Beneath the Ice (20 page)

The two men stood facing each other. They had said very little on the plane down from Pretoria that morning, both absorbed in the file that a mining investigator called Beatrice Makuru had sent them late the previous evening.

‘You do realise, Frankie,’ Eugene said, breaking the deadlock, ‘that if this
kaffir
houdkop
is right, we’re going to be in a whole heap of
kak.
You don’t just go around arresting a man like Richard Pearl. And you know who it’ll come round to bite? You and me,
boet
.’

Frankie nodded, his watery eyes fixed on the entrance to the room, double-checking that no one else was within earshot.

‘Think about it,’ Eugene continued. ‘What’s a man like Pearl doing smuggling diamonds anyhow? I’ve read his profile. It doesn’t make sense.’

Frankie shrugged, suggesting that the rich had to get that way somehow. ‘You read what the Makuru woman said. Pearl’s working with old Bob up in the Marange mines, using his plane to ferry the diamonds into Namibia and then on to Antwerp. That way, they keep their Kimberley certification.’

‘Come on. Mugabe and Pearl?’ Eugene hissed. ‘
Wat die fok
?’

‘I know how it sounds, but you’re wrong about her. She’s not just some
kaffir
. You know that blast up in Bloem a few years back?’ Eugene nodded vaguely. ‘She was the one who figured out it was an inside job.’

Eugene grunted, still far from convinced. ‘
Ja
, well, I had them check through the plane logs, and the closest Pearl’s jet has been to Harare is here in
fokken
Cape Town.’

Frankie shrugged again, much to the annoyance of his colleague. ‘We have to hear her out. And if Makuru gives us any
kak,
then I’ll be the first one to kick her back under the rock she came from.’

They both fell silent as Bear entered the room. She wore a tailored grey suit and two-inch heels, while her long, jet black hair was neatly brushed back from her face and secured in a ponytail. Aside from a slight puffiness around her eyes, she bore no other signs of the terrible night’s sleep she had endured. With a work file pressed against her chest, she walked towards them, hand outstretched.

‘Pleasure,’ Eugene croaked, with a thin smile.

With a gracious sweep of his hand, Frankie gestured for Bear to be seated. She perched sideways on a luxurious white sofa, knees clamping together as the skirt she was wearing hitched a little higher than she would have liked.

‘Now, my dear,’ Frankie began, his voice cool like water, ‘I am sure we don’t have to tell you that these are some very serious accusations to be making.’ He paused, feeling the impatience radiating off Eugene beside him. Half turning in his seat, he saw his colleague staring unblinkingly at Bear across the low coffee table. He knew how hot-headed Eugene could be, but they had to treat this Makuru woman with respect. As far as Frankie could tell from a few well-placed calls made earlier that morning, she was connected to just about every single person on the South African mining scene.

‘Mr Richard Pearl is a very prominent American who . . .’ Frankie hesitated, looking skywards as he struggled to find the right word. ‘Well, let’s just put it this way. If you want us to move on this, you are going to have to show us
irrefutable
evidence.’

He dragged the word out as if the number of syllables alone would be a sufficient deterrent.

‘I have everything right here,’ Bear countered, placing the folder on the table in front of her. She wedged its corner under the bronze statue of a Cessna Sovereign private jet that stood between them, wingtips tilted upwards as if soaring across the open skies.

Eugene angled forward, his eyes drawn to the folder.

‘You’d better be right,’ he said, his smile shifting slightly until it resembled a snarl. ‘Because he is going to be arriving in a couple of minutes and I for one am not going to sit here with my thumb up my
gat
just on your say-so.’

Bear didn’t flinch. ‘Like I said, it’s all in there.’

As Eugene stretched forward towards the file, Bear raised her hand.

‘Wait,’ she commanded, making him turn a shade redder at being addressed in such a way. ‘I want Pearl’s plane immediately impounded and every inch of it searched. Tear the damn thing to pieces if you need to, but my sources say there are over four million dollars’ worth of uncut diamonds cached inside.’

She said the words with as much confidence as she could muster. She knew only too well that the State Security Agency would never have believed her if she’d said Pearl was trying to introduce some kind of exotic compound into Antarctica, with all the consequences that Lotta had described. They would have kept her bouncing between agencies as they tried to figure out what it was, and more importantly whose jurisdiction it fell under. And while they procrastinated, Pearl would simply have climbed on board his jet and gone. Better to keep it simple.

It would take them days to search such a massive jet for something as easily concealed as diamonds. Then there would be the endless paperwork needed to get the plane re-certified for flight. When they finally discovered the truth, the SSA would never trust her as a contact again, but that was just something she’d have to live with.

Ever since she had left Lotta the previous evening, Bear had been trying to think of a way to detain Pearl yet keep herself out of harm’s way. She was pregnant now and, however reckless she had been in the past, had to be mindful of that fact. By contacting the SSA she had found a way out. All she needed to do was to get them to detain Pearl on reasonable suspicion. ‘Sources?’ Eugene repeated. ‘I want to see backgrounds on everyone you spoke to. I want to . . .’

His demands trailed off as behind them the glass door swung open and a smartly dressed Indian man presented himself. Despite the cut of his immaculate blue suit, it was obvious that he was wire-thin. His dark hair was oiled and parted dead centre, framing the red smudge of a
bindi
on his forehead. He was holding a black leather briefcase and with the slightest hint of a bow, let his keen brown eyes pass from one person to the next.

Behind him, on the far side of the glass door, they could see another four men. They had the build and bearing of a security detail. Each had military-style haircuts, and as Bear looked closer she could see the coiled wire of earpieces running down into the collars of their starched shirts.

‘My name is Hara Predesh,’ the Indian man said softly. ‘I am the personal assistant to Mr Pearl and have been instructed to assist you with these quite . . . disconcerting allegations.’

Frankie was the first to get to his feet. ‘Mr Predesh, I believe that our office was very clear on this matter. We need to talk to Mr Pearl himself.’

Predesh gave a conciliatory smile, raising the palms of his hands slightly as if to imply that he was nothing but a humble servant.

‘My employer has a demanding schedule, so perhaps I might offer some details prior to his arrival. He will be here soon and is looking forward to clearing his name most swiftly.’

The news that Pearl would be arriving in person seemed to appease Frankie. He sat back down, gesturing for Predesh to do likewise. With the briefest of nods to the security detail outside, he placed the briefcase next to the coffee table and sat down on the same sofa as Bear. A smile tinged with boredom played on his lips, as if this were just another meeting for him in a day filled with far more significant matters.

‘First things first. I must make it clear that we are not pressing any charges or making any accusations at this stage,’ Frankie began by way of a disclaimer. ‘It is purely a routine investigation in light of an official complaint.’

‘I understand,’ Predesh replied magnanimously.

‘Quite. Quite.’ Frankie’s eyes flicked towards Bear. ‘We just have some informal questions about the whereabouts of Mr Pearl, relating to his travels to Zimbabwe late last year.’

Predesh’s fingers gently touched the top of his briefcase. ‘I have already taken the liberty of printing out the itinerary of Mr Pearl’s plane on each occasion it entered African airspace. As you will see, it went nowhere near Zimbabwe at any time.’

Eugene nodded in agreement, glaring at Bear as he did so.

‘My office is genuinely bemused by these allegations,’ Predesh continued, ‘and welcomes any chance to refute them.’

As he spoke, the low rumbling of a jet’s engine started up. Parked on the apron outside the lounge were a profusion of planes, ranging in size from the small Pilatus PC-12s to the heavier jets of Gulfstream and Bombardier. These were all private planes held in a different location to the massive Boeings and Airbuses of the commercial operators.

Bear listened as the sound of the engines mounted. She knew the difference between one of the smaller jets doing its pre-flight checks and the roar of a fifty-million-dollar Bombardier. The turbofans of the BMW Rolls-Royce engines were deeper, with a smoother, heavier rotation. For years her own Cessna 206 had been parked only a few hundred feet away in one of the cheaper hangars, and she had often passed the heavy jets coming out on to the taxiway.

Bear stared at Predesh. For the briefest of moments, his eyes flicked towards the window before quickly re-engaging with Frankie. Then, like a lantern being switched on, his faint smile glowed a little brighter.

Bear studied him closely. The allegations she had made were nothing less than outrageous. In all truthfulness, she was amazed that the SSA had not simply dismissed them out of hand. So why was Predesh being so conciliatory? Any normal person confronted like this would have shown signs of indignation, or at the very least confusion, but Predesh was displaying neither. He had another agenda. She was sure of it.

Frankie was about to speak again when Bear suddenly stood up.

‘Given that I’m the one making the allegations, perhaps I might say a couple of words.’

Frankie seemed to hesitate for a second, then with an air of resignation he gestured for Bear to continue. Instead of immediately addressing the room she strode towards the long bank of windows, looking every bit the barrister cross-examining a defendant in the dock.

‘Mr Predesh, tell me – how many times has Richard Pearl flown to South Africa in the last three months?’

‘Four.’

‘He must have some pressing work commitments to travel such long distances, or does he come here for pleasure?’

As she spoke, Bear came to a standstill in front of the windows. She poked her finger into the blind distractedly, as if Predesh’s answers were all part of an inevitable stream of logic, but while she waited for a response, her eyes scanned the runway’s apron, searching for the jet that was starting up. Could it be Pearl’s Bombardier?

Unlike the international airport with its security fences and restrictions, the private lounge of Interjet opened directly on to the tarmac where the jets were parked and Bear could clearly see all the way to the runway. As her eyes passed from one plane to the next, she caught sight of the N-registered tailfin of an American aircraft. It was fifth in line amongst the row of parked planes. Pearl’s was the biggest, dwarfing the others in width and height, and as she stared more intently she could see the faint wash of exhaust fumes in the air behind it. Her instincts had been right. The plane was getting ready to depart.

Suddenly, she spotted two figures hurrying across the tarmac. One was definitely male, while the other ran in his shadow, half-concealed, as they ducked under the wing of the neighbouring jet. As the two heads re-emerged, Bear caught the slightest hint of red in the man’s hair. It was Pearl! It had to be, and he was running towards the open entrance of his plane.

Suddenly it all made sense. Predesh was only here to distract them. In just a few minutes, Pearl would be airborne.

Bear turned back towards the men. ‘So tell me, Mr Predesh. Were the journeys for business or pleasure?’

She moved her hands to her hips and stared down at Predesh as if arriving at the crux of her argument. She desperately needed time to think and had to keep up this pretence. Eugene snorted at the clichéd courtroom antics, before his eyes switched back to Frankie, imploring him to take charge.

‘It is no secret that my employer is a major benefactor of an Antarctic scientific base,’ Predesh answered. He spoke slowly as if the words might somehow need to be translated for Bear’s benefit. ‘We access the base from right here in Cape Town, which adequately explains his previous visits. Now, I think it is time for us to see some evidence rather than continuing
ad infinitum
with Ms Makuru’s conjecturing.’

Eugene murmured in agreement, while Frankie gave Bear a look that suggested she’d better know what she was doing. Bear remained still, her mind reeling. She had to act, had to do something, or Pearl would be gone. Something was triggered within her at the thought of Pearl landing in Antarctica – that would put him right next to the lake and, by extension, Luca. As the thought began to crystallise in her mind, an impulse surged through her. It was the same impulse that had seen her charge into the crippled mineshaft in Chile all those years ago; a realisation that if
she
didn’t do something about the situation, no one else would.

Her eyes settled on a small item sitting on top of the bank of refrigerators.

‘With your permission,’ she said, turning back to address Predesh, ‘we should close the door. Some of the documents I have brought within this file are
extremely
sensitive.’

Predesh shrugged as if it were a matter of no importance, but inwardly he knew that his security detail just outside had been carefully briefed as to their mission. Whether it was by force, or by Predesh himself managing to spin out the meeting until Pearl was safely in the air, they had to contain the two SSA operatives and the Makuru woman. By locking the door, all she was doing was playing into their hands.

Eugene got up to close the door, turning the key in the lock.

‘The blinds too,’ Bear commanded.

Muttering under his breath, he found the dangling cord and clattered them down.