CONFLICT DIAMONDS: THE START OF THE BEGINNING

by Verner Jones

  A group of school children rounded the corner in military style formation lead by an authoritative looking headmistress type walking stiffly, with a whistle on a chord around her neck. A form teacher, Zoran guessed, held up the rear holding a cache of books. This was as good a time as any to make his acquaintance with the eye candy. See what she actually new, locate the shovel wielding bitch and her sidekick and grab that globe. Then he’d even out the score, mess her up a lot first, then make his revenge complete with a bullet in her skull, the side kick too. The plan, loose as it was, emboldened him. He stood, repositioned his pistol into a more comfortable position and headed towards the apartment. He reached the park gates as the children were passing Celine’s entrance. The security door opened and Celine emerged holding the hand of a young boy, behind them, his nemesis. It was the first time that he had been able to actually take stock of the Muslim bitch. Tall, athletic build, innocent looking face; a look he knew to be deceptive. It only served to heighten his already charged emotions that someone not much out of her teens, could thwart him a trained soldier. He clenched his fist. The muscles at his temples flared as he gritted his teeth, uncontrollable rage was one point away from winning mastery of his actions. He strode boldly towards them pulling the pistol from his waistband and keeping it close to his side. He was going to finish this now. They were heading away from him, unable to see him coming, walking in unison with the children who were steadily breaking away from them. One hundred metres and closing. The school children led by the headmistress diverted to cross the road. Eighty metres. The children turned from the pavement like a caterpillar on a leaf crossing in front of Zoran. Celine stopped at a BMW fingered the key fob and ushered everyone inside. Seventy metres. The car started and pulled away leaving Zoran in mid step in the middle of the road. One of the school children was staring and had nudged her friend to look in his direction. He quickly slid the weapon behind his back into the waistband of his trousers and pulled his shirttail over it. They would be back and so would he.

  Celine dropped Jean Paul at the special needs school apologizing to the teacher for her late arrival. Selecting her cell phone from her handbag. Celine telephoned her father and asked him to collect Jean Paul after school beseeching him to have him overnight. Although he could collect his grandson a presentation dinner date prevented him from babysitting that evening. Jean Paul’s pick up arranged she rejoined Stipe and Marta who were waiting in the car outside.

  “I’ll drop you off at your hotel. Be back at my place about nine. We have to go across town and traffic can be difficult. The thing is though I need one of you to look after my son. There’s no one at this short notice I can get to look after him.” Marta checked with Stipe. They agreed Marta would babysit and Stipe would go with Celine. “Where are you staying?” Celine fired up the engine and pulled into the flow of traffic.

  We’re staying at the Hotel Vivienne on Rue Vivienne,” said Marta. Celine caught their gaze in her rear view mirror.

  “I know the area. It’s not difficult to get the metro to my place from there. I’ll drop you off. Be back at mine later and don’t worry about Sebastian. He may come across as being arrogant, but when it comes to straight dealing he doesn’t deal any cards from the bottom of the pack. He has connections and a reputation. He’ll want to keep both intact.” Celine pulled up outside the hotel and let her passengers out. She buzzed the window half way down. “Remember don’t be late. Nine o ‘clock my place.” She gave them a half smile and rejoined the flow of traffic. They watched her pull away. Stipe took Marta’s hand. She looked back at him sighing deeply anticipating the possibilities for the evening. The same thoughts were coursing through Stipes mind. There was a bistro over the road offering a selection of set menus. Stipe turned in its direction.

  “Lets go and get some lunch and talk it through.” They crossed the busy street, Marta hoping that this would be the final time they would have to play out this kind of scenario.

  The ornate streetlights threw an eerie glow around the entrance to the Quatre Septembre tube station. The cast-panelled railing stood erect around the entrance looking like shields in a line of defence. Pedestrians were few, a trickle dispersed sparsely along the Rue-du Quatre Septembre as if rationed by the evening.

  They took the stairs to the bowels of the subway passing a lone couple finishing off their Pastis at a pavement table at a bistro opposite the entrance. The stillness was palatable. The stairway gave way to a spruced up platform with lime green wall tiles forming a raised plinth supporting a row of lime green plastic chairs; glinting from numerous posteriors having buffed them. Not tonight though, the platform was empty bar two lone travellers waiting at the far end. Stipe and Marta caught the M3 train one stop to the Opera and changed there onto the M7, travelling several stops to the Pont Neuf station, then deciding to walk across the Pont Neuf bridge. Traffic was light. Music from a café bar on the bank of the river Seine filtered up over the bridges stone parapet walling. The sun had dipped its last segment of arc into the far end of the Seine leaving behind a candescent orange glow on the horizon. This was an evening for a lovers stroll, not a rendezvous with a fence.

  They set a brisk pace over the bridge despite having more than enough time to reach Celine’s apartment. They passed several semicircular seated viewing areas, one of which, the walling to the side had been removed and the area cordoned off with cones and metal barriers, shielding the drop in to the river below. Neatly stacked wheelbarrows were chained to a post waiting for the morning’s masons to return to the reconstruction of the wall. They reached Celine’s Apartment. Her BMW was parked out front. A pair of patient eyes sprang to life from across the road, concealed by a manicured hedge. Zoran sat forward watching intently. Five minutes later the eye candy emerged along with the Muslim bitch’s sidekick. He was carrying a hold all. The curtains on the second floor parted slightly. Zoran saw that fake innocent face looking below as her two co-conspirators entered the BMW and drove towards the river. The curtains closed. Zoran sprinted towards the fiat he had rented earlier, fired up the ignition and gunned the car forward as Celine’s BMW turned towards Pont Neuf bridge. He manoeuvred himself to within a few cars behind them wondering where this was going to lead, trying to shake off a sudden surge of dizziness that blurred the car in front of him.

  In stark contrast to Celine’s apartment, the tree lined Boulevard de Clichy bristled with nighttime patrons, amidst a call to action from illicit neon signs that left little to the imagination. Celine pulled into a side street and parked next to a Maserati. The two occupants alighted and entered a seedy looking doorway under a flashing neon sign. Zoran watched from the corner junction. He eased the car around the corner, found a vacant lot and reversed the car into position. Leaving the car he followed after them adjusting the CZ99 into a more comfortable position in his waistband.

  The Crazy Girls cabaret was gearing up a notch, a blend of the early bird specials and curious tourists forming the main stay of the punters. The club really came to life after midnight when desires were high and expectations higher. Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin Je t’aime charged the air with erotic sound waves; the two pole dancers completed the visual stimulation. The music level was just below legal only Stipe’s ears weren’t believing it. Celine led the way to the bar. Old memories vied for her attention. Pushing them aside she reached the bar with Stipe in tow. Celine locked eyes with Pierre the head barman who was putting the finishing touches to an exotic cocktail. He gave her a warm smile in return. She pointed her finger downwards and tapped the bar; an automatic gesture from her past. Pierre nodded knowingly. He located a secret buzzer under the bar and pressed it twice, then set about preparing Celine’s usual drink.

  “What are you drinking, Stipe?” Stipe shuffled around clearly looking uncomfortable in his surroundings.

  “ I’ll just have a coke.” Celine mouthed the order to Pierre who brought the drinks over, then leaned into Celine and kissed both cheeks.

  “Nice to see yo
u again mon amour.” He turned his attention to Stipe and eyed him up and down then returned his attention to Celine.

  “When the red light goes out you can go in.” He turned away and leant over the bar to a cocktail waitress who had signalled his attention. Stipe watched with interest as the waitress drew close to Pierre’s ear stretching her gold sequined bodice and tiptoeing on fishnet-covered legs. She gave him her drinks order and flashed a generous portion of her cleavage in Stipes direction and a look that said anything was possible. Stipe turned back to Celine feeling more and more out of his depth. Celine had been watching the light over Sebastian’s door at the end of the corridor. It went out and Celine took Stipe’s arm and pulled him close.

  “Party time, Stipe. Lets go.” She took his elbow and guided him in the direction of Sebastian’s office leaving their unfinished drinks on the bar. A doorman exited Sebastian’s office wearing a black dinner suit and bowtie and took up position at the beginning of the corridor. He was six feet six and two hundred and fifty pounds with a face that was void of compassion. He glanced at them as they passed him then continued watching the room.

  Zoran entered the club and stood momentarily in the threshold scrutinizing the surroundings and its occupants. The noise was doing nothing to help the drone that had started in the back of his head. He winced slightly as a light-beam from the disco ball caught him in the eye. He searched visually for the eye candy and the sidekick seeing nothing much through the dimness and flashing lights. He moved cautiously into the club finding an empty table in a corner of the room where he could watch all and any movement that occurred. The gold-bodice waitress approached him giving him the same smile she had given Stipe moments earlier. Zoran ordered a whisky and smiled politely back. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the subdued lighting and at the end of the bar he could make out the eye candy and the sidekick. They put their drinks down on the bar and the eye candy led him down a corridor past some big grisly looking suited dude who had took up a defence position. Zoran watched them disappear into another room. The sidekick was carrying a bag over his shoulder and Zoran guessed he wasn’t carrying a change of clothes in it. The globe was with him.

  Celine entered the room first with Stipe close on her tails. It was like someone had flicked a switch on the back of Celine and a new persona had emerged. She walked over to Sebastian past two leather chesterfields that nestled nicely on thick, expensive, carpeting. A hand crafted cherry- wood Trafalgar desk took the head position at end of the room. Art in a modernistic style adorned the walls blending contemporary with traditional. Sebastian was pouring himself a drink from his special cabinet. The one he kept his prized collection of rare whiskies and vintage malts. Two other men early forties, twins Celine realized, stood to the side of Sebastian, one of them resting on the arm of the chesterfield. The music from the club played dimly in the background. Two Thai women from the club were flirting and voicing girlish squeals, patting the twins with mock admonishment whilst at the same time nestling up to them. The twins acknowledged Celine and Stipe's arrival in the room. The Thai women kept up their sideshow.

  “Are you going to pour me one?” said Celine.

  “Ha Ha. Unless you have suddenly changed, as I recall, you can’t stand the stuff.” “Just testing. These our two business partners?”

  “That’s them.”

  “You just warming them up a little I see,” as she looked over at the Thai cabaret girls expertly playing their role.

  “Well, you know the score. A bit of female companionship never fails to help the cause.” Celine resisted the urge to punch him and instead brought Stipe into the mix. Sebastian greeted Stipe taking note that they had left the girl behind. “The globe in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Well then lets get down to business.” Sebastian attracted the attention of his two guests, rejoined them, and introduced Stipe and Celine. He nodded slightly to the Thai girls who faked their sadness at having to leave the twins, but left them with a promise of a repeat performance of the previous nights engagement, and if they were good boys, maybe a little bonus.

  They took seats on the chesterfields. Sebastian turned to Stipe and introductions all round were exchanged.

  “Ok, Stipe. I’m sure we’re all interested in what you have to show us. Shall we take a look?” Stipe addressed the twins bolstered by bravado.

  “Gentlemen what you are about to see is truly a magnificent work of art. But don’t take my word for it. You judge for yourselves.” With that he reached into his bag, removed the globe, and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. It truly was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship. The twin’s faces lit up as they leaned forward and started to appraise the piece amidst mumbled plaudits and exclamations of appreciation. Stipe relaxed into the sofa feeling confident of the outcome. He glanced over at Celine and Sebastian. Celine took Sebastian’s hand and gave it a discreet squeeze. Sebastian responded with a smile.

  Zoran was watching the corridor. Two Oriental looking women exited the end doorway and walked towards the doorman nonchalantly re-entering the arena. The doorman gave them a passive look and continued his observations. The girls found two more punters sitting alone at the bar and switched on the charm as they pulled up along side them. A tray went crashing to the floor to the right of Zoran. He instinctively turned to see what had happened. A man was cursing at the gold sequined bodice amidst shaking excess fluid off of his shirt. He swore at the waitress who swore back. The man glared at her unsteady on his feet he swung around and slapped her hard across the face. The waitress put her head into her hands turned and fled the scene. The doorman bristled having took notice of all that had happened. He searched the room for the other doorman hoping to signal him to go deal with the schmuck. He was nowhere to be seen. Against his orders he moved over to the drunk ready to eject him into the night. Club policy. No one creating a ruckus and especially hitting one of the girls was allowed to stay in the premises. Zoran seized his chance. He stood and weaved his way towards the corridor past the doorman and reached the far door. He drew his pistol and quickly entered the room.

  Startled faces turned to see who had abruptly entered their assignation. Sebastian stood quickly. So did Stipe. A look of horror shaped Stipe’s features. Sebastian went to rush Zoran, but the pistol pointing straight at his chest dissuaded him from any further action.

  “ Sit the fuck down.” barked Zoran. “Not you side kick. You stay where I can reach you.” He walked over to Stipe and pistol-whipped him sending him sprawling across the coffee table landing at the feet of the twins. “You got about twenty seconds my friend before my men come in here and rip your other fucking arm off. Do yourself a favour and fuck off while you can.” Zoran waved his pistol threateningly at Sebastian.

  “You got a lot of nerve man seeing the only protection you got from copping one of these is the dumb broad, but I guess if I got my aim right I could bag both of you with one shot. So if you want to be fondling those titties tonight you had better do exactly as I say because I ain't in no mood to be fucked with. You got me?” Sebastian bit his lip and bided his time. “Looks like we got ourselves a little, what do you French call it, yea a little soiree going on here. Zoran advanced to the drinks cabinet and checked out the whisky. “Fine malt too.” He whipped the bottle with his pistol knocking it to the floor spilling its contents. Two hundred pounds of liquor spilt onto the carpet. “Vodka man myself.” Zoran grinned at Sebastian and spat on the floor. He turned his attention to the twins. “And what have we got here? Have I got this all-wrong? Is this a birthday bash cause it looks like you brought someone a mighty fine present! Shame your Muslim bitch friend ain’t here to enjoy the party. Could have rounded things off in one neat package. Never mind we’ll get to that later. Now why don’t you be passing that little birthday present over to the slut here so she can put it back in that nice little bag and hand it over to me.” The twins had sat frozen with fear since Zoran had entered the room. The one holding the globe stood a
nd with trembling hands held out the globe in the general direction of Sebastian, unable to shift his attention from Zoran. Sebastian stood to take it from him at that moment the twin dropped the globe to the floor. Looking up he blurted out,

  “ I’m sorry sir. Don’t shoot me.” His face had drained of any thought of the night’s pleasure that lay ahead of him and had taken on a ghostly appearance. Sebastian lunged forward instinctively to try and catch it. Missing, it rolled close to the fireplace a few feet away. Sebastian closed the distance to the globe. With his back to Zoran he bent down to pick it up secretly pressing an alarm button hidden in the fire surround. He turned to Zoran and gave the globe to Celine

  “Here take the thing and go if that’s what you want. No need to do anything stupid.” Celine handed the bag over to Zoran who slung it over his shoulder.

  “That’s the smartest thing you said all night mister. Just got one thing to take care of before I leave you to your festivities.” He pointed the gun towards Stipe and took aim.

  Behind the bar Pierre rang the cash register and collected change to give to the waitress. As he turned a red flashing light under the counter kicked into life. He paused a moment then slammed the change on to the bar top ignoring the waitress. The doorman was re-entering the club having ejected the drunk into the street. He looked as if he could have just popped out for a cigarette. He started doggedly for his position at the entrance to the corridor. Pierre signaled a closed fist salute to him, a code that only they new the meaning of. Instantly the doorman burst into a sprint towards the end corridor door. Without hesitation he thrust the door open standing like odd job out of a bond movie. It took less than two seconds for him to assess the situation and he lurched forward towards Zoran who was only twelve feet away. Zoran swung his head to meet the intruder and then his pistol arm followed without hesitation he fired point blank into the chest of the doorman. He stopped mid flight, dropped to his knees and, flat on to his face. Sebastian went to move forward. Zoran swung his gun arm to meet the advance. “Don’t make me do it man. Get the fuck down on the floor.” Celine pleaded with Zoran while at the same time clinging on to Sebastian’s arm. Zoran stepped forward and whipped the pistol across Sebastian’s face. He recoiled and went down on one knee. Celine cradled his head. The room began to spin and Zoran found his vision starting to blur. He had to get out of there fast, first unfinished business. He looked at Stipe still moaning on the floor. He aimed at him. The sofa, the coffee table, the floor all seemed to mix into one in a revolving kaleidoscope of colour. He pulled the trigger and fired twice, then staggered forward towards the door shaking the dizziness out of his head. He ran down the corridor brandishing his gun at anyone who got in his way. Screams erupted from the dancing girls, people ran in every direction except his. The barmen was making his way to the exit of the bar carrying a baseball bat. Zoran pointed the gun in his direction and shouted,