Blood Diamonds and the Path to Eternity Part One

By Al Noteman

This adventure spans three continents and involves some amazing sailing in the South Atlantic Ocean on a state of the art mega catamaran that has been adapted to be invisible to radar with special high-speed motors and stealth capabilities. The fact that the owner is a supposedly reformed drug lord creates more problems for the delivery crew on their entry into Brazilian waters with a vicious sea battle off the East coast of Brazil. They eventually deliver the catamaran to the owner in Manaus where more alarming activities of the former drug lord are discovered. Using the vast profits from his past cartel Pedro Escadore has embarked on the search for the fountain of Eternal Life and by what comes out of this encounter looks as though he may have found it at his Clinic in the jungle. What appears to be the most amazing medical feat since Christiaan Barnard carried out the world’s first heart transplant. This story has had photographs inserted on the last couple of pages showing the places where the action is taking place, hopefully in the correct order where possible but with Ebooks this is by no means certain, have a look anyway?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Noteman
• Release date: Mar 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005408503

Book preview

Blood Diamonds & The Path to Eternity, Part One.

By

Al Noteman.

May 2021. IBSN DETAILS HERE.

This adventure spans three continents and involves some amazing sailing in the South Atlantic Ocean on a state-of-the art mega catamaran that has been adapted to be invisible to radar with special high-speed motors and stealth capabilities. The fact that the owner is a supposedly reformed drug lord creates more problems for the delivery crew on their entry into Brazilian waters with a vicious sea battle off the East coast of Brazil. They eventually deliver the catamaran to the owner in Manaus where more alarming activities of the former drug lord are discovered. Using the vast profits from his past cartel Pedro Escadore has embarked on the search for the fountain of Eternal Life and by what comes out of this encounter looks as though he may have found it at his Clinic in the jungle. What appears to be the most amazing medical feat since Christiaan Barnard carried out the world ’ s first heart transplant. This story has no photographs inserted however, I'm going to produce a Free photo Album showing the places where the action is taking place, hopefully in the correct order where possible but with E-Books this is by no means certain!

Because part of the story was set in the bad old days in South Africa there is language that may upset some people? However, this type of language was an everyday occurrence in the day so has been included to reflect realism. This language is no longer permitted in that country, where it will land you in prison or cause you to lose your Citizenship or be deported. Including most in of the rest in the world now!

Table of Contents

Blood Diamonds & The Path to Eternity, Part One.

How it All Began.

Chapter 2: The Union Buildings - Pretoria.

Chapter 3: Groote Schuur Hospital - Cape Town 1967.

Chapter 4: Botafogo - Rio de Janeiro.

Chapter 5: The Azainia Mining Company H Q - Johannesburg.

Chapter 6: Namibia 1990. ‘Independence Day!’

Chapter 7 : The Delivery Skippers.

Chapter 8-The Yacht Builders.

Chapter 9 - Ceramics.

Chapter 10: The Sea trials.

Chapter 11, - The Diamond Mine.

Chapter 12: The Collections

Chapter 13: Port Nolloth.

Chapter 14: The Grand Heist.

Chapter 15: The Super Yacht Chameleon.

Chapter 16: The Diamond Coast.

Chapter 17 - The Board Meeting.

Chapter 18: The Amazons.

Chapter 19, Trade Wind Sailing.

Chapter 20 - The Conspiracy.

Chapter 21: Luderitz Namibia.

Chapter 22: The Sick Billionaire.

Chapter 23: The Island of St. Helena.

Chapter 24: The Angolan Border.

Chapter 25: Life after Life.

CHAPTER 26 :THE ISLAND OF ASCENSION

CHAPER 27 : THE RIVER TRADERS.

Chapter 28 The Character List, Explanations and Acknowledgments!

THE CHARACTER LIST.

CHAPTER 30- PICTURE OF YACHT JACANA.

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The Diamond above is a pure white flawless valued at £80000.00 after it was cut and polished by experts. This story reveals what lengths some will go to in order to posses such stone even before they have been cut and polished, you will discover when reading this that polititions and crooks alike will kill and steal to get their hands on the huge cashe of uncut gems that were stashed on one of the richest diamond mines in Africa to further their own agenda, a mine that the Authour worked on for over a 12-year period, though my tale it fiction it is based on real events that occured on these mines. Enjoy this tale and if you like it please leave me a kind review. Alex.

How it All Began.

Sergeant Finney was tired and preparing to go home after a late shift when the radio crackled into life. It was past midnight and one of his patrol vans was reporting in as usual!

‘ We ’ ve found another! Much bigger and almost complete this time, ’ the officer reported.  Oh shit, better get it down to the SPCA then, Dirk, ’ Finney responded.

I don’t think so Sir, you had better come and see this one the patrolman countered. Finney sighed, then noted the officer ’ s location; he was due off at 02:00 and didn ’ t fancy being tied up all night with another stinking carcass.

OK, I ’ m on my way, ’ he replied. The Sergeant gunned his old Ford Fairlane up DE Waal Drive to where the officer had reported finding the carcass. A flashing blue light announced the location of the patrol van; it was parked up a rough mountain road used by fire fighters. Turning on to the wet rutted track he winced as his car bumped and skidded its way to the rendezvous. Cape Town in July is cold, wet and windy, it was all three that night as Finney got out of his car. Disgruntled at being dragged out in the dead of night again he slammed the car-door and struggled against the horizontal rain to confront his underlings.

‘ OK Dirk, where is this bloody thing? ’ Dirk led the way up the track to a bend; he stopped under a Port Jackson tree and shone his torch on to an old army blanket that was covering the shape of a body. Finney shot a look of utter contempt at his officer.

‘ You ’ ve wasted my time Dirk! Its just another drifter, no wonder he ’ s dead with this bloody weather; poor sod must have died of hypothermia. Just take it to the City morgue as usual man. ’ With that Finney pulled down his cap and walked back down the track hurrying to get out of the foul weather and back into his warm car.

‘ Wait! ’ Dirk called. ‘ I ’ ll uncover it for you. ’ Finney cursed as he turned back to face the blowing rain and strode back to where the body lay.

‘ This had better be good, ’ he snarled. Using a dead branch, Dirk gently lifted the old army blanket to expose the cadaver below.

Jesus Christ, ’ Finney shrieked. ‘ What the hell is that? ’ reeling at the sight and the awful smell of the monster lying below the blanket.

‘ Cover the bloody thing up and get it in the back of the van quick, we can ’ t let the press get wind of this one. The three men rolled the body up in a plastic sheet and carried it down to their patrol van.

‘ Where do we take this one to then boss? ’ Dirk wanted to know. Finney thought for a minute:

‘ Well, we can ’ t take it to the City morgue or the SPCA, so you ’ ll have to bring it back to the station while we think this through. ’ Returning to his car, the sergeant wound down the window and shouted,

‘ I ’ ll see you boys at the station then, bring it around the back and we ’ ll dump it in the garage for now, ’ then he left in a hurry. The Sergeant made sure there was no one in the lane behind the station before opening the disused garage door. He was busy moving aside years of junk when the patrol van approached and skidded to a halt in the cleared space. The men opened the rear door and Finney helped them lift the body out of the van.

‘ Where do you want it? ’ Dirk ’ s muffled voice asked, through a scarf covering his nose. ‘ Hold it boys, ’ Finney responded as he spotted an old pool table.

‘ Right, stick it on here. ’ They did this then got out of there as fast as they could.

Finney was fascinated. He lifted the plastic sheet to take another look then drew back as the revolting smell hit him again, but his curiosity compelled him to look once more at the horrible apparition below the sheet.

He shuddered and felt the bile rising in his throat so covered the thing up again quickly before he threw up. Locking the door behind him, he made his way to the two men in the patrol van waiting outside.

‘ Now listen you two, ’ he said, through the open window, ‘ not a bloody word to anyone, if this gets out, you two will be looking for new jobs, do you follow? ’ They nodded.

‘ Right then, get on with your patrol I ’ ll deal with this now. ’

Finney didn ’ t sleep well that night so was at the station early. He made coffee then at one minute past 08:00 he placed a call to a number that he had been given should more unexplained body parts turn up. The telephone was answered by the usual brusque voice.

‘ Colonel Marais. ’

‘ Oh yes Colonel, this is Sergeant Finney at the Woodstock Police Station. ’

‘ Yes-yes, what is it now Sergeant? ’

‘ Well, Sir, my patrolmen have found another strange body on the mountain. ’

‘ Where is it now? ’ the Colonel asked.

‘ Here in the station Sir, ’ Finney confirmed, ‘ it's in the old garage ’

‘ Has anyone else seen it? ’

’ Only my men, and whoever killed it! ’

OK stay there with it, I ’ ll send someone to collect it from you right away, ’ the Colonel ordered. ’ In the meantime, do not mention this to anyone, especially the press. ‘ Do you understand me Sergeant? ’

‘ Yes, Sir!

Twenty minutes later, a covered Chevy pickup truck pulled up at the rear of the police station and two huge men got out.

‘ Where is it? ’ they demanded in Afrikaans. Finney opened the garage door and pointed to the pool table. One of the men pulled back the plastic sheet.

’ Holy shit, ’ he said holding his nose. ‘ How the hell did this one escape? ’ Finney overheard them cursing the mental hospital security system.

‘ We ’ ll take it from here Sergeant, you never saw a thing, if you know what I mean, this is a ‘ Boss ’ matter now. ’ Finney nodded he knew that you never crossed the boys from the Bureau of State Security, if you wished to remain healthy. The Boss men loaded the body into the back of the Chevy, slammed the doors and sped off in a cloud of wet spray and petrol fumes. Finney placed another call, this time to his contact at the mental home.

‘ I ’ ve just had the Boss boys around here again, ’ he said.

‘ What was it this time? ’ his contact asked.

‘ You ’ re not going to believe this, ’ Finney replied.

‘ Try me the man on the phone replied. ’

‘ Well, its human I think, dead of course and rotten, must have been dead a week or so, not sure what sex, we never got a proper look at that part. I suppose the Boss boys will find out and establish a cause of death but whatever killed it did it a favour. ’

‘ How do you mean, did it a favour? ’

‘ Well, it was some sort of freak, it must have been created up at that lab in the funny farm again, it ’ s just like the others but this one is complete and has two bloody heads! ’

‘ Two heads! God in heaven, what have they done now? ’ Finny heard as the line went dead.

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Chapter 2: The Union Buildings - Pretoria.

The Grand Architect of apartheid, Doctor Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, a Dutch National, had been the Prime minister of South Africa for eight years after being elected by a minority vote on the September 2, 1958. Through brutal policies and a ruthlessly efficient police force of mainly Afrikaner officers with a token sprinkling of English-speaking cops, he had kept the lid firmly clamped on the black population.

This allowed the minority white population to prosper tremendously. Under his premiership white South Africa had achieved one of the highest standards of living on the planet. In this period amazing advances in many fields, especially medicine had taken place. The country had become a world leader in organ transplants and rumour had it that they were very close to carrying out the world ’ s first heart transplant on a human being. Today, however, Dr Verwoerd was not a happy man. His Boss operatives in Cape Town had just informed him of another bizarre find on Table Mountain. Verwoerd knew that the liberal press was trying to find some scandal to discredit his iron rule, so he summoned his cabinet ministers to an urgent meeting at the Union Buildings in Pretoria. Doctor Albert Hertzog, the Minister of Health, was getting a verbal tongue-lashing.

‘ Hertzog! What in God ’ s name are those butchers doing down in the Cape? ’ the Prime Minister bellowed.

‘ Have they no respect for human life or regard for the rule of law? ’ ‘ Can you imagine what the press will make of these gruesome discoveries? That poor deformed soul they found recently must belong to someone, he must have a family? ’

_______________________________________________________________.

Chapter 3: Groote Schuur Hospital - Cape Town 1967.

At last, apartheid South Africa had something to shout about apart from the Springbok rugby team. Doctor Christiaan Barnard and his team of transplant surgeons had made the most amazing medical breakthrough in history. The ruling Nationalist Party couldn ’ t wait to invite the international press they so despised, to report to a news hungry world that an Afrikaner had been the first to achieve what was thought to be impossible and beyond the control of mortals. It all started to make sense to Sergeant Finney as he tried to clear his cluttered desk,

‘ Maybe we ’ ll get some peace now Dirk, ’ he quipped as he scanned the pages of the Cape Times and read the glowing reports of the medical firsts that had been carried out.

‘ It says here, that after many failed experiments on animals the team eventually succeeded in perfecting what everyone thought was impossible. Well, we know where the bloody failures were dumped, hey Dirk, ’ Finney laughed.

‘ Yes, but why would they be creating creatures with two heads, in an attempt to get the heart stuff right? ’ Dirk questioned innocently. ‘ Anyway, we found that thing near the funny farm, not Barnard ’ s place, ’ he added. Finney thought about this for a minute and felt a bit uneasy. Maybe he should tell the Press what they had found on the mountain. He decided to say nothing for now, he knew that those goons at Boss would have destroyed all the evidence, so no matter what he told the Press, no one would ever believe him. He also knew that far more important people than he had simply disappeared without trace for much less a crime than grassing on the Nationalists. Finney returned to the banner headline on the front page of the morning newspaper.

WORLD ’ S FIRST HEART TRANSPLANT PERFORMED IN SOUTH AFRICA.

As he started to read about the amazing events and took in the gory details of the fascinating operations, his mouth suddenly became very dry.

‘ How about a pot of coffee Dirk? ’

If Doctor Barnard had not removed the heart from the chest of a brain-dead man in December 1967, events recorded in the latter part of this story would probably not have happened. The donor died within minutes of course, but his heart continued to beat in the recipient ’ s chest for another eighteen days. Barnard simply grafted it into Louis Washkansky ’ s chest cavity so that it would keep him alive after his own diseased heart was discarded. This now commonplace procedure blew the minds of the established medical profession at the time and propelled Barnard into the limelight of a fascinated world. Soon, he became a celebrity with the jet-set lifestyle of a Hollywood film star. The bold and imaginative steps taken by this former back-room researcher would change forever the way the world thought about life and mortality: however, not everyone was pleased. The religious community was outraged, they questioned the morality of such operations and this new challenge to God ’ s authority, they warned that cheating death in this way would lead to great evil in the future. This story confirms that indeed it did.

In a small laboratory at the Rocha Maia general hospital, in Rio de Janeiro ’ s Botafogo district, a young and brilliant surgeon read the earth-shattering news in ‘ O Globo ’ the daily newspaper. Unlike many others, he was not at all surprised that someone had at last carried out a heart transplant. Dr Roberto Andrade cut the item from the newspaper and slipped it into his coat pocket. He realised that he had to find a way to be transferred to Cape Town where this medical magic had been performed. My whole future depends on this, he thought. I must learn the secrets of overcoming organ rejection that has confounded my team in their experiments on animals. Determinedly, Andrade persuaded his administrators to arrange a transfer to South Africa, arguing that this was the only way to further the Brazilian team ’ s knowledge. His request was eventually granted, and he was soon on his way to a new beginning.

Chapter 4: Botafogo - Rio de Janeiro.

The Varig airlines, Boeing 707, left Rio ’ s, ‘ Aeroporto do Galeao ’ and whisked Andrade over the South Atlantic Ocean to arrive later the same day in Cape Town. To meet him at the D.F Malan International Airport was a young researcher from the local medical school.

‘ You ’ re just in time Doctor Andrade, Barnard has done it again, ’ the young man said, handing Andrade the morning newspaper. .. WOMAN IN LATEST HEART SWAP!   The Cape Times announced across its front page. The article explained that the latest recipient was a middle-aged coloured woman.

‘ Obrigado, ’ Andrade answered automatically, then corrected this to, ‘ thank you, ’ as he struggled with his little used English. The young researcher introduced himself simply as Daanie; proud to be associated with these historic events and anyone connected with them.

Daanie picked up the luggage and headed towards the waiting Mercedes Benz. During the journey, the young South doctor enlightened Andrade to the strange laws that had to be observed in South Africa. These are official laws that governed what can and cannot be done between the various races. Turning off the modern highway, Daanie pointed out the squalid African Township of Langa with its broken streets and rows of shack-like hovels. Here, thousands of poor, displaced black people, with no hope left, did their best to eke out a miserable existence.

A further detour took them past Athlone, a suburb reserved for the Indian community. This was a more affluent suburb, but huge concrete cooling towers dominated the skyline and the hot steam these produced from the adjacent sewage plant water, perfumed the whole area. Later, and in stark contrast to these ghettos, Andrade discovered the splendour of Clifton, with its golden beaches, and expensive houses perched on the edge of sheer cliffs. He visited Constantia, with its famous Vineyards and Dutch gabled mansions, built on the lush green slopes of the twelve apostles. However, he soon found that these beautiful places, sheltered from the worst of the Cape weather were reserved for the wealthy whites and more recently, for the new black politicians and religious leaders. The picture below shows 4th Beach at Clifton, one of the most expensive areas in South Africa. There are three other similar beaches along here, all with multi-million Dollar homes.

The big car swept up DE Waal drive and on to the off ramp that allows access to the Hospital grounds. Here the sheer beauty of the vista struck the South American. Ahead lay the massive bulk of Devils Peak with deer grazing on its park-like slopes. The vertical cliffs of Table Mountain complete with its tablecloth of white cloud, receded to his right while to their extreme right lay, Kloof Nek pass, its winding road separating the Mountain from the volcano-like peak of Lions Head. This majestic scene stood guard above the City of Cape Town and its now world-famous hospital below as the shimmering white topped waves of the cold South Atlantic Ocean crashed onto the beaches of Table Bay.

Andrade eventually met Doctor Barnard and his famous transplant team then observed the latest heart recipient-through the windows of the intensive care unit. The woman looked well enough, he thought as he watched her reading in bed. ‘ Our Dorothy ’ s doing just fine Doctor, ’ a pretty, black nurse in a starched white uniform explained ‘ he ’ s-much better at it now, ’ she whispered conspiratorially, ‘ rumour has it, that this coloured lady has been given a white Heart! ’

Barnard hoped that this would prove to a sceptical world that his procedures were working not just for the whites but for every one that needed his life saving work!

.  Andrade soon moved out of the Hotel where the hospital administration had initially placed him and into a small apartment on Queen Victoria Street. Overlooking the famous gardens, this new location put Andrade within walking distance of the Mount Nelson Hotel. This world-class establishment catered for the rich international travellers, and merry English widows. Around the corner, in Long Street was the infamous Mountain Dew Hotel. By contrast, this venue catered for out-of-work expatriates and local misfits. Here, the local prostitutes offered a five-minute quickie or a toothless blowjob for the price of a Lion lager. During the two years spent in the Mother City, Andrade discovered that there was two morality laws at work in South Africa. The official one, that Daanie had explained when he arrived, and the other, a natural but unofficial law that operated with limited discretion in the city streets. The young doctor had witnessed and taken part in, love across the colour line many times, along with thousands of other white men and black women over the years despite the apartheid policy that officially forbade it. How else did the coloured race of people evolve, he reasoned, the early white settlers and visitors like me must have created them? Working with the greatest team of transplant surgeons in the world had fired Andrade ’ s imagination, as heart and even heart-lung transplants became everyday events. No longer warranting front-page cover, complex and expensive operations were carried out to save the lives of black children from many parts of Africa, completely free of charge. It was this conundrum, that confused Nationalist Party critics during the apartheid era, when the Country was ruled by a very right wing but seemingly caring, or was it a cunning party? A Nationalist Government hoping to win international acceptance for its brutal and repressive apartheid policies, through the brilliant work of its devoted surgeons.

Back in Brazil, Andrade lost no time in setting himself up as the expert, copying the latest medical firsts from around the world. Obtaining finance by convincing his administrators that his work, would one day, prolong life beyond that of the heart transplants. His small team had had shown that they could be of value to humanity. To the wealthy clients able to fork-out the huge fees demanded for his specialised treatment. As usual, the wealthy here in Rio, would continue to get richer, but now they could expect to live longer as well, all thanks to Doctor Andrade ’ s expertise. During these productive years in Rio de Janeiro, Andrade ’ s team encountered rich patients from Brazil and the surrounding countries. Men and women, who had overdone the good life, sought Andrade at his clinic. It became common for the team to rebuild a collapsed nose that had snorted too many lines of cocaine, or rebuild whole bodies ravaged by heroin and its associated social diseases. While doing such re-constructive surgery, Andrade met the head of a Colombian cartel. The powerful drug lord was there to see one of his own sons successfully treated for heroin addiction and syphilis. The good doctor it seemed could cure them all provided the funds were forthcoming and this patient ’ s father could afford to buy the world.

Pedro Escadore was a legend throughout South America and had a whole drawer of files devoted to him at the Interpol HQ in Paris. He was one of the worlds most feared and powerful underworld personalities and certainly the richest. Recently, Escadore ’ s fame had spread due to the enormous cash settlement made to the Colombian Government, allowing it to repay its entire national debt. This rare philanthropic gesture made Escadore untouchable in his home country, guaranteeing him freedom from prosecution for life. Escadore ’ s billions were generated through an empire of illegal drug production and distribution, and through the ruthless control he maintained over that empire. The meeting with Escadore was the second major event to change Andrade ’ s life and that of many others. The drug lord was so impressed by the wonders worked on his favourite son, that he offered Andrade a partnership in a new clinic that the Cartel was building in the Amazon jungle. A strategy designed to launder the drug millions, by moving into the legitimate and lucrative business of medicine. Within two years of that chance meeting, the ‘ Clinica Manaus ’ , as it was named, was in operation with Dr. Roberto Andrade installed as head of surgery. Some early successes included the manufacture of the world ’ s first Malaria vaccine, researched by a young Colombian Doctor. A powerful new drug called AXT, synthesised to help the fight against the Human Immune Virus, and work was proceeding on an Alzheimer ’ s preventative, which made use of stem cells from cloned human embryos. These were the legal drugs, advertised in the Lancet.

The other drugs, however, advertised by Escadore ’ s underworld contacts were far more lucrative. Synthesised to replace Cocaine, ‘ Adrenomol ’ or Amol as the jet set called it, was less destructive than the Charlie it replaced; Ravnovine or Ravo as they called it in the top clubs, replaced ecstasy and no one had died from it yet. A substitute for Heroin was being sold to the pushers and authorities alike, the latter trying to help bring their registered addicts off the big ‘ H ’ . These so-called recreational drugs had already brought in millions of dollars for Escadore however, they were only a part of the lucrative activities taking place at his clinic.

Wealthy executives, politicians, generals, and celebrities visited the clinic during its first year, lured to San Jose, by the very pushers and pimps that sold them their magic powders. It was here, and not in Manaus as the name implied, that the new clinic lay hidden by the Amazon rain forest. Situated on the banks of the Rio Negro, its location ensured total privacy for the famous clientele who would patronise it. The rain forest, home to the most amazing variety of herbs, plants, and insects on earth, supplied the raw ingredients needed by Escadore ’ s Chemists to manufacture the powerful new drugs. Andrade soon realised that the remoteness of the clinic allowed him to perform unethical experiments on his patients without being discovered. These started out innocently enough, simple procedures to enlarge or reduce world famous breasts without the use of silicone implants. Penis enlargements, for famous but failing super studs and the perfection of an amazing technique referred to as the bionic dick. A well-known South African hotel magnet complained to Andrade, that he could pull any girl he fancied, never had a problem getting the best hotel suite, but did have a problem keeping it up all night.

‘ No problemo! ’ Andrade told him, ‘ it ’ s a simple hydraulic engineering job, we shall give you the ability to control your own erection from a valve implanted into your left leg, this will allow you to turn your erection on and off at will. ’ Andrade ’ s research progressed at a frantic pace and long before a Scottish research unit announced the cloning of Dolly the sheep, the Brazilian team had already cloned living creatures, frogs, rats and even an orang-utan they called Fred.  Fred was just about the closest thing to a human being and the success of this made Andrade realise that he now held the key to the secrets of immortality and unbelievable wealth, he could see that this new knowledge would soon make him as rich as Escadore. By harnessing his skills and the new drugs wisely, he would prolong the lives of his wealthy patient ’ s. His wealth would come from selling new life, not the slow death that Escadore peddled.

The events taking place four thousand miles to the East in South Africa & Namibia would make it possible for Andrade to finance and perfect yet another medical first, one that would fulfil his wildest dreams and attract the attention of the CIA.

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Chapter 5: The Azainia Mining Company H Q - Johannesburg.

The imposing offices of the Azainia Mining Company were located at 25, Jan Smuts Avenue, in the business district of Braamfontien. It was after the usual Monday morning board meeting that two senior directors retired for coffee to a nearby cafe. Lofty Lowland was a huge man in his late fifties, a gentle giant who still looked as though he could rip your head off if angered. Lofty had been the head of one of the independent mining houses in Africa, when the giant Azainia Mining Company made a hostile bid. They took over his company, sacking the rest of the board. Lofty alone survived after steering that company through many political upheavals and wars throughout the African continent with bulldog like determination, so the new consortium kept him on as the Director of mining operations. Lowland could have been the leading man from some Hollywood jungle epic, his tough bronzed appearance and his game ranger dress, suggested he had just come in from the bush not the boardroom. He was a one off, a tough old timer who knew how business was done in Africa. A master at dealing with the lawless African States and an expert in the art of negotiation, intimidation or bribery, whatever it took to get the job done, even the new black leaders respected him. His partner that morning was just the opposite, a small, impeccably dressed, man with a jet-black pencil moustache. The balding head was fringed with grey and the gold-framed bifocals were perched on the end of his nose. He was a good five years younger than his big partner, but bookkeeping had taken its toll, he looked ten years older. They made an odd couple sat on the terrace of the up-market cafe sipping black coffee from delicate cups. Abe Ozinski was of course a financial man, one of the best in Africa, his hero was not some jungle tough guy from an old film, but the real-life Barney Barnarto, a man who by financial genius became one of the richest men in Africa during the diamond rush years.

‘ Abe, I ’ m worried, ’ the big man said, mopping spilled coffee from the marble tabletop.

‘ About the profits, you are worried, so am I my big friend, but what can we do about it? ’ Ozinski replied, as he heaped more sugar into his coffee. ‘ It ’ s a sign of the times, Africa is changing, and I think we are losing control in some of those remote places. ’ Abe asserted.

Abe liked the big City; he saw the mining areas to the Northwest, as some kind of wasteland, fit only for cowboy types, and roughnecks, like Lofty Lowland.

‘ Bullshit! ’ Lofty shot back. ‘ It ’ s not Africa that ’ s changing, these buggers have always been killing, fighting and stealing what they can, it ’ s their way of life. We ’ re the ones that are changing man; we ’ re getting bloody soft. This would never have happened in the old days, ’ Lofty complained. Abe shrank visibly in his chair at Lofty ’ s outburst; he disliked Lowland ’ s rough manner and wondered how such a man had risen to the very top in the mining world.

‘ Take this Namibian business, ’ Lofty continued, ‘ we know the Oranjezainia mine is one of our best, yet it ’ s not showing the carat production that it was just a few years ago. It should have doubled after the elections but if anything, it ’ s worse now! We ’ re just not getting any decent size gemstones out these days, where the fuck are they all going? ’

‘ Shush please. ’ Abe looked embarrassed, as he glanced at the next table where a group of elderly women were chatting over bagels and coffee, he hoped they had not overheard Lofty ’ s profanities.

‘ We know the gems are being picked up, ’ Abe acknowledged. ‘ They ’ re simply not entering the recovery system. However, we are getting some of the smaller stones back through our buying agents in the field, so we ’ re not doing too bad really Lofty. ’

‘ Not too bad, not bloody good enough! ’ Lofty exploded. ‘ The prick in charge of security up there needs a rocket up his arse. If those Ovambo ’ s are picking up the stones it should be a piece of cake to find out where they ’ re stashing them? It just needs a bit of muscle, applied in the right place. ’ Lofty concluded.

Abe shot a glance at the other table, this time one of the women had her mouth wide open, and she looked at Lofty as though he had just served her a turd on toast. Abe ’ s dark face became darker.

‘ Don ’ t forget one thing Lofty, they ’ re now independent and have access to international law and the human rights commission. You go in like you ’ re used to doing in Africa, and we shall lose the lot! If the overseas shareholders see that sort of rough, racist, tactic being used again we ’ ll pay the price. ’ Lofty went red in the face!

‘ Well, fuck the shareholders, and fuck those Coons in charge of Namibia the bastards are robbing us blind and all you can say is ‘ it ’ s a sign of the times ’ . The four women on the next table got up and went inside the caf é , tut-tutting at Lofty ’ s racist obscenities, while Abe visibly shrank in his chair again and looked the other way.

‘ Well, I ’ ll tell you one thing Abe my boy. ’ Lofty continued now at full volume. ‘ I ’ m going to do something about it, it ’ s my bloody money they ’ re stealing and if the board won ’ t approve of tougher action to prevent it, then I ’ ll just have to do it my way. ’ With that Lofty called the waiter over and ordered him to bring another pot of coffee. ‘ And stronger this time and bring some decent sized bloody mugs man. ’

Abe was glad when their coffee break was over and made a mental note not to come here again for a while. He hoped that the women, who Lofty had offended, didn ’ t turn out to be friends of his wife. He paid for the beverages quickly and returned to his office. Lofty went down to Charlie ’ s Bar in the Palace Hotel to see his mates from the old days, he felt more comfortable among the men that frequented this rough and ready pub. As usual, he parked his car in Tommy Thompson ’ s garage as he had done for years. Tommy never charged his old mates for this service but expected they would patronise his old-fashioned and expensive garage. It worked out better for all, Tommy collected what the City Council lost from its new parking meters, and his clients knew their cars wouldn ’ t be ripped off while they were taking a tipple at Charlie ’ s Bar. Swinging the car into the garage, Lofty noticed Tommy disappearing around the corner in his trademark denim bib and brace overall. Though Tommy was a millionaire many times over, he stuck to the old tradesman ’ s outfit. Lofty slammed the car door and followed his friend around the corner. Now no one in his right mind would willingly go into Charlie ’ s Bar from the appearance of the outside but once through the door it was a different matter. Entering, one would expect it to be full of undesirables from the wrong end of town that was close by. This Bar however, was opposite the Commercial Exchange building, so the members who would deal there, used the bar at lunchtime, then again after work, to have one for the road before heading home. The clientele was a mixture of executives and wheeler-dealers, who bought and sold such mundane things, as mutton cloth and copper wire. Lofty pushed the spring door and entered into the darkened interior, it took him a few seconds to adjust from the bright sunlight outside before he noticed Tommy sitting on his favourite bar stool.

‘ Saw you just in time, ’ Tommy said, sliding a frothing pint along the oak top bar.

‘ Cheers mate, ’ Lofty thanked as he lifted the ice-cold pot and drained it of half its contents. ‘ Better than bloody coffee that is, ’ he muttered. Tommy looked blank at the remark then went on to tell Lofty that he had met some old friend of his, the other day.

‘ The guy was visiting the clinic in Rosebank. ’ Lofty raised his eyebrows. ‘ Said he was going for a minor operation, ’ Tommy continued.

‘ Oh, what was his name? ’ Lofty inquired

‘ Didn ’ t say, ’ Tommy replied, taking a slug from his pot. ‘ In-fact he didn ’ t say much at all, Afrikaner I think, big bugger, taller than you and built like a brick Bull, all he told me was that he had been behind the lines in Angola before Southwest went black. Said he was here to get an old wound checked out or something. He also mentioned that he had worked for your old company before AZAINIA took it over. ‘ Lofty could think of only one man that fitted that description.

‘ Did he say where he was staying Tommy? ’ Lofty asked with growing interest as he signalled Charlie to set them up again.

‘ No, but he was there to make an appointment so he must be due to go back, maybe you should phone the clinic to find out where he is. ’

‘ Good idea, that ’ s worth a shot, ’ Lofty replied. ‘ It ’ s quite a while since I saw this guy, however, if he ’ s who I think he is, then I may have a little job for him. Time ’ s flying Tommy, I don ’ t want to get stuck in the traffic tonight, the wife will kill me if I ’ m late again. ’ Lofty apologised then slapped a Ten Rand note on the counter lifted his pot and drained it in one. ‘ Sorry mate, I must go now and get over that damn bridge before it ’ s too late, thanks for the tip. ’ Lofty left his change on the counter then made his way out of the crowded bar.

Lofty managed to get over the bridge and onto Jan Smuts Ave. before the worst of the evening traffic caused the two-hour jams that were normal at this time of day. The rush hour forced many to wait it out in the numerous bars in the City, until the traffic eased a little, then, they would aim their cars for home. Contradicting the rule that it is not safe to drink and drive. Lofty drove right past his own junction, continuing along Jan Smuts Ave. until he reached Rosebank and the clinic that Tommy had mentioned. Entering the reception area, he approached the elderly woman sitting at the desk.

‘ Can I help you Sir? ’ she asked.

‘ Yes, Madam, ’ Lofty started, then described the man who he said was his friend.

‘ I ’ m terribly sorry but we are not allowed to disclose who is receiving treatment here, it ’ s for security reasons you see, what with all the terrorist activity now, ’ she explained.

‘ understand, ’ Lofty smiled back. ‘ Look, will you please do me a favour,