just so happens that we are looking for a personal assistant in our legal department,” Johnny murmured, and then softly, “Thanks, Tracey.” The Board Room of Van Der Byl Diamonds was furnished in soft forest colours, browns and greens.
A long luxurious room that reflected the opulence of the days when the Company had been glutted with capital. But now the air was charged with a tension that crackled in the air like static electricity.
The subject of debate was the diamond recovery vessel, Kingfisher.
The Company’s last hope. Her only substantial asset, and Johnny’s personal cross.
“This vessel should have been in operation nine months ago. All the estimates were based on that assumption - yet, she is still lying awaiting completion on the slips at Portsmouth.” Benedict was speaking with unconcealed relish. “In consequence, the interest charges that are accruing put us in a position-“
“The shipyard was out on strike for a total of four months during construction - in addition they were working to rule for, - Johnny’s jaw was thrust out, he was ready to fight.
“Ah! I don’t think we are particularly interested in the unpredictability of the British workman - the contract should have gone to the Japanese company. Their tender was lower-“
“It would have,” grated Johnny, “if your father had not insisted-“
“Please, let us not attempt to lay the blame at the door of a dead man.” Benedict’s tone was sanctimonious. “Let us rather try and rectify a grievous situation. When will Kingfisher be ready for sea?
“On the thirteenth of September.”
“It had better be.” Benedict dropped his eyes to his notes.
“Now, this man whom you have engaged to captain the vessel -
Sergio Caporetti - let us hear a little about him, please.”
“Fifteen years” experience on offshore oil-drilling vessels in the Red Sea.
Three years as Captain of Atlantis Diamonds” offshore dredger operating off the West Coast. He’s one of the best, no doubt about it.”
“All right.” Almost reluctantly Benedict accepted this, and consulted his notes. “Now, we have two sea- concession areas. Number 1 area off Cartridge Bay; number 2 some twenty miles north of that. judging by your prospecting results you will elect to work number 1 area first.” Johnny nodded, waiting for the next attack to develop.
Benedict sat back in his chair.
“Atlantis Diamonds Ltd went broke working number 1 area. - what makes you think you can succeed where they failed!”
“We’ve been over this before,“Johnny snapped.
“I wasn’t there, remember? Humour me, please. Go over it again.
Quickly Johnny explained that Atlantis Diamonds” costs had been inflated by their method of operation. Their dredgers were not self-propelled but had to be towed by tugs. The gravel they recovered had been stored, taken into Cartridge Bay in bulk, transhipped ashore to be processed at a land-based plant. Kingfisher was a self-propelled and self-contained vessel. She would suck up the gravel, process it through the most sophisticated system of cyclone and X ray equipment and dump the waste overboard.
“Our costs will be one quarter those of Atlantis Diamonds,” he finished.
“And our loan account is a mere two millions,” Benedict murmured dryly. Then he looked towards Mike Shapiro at the bottom of the table.
“Mr. Secretary, please note the following motion - “That this Company proceed to sell the vessel Kingfisher presently building at Portsmouth.
That it then sells all diamond concessions at the most advantageous terms negotiable, and goes into voluntary liquidation forthwith.” Have you got that?” It was a direct frontal attack. Clearly if the motion succeeded the Company was worthless. They could not recover the price of the Kingfisher on a forced sale. There would be a shortfall - and Johnny had signed the guarantee.
It was a straight test that Benedict was making. A setting of the lines of battle. Tracey held the balance between Johnny and Benedict.
He was forcing her to declare herself.
Benedict watched her while the motion was put to the vote. He leaned forward in the padded leather chair, a slightly amused smile on the full red lips. Beautifully groomed and tailored, with the grace that wealth and position give to a man and which cannot be counterfeited.
But the clean athletic lines of his body were fractionally blurred by indulgence, and there was a little too much flesh along the line of his jaw that gave him the petulant look of a spoilt child.
Tracey voted with Johnny Lance, not hesitating a second before lifting her hand. Returning Benedict’s smile levelly, and watching her brother’s smile alter subtly - become wolfish, for Benedict did not like to lose.
“Very well, my darling sister. Now we know how we stand at least.” He turned easily to Johnny. “I presume you wish me to continue with my duties in London.” For years now Benedict had handled the London sales of the Company’s stones. It was an unexacting task, which the Old Man had judged within his capabilities.
“Thank you, Benedict,” Johnny nodded. “Now, I have a proposal to put to the meeting - “That the Directors of this Company, as a gesture of solidarity, agree to waive their rights to Directors” fees until such time as the Company’s financial position is on a more sound footing.”” It was a puny counter-attack, but the best he could mount at the moment.
Take-off was in the first light from Youngsfield, and Johnny swung the twin-engined Beechcraft on to a northerly heading, leaving the blue massif of Table Mountain on the left hand.
Tracey wore an anorak over her rose-coloured shirt, and the bottoms of her denim pants were tucked into soft leather boots, her dark hair caught at the nape of her neck with a leather thong.
She sat very still, looking ahead through the aircraft’s windshield at the dawn-touched contours of the land ahead.
At the bleak lilac and purple mountains and the green lioncoloured plains spreading down to meet the mists that hung over the cold Atlantic.
In her stillness Johnny sensed her excitement and found it infectious.
The sun exploded over the horizon, washing golden and bright over the plains, and tipping the mountains with flame.
“Namaqualand.“Johnny pointed ahead.
She laughed with excitement, like a child at Christmas, turning in the seat to face him.
“Do you remember-” She began, then stopped in confusion.
“Yes,” said Johnny. “I remember.” They landed before noon on a rough airstrip bulldozed out of the wilderness. There was a Land-Rover waiting to take them down to the beach to inspect the progress of the workings.
There was little remaining along the thirty-seven-mile Admiralty strip worth working. It was a clean-up and shutdown operation.
When the reigning “King Canute” handed over the parcel of diamonds that made up the month’s recovery, he was apologetic.
“You took out all the plums, Johnny. It’s not like the old days.”
Johnny prodded the pathetic pile of small, low-grade stones with his forefinger.
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “But every little bit helps.” They climbed back into the Beechcraft and flew on northwards.
Now they passed over areas where the desert had been scratched and torn over wide areas.
The tractors had left centipede tracks in the soft earth.
“Ours?” asked Tracey.
“I wish they were. We’d have no worries then. No, all this belongs to the big Company.” Johnny checked his watch, automatically comparing the progress of the flight to his estimates. Then he lifted the microphone from the R/T set.
“Alexandra Bay Control. This is Zulu Sugar Peter Tango Baker.” He knew that they had him on the radar plot, and were watching him - not because they were worried about his safety, but because he was now over the Proclaimed Diamond Area of South West Africa - that vast jealously guarded tract of nothingness.
The radio crackled back at him instantly, demanding his permit number, his flight plan, querying his intentions
