Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Edward had a secret meeting with Skye. They had to have a headline, and fast. They needed bulk findings quickly, and they needed names and photographs. They were running out of money, running out of the jewels Edward was using for the samples, and running out of gold. They were so close and yet, without substantive evidence to back up the claims fed to the papers by Skye Duval, the whole scam could fall apart like a pack of cards.

Luck was on their side, in the form of Sylvia Van der Burge’s death. Richard arrived in South Africa for the funeral, and his visit coincided with a consignment of stones being sent to England.

BB was not expecting his son. He had not had time to mourn his wife’s death, or even take it in properly, and he looked sadly at his only surviving son. ‘I’m sorry... so sorry the poor old gel’s gone.’

Richard was irate, and stormed at his father. ‘Sorry? I like that! I’ve had to drop everything to fly out here. On top of that, you haven’t paid the nursing home bills, and then there’s the cost of the funeral.’

BB wanted to block out his son’s carping, vicious voice. His face flushed bright red. ‘Inconvenient, is it? Your mother’s death is inconvenient?’

Richard gritted his teeth. ‘Yes, yes, inconvenient. And that’s being truthful. The news hasn’t exactly bowled you over, has it? She was your wife.’

‘Yes, God bless her, she was my wife, and — God help me — your mother.’

Richard clenched his hands and swallowed. ‘The nursing home has to be paid, the funeral costs... I don’t have any cash, you’ll have to put a notice in the papers.’

BB shuddered — how Sylvia had doted on this boy. He took out his big handkerchief and blew his nose. ‘You know, Dickie, she was a sweet soul, but when my boys died they took part of her with them, left nothing for me. She gave you all the love she had left, along with every penny.’

BB sobbed, his handkerchief over his face, blubbering like a child. Richard was about to put his arms around his father, hold him, but he heard BB moan the names of his dead brothers. Even now he wasn’t weeping for his wife, but for his beloved first-born sons. Richard felt the old familiar jealousy sweep over him. His brothers’ deaths had not only destroyed his mother, taken a part of her with him — they had taken all of his father’s love, leaving nothing for him.

Richard helped himself to a drink and they discussed the arrangements. ‘Perhaps you should also know that the bank will be calling in your loan any day now, I suggest you put those worthless pieces of crap on the market while I’m here. It’ll just about cover my expenses, and the bank will more than likely take the house from under your feet.’

BB knew exactly when the bank loans would be called in. He was worried that someone might put two and two together; it was, after all, Richard who had introduced Edward to De Veer’s, and someone might remember. They were so close now that Edward too was worried, and he went to meet BB.

‘Old girl kicked the bucket, that’s why Richard’s here.’

‘Sorry, I’m so sorry... You holding up all right, are you?’

Richard would have been blind with fury if he had seen the way his father’s eyes glowed for Edward. ‘Aye, I’m better now I’ve seen you, son. I need a bit of human contact. We’ll see it through, though, eh? We’ll get the buggers, won’t we?’

Edward nodded. Any day now the banks would call in BB’s markers and he still had one move to make.

‘I have the explosives boy standing by — Thin Willy, good chap, trust him. But without the goods we can’t do a damned thing... You know, in the old days I kept an old jamjar full of rough cuts, all the old-timers used to keep one stone per haul as a good luck stake, now... well, there aren’t many of us left, not the old-timers.’

Edward couldn’t sleep, the millions and millions of rough stones pouring out of the De Veer mines daily were, like his scam, so close and yet so far. The security was tough, no one could get near them. Edward sat up. No one? What about Richard Van der Burge himself? He not only got close but he carried bloody bags full back and forth to England.

Edward approached Richard almost immediately after his mother’s funeral. He talked about mundane things — did Richard still see Allard? Then, nonchalantly, he asked if Richard was still carrying for De Veer’s.

‘Yep, still the blessed errand boy, what about you? Oh, you work for them, of course.’

It was obvious that Richard had only half his mind on Edward, the other half on some matter of his own.

‘You all right? Seem a bit down?’

Richard shrugged and said that was putting it mildly. ‘Truth is, old man, I am in what one could only describe as a tight corner, so tight I’m choking to death, and I can’t see a way out.’

Edward played him deftly, not pushing for explanations, not too eager, but still interested.

‘Might as well tell you, I suppose. Got myself into more of the old trouble, lost a lot of money on the tables.’

Edward hinted that his own fortunes were about to change. He became cagey, but let out the information inch by inch until he could tell Richard had taken the bait. When Edward let slip that it was a little bit of a scam that’d bring in about a quarter of a million, Richard grabbed his arm. ‘Can you tell me about it?’

‘Can’t really tell you too much. It’s a bit dodgy, and I’m not the only one involved... You might even know one of the chaps, so I can’t really.’

‘Oh, come on, tell me. You know I won’t say a word, really I won’t... Must be crooked, the way you’re so wary. Come on, tell me.’

Richard had swallowed the bait, and slowly Edward gave him enough details, not that he would be able to trace any of it for himself.

Richard laughed. ‘So when this reporter chappie gives a big splash about the mine reaping you’ll sell... Well, wish you luck — sounds easy, bit too easy... Where you getting the roughs to throw about?’

Edward shook his head, then grabbed Richard’s arm. ‘Listen, we could cut this guy out, the one we’ve got lined up. You would be perfect, my God... Look, aren’t you carrying back a load this weekend? You’d pay off all your debts, no one would be any the wiser — plus you’d have money in your pocket. Look, I may be able to let you in on it, just a possibility, I’m not sure...’

Richard fell for it hook, line and sinker. ‘It would be easy enough for me to do. You see, we keep the stones in a safety vault, but I take them with me on the plane. I’ll change my flight to the next day and I’ll still be able to get the stones delivered on time because it’s the weekend.’

Edward left Richard hanging on tenterhooks to see if he would be able to bring him into the scam.

Without mentioning who he was using to place the gems, Edward called BB and gave him the news it was ‘on’. He then called Skye, instructing him to get cracking. He had the stones, they could do it, but Skye had to move fast to set up the mine.

The girl was hired, a prostitute brought from Johannesburg and installed in a hotel. She was to be paid five thousand for her part in the scam, and she would return home the same day so she would not be able to answer any questions.

Skye met with Thin Willy to prepare the explosives, and all the men hired by BB were gathered together, waiting. Five more journalists had been tipped off, and had their cameras ready.

Skye photographed the prostitute posing as the granddaughter of the mine owner, holding in her hands the rough diamonds like blackened, muddy stones. The mine was cordoned off as the press interviewed the girl, and the men patrolled the new fences with guns at the ready.

‘Miss Smith’, with Skye taking photographs all the time, was driven to the diamond weighing and verification office. The press gathered around them, flashbulbs popping. She was photographed outside the office doors, smiling and waving a bottle of champagne.