Chapter 11

The silence in the room was deafening. Only the TV was flickering away, changing scenes without any sound emitting from the device. I got up and switched the damn thing off.

“On your knees, hands behind your head,” I said. The creep tried to turn towards Angie.

“Face me, shithead!” I said. He complied, knowing that it was not the time to agitate us with any unnerving moves on his part. He was clever enough to bide his time and wait for a mistake from our side. I saw it in his eyes; this was the leader of the two.

Covering the guy with my 9-millimetre, I closed the window and the curtains, keeping my eye on the creep.

“Now, let me get you comfortable,” I said and walked behind the guy. Angie walked over and stood about two metres away from him, directly in his line of sight.

“What are you doing in my house?” she hissed, and I could see the anger in her high-strung body.

“I was told to stay here and see that no one comes here,” the creep whimpered, his eyes darting to the direction of the passage.

“Your friend will not be coming to your aid. He is, shall we say, detained elsewhere,” I stated.

“Who told you to watch this place?” Angie hissed.

“Nobody!” the creep exclaimed, and before I could act, she jumped forward and clobbered the guy in the face with the side of the Glock, striking him across the forehead, right side cheek, and nose.

He screamed and tried to cover his ripped and bleeding face with his hands, then went down on his knees. I placed my foot onto his back and kicked him over. He fell face-first onto the tile floor of the lounge, red blood splattering out over the cream-white tiles.

“Don’t move! I’m not done!” Angie commanded.

I have never seen her in this state. She was beyond angry; she was murderously furious. The emerald green eyes turned grey and the whites of her eyes took on a reddish tint. Her cheeks and neck were displaying a red glow. She would kill this guy if I did not intervene. I grabbed him by his collar, yanking him upright, and turned him to face me. Angie was closing in on the creep.

“I ask again. Who instructed you to violate my house!” Angie hissed, and spittle from her mouth hit the guy in the face. “TALK!”

“Angie, let’s secure him first,” I said, trying to calm her down.

“I’ll secure him with a lead injection!” Angie said.

The guy tried to get up, and I slugged him over the head with my Berretta. He went down and limp, out for the count.

“Angie girl, breathe, count to ten. Breathe!” I said and took her by her left shoulder.

“Okay...” she huffed. “Okay...”

“Good girl. Now let me tie this scumbag up. We’ll interview them both when they wake up,” I said and saw Angie relax a bit.

“The ... asshole...”

Angie stopped speaking. She was trembling with rage. She then looked up at me. “They were instructed. What is going on here Ash?”

“We’ll get it out of them. Now help me tie this one up.”

“Here, take the TV cord,” she said and unplugged the cord from the TV and the wall socket, then handed it to me. I went about tying the guy’s hands behind his back.

“I think I know this one. I’ve seen him once or twice at Roland’s ship,” Angie said, sitting down on the couch, still holding the Glock in her right hand. “I’m not sure, but I think his name is Klaus. Klaus Müller ... He’s a diamond diver.”

“Watch him. I’m going to lock the doors and windows and get that other one in here,” I said.

Angie nodded affirmatively, but I could see her mind was miles away. This situation is starting to become a real nightmare for her, a lonely little girl in a big cruel world.

I felt for her; she doesn’t need this stress.

I thought of what Grumpy old “Charley” would say. (Charley is not his real name; no one knows that just like no one has ever seen him. I just gave him the name, “Charley”.) Who or what he is, I can only speculate, but he pays well. Five hundred thousand for this job; not to be sneered at. Two hundred and fifty thousand was my usual fee. “Charley,” thought it to be worth double that, bless his soul.

I secured all the windows and doors in the house and closed all the curtains, then I grabbed the turd in the passage by his ankles and dragged him into the lounge. He might have bumped his head on the passage wall as I dragged him around the corner, but who cares?

Angie’s place was a medium-sized four-bedroom house that also had a study, two bathrooms, a dining room, the lounge we were in, and the kitchen. It was tastefully decorated, and the furniture was not on the cheap side. No, this girl’s parents have taste and enjoy the finer things in life. Along with the rooms and interior of the house, works of art, acquired from their various travels could be seen, including oil paintings, sculptures, and other too-tastefully displayed paraphernalia.

In one room, decorated as if it was a young girl’s room, I saw a painting on the wall behind the headboard of the bed. The painting was “The Love Letter,” by Francois Boucher. The painting is referred to in the letter left for Angie by her mother. I moved the painting to the side and saw a wall safe behind the painting. I noticed that this painting was the only one in the house that was a print, of the original and not the real one.

Replacing the painting, I then went about doing everything needed to be sure no one could see the goings-on in the house from the outside. Then I went back to Angie and her wards in the lounge.

I wondered why Angie knew about the painting but not the wall safe behind it, seeing that it was in her room. Then I recalled that Angie was at boarding school much of the time, and only spent her holidays here with her parents. Her dad could have had the safe built into the wall without her ever knowing about it.

In the lounge, Angie was watching Frick and Frack. I would hate to be one of them with this infuriated girl at their throats. Not a pleasant thought at all, seeing that I witnessed her messing up Günter and his pal. Something I read once came to mind: “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!”

By this time, Turd One was stirring. He moaned and tried to sit up. Not being successful in sitting up, he moaned again.

“Let me help you!” I said and went over to him. I yanked him up by his hair. He screamed.

“Shut up!” I exclaimed. He looked at me with dull eyes. I suppose he has a slight headache.

“Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splainin to do!” Angie said to the guy, and I burst out laughing. A twenty-year-old girl referencing a sixty-plus-year-old TV program, and calling the turd, “Lucy.” Angie looked over at me and smirked. “He must know I am serious! AND stop laughing! You’re spoiling my credibility here, AND I do read books and watch TV!”

“Where did that come from?” I asked.

“Spur of the moment. I am MAD, MAD, MAD!” Angie said and stomped her size four-foot on the floor.

Klaus was stirring too. I got up and yanked him upright into a sitting position next to his comrade. “You too, Klaus,” I said. He just looked at me.

“So, before I start amputating limbs ... for the last time, who sent you here?” I asked the two. Klaus just looked down and said nothing. I saw Angie getting worked up again.

“A promise is a promise,” I said and cocked my Beretta. The metal sound vibrating sharply in the lounge. I then placed the muzzle of the weapon on Klaus’s right knee.

“You wouldn’t dare...” Klaus said through clenched teeth.

“Watch me, asshole!” And I pulled the trigger. The click of a firing pin striking on an empty chamber echoed through the room. Klaus screamed.

“Good! You get the picture,” I said. “Now let’s repeat this exercise with live ammo.” I made a show of replacing the Beretta magazine and cocking the gun. Still kneeling next to Klaus, I placed the muzzle onto his knee.

“Last time! Who sent you?” I asked.

“You would not dare...” Klaus hissed again. Then screamed. A deafening concussion from the Beretta struck our ears as the report sounded throughout the house. A stone tile shattered into a hundred pieces and went flying everywhere around the two turds on the floor, peppering them with glassy shards as a cloud of white powdery dust exploded around us. I could hear an empty cartridge casing clattering to a stop somewhere on the tile floor of the lounge.

“You asshole!” Klaus exclaimed and then came to the realization that his kneecap was still intact. He looked up at me, realizing that at the last moment I had shifted the barrel of the gun away from his knee. He looked at with hate in his eyes.

“Ready to answer me?” I asked. “We can continue. You have two kneecaps and two elbows, and I have plenty of bullets.”

“Okay ... It was Max. It was Max who sent us here. They wanted us to get the girl and take her to...”

“Take her where Klaus?” I asked.

“Take her to where her parents are being held,” Klaus softly said. Angie’s face went white. I saw her slightly tremble. I reached out and took the Glock from her. Slowly, she got up from next to Klaus and went over to the couch where she sank onto it with a huge sigh. Angie looked at me and I could see the moistness returning in her eyes. Confirmation! Her parents were alive.

I turned to the two sitting on the lounge floor. “Klaus, will you say that again ... slowly and in plain English please,” I said.

“Yes ... yes, I will say it in plain English. We were sent by Max Schneider to wait here for Angelique to come, then grab her and take her to where her parents are being held at Elizabeth Bay in the old abandoned factory.” Klaus said as I recorded it all on my cell phone.

“Now Klaus, I have no use for your worthless bodies. You break into this lovely lady’s house. You want to kidnap her and take her to Max. For what?” Klaus said nothing. I continued, “You two are both going to go back to Roland and tell him you failed. Tell him how we caught you out.”

“Roland will kill us!” Klaus exclaimed.

“Well, the choice is yours. Either I kill you, or Roland kills you. What shall it be?” I asked. Angie was looking on with an expression of puzzlement on her face.

Klaus said nothing, just stared at me. His counterpart was whimpering softly. His headache was giving him problems, I suppose.

“Unless ... Angie, you think we can let them do something for us?” I asked her.

“I say we kill them and drop their bodies in the desert,” Angie said softly, but I knew she was reading me and was playing along.

“What?” Klaus asked. The light in his eyes betrayed that he would do anything to get out of this predicament.

“You still have a way of getting out of this with your skin intact.”

“How?”

“By giving Roland something he desperately wants.”

“What does he want?”

“A package I have.”

“What? You ... You will let us go?”

“I can always hand you over to the Namibian police unless you do what we tell you. What choice do you have?” I said.

“What package?”

“Something he wants and will reward you handsomely for.”

“You’re just going to let us go if we deliver the package?”

“Yes and no. Yes, we’ll let you go to Roland and deliver the package. No, if you double-cross us and don’t deliver the package, we’ll get you and kill you, slowly.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay! We’ll do it! Both of us, Jürgen and me, we’ll do it.” Klaus said.

“You are going to tell Roland that you overheard me and Miss Angelique here, talking about a package I found on the aircraft. You saw the package. You tried to grab Miss Angelique, but she got away. I also got away, but you got hold of the package,” I said.

“That’s all. We just have to give him the package and say you got it from the aircraft?”

“Yip. Nothing else. Then you and your pal here are going to disappear, nowhere near Roland and Max. Understand?”

“And if we don’t?”

“I’ll leave your sorry carcasses to dry out in the Namib.”

He thought for a moment and then spoke up.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“We’ll leave you alone and deliver your package and message to Roland Rothman.”

“Without peeking into the package?”

“Without peeking.”

“And disappearing?”

“Yes.”

“Where will you go?”

“Oranjemund. We’ll go to Oranjemund and find work there.”

“Good boy. Now, we are going to drop you two into a bedroom and lock you up until I get the package. Don’t worry, we’ll feed you and all. You just behave and be good, and by tomorrow evening you will be free,” I said.

“Can we trust you? You will not turn us in to the police?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?”

“Yes, you can trust us, and no, we will not turn you in to the police. You just deliver the package and Klaus ... If you double-cross me, I will hunt you down ... and kill you ... Slowly.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now be a good boy and let’s get you settled until you can go,” I said.

Angie just stared at me the whole time, not saying a word.

After I secured the two turds, each in his own room, I went to the kitchen in search of something to drink.

“You just going to give them the diamonds?” Angie demanded from behind me.

I turned around. She stood leaning against the kitchen door frame, arms folded, one leg half in front of the other.

“No, not the diamonds you are thinking of.”

“But diamonds?”

“Yes.”

“Care to tell me your plan?” And green eyes looked at me, staring out of that exhausted face.

“Let us get something to drink first. Then I’ll tell you my plan and our next step.”

“This then calls for brandy. You want some?”

“Nope. You get some. I want coffee! Strong, sweet coffee.”

“Okay, make me some too.”

“Are you okay now? I don’t know the Angie that I saw a while ago.”

“Yip, I’m okay now. Tired and fragile ... The assholes invaded my home, Ash. My home!”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“You need a hug.”

She melted into my arms, arms around my waist and head on my chest. I hugged her and kissed her on top of her head. Angie purred.

“Thanks, Ash. I needed that. And ... maybe more...” she said softly, and her voice trailed off. We stood like that for a few moments until the kettle whistled behind me, breaking the moment.

“Coffee is in the cupboard on the right, top shelf,” she said as she untangled from me. “I’ll get the mugs.”

The two bozos were secured in their rooms. Despite the threat of grievous bodily harm hanging over their heads, the pair seemed to be calm. Angie even gave them some painkillers for their induced headaches, and maybe she slipped something or other sleeping aid into their coffee. Yes, she even gave them coffee. “They’ll sleep at least ten hours.” giggle, was a whispered comment to me.

We retired to the lounge and sat next to each other on the couch, each with a mug of coffee. Angie spoke first.

“You want to tell me your plan?”

“Yes. Just promise me not to go off the deep end.”

“And why should I go off the deep end?” she asked and looked at me with a slight smirk on her face. “So tell me, how long have you been gay?”

“Angie ... I ... What the hell?” I stammered.

“Okay. Serious now. What’s your plan?” Giggle.

What do you know about diamonds, Angie?”

“That they are beautiful, valuable, can swing a girl’s head, and come in different colours. Diamonds can get you in trouble or make you rich, depending on what side of the fence you’re on.”

“I meant, the composition of diamonds.”

“Yeah, they are crystallized carbon.”

“True, but do you know the difference between a diamond mined by a diamond mining ship off the coast and one found in a diamond mine on dry land?” I asked.

“Nope. They are all shiny gemstones. A girl’s best friend.” Giggle.

“Angie, you’re hopeless.”

“Oh, come on Ash, you take a diamond and use a diamond tester. The tester will tell you if it’s real or not.”

“And if it is a Moissanite? The tester will test for moissanite too, then indicate it is real, not differentiating between a diamond and moissanite,” I said.

“A moissanite is not a diamond, or the often dreaded cubic zirconia, it’s a totally separate gemstone that is naturally occurring, though extremely rare, and found in meteorites. It’s one of the few gemstones that’s incredibly well suited to fine jewelry but, as I said, not a diamond. So, mister wise guy, what’s your point?”