Jonathon Wart and the Risk Factor

by Terence O'Grady

  “How do you spot them? I mean, do they come out of the ground nice and shiny?”

  “Not really, or at least not most of the time. They’re often embedded in larger rocks and have to be separated out. It can be a long and expensive process.”

  “How big can they get?”

  “A few have been huge—over a pound in weight and measuring over 3,000 carats.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Who’d want to wear a ring that heavy?”

  “That’s just the raw diamond,” said Emma. “They cut them into smaller diamonds, sometimes as many as twenty.”

  “But I thought diamonds were supposed to be so hard,” said Lizzie. “How do they cut them?”

  “They cut them with other diamonds,” explained Jonathon. “They’re the only thing hard enough. It’s usually done by a machine and can take hours.”

  “So are we going to find diamonds that weigh a pound at our diamond mine? Can I have the first one?” Lizzie asked hopefully, leaning over Emma to look straight into Jonathon’s face.

  “Nothing like that, I’m afraid,” said Jonathon. “I just hope that we can find enough small ones to make this deal worthwhile.”

  “And what if you can’t?” Lizzie asked.

  “Then I guess we’ve got a real problem,” said Jonathon. “But I have a good feeling about this. I think there are still diamonds there that were never harvested because the workers refused to work.”

  “The whole curse thing, huh?” asked Lizzie.

  “Yes, the whole curse thing,” replied Jonathon with a chuckle. “At least it’s worth a shot. And remember, I’m supposed to take risks.”

  “Intelligent risks,” corrected Lizzie.

  “Yes, I know but…”

  “We’ve already taken one risk today… we checked in our luggage at the airport;” said Emma, whose stomach had started to feel a little better as the turbulence wore off.

  “That’s a risk?” asked Lizzie.

  “The airlines are famous for losing your baggage,” said Emma. “If you’re flying to Iowa, your suitcases are likely to end up in California.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” objected Lizzie.

  “It certainly doesn’t,” agreed Emma, “especially now that the airlines charge you big bucks for every bit of luggage you bring.”

  “Is that why you only brought one suitcase, Jonathan?” Lizzie asked.

  “Not really,” said Jonathan who had picked up the airline magazine and was pretending to read it. “I just don’t need that much stuff.”

  “Hey! Are you suggesting that I…”

  “Take it easy,” interjected Emma. “Traveling is tricky enough even when everyone is in a good mood.”

  “Let’s just say that the luggage is the least of our worries,” said Jonathon, flipping the pages of his magazine absent mindedly.

  “And just what does that mean?” asked Emma nervously.

  “Does one of those black suits in back of us look familiar?” Jonathon asked calmly.

  Emma turned her head slightly to grab a glance in back of her, but Lizzie turned completely in her seat and stared toward the back of the cabin.

  “I don’t see anything…” began Lizzie.

  Jonathon rolled his eyes. “Could you be any more obvious?”

  “Shh!” Emma demanded. “Face front, please. We don’t want anyone to see us looking.”

  Lizzie whirled around again. “We don’t want who to see us looking?”

  “Mr. Thumbs, of course,” said Jonathan quietly. “He’s in disguise, sitting about twenty rows in back of us on the right side.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Emma. “He didn’t say he was coming on this trip.”

  “He specifically said that he wasn’t coming,” said Jonathon. “I told him he was welcome to tag along if he was interested. But he said it was a complete waste of time and he wasn’t that much of a fool.”

  Lizzie giggled. “So I guess he is that much of a fool.”

  “But please notice the masterful disguise,” said Jonathon. “A fake red beard to go with a fake blond wig.”

  “Gee,” said Emma, shaking her head slowly, “I’d like to say he looks better with hair but I’m not sure he does.”

  “I think this is really exciting,” squealed Lizzie. “Mr. Thumbs in disguise! I feel like I’m doing something really dangerous now!”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Lizzie, but please,” said Emma, “we don’t really want this to get dangerous. We want to buy our nice little diamond mine and go back home to Philadelphia.”

  “So why do you think he followed us in disguise, and what do you think we should do about it,” asked Lizzie, sneaking another glance in back of her. “Do you think he’s just worried about us?”

  “Please, Lizzie,” said Jonathan. “You’re too trusting. He’s not here to help.”

  “Well, maybe you’re not trusting enough, Jonathan,” said Emma. “Let’s just wait and see what he’s up to.”

  “Right,” said Jonathon. “And nobody should give him a clue that we’ve seen him.”

  Chapter 7: Touch Down…and Trouble

  Hours later, the plane touched down gently at the Namgogo airport. It was dark but the airport was fairly well lit.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” said Emma with a sigh of relief.

  “We weren’t hijacked!” Lizzie added enthusiastically.

  “No, we weren’t. Another thing to be happy about,” said Emma.

  “At least it would have been exciting…something fun for a change,” said Lizzie. “I mean…once we were out of the turbulence, things got pretty dull.”

  “When you’re flying, Lizzie, dull is good,” said Emma with a sigh. “But now we’ve got to get going. Grab your carry-ons and let’s move. We’ve still got to get through customs. Have your passports ready.”

  The trio disembarked quickly and within minutes were standing in the customs line.

  “That’s funny,” said Lizzie. “No big machines in this airport. Isn’t there any security at all?”

  “It’s not as big an airport as the one in Philadelphia, Lizzie, but there are quite a few security guards around here. See those people in the light blue uniforms?” said Emma, pointing to a tall guard some ten feet away. Within seconds, that same guard snapped his cell phone shut and began striding purposefully in the direction of Emma, Jonathon and Lizzie.

  When the man was only a few feet away, Lizzie leaned over and whispered to Jonathon, “That man doesn’t look very friendly. Is this a good thing?”

  “Guess we’re going to find out,” Jonathon whispered back.

  Emma stepped forward to meet the man, holding out her hand. “Good evening. Can I help you in any way?”

  The man grunted. “It is for me to ask the questions.”

  “Of course,” Emma said agreeably. “What would you like to know?”

  “You’re to come with me…all three of you…right now.” He gestured toward a dimly lit office that said “Customs.”

  “We’ll be happy to come, but could you give me some idea of what this is all about?”

  “It is for me…” the guard began.

  “To ask the questions…I think you already said that,” Lizzie said in her most annoyed tone.

  Meanwhile, two more security guards, both wielding heavy police batons, had rushed over to Emma and the children and the three were marched into the dimly lit room.

  Seated at a square, metallic table, Emma whispered urgently to Lizzie, “I hope it’s not those stupid magnetic playing cards again!”

  “No, it couldn’t be, I…” began Lizzie.

  A large man wearing a military uniform barged suddenly into the room. He glared at each of them in turn. “I hope you realize that you are all in very serious trouble,” he growled.

  “Trouble? What sort of trouble? We’ve done nothing wrong,” insisted Emma.

  “That is not what our information indicates,” said the man haughtily.

  “We don’t know wha
t you’re…” began Emma.

  “We have it on very good authority that the three of you are terrorists!” boomed the man, ripping his officer’s cap from his head and throwing it on the table in front of them.

  “Terrorists?” protested Emma. “That’s the most ridiculous…”

  “Silence!” roared one of the blue-shirted security guards who had just entered the room. “Do not under any circumstances interrupt General Mbasa!”

  Lizzie immediately rose to her feet. “Well, how about you telling General M-what’s-his-name that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

  General Mbasa moved threateningly toward Lizzie, who took a few quick steps backwards.

  “Don’t you dare!” screamed Emma, moving between the general and Lizzie. “These children have done nothing! Now you tell me right now what this is all about!”

  “That is simple enough,” said the general, shrugging as he took a seat across the table from Emma. “We have information that you have brought a most dangerous item—exploding hair shampoo—illegally into our country. Obviously you are in league with those disgusting rebels that…”

  “That’s crazy!” interrupted Emma. “We’re not in league with anyone. And we certainly don’t have any exploding hair shampoo. You can check…”

  “We have checked, and we have the offending bottle right here!” said the security guard, holding up a small bottle of yellow liquid.

  “Yes, that’s mine,” said Emma quietly. “I forgot I had it in my suitcase and I guess they missed that at the airport in Philadelphia. But it’s absolutely harmless. It’s just shampoo.”

  “We’ll be the ones to decide that,” said the general, a sly smirk crossing his face. “We will subject it to a scientific analysis and determine once and for all what sort of dangerous substance it is.”

  “Be my guest,” said Emma calmly. “But leave a little in there, I’m going to need it for my bath later on.”

  The general grunted and the security guard grunted right after him. Then they turned and marched out the door.

  Minutes later, the general returned with the security guard at his heels.

  “We tested the substance in question,” he announced.

  “That was fast,” said Emma. “I thought a chemical analysis would take longer.”

  “We threw a rock at it,” said the security guard.

  “You threw a rock at it,” said Lizzie, her mouth dropping open. “That was it? That was your big scientific analysis? Why didn’t you just jump up and down on it?”

  “Lizzie, please…” whispered Jonathon.

  “We thought it might explode,” said the security guard, straight-faced.

  Emma was starting to smile. “So what happened when you threw a rock at it?”

  “Nothing,” the security guard admitted. “The rock got sort of soggy.”

  Emma nodded. “Okay, so now you have proof that my shampoo is just ordinary, every-day shampoo. It’s not explosive. It’s not dangerous in any way. It’s just shampoo. So…can we go now?”

  “No!” the general roared again. “Because we have received another tip that you have attempted to smuggled contraband—illegal goods— into our country.”

  “That’s just as crazy as the exploding shampoo,” said Emma. “You’ve searched our bags. What did you find that could possibly be considered contraband?”

  “Well, nothing so far,” the security guard admitted, “but we’re going to have to search all of you all over again. Because we’ve been informed by a highly placed source that you’re trying to smuggle highly radioactive playing cards into this country.”

  Emma groaned and turned quickly to Lizzie. “Not those horrible magnetic playing cards again, Lizzie!”

  “No! No! I tried to tell you earlier. I ditched those back in Philly. They made me do it. Personally, I think it was very unfair but…”

  “Well, thank heavens for that.” Emma looked the general squarely in the face. “Listen, General. Clearly there’s been a misunderstanding here. This young lady did have some perfectly harmless magnetic playing cards at the start of our trip. But she left them back in the United States. She did not bring them into this country. You can search us again if you’d like.”

  And they did. Afterwards, the general offered a weak apology. “I’ll admit that there’s no evidence that you’re a terrorist or that you’re smuggling contraband…”

  “So we can go, right?” asked Jonathon hopefully.

  “But,” said the general, a smile beginning to creep over his face, “we’re going to have to keep you in custody overnight just to make sure.”

  “Oh good grief!” exclaimed Emma. “This is outrageous! Is there an American consulate we can talk to?”

  “Yeah,” demanded Lizzie,” my civil liberties are being infringed.”

  “Lizzie…give it a break,” Jonathon whispered in her ear. “I don’t think that kind of talk is going to help us here.”

  It didn’t. The three were taken to a cold, tiny cell with only a small slab of canvas to sleep on.

  “Pleasant dreams,” said the security guard as he locked them in the cell.

  “That’s it! I’m calling my congressman,” roared Lizzie.

  But the security guard only laughed and turned off the lights in the cellblock, leaving the three in pitch-black darkness.

  Chapter 8: Mr. Thumbs’ Intentions

  “No, I can’t talk any louder,” Mr. Thumbs whispered urgently into his cellphone. He pressed himself against the back of a truck to keep out of sight.

  “Look, Felicia, I just got here—to the mine— so I can’t say much. No, I’m sure nobody saw me. The three of them might have looked in my direction once or twice on the flight but—just like I told you—I have a foolproof disguise. My own mother couldn’t recognize me.”

  “No, Felicia, that’s not even a little funny. Of course my mother would want to recognize me. I’m just saying she couldn’t do it with this disguise.”

  Suddenly, Mr. Thumbs heard a noise in back of him and whirled around. He craned his neck around a corner to see if anyone had spotted him. Seeing no one, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  His cellphone came alive with mumbling once again.

  “I’m right here, Felicia, but I can’t talk constantly. I’ve got to look around, check the place out. How was the flight? Dreadful! That ridiculous airline lost every piece of luggage I brought, and that means I can’t change disguises. But don’t worry. They’ll never see through this one. And yes, I have already started to put my plan in operation. A little bribe to the Namgogo airport security force guaranteed that Emma and the two children are being detained overnight. I’m sure they’re not too happy about that. One more bit of good news. While our friends are cooling their heels in custody at the airport, I’ve managed to get out here first and connect up with one of the caretakers, a Mr. Mbuto. I offered him a little cash and he is now also in my employ. I’ve given him instructions to confuse Jonathan and Emma as much as possible.”

  “What does the place look like? Well, as far as I can see it’s a dump in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, it took me an hour by bus from the airport to get here. And there’s nothing much to look at. It’s a pit, with a lot of broken down trucks and other machinery sitting around rusting. I doubt if this mine has been worked for decades. Jonathan is a fool for wanting to buy this mine. He’s playing right into our hands!”

  Chapter 9: The Mine at Last

  The next morning, Emma, Jonathon and Lizzie were all in an extremely bad mood, which was not improved very much by the half-hearted apologies they received from the Namgogo officials.

  After being released from custody, they quickly located a bus that would take them out to the mine. About an hour later, the three of them stood together, gazing at the vast pit in front of them.

  “Well,” said Jonathan as he covered his eyes from the sun to scan the terrain, “we’re here.”

  Emma looked doubtful. “Really? This is here? I mean, this is
the mine? You’ve got to admit it doesn’t look like much.”

  Jonathon nodded. “No, it doesn’t. It looks a little worse than in the photographs I showed you.”

  “That’s for sure,” said Lizzie. “All of this machinery wasn’t falling apart like this in the photos.”

  “I guess they were taken a few years ago,” said Jonathon.

  “You know, Jonathon, it’s not too late to back out on this deal,” said Emma.

  “Actually it is, Emma. I wired them the money for the mine two days ago—$8,000,”Jonathon said quietly.

  “No! Tell me you’re kidding!” said Emma, taking him gently by the shoulders.

  “I’m afraid not,” said Jonathon. “Looks like we’re all in on this one whether we like it or not.”

  “Say, Jonathon, who’s that man over there looking at us?” asked Lizzie. “Is he connected with the mine?”

  “Yes, he’s part of a small caretaker staff,” said Jonathon. “I asked him to meet us so he’d be able to answer any questions we had.”

  “Wow!” said Emma. “I’m not quite sure where to start. Maybe we can ask him how we can get the $8,000 back?”

  “I’ve got an idea!” Lizzie offered cheerfully. “Let’s ask him about the curse!”

  “Well, it’s a start,” said Jonathon.

  Mr. Mbuto, the gentleman who had been watching them, was called over. Jonathon asked him if he would mind answering a few questions about the mine.

  “Not at all! Not at all, young master!” Mr. Mbuto exclaimed enthusiastically. “I am at your service. Ask me any question you’d like.”

  Lizzie piped in immediately. “Tell us about the curse!”

  “Ah, yes,” said Mr. Mbuto. “The famous curse. Well, this mine has been called cursed for many a year. It was a very good mine once—many diamonds were claimed from this mine. But then the ghosts came.”

  “The ghosts came? What ghosts? This is the first time we’ve heard anything about ghosts,” said Emma, a strained look on her face.

  “Oh, yes the ghosts,” said Mr. Mbuto. “Terrible thing. Many, many ghosts. Scared the workers away.”

  “So these so-called ‘ghosts’ scared the workers away,” said Jonathon. “What exactly did they look like?”

  “Oh, no one saw the ghosts, young master! No one ever saw them,” said Mr. Mbuto, gesturing excitedly with his hands.

  “Wait a minute,” said Emma. “If no one ever saw any ghosts, how could they be scared away by them?”