed a certain self-effacing charm that tended to put people at their ease, and before they realised it they had invariably confided in him.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping to arrange a small loan for my business. What’s Mr Smith like?’

  Flattered at being informed as to the reasons for his visit, and remembering the photographs and video of Smith, she laughed. ‘Until recently we all thought he was a bit boring, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘A typical sort of bank manager? Not very adventurous? Is that it?’ he coaxed.

  ‘You might say that.’ She laughed again, finding it difficult not to tell this pleasant man all about Smith.

  He looked to each side as if checking that he wouldn’t be overheard, and leaned slightly towards her. ‘I heard something about a card.’ Her expression changed.

  ‘We’re not meant to talk about that,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Talk about what?’ he asked gently, his voice low, but a conspiratorial smile on his face.

  ‘The blackmail plot. But, if you ask me, I don’t believe a word of it.’ He couldn’t believe his luck.

  ‘Can I take you for lunch?’ His expression was disarming.

  A voice came from behind. It was Carol, Smith’s secretary. ‘Mr Edwards?’ He turned. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. Mr Smith will see you now.’


  ‘Thank you.’ He bent down to pick up his briefcase. As he did so the girl at enquiries said under her breath,

  ‘I’ll meet you outside Woolworth’s, just after one.’ She smiled and busied herself with some papers.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN‘So basically, Mr Smith, what you’re saying is that unless I can provide you with security equal to the amount I wish to borrow, there’s no way you’ll lend me a cent. Is that right?’ Edwards was trying to clarify the discussion he had just had with Smith, who had told him in a very long-winded and round-about fashion that he could not have a loan.

  ‘You don’t even bank with this branch, that doesn’t help.’ Smith was at his most condescending.

  ‘I’ve been banking with your Johannesburg branch for almost twenty years.’

  ‘It’s not the same. Down here we don’t know you.’

  ‘How about if we got to know each other better?’ Edwards smiled coyly at Smith and slid his hand part way over the desk, looking him straight in the eye, his eyebrows raised enquiringly.

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’ Smith had become slightly edgy at Edwards’s less than veiled approach. He moved back in his chair.

  ‘What I mean is, will you lend me the money if I have sex with you?’

  ‘What did you say?’ Smith couldn’t believe his ears, but when Edwards stood up and began to unzip his trousers, he was aghast. ‘Stop that! You’re disgusting! Get out of my office. I’m calling the police.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what. Give me a million, cash, and you can screw me on the desk. Right here I think looks comfortable.’ He gently ran his hand over the spot where Smith and Diana had performed on the desk.

  Realisation suddenly dawned on Smith. At last the blackmailers had come out into the open. They wanted more money. He had been right all along. At last he had a target to vent the frustration and anger that had been building up inside him over the last few months.