value.
Its COIOUT was the serene blue of a high summer sky.
This stone could pay half the total bill for Kingfisher’s construction - if it were ever used for that purpose.
Hugo replaced the blue diamond on the desk and lit a cigarette without taking his eyes from it.
“This field - it is bigger - richer, far richer than we had guessed.” Sergio nodded.
“In three days we have taken diamonds that I hoped to see once in five years,” Hugo went on as he began picking out the larger diamonds from the pile and laying them in a line across the desktop in approximate order of size, while Sergio opened his desk drawer and took out a box of his special occasion cheroots.
“We must tell the boss, Hugo decided. He began arranging the diamonds in a neat circle about the big blue, thinking deeply. “He must know how rich it is before he talks to Lance. He must make arrangements. He will know what to do - he’s a clever one.”
“What about these?” Sergio indicated the treasure on the desk. “Are you going to take them off?” Hugo hesitated. “No,” he decided. “We could never get rid of this big Blue through the usual channel, it is too big, too distinctive. We will keep it aboard. When the boss takes over the Company again - then we will just declare it all nice and legal. No trouble.” He stood up. “Look after them. I must hurry if I
am to get a message to Cape Town in time.” The Company bears my father’s name, Mr. Larsen.
It’s as simple as that.” Benedict’s voice was husky with emotion, and he looked down at his hands. “I have a duty to my father’s memory.”
“My boy, well-” Larsen came to lay his hand on Benedict’s arm.
“Well, I just don’t know what to say. Honour is a rare and precious thing these days.” With his free hand he was groping almost frantically for the bell on the desk behind him. He must get this signed up solid before the youngster changed his mind.
“I tried to warn you, Mr. Larsen. My father and I never had any faith in this marine recovery scheme. Lance pushed it through-“
“Yes, quite so,” Larsen agreed, and turned to his assistant who came into the office at the trot in response to the bell.
“Ah, Simon. The Van Der Byl Diamond loan. Will you have an agreement made out immediately - Mr. van der Byl will take over the capital amounts, and the outstanding interest as well.” By rolling his eyes Larsen tried to convey to his assistant the deadly urgency of the situation. The young man understood and fifteen minutes later laid the
Agreement on Larsen’s desk. Larsen unscrewed the cap of his pen and handed it to Benedict.
Larsen and three of his young men Ushered Benedict out through the glass doors of the batik and across the pavement to where the Rolls stood in the reserved parking bay in Adderley Street.
Benedict settled into the back seat, acknowledged the bank official’s farewells, and tapped on the chauffeur’s window. As they pulled away, Ruby Lance slipped her hand through his arm and squeezed it.
“Did you get it?” she asked.
Benedict grinned happily. “I frightened five years” growth out of old Larsen. He almost broke his neck in the hurry to give it to me.”
“Now you’ve got it all.” Ruby snuggled a little closer to him on the soft leather upholstery. Benedict nodded, and checked his watch.
“The meeting is set for fifteen minutes” time. I’ll go up the front way, but I want you to go up in the private lift from the basement garage, and wait in my office. We will be in the Board Room.
I will ring you at the right moment.” The Rolls picked its way slowly down around the Heerengracht and double-parked outside the building.
The chauffeur came to open the door, but before he alighted Benedict smiled into Ruby’s face.
“This will be one of the high moments of my life,” he said softly.
“This time I’ve got the bastard cold.” “I’ll be waiting for You,” Ruby said, and he climbed out of the Rolls. He waited until it had turned into the entrance ramp of the basement garage, then he crossed the pavement into the main lobby of the skyscraper. He strode to the elevator with long eager strides, and his mouth kept pulling into a small excited smile.
The Board Room was set high, and the picture windows looked up at the great squat mountain, whose sheer cliffs dropped directly to the wooded slopes up which the first buildings of the city straggled.
Johnny Lance stood at the head of the table. He had lost weight in the last few days, so that his shoulders appeared bony and gaunt under the white silk shirt. He had discarded his jacket, and pulled the knot of his tie down an inch. The bones of his cheeks and jaw made harsh angles that were accentuated and not softened by the deep shades of fatigue that darkened his eyes. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, and he spoke without reference to the sheaf of paper that lay on the table before him.
“Our working costs are as close as dammit to a hundred pounds an hour; right Mike?” And Michael Shapiro nodded.
“Well, we worked the Suicide main gully for sixty-six hours, and we recovered a princely 200 carats of the lousiest pile of junk I’ve ever seen. If we get a thousand quid for the lot we’ll be doing well.
This for an expenditure of six and a half thousand.” Johnny paused, and looked around the table. Michael Shapiro was doodling on his note pad with fierce concentration, Tracey van der Byl was pale, her eyes never left Johnny’s face and her expression ached with pity and helpless compassion; Benedict van der Byl was looking out of the window at the mountain, he was slumped comfortably in his chair, smiling a little and listening politely.
“The Suicide main gully is one of the five most likely parts of the entire concession. It’s no good, so the rest of the field may be useless. We have the two other concessions, the original fields, to try. However, it will take three or four days to get Kingfisher moved up the coast.” Johnny paused, and Benedict swivelled his chair, still with the small smile on his lips.
“The interest payments fall due on the 30th - three days” time.
Where are you going to find one hundred and fifty thousand Rand?”
“Yes,” Johnny nodded. “I think I can persuade Larsen to extend for a few weeks; he will bloody well have to if he wants to protect his.-” “Hold on,” Benedict murmured. “Larsen has got nothing to do with it.”
Johnny was silent, watching him warily. “Explain,” he invited.
“I’ve taken over the loan from Larsen,” Benedict told him. “I’m not interested in extending.”
“Larsen wouldn’t have negotiated without warning me.” Johnny was stricken, his disclaimer was wrung from him in pain.
“Shapiro?” Benedict turned to Michael Shapiro for confirmation.
“Sorry, Johnny. It’s true. I’ve seen the documents.”
“Thanks, Michael.” Johnny’s voice was bitter with accusations. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“He showed me a few minutes before the meeting, Johnny. I swear I didn’t know.” Michael’s expression was distressed.
“Right.” Benedict straightened up in his chair, his voice was brisk. “Let’s get down to first principles. You’ve ruined my father’s
Company, Lance - but, thank God, I may be able to retrieve the situation. all it sentiment or what you like, but I want your shares and yours.” He turned to Tracey and nodded at her.
“No,” said Tracey sharply.
“Right.” Benedict smiled at her. “Then I’m going to hammer Johnny
Lance for his full obligations. That way I get the Company anyway, but
I’ll make damn sure he remains an unrehabilitated bankrupt for the rest of his life.” Tracey lifted her hand to her throat, and turned her eyes to Johnny. Waiting for him to set a lead. There was a long stark silence, then Johnny Lance dropped his eyes.
“I’ve still got three days.” His voice was gruff and tired.
“Three days you have.” Benedict grinned coldly. “And you’re welcome to them.” Johnny picked up his papers and put them under one arm; he took his jacket off the back of the chair and swung it over his shoulder.
“Wait,” ordered Benedict.
“What for?” Johnny’s grin was twisted. “You’ve had your fun.”
Benedict lifted the receiver of the telephone on the table and dialled swiftly.
