“Why? What’s happened?” Emma looked at him apprehensively.
“I’ve just learned that Tony Forrester was killed in an aeroplane accident two years ago in Australia!”
Polokwane, Limpopo, South Africa
“There’s a drive-thru McDonalds on the corner of Grimm and Thabo Mbeki. I’m going to pull in there, get some food and we’ll talk about what we want to do.” As Coetzee announced his decision, Leo felt the car swing off the exit from the N1 onto Pi-6 Main Route to go through the Southern Gateway on the approach road into Polokwane Central. He had lain without moving for the last hour and was feeling stiff and sore. It was time to make a move. He stretched his body out and gave a loud yawn, waiting for a reaction.
“The kid’s awake. Put the light on.” Coetzee switched on the interior light and Blethin looked over the back seat. “How you feeling Leo?”
“I’m feeling like shit. What do you think? Where are we?”
“Here, take a drink.” Leo grabbed the bottle of water from his hand and swallowed thirstily. His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper.
“How does he look?” It was the sergeant’s voice.
“As well as can be expected. No signs of permanent damage that I can see.”
Leo noted how they talked about him in the third person. Just a harmless kid, he thought. Just wait. “I asked where we are.”
“We’re driving through South Africa. Near Polokwane.” Coetzee didn’t want to mention Zimbabwe, the kid might go berserk if he knew that was their destination.
“Why the hell are we driving through South Africa? Where’s my mother? She was supposed to meet me hours ago. Where is she?”
“There was a misunderstanding, Leo. She left first and we’re going to join her. We’ll be there shortly.” Coetzee wondered how long he could continue with the same bullshit, but he didn’t have a choice.
“There’s three of you in the car. Who’s the other guy?”
“I’m a police officer, Leo. I’m here for your safety and protection. To make sure nothing happens to you until we get you back to your mother.” Nwosu put on his most charming and convincing tone. “Don’t worry, you’re quite safe and everything is under my control.”
A police sergeant? Why the hell would a police sergeant be travelling with a couple of crooks who stick needles into people to drug and kidnap them? Leo didn’t reply. He knew the men were lying but he just had to bide his time until the right moment.
“Are you hungry?” Blethin asked. “We’re going to stop for Big Macs. You want one?”
Leo’s juices started flowing at the thought. He was ravenous. “OK. With double cheese, fries and a Coke.”
“We’ll be there in two minutes. Just take it easy and you can get out and stretch your legs.”
The men talked quietly amongst themselves so that he couldn’t hear what was being said. He squeezed the torch in his hand.
Marbella, Spain
“Apparently Forrester was with the Flying Doctors for three years then left them to start his own charter airline in Perth.”
It had taken Emma a lot of tears and some comforting from her sister to get over the shock of her ex-fiancé’s death and now the two women were sitting listening to the rest of Espinoza’s news.
“He built up a good operation, with three small jets flying business executives all over the country. It was called N-Jet, after his wife’s name, Nicole. She was the business manager and handled the administration and ran the office. In July 2008 his own aircraft was lost in a storm in the Indian Ocean on a flight from Perth to Hobart, in Tasmania. There was a co-pilot and a cabin attendant with two passengers on board, both senior executives in a major oil company. So there was an extensive search which went on for weeks but they never found the plane, nor any survivors.
Mac, my Interpol friend, tells me that the Indian Ocean at that point is an unpredictable stretch of water and a light plane coming down there would be quickly destroyed and swept away by the waves and currents. It’s also very deep, so it would be impossible to search for victims.
“Nicole Forrester closed down the business a few months later and petitioned the court to declare him dead. This is normal practice after such a high profile accident where the victims are quite clearly deceased. Tony was declared dead six months after the crash.” Espinoza sighed deeply. “This news means that his name disappears from our list and we need to seriously look for any other possible suspects.” He shook his head at the frustrating news.
“Do you know what happened to Nicole?” Emma asked.
“I have no idea, he didn’t say. I suppose she just got through it then started a new life as people do after such a tragedy.”
Jenny accompanied him to the door, trying to hide her disappointment. “I suppose there’s no question about Tony’s death?”
“I’m afraid not. Not just his death, but the four other occupants of the plane as well. In accidents like this, especially where executives of a large corporation are involved there are huge insurance implications, so the search would be well financed and well organised. Mac didn’t give me many details, but in such a tragedy there would be no chance of survivors.
“In any case I can’t reconcile him or anyone who could remotely be a possible suspect with the opportunity. There is a missing link, so it’s still very confusing. But at least I think we’ve got the motive established, as well as the local perpetrators, so tomorrow we just have to dig deeper.” He embraced her. “Good night, Jenny. Hasta mañana.”
It was seventy hours since Leo had been taken.
THIRTY-SIX
Polokwane, Limpopo, South Africa
“Feeling any better, Leo? Coetzee had ordered five hamburgers, figuring that the boy could probably eat two. It was eight thirty and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe I can curry a little favour with him, he thought. I’m going to need it.
“I’m still feeling like shit. Not hungry any more, but I feel awfully tired.” Leo had decided to wait before making a move until after he’d eaten. He remembered what an ex-army officer had said in a survival lecture to his class at Newcastle Royal Grammar School. Eat whenever you get the chance. It may be the last chance you get. If he somehow managed to get away it was better to do it on a full stomach. He felt much better, but he wasn’t about to show it.
He was sitting on the tailgate of the Land Cruiser eating the last of the fries. The car was parked on the outskirts of the town in a large field of sandy hardpan surrounded by a boxwood hedge. Blethin was sitting alongside him and the other two in the front. It was pitch black outside, the only light coming from the open doors of the vehicle. There was a steady hum of traffic from the nearby highway, but the car was virtually invisible from every side. The engine was running and the heater was on to cut the cool evening air. Coetzee and Nwosu were arguing about whether to find a motel for the night or drive on. Nwosu wanted to continue to Beitbridge, which Leo now knew was on the Zimbabwean border. Coetzee was dead set against it, he didn’t trust the Zimbabwe immigration and he obviously didn’t trust the policeman. They weren’t paying attention to him. It was time to make a move.
He reached behind him and took hold of the torch under the blanket and said to Blethin. “I’m feeling light headed and my thighs are hurting and I’ve got no sensation in my feet,” he said, in a quiet, pained voice.
The doctor got down from the tailgate and took one of Leo’s feet in his hands. “Where’s the pain in your thighs?” He squeezed the foot. “Can you feel that?”
“No but you’ll feel this!” Leo smashed the torch into the side of Blethin’s head. The man went down without a sound and lay sprawled on the hardpan. Leo looked back into the car. The other two were still arguing. They’d seen and heard nothing. He climbed quietly down and felt through Blethin’s pockets, found his mobile phone and pushed it into his trouser pocket. The doctor was wearing sandals, but they looked to be several sizes too small. He was going to have to run barefoot across the field. From Coetzee’s previou
s remarks he knew they were about two hundred metres north of Grobler Street, the main road leading back to the N1. He’d seen the occasional lights of cars moving along in both directions. If he could reach the road and run a hundred metres to the right, he’d be back where they’d bought the burgers, in a populous part of town where he could find help.
He moved quietly away from the Land Cruiser and stepped into a slow run into the pitch black night. After a few steps he shone the torch beam dimly through his fingers onto the ground. He didn’t want to alert Coetzee and Nwosu, but he couldn’t afford to injure his bare feet.
London, England
“We’ve had no news from Nwosu since they set off for Beitbridge this afternoon. He called at one o’clock Johannesburg time to inform me that he had neutralised Lambert, the hotel manager. He watched Coetzee and Blethin leave the hotel with the boy and he was going to meet them imminently at the departure point.”
It was seven thirty in the evening in London and the Voice was on the telephone. He had heard nothing from Johannesburg nor Marbella and was feeling a little apprehensive. The operation was entering its most sensitive phase and they couldn’t afford anything to go wrong.
“You should call him to see how things are going.” Slater sounded uneasy too.
“He’s presently driving on the highway with Blethin, Coetzee and the boy. I don’t want to cause an unnecessary interruption. It’s a long drive and I’m sure the good sergeant will call me just as soon as he is able. I believe patience is the best virtue to employ for the moment.”
“Then call him first thing in the morning. Let me know immediately if you hear anything. Do you have the next message ready?”
“I do.” The Voice read out a short text, written and read as always in impeccable English grammar. “Are you content with that?”
“I won’t be content until we see the funds arrive, but it’s OK. Send it first thing tomorrow after you call Nwosu. The sooner she receives it the sooner we can move into the last phase.
The caller rang off and the Voice said, “He sounds more nervous than us.”
“He has more to lose than us.” His companion took a sip of Sancerre and lit a cigarette. “In fact, exactly five times more. That’s a considerable fortune.”
“Hmm. You’re becoming rather avaricious aren’t you? Don’t forget that he has financed this whole business. We are simply facilitators, paid to put the pieces together, with no accountability. I rather prefer being low profile. If the reward is less generous, the risk is similarly reduced.”
“I think you’re underestimating our contribution. No, I mean my contribution.”
“Let me explain something to you, since you have no previous experience of this type of arrangement. Being a part of a conspiracy is rather like being a member of a vocal group or a band, or even a football team. It’s composed of talented individuals who each imagine that their success depends on only one member, themselves. They don’t understand the notion of, ‘United we stand, Divided we fall’. So, they usually decide to go off on their own and, of course, they generally fail miserably. The success comes from being together, not from being apart. You understand?”
“You sound like that talent scout on the ‘X Factor’. My point is we shouldn’t minimise the value of our services. Just think. I happened to put together a lot of valuable facts and told you about them. You then made the right contacts and set up this whole complicated money-making machine. Without you and me this operation wouldn’t have been possible. I think that’s worth more than twenty percent.”
“Very well. I’ll bear your point of view in mind and if the opportunity to enhance our position presents itself, I shall not fail to pursue it. Is that good enough?”
“If that’s a yes, then I agree.”
Slater thought about the telephone conversation. He decided not to call his partner, he didn’t have any good news, or in fact any news at all. He’d wait until the morning.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Polokwane, Limpopo, South Africa
“Jesus Christ!” Coetzee had registered a movement from the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the torchlight as Leo broke into a run across the field. Throwing the car into gear, he turned it and sped towards the main road, headlights full on. Nwosu almost fell out of the vehicle then slammed the passenger door shut. The car raced across the hardpan to cut off the boy’s escape angle, leaving a trail of items strewn around behind them from the open tailgate.
The policeman took his Vektor from its holster. “What the hell happened to Blethin? Bunch of useless pricks you managed to hire. Where’s that bloody kid, I’ll teach him a lesson.”
“You’ll teach him nothing, Nwosu. Wouldn’t you try to escape in his position? He’s showing spunk, like he should. And you seem to forget how valuable he is. We’ll get him back in the car, that’s all.”
Leo looked behind him as the headlights caught him up, casting a long shadow on the ground ahead. He tried to make a turn to the right to get outside of Coetzee’s flanking approach. “Ouch!” He started hopping. Something, a sharp stone or thorn had penetrated the sole of his foot. “Shit!” He staggered forward and dropped the torch then fell clumsily, holding his injured foot, helplessly watching the car’s approach.
Nwosu jumped out and hauled Leo to his feet. “You’ll fucking dead if you try that again.” He waved the pistol in his face.
“Oh, you think so?” Leo grabbed him by the upper arms. The policeman was two inches shorter than him. He took his head back and butted him hard in the nose. There was a satisfying crunch of cartilage as the sergeant fell away with a cry, instinctively putting both hands to his face. Leo wrested the Vektor from his right hand and pushed him back. “Now who’s going to be fucking dead?” He pointed the gun at Nwosu’s head.
“Calm down, Leo. Let me have the gun” Coetzee came round the vehicle, his own M9 Beretta pistol in his hand. He had watched the scene in the car headlights, relishing the sight of Nwosu’s mauling at the hands of a schoolboy. And he was delighted to see the policeman disarmed. He’s done half my job for me, he thought. Now he had to make sure the kid didn’t do anything dangerous with the weapon.
“I’ll shoot the bastard if you come any closer.” Leo said, waving the pistol between the two men. “Get away from the car. I’m taking it so just stay out of my way.”
“I don’t think so, Leo.” Coetzee dangled the keys in his hand. “First, you’re not the type to shoot anyone. Second, you’ve got a bleeding foot and no shoes and third, I doubt you could drive this monster. You may have managed to rearrange the sergeant’s face, but you’re not even old enough to have a driver’s licence. Now give me that pistol, it’s loaded.”
“I’ll take my own fucking gun. And then I’ll blow away your balls, you vicious little prick.” Nwosu pushed Leo over onto his damaged foot and made to grab the Vektor from his hand. Off balance, Leo tried to pull the gun away and there was a sharp crack as the double action trigger mechanism was released in the struggle. Nwosu screamed and fell to the ground, holding his left shoulder, an agonised expression on his face.
Leo dropped the gun as if it was red hot. He stood stock still, staring at the policeman on the ground, blood soaking through his shirt, his mind trying to register what had just happened. I’ve just shot a police sergeant, he realised. Holy shit! I’ll end up in prison in South Africa. What the hell have I done? Aloud, he said, “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean the gun to go off. I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”
Nwosu said nothing. He was in too much pain to utter any more obscenities. He was holding his bleeding shoulder and groaning in agony. He knew the bone was smashed, he could feel it moving in his hand and his nose felt like it had been set on fire.
Coetzee bent down and picked up the Vektor. “That wasn’t smart, Leo,” he said. “Shooting cops never is.” His mind was working overtime, trying to weigh up the situation. “Here, help me get him into the back of the car.”
Between them they he
lped Nwosu into the open back of the Land Cruiser. Coetzee put the other seat flat to make enough room for the policeman to lie in a semi-foetal position, his shoulder on the folded blanket. He took a whisky flask from the glove compartment and poured out a stiff dose which Nwosu gulped down, still not speaking, just moaning in pain. Leo was silent too. He was trying to sort out in his mind everything that had happened over the last few days. Trying to reconcile what he had done to Blethin and Nwosu with what had been done to him. He was terrified at the thought of what might happen to him next.
Coetzee cut away the policeman’s shirt with his knife. The shoulder was a mess. It looked to him like the bullet had gone right through the flesh and out the back. It had probably damaged the muscle and the tendons, but there was no sign of any broken bones and no intense arterial bleeding. “Can you lift your arm?” He asked.
Nwosu tried to raise his arm but gave a gasp of pain and dropped it again. “There’s something broken. I can’t lift it. The muscles won’t work. That little shit! We should never have got involved in this game. It’s not worth any amount of money. Just kill the bastard and let’s get out of here.”
“Shut up, you idiot. You’ll frighten the kid. He’s still a valuable commodity, so just shut your mouth.”
They’ve kidnapped me for money. Why do they think we’ve got money? My mother’s spent everything on this holiday. I know she’s broke.
Coetzee opened up Blethin’s medical bag and cleaned the wound with disinfectant, enjoying Nwosu’s reaction to the sharp liquid. Like most bullies in authority, the policeman was a coward at heart. He padded some cotton gauze around the wound and bound it up around the arm and shoulder to support it, quietly considering the situation. He won’t be shooting anyone any time soon, he thought. And I’ve got Leo. He doesn’t know it but he’s just done me a great favour. He’s the asset and I’ve got him and Nwosu’s neutralised. He finished the bandaging. “You’re lucky, Jonathon. A bit of sticky tape and a sling and you’ll be as right as rain.”
The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set Page 80