Роберт Фиш - Rough Diamond

Rhodes’ smile disappeared as if wiped from his face. The pencil in his fingers suddenly broke under the pressure of his strong spasmodic grip. He dropped the remains of the pencil and stared at Luckner. He was thoroughly and truly shocked.

“I abhor violence!” he said, the very tone of his voice violent in itself. “I do not want anyone killed! Never forget it! What a terrible thought!” He slowly regained his composure. “I simply wish you to examine Barnato’s registry book and compare it with the contents of his safe. Preferably while in the company of John Fry. That’s all.”

Luckner grinned wisely. “And I gather you’re pretty sure they won’t compare?” His grin faded. “But what if they do?”

“They won’t,” Rhodes said confidently. “Not if you can handle the most elementary of legerdemain…” He reached into the drawer of his desk and brought out a diamond, holding it up in the light. “This stone weighs a bit more than twenty-four carats. You will find this, not in the diamond tray in Bamato’s safe, but behind it, where he obviously kept it, hoping to keep it from the attention of the Diamond Squad…”

Luckner’s eyes widened; he whistled. “Twenty-four carats! You must hate the bastard’s guts as much as I do!” He smiled, an evil smile. “This ought to get the runt a packet on the Cape breakwater!”

Rhodes didn’t bother to answer. Luckner reached for the stone; Rhodes held it back the briefest of moments. “I should not lose this, if I were you,” he said significantly, and handed it over. “The man to see is the mayor. His name is J. B. Robinson. It’s all arranged. He’ll put you to work. You won’t be on the payroll, so the sooner you complete your task, the sooner you’ll be paid and can return to Cape Town.”

“Right, Captain—”

But Rhodes had not bothered to answer; he had bent his head to study some papers on his desk, clearly indicating that the interview was over. Luckner looked down at the bent head for several moments and then smiled slightly as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Doing Barney Barnato down was going to be a labor of love, and he was going to be paid a thousand pounds for it, yet! And up Rhodes’ arse, whoever he thought he was!

It was one week later that the two men met in the same office, but now the atmosphere in the closed office was far different from the smiling and friendly and understanding air that had prevailed at their first meeting. Now Rhodes was in an overwhelming rage. Although he managed to keep his voice low and apparently controlled, it trembled when he spoke, and his face was white, as were the knuckles of his hand with which he gripped the back of his chair.

“Well!”

Luckner shrugged. “It was one of those things. I couldn’t help it. John Fry was with me when we opened the safe, the way you wanted. Jack Joel was in the front and I assumed that Barnato was in that little cubbyhole he has in back as a sort of private office—”

“You assumed!”

“Yes, I assumed , damn it! He’s always there! So today he wasn’t — how in hell was I supposed to know?” Luckner was beginning to get angry. Rhodes was a power, he knew that, but Luckner didn’t like to be spoken to in that tone of voice by anyone. “I did what I was being paid to do. I pretended to find the stone under the tray, and we looked to see where the stone was listed in the registry book, and of course it wasn’t, and—”

“And John Fry arrested Jack Joel!” Rhodes was fuming. He glared at Luckner. “That wasn’t the purpose! I don’t give tuppence’ worth of ox droppings what happens or doesn’t happen to Jack Joel!”

“Ah, but Barnato will!” Luckner said shrewdly. “I know the runty little bastard; I worked for him for over six months. They stick together, those Jews, especially where relatives are concerned. You got even with Barnato, whether you know it or not, the same as if you’d had him arrested himself.”

Rhodes considered the other with repugnance. “Luckner, you’re a fool! What control does Jack Joel have in the Barnato Mining Company?” He shook his head in disgust, waved a hand in exasperation. “Get out!”

Luckner became very still, his fists slowly beginning to clench. “I’ll get out when I get my thousand pounds, not before.” His voice softened deceptively. “I have to testify at the trial before I leave, you know; Jack Joel’s trial. I’d hate to have to tell the judge the truth about what really happened…”

Rhodes sneered. “I should think you would! You’d get ten years on the Cape Town breakwater for planting a diamond, for falsely accusing an innocent man!”

“And what would happen to the great Cecil Rhodes? They’d ride you out of town on a rail!”

Rhodes laughed, a humorless laugh. “They wouldn’t do a thing to me. Your word against mine! Don’t make me laugh. Besides, you were known to hold a grudge against the man; not me.”

Luckner wasn’t a bit intimidated. “And I suppose I’m also supposed to be in a position to be carrying twenty-four-carat diamonds around with me like shilling bits, eh? And throwing them away for a lark, eh? Or having someone ask all over Cape Town for Carl Luckner until they found me and then having the mayor of Kimberley put me on the Diamond Squad without pay, as if we were kissing cousins, is that it? Don’t be a fool, Rhodes! The truth would hurt us both, and we both know it. So just pay up and I’ll be on my way like the little gentleman I am.”

Rhodes considered the other man and his words for several minutes, as if weighing them, and then went around his chair. He sat down, unlocked a drawer, and brought out a bundle of banknotes. He looked at them a moment and then tossed them on the desk. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Luckner, his hooded eyes hard.

“But don’t get any fancy ideas of blackmail, Luckner,” he said quietly. “One more demand from you, and…” He allowed his words to trail to silence, but his meaning was clear.

“No fear,” Luckner said easily, and meant it. He was counting the money. “I know you’re too big to fool with, Mr. Rhodes.” He finished his count, tucked the money into a pocket, and touched his forehead with his hand, sailor fashion. “It’s been a pleasure serving under you, Captain. If you should ever want me to sign on under you again…” He smiled wisely and swaggered from the room.

Behind him Rhodes pounded softly on the desk with his fist in total frustration. It would be impossible to attempt the same ploy twice, this time with Barnato definitely present. And he had been quite serious when he said he could not contemplate violence against another man’s person. Getting control of Barnato Mining, a most vital necessity, was going to continue to be a problem…

If Cecil John Rhodes had been furious at the failure of his scheme, Barney Barnato was even more furious at its success. He leaned across John Fry’s desk, almost screaming in his fury, his Cockney accent back in full working order.

“It’s a shitty, bloody, miserable lie, I tell yer! It’s a vicious, bloody frame! Luckner finds an illicit stone in me safe, Luckner of all people, fer God’s sake! He’s only hated me guts since I tossed him out on his arse years ago! I should o’ killed the bastard! Fer the love o’ God, Fry, are y’ bleedin’ blind? My God, yer all as blind as bleedin’ bats! Who hired a sod like Luckner an’ put him on the bleedin’ squad in the first place?”

John Fry’s face was pale, his temper severely strained, but Fry had been a policeman a long time, and he knew that when facing almost hysterical wrath, a good policeman had an obligation to keep his head.

“Robinson hired him, the mayor. I had nothing to do with it,” he said in a tight voice.