Jigsaw Lovers

  ‘You’ve nothing left to blackmail me with. Everyone knows. I’ll have you arrested, and then everything will be all right.’

  He leapt up and tried to grab Edwards across the desk, but it was too wide and Edwards’s reaction was too swift. Smith ended up prone on his desk.

  ‘I’m not here to blackmail you, Mr Smith.’ Edwards held his hands up in an attempt to calm Smith who was coming round the desk at him.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. How else did you know about the cash?’

  ‘I’m a journalist. I work for the Herald.’ He pulled out his press card and held it under Smith’s nose. ‘A few days ago we were sent a video, which implied you gave a woman a million rand in return for having sex with her. It was filmed in this office.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Smith had turned white. He staggered and leant against the desk. ‘How could they film it in here?’ he asked almost to himself, not expecting an answer.

  ‘There was a hidden camera in the briefcase lid,’ answered Edwards.

  ‘So Diana did know. I was fooled all along.’

  ‘So you are being blackmailed? Is that right?’

  ‘No. I mean yes. I don’t know.’ Smith was becoming more embroiled in his own thoughts.

  ‘There was also a recording of you and a man called Stephanus, your superior I believe, working out a way to cover up the loss of the money.’

  ‘What! How do you know about that?’ There was an edge of panic in Smith’s voice.

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘I refuse to say any more. Leave my office, go, please.’

  ‘I’m giving you a chance to tell your side of the story before we print it.’

  ‘What do you mean print it? You can’t do that. It’s not fair. Why me?’ He was shaking and tears were beginning to run down his face. He sat down on the floor, his arms hunched around his knees. He no longer seemed aware of Edwards’s presence. ‘Why me?’ he asked despairingly.

  He was still asking the question, over and over as Edwards let himself out.

  ‘“Will you lend me the money if I have sex with you?” Well I suppose it is a pertinent question, but it wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I briefed you on this one.’ Somerset laughed. ‘What would you have done if he’d said yes?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.’

  They were sitting in Somerset’s office. Edwards had taken the early evening flight to Johannesburg, in order to brief Somerset in person about what he had discovered that afternoon, the events of which almost defied credibility.

  Edwards had met the enquiries clerk, who introduced herself as Susan Cole, outside Woolworth’s just after one. They had gone to a nearby coffee shop, and over toasted sandwiches and coke she had told him a most fascinating story.

  At first she had been a little reluctant to speak once she discovered he was a journalist. She feared she may lose her job if her superiors at the Bank found out that she had spoken to the press. However, he had managed to convince her that he wouldn’t use her name in any article that was printed, and any further doubts she may have had vanished when he handed over a thousand rand.

  He learnt that photographs and videos of Mr Smith, in highly compromising positions with one of the Bank’s clients, had been circulating amongst the staff. The staff had been told that someone was trying to blackmail Smith into handing over money, but that he had refused and therefore the pictures had been sent.

  ‘I don’t believe the story myself,’ she had said as she eyed a piece of lemon meringue tart.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Miss Johnston. That’s the woman in the pictures with Smithy. She was really nice. If she was just trying to set him up with some photographs, she could have done it in one night. But Carol, that’s Smith’s secretary, reckons they were having an affair for almost three months. So she must have seen something in him, to put up with him for so long.’

  ‘I see. You think that Miss Johnston wouldn’t have spent so much time with Smith unless she wanted to.’ Edwards helped her along.

  ‘That’s right. A lot of us think they planned it together, and that they sent the pictures to make it look like blackmail. Rumour has it that he gave her a lot of money,’ she said knowingly.

  ‘Really, how much?’

  ‘A million rand, in cash. Can you imagine? It would take me ten years to earn that much. Unless of course I got lucky and found myself a rich older man.’ She giggled flirtatiously.

  ‘How could he do that without anyone knowing?’ he asked.

  She looked at him as if he were a little simple. ‘Lots of people know. Over two days, a couple of months ago, Smith told the head cashier that he had three clients who wanted to make large cash withdrawals. He arranged for the money to be delivered to his office and said he would handle them himself.’

  ‘And did they?’

  ‘According to Carol the only people he saw during that time were ones arranging overdrafts. The only one who had any money in her account was Miss Johnston, but she withdrew it all then. It was also the last time that anyone saw her, in the flesh that is, until the photos started arriving.’ She laughed at her own joke.

  ‘This is an incredible story. Can I ask you a personal question? Do you actually like Mr Smith?’

  ‘No, to be quite honest, I don’t. In fact not many people do. He’s such a stuck up, self-important, pig. That’s why everyone had such a good laugh at the photos. They certainly put him in his place.’ She had a very sweet smile.

  ‘Is there any chance you could get me some of those photos?’ Edwards asked in an off-hand fashion.

  ‘I don’t know whether that’s possible.’ She eyed him, calculatingly.

  ‘I’d be prepared to pay. Five thousand?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s a bit risky.’ she looked worried.

  ‘Ten thousand.’

  ‘Meet me here after work. Cash please.’

  ‘Of course.’ He laughed. It had been a long time since he’d been taken by a pretty girl. He watched admiringly as she waltzed off down the street.

  ‘I then went back to the Bank to see whether, on the off-chance I could have a meeting with Stephanus. I was lucky. There’d been a cancellation, so I was able to see him just before closing.’

  Edwards then described how he had met Stephanus and that he was the second man in the photographs, discussing the plan about the cover-up.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point Mr Stephanus. I’m a journalist working for the Herald.’

  ‘One of the few decent papers around. Always read it myself. Very objective and fair reporting. So many papers these days rely on naked woman and sex scandals to sell copies,’ interrupted Stephanus.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll pass your comments on to our editor. The reason I’m here is I’d like to ask you some questions about the Bank.’

  ‘Ask away. Only too happy to help you.’ Stephanus exuded ingratiating charm.

  ‘The other day my office received a video that showed your assistant manager, John Smith, having sex with a customer and then handing over a million rand to her in return. Would you like to comment on that?’ Edwards’s tone was calm and matter-of-fact.

  Stephanus said nothing for a while. He looked across the desk at Edwards, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, his finger tips steepled together. The video he had viewed showed nothing of money being handed over. This reporter was obviously trying to trick him into admitting something that he could only be guessing at. Eventually he spoke. His tone was ponderous; he was trying to give the impression of being helpful, as if he had nothing to hide.

  ‘Mr Edwards, this matter was brought to my attention a while ago by Mr Smith. It seems he allowed himself to be seduced by a beautiful temptress. A modern-day Jezebel, if you will, You see, Mr Smith is a married man, with two children. He had a lot to lose for one night of passion. The episode was recorded and he was threatened with exposure if he didn’t hand over some money.’

  ‘A million rand.’

  ‘Ye
s. I believe that was the amount.’

  ‘And did he hand it over?’ Edwards asked innocently.

  ‘No, of course not. That was why the blackmailers started sending the photographs. An act of revenge against him.’

  ‘What is the Bank’s position in this matter?’

  ‘The Bank would never countenance giving in to blackmail demands. We commend Mr Smith for his courage in coming forward and making public the predicament he had managed to get himself into. As such, I and the Bank will stand by him,’ Stephanus declared magnanimously.

  Edwards was amazed at the brazen cheek of the man. He was a bombastic liar. Virtually everything he had just said was untrue. Time to establish the facts, and deflate this fraudster.

  ‘I was told that Smith was having an affair with this woman for at least three months.’ He stated it quietly.

  ‘Really? You must have been misinformed.’ Stephanus looked him in the eye, defying Edwards by force of will to contradict him. It was a technique he had used often on his staff; but Edwards wasn’t a member of his staff, and was far more experienced in dealing with real charlatans than Stephanus could ever imagine.

  ‘I have a video of Smith handing over a million rand in cash to this woman, in his office. It also shows them having sex on his desk. Would you like to see it?’ He was still speaking quietly. He noticed that Stephanus wasn’t quite so ready with a reply, and before he could say anything he added his final damning piece of information.

  ‘I also have photographs of you and Smith talking in a bar near here, and a recording of your conversation in which you decide to make it look like blackmail to your superiors. “The Bank would rather write the money off, than face the public embarrassment …” was how you reasoned. Am I right, or are you going to lie to me again?’

  Stephanus was going red in the face. The veins in his neck were visible. ‘How dare you come in here and make such unfounded accusations. I’ll sue you and your newspaper for every cent you’ve got.’

  Edwards was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. With no answer being given it was opened and in walked two men closely followed by Stephanus’s very flustered secretary.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she babbled. ‘I told them you were busy but they just barged past.’

  ‘Johannes Stephanus?’ one of the men asked.

  ‘Yes. What right do you have coming in …’

  ‘My name is Simon Sebukwe.’ he interrupted. ‘I’m from Head Office. I’ve been instructed to take over from you. Here’s my authorisation.’ He handed him a piece of paper.

  ‘I don’t understand. There must be some mistake.’

  Sebukwe ignored him. ‘This is Detective Inspector Naidoo of the Fraud Section.’

  Naidoo stepped forward, also holding a piece of paper. ‘This is a warrant for your arrest and that of your assistant manager John Smith, on charges of conspiracy to defraud the Bank of one million rand.’

  As Naidoo was reading Stephanus his rights, he stood, clutched at his chest and fell to the floor.

  John Smith was taken into custody.

  ‘That’s one hell of a story,’ Somerset commented as Edwards finished. ‘We’ll lead with it on this week’s front page.’

  ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand.’ Jeanne spoke for the first time since Edwards had begun his story.

  ‘This must be a first; Little Miss Logic not understanding something. What is the world coming to? Will day still follow night?’ Somerset couldn’t resist teasing her, on the odd occasion when she showed the slightest doubt.

  ‘If you’ve quite finished poking fun at me … . My point is, if this whole story wasn’t about blackmail, which it seems it wasn’t, as there were no demands or threats, etc, then what was the purpose behind it?’

  ‘Good point. What is the motive behind setting this man Smith up, and then exposing him for no apparent gain?’ mused Somerset.

  ‘Whoever it was gained a million,’ said Edwards.

  ‘But from what little we’ve seen, this must have cost far more than that to implement. It seems like it’s been going on for months.’

  ‘Also, he handed over the money before any of the photographs started arriving. So money isn’t an issue,’ concluded Jeanne.

  ‘That means it’s an attack on Smith and through him the Bank, as his actions will reflect badly on his employers,’ said Somerset.

  ‘Do you think it’s worth me trying to follow up and find out who it might be?’ Edwards asked.

  ‘Whoever it is has resources, and from what we’ve seen so far, I well imagine that they’ve covered their tracks quite thoroughly. However, I suppose you’d better have a look, just in case they missed something, but don’t spend too much time on it.’

  ‘There is another interesting aspect,’ began Jeanne. ‘The person or people behind this haven’t actually done anything wrong.’

  ‘By what warped sense of logic do you come to that conclusion?’

  ‘Everything that Smith did, he did willingly. He didn’t have to go to bed with her or continue the affair. He came up with the idea as to how to lend her the money, and he and Stephanus devised the cover-up plan. By the way, how did the Bank’s Head Office find out about that?’

  ‘They also received copies of the videos that we got,’ answered Edwards.

  ‘Naturally, it was wrong to intrude on their privacy and take all those photographs, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t a case of blackmail. Smith was exposed for his personal weaknesses, as was Stephanus who was motivated by his own self-interest.’

  ‘If you consider it in that light, you’re probably correct. Apart from the privacy issue, they haven’t even broken any laws.’

  ‘What about the money? Benefiting from the proceeds of a crime?’ asked Edwards.

  ‘Yes, I imagine it will be something like that. Find out from the legal people and include it in your article.’

  ‘There’s just one other thing. It’s such a pity we’re only concerned with the corruption and business ethics of the situation. There are some fantastic pictures here. It would be great fun to write the story from the sleazy side,’ chuckled Edwards.

  ‘Why don’t you do both? It seems a shame to waste all those nice photos.’

  ‘You men are all the same. Don’t tell me you’re going the tits-and-bums route. I thought you had principles,’ said Jeanne shaking her head.

  ‘Don’t be silly. We’re journalists. But don’t worry, I won’t run with it. We can sell it to our friends in the gutter press. They’ll love all the lurid details.’

  CHAPTER TWENTYConstance knocked on the door of Ian Hamilton’s study, just after midday.

  ‘Come in,’ he called.

  ‘The Herald has just been delivered, Ian. You said to bring it to you the moment it arrived.’ She handed it to him.

  ‘Thanks, Constance. We won’t be in for lunch or dinner, so when you’ve finished whatever you have to do, take the rest of the day off.’

  ‘Thank you very much. I will go and see my children.’

  ‘How are they doing at school?’ Hamilton asked.

  ‘Sipho is top of his class in mathematics and computer studies,’ she said proudly.

  ‘That’s good. Tell him if he’s still top at Christmas, I’ll give him a new MacBook as a present.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Ian. I’m sure he will work hard.’

  ‘He’d better. He’s got to be top. There’s no prize for second place.’

  Constance thanked him again and left.

  Hamilton unfolded the newspaper.

  ‘Look at this, James. A most satisfying headline, don’t you think.’ He held it up. ‘“Manager Dies, Assistant Arrested in Bank Fraud.” It seems Stephanus had a heart attack as they were arresting him. “The doctor later revealed that Johannes Stephanus suffered a massive heart attack, which killed him instantly.”’

  ‘That’s something we didn’t foresee. An unexpected bonus. It adds quite a nice finishing touch, in that Smith is no
w completely alone. Stephanus was the only one on his side,’ commented James.

  Hamilton was reading through the article. ‘Smith’s in jail, pending a hearing, since he can’t raise the twenty thousand rand bail money.’

  ‘What else does it say?’

  ‘They concentrate on the conspiracy to defraud and cover up by the two of them, rather than the sex, which is mentioned in passing.’

  ‘That’s what we hoped for though, so that it would reflect badly on the Bank as an institution, rather than just two of its employees,’ said James.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m quite happy with it. They also speculate as to the motives for setting Smith up in the first place; a disgruntled customer or employee. Not bad. They say investigations are in hand to try and find who may be behind it and recover the missing million. Some chance.’

  ‘They won’t be able to trace anything. We used five different messenger services for the deliveries and each time we paid cash. They never picked up from the same premises twice. Diana’s long gone and is holidaying in California at the moment. The chances of anyone recognising her are remote. Her flat was all but demolished within twenty-four hours of her departure, and besides Smith never followed up on that after his first visit with the new owners. Not that he would have got very far. The estate agent that sold it is a subsidiary of ours. We have all the records of the transaction.’ James was confident in his planning.

  ‘I’m sure we’ve covered everything. When we pay the million back next week, everyone will lose interest in trying to find us. It will be the last thing they expect.’

  ‘The Bank staff will probably speculate for years to come as to the reasons behind what happened.’

  ‘How long do you anticipate it taking to finish Smith off?’ inquired Hamilton.

  ‘I would say three to six months, maybe a little longer.’

  ‘Good. I can’t wait for the final episode. In the meantime, I think we deserve some champagne.’

  The other newspapers concentrated on the sex scandal side of the story, which they described in graphic detail. There were witty headlines, such as ‘The Bonk Manager’. One rival bank ran an advertisement trying to attract new customers, using the slogan, ‘Tired of being screwed by your present bank?’