Tom Cain - Dictator

Justus had begged Carver to do something for his children, but it had to be something effective: no cheap gestures, no grandstanding, but something that would make a difference. He had to give the Iluko kids, and others like them, the best chance of surviving now and prospering in the future. And there was only one way a single individual could do that.

Carver went over everything he had been told about Malemba and its ruling elite. An idea began to take shape in his mind. It grew clearer and more strongly defined as he went online and looked at maps and aerial views of Hong Kong. Then he surfed websites dealing with tropical medicine and marine biology. He took out a notepad and wrote down ‘pyx’, ‘patten’, ‘cruet’, ‘chasuble’, ‘lavabo’.

Finally, Carver called Klerk.

‘Justus Iluko was captured by Gushungo’s men today,’ Carver said. ‘I heard it happen. His wife is dead. His kids are in jail. I need to know which one. Can your people find that out for me?’

‘Sure,’ said Klerk. ‘But are you going to try and break them out? Don’t waste your time, man. You’re good, but one man against Gushungo’s entire security forces? Forget it.’

‘Thanks, but I worked that out for myself. Next question: your mining operations, do they employ chemists?’

‘Of course. The best. We depend on them for a lot of our refining processes.’

‘Excellent. Tell them I need someone to carry out’ – Carver looked at the words on the laptop screen and took a deep breath – ‘a synthesis that relies on the formation of a benzylhydrazide intermediate, subjected to methyl glyoxylate hemimethyl acetal and a Lewis acid, in order to construct a highly reactive azomethine imine which subsequently undergoes an intramolecular 1,3-dipolar cycloaddition reaction, leading to an advanced tetracyclic intermediate. They should end up with a substance that has the molecular formula C 10 H 17 N 7 O 4.’

‘Sam, what the fuck are you on about?’

‘Something that will sort out that issue you’ve got in Hong Kong.’

‘Really?’ said Klerk. His whole attitude had changed in a single word. Suddenly he sounded a lot more interested.

‘Yes, really. I’ve reconsidered my position. Let’s just say I now have a strong personal interest in making sure the job is done as thoroughly as possible.’

‘That’s great news. Zalika will be delighted.’

‘Good for her, but that’s not the reason I’m doing this. I’ll email you that synthesis along with the appropriate diagrams. Tell your people that if they want a full account they can find it in the Journal of the American Chemical Society, 1984, edition 106, page 5,594. They’re also going to need flour, water and a basic guide to unleavened baking. And you’d better tell them to wear protective clothing when they work on this.’

‘Might exposure prove dangerous to their health?’ Klerk asked. ‘Very.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘Now, I agree that the way to do this is by faking a diamond heist. The robbers come in, get rid of the inhabitants of the house, then take the stones at their leisure. The obvious time to do it is when the entire household is down on its knees taking communion – the one time in the week when their guard is down. The way this plays out, it will look like two separate groups of people taking advantage of a given situation. Gushungo leaves the country, that’s when his opponents mount a coup to seize power. The cat’s away, the mice play. That makes perfect sense. Meanwhile, he and the wife are carting millions of bucks’ worth of diamonds around Hong Kong: frankly it’s a miracle someone hasn’t lifted them long before now. Is it a handy coincidence, both things happening at the same time? Yes. Can anyone prove there’s a connection? No. I’ll make sure they can’t. And that would be a lot easier if your niece wasn’t tagging along for the ride. So give me one good reason, aside from her making life miserable for Uncle Wendell if she doesn’t get her way, that she has to be there.’

‘Two reasons. First, because this is her job. She researched it. She planned it. She has a right to help execute it. And second, because you can’t get the diamonds without her.’

‘Why not?’

‘The safe,’ Klerk replied. ‘It opens via a scanner which is set to recognize Faith Gushungo’s finger and palm prints. They have to align the right way, too. And that requires a woman’s hand. Yours would be too big.’

‘And you know this about the scanner because…?’

‘Because one of the maids, young woman by the name of Tina Wong, is actually a former detective sergeant in the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau of the Hong Kong Police. She’s working for us, been undercover in the house for the past three months. She can get you a set of Faith Gushungo’s prints. She can make sure the front door is unlocked. The one thing she can’t do is get the diamonds for you. She has to be on her knees, saying her prayers, same as everyone else. In any case, the Chinese, very petite. Her hand is too small.’

‘But Zalika’s got Goldilocks hands, I get it. I’ll need to get her trained up first. You say you have plans of the house?’

‘Yes.’

‘You have outbuildings up at that place of yours in Suffolk?’

‘Of course.’

‘Right then. Get the target house mocked up inside a barn or something. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy: chalk marks on the floor, some stairs and a first floor made out of planks and scaffolding. Just so long as the dimensions are right. Try and get a copy of the safe, or as near as dammit, too. We’re not going to go in blasting on this. No guns, no smoke, no bombs. It’s all about timing, and that has to be perfect. If Zalika shows me she can do it, she can come. Otherwise I’ll take my chances with your undercover cop. All right?’

‘Ja,’ said Klerk. ‘But now let me give you my condition for doing the job. I’ve got great things planned for that young lady, so you just listen to me. You brought her back safely once. You damn well bring her back again.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘No, Carver, just do it.’

Within half an hour of Klerk and Carver ending their conversation, Moses Mabeki received another call from within the grounds of Campden Hall.

‘That’s good news,’ he said. ‘I had considered remaining in Malemba while the Gushungos went abroad, so that I would be well placed to respond in the event of any…’ Mabeki chuckled to himself as he searched for the right words. ‘Any unforeseen emergencies. But on reflection, I think the best course of action would be to accompany the President and First Lady to Hong Kong, so that I can offer any assistance that might be required there. Yes, that is certainly the better option.’

Carver was not a religious man, though there had been times when he was grateful for the words of comfort offered by military chaplains in the hours before battle, or at the gravesides of recently dead friends. But that afternoon he took a short drive out of town, along Route 1, parallel to the north shore of Lake Geneva. At the Nyon exit he turned left, away from the lake, up towards the village of Gingins. A little oasis of Englishness in the heart of Switzerland, it possessed both a cricket club and a beautiful old church where the Anglican parish of La Cote held a service at four o’clock every Sunday afternoon.

Carver took communion there for the first time in more than a decade. The words of the service, ingrained in him by years of compulsory religious attendance at school, came back to him with all the familiarity of an old friend encountered by chance after many years of absence. The ritual played out with comforting predictability, and the prayers retained a strange, potent poetry for all the many attempts of the Church’s modernizers to strip them of their mystery and magic.