Storyteller, Colin & Anne Brookfield [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

massifs. The last instructions came to me as the picture faded.

 

“There are secretly taken photographs of Festus making the robbery arrangements, packaged in with the diamonds”.

 

The following morning, Philip was still reeling from the astounding prospects the previous evening had presented him with, and was still wondering how to describe it all to his wife.

In the meantime Janet had arrived a little earlier than anticipated, which gave Elizabeth time to make her some refreshments and enjoy the conversation.

After a while, the topic drifted to Janet’s family.

“My parents, who lived on the outskirts of Gaborone in Botswana, used to be very wealthy diamond brokers. Then one night they were robbed at gunpoint of approximately one kilo of the finest quality cut diamonds. We are certain that the robber was in possession of insider information, or how else could he have known that the gems were in temporary holding at my parents’ house, prior to them making more secure arrangements. The loss bankrupted them, and they now live in quite humble circumstances.”

“Oh goodness!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “What a monstrous business.”

“It certainly is,” agreed Philip as he entered, and apologised to Janet for not meeting her at the front door.

Janet interjected before he could continue.

“I’ve had some wonderful news about my colleague’s brother Festus Mogae in Botswana; he has made a remarkable recovery.”

“I know,” Philip replied. The room went immediately silent. Turning to his wife he said, “I think we had better check our passports, it looks as though we are going on a long journey.”

Both Elizabeth and Janet looked at him with open mouths.

“I have a confession,” he continued, “I overheard Janet’s story about her parents when I was in the hallway. More to the point, I now possess the other half of the Botswana robbery story, so I think we need to go there as soon as possible and get the diamonds.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” enquired Elizabeth. “At times, you do have an odd sense of humour.” So Philip filled in the rest of the seemingly incredible discarnate story.

“But what if it isn’t true?” interjected Elizabeth. “We could be going all that way without solid evidence. And what about all that expense?”

Attention was suddenly drawn towards Janet who had tears in her eyes. “Philip is right. He mentioned things that were correct and impossible for him to have known.”

By the time the visas and other travel arrangements had been made with Imperial Airways, it was almost three weeks later before they were at last in the air, with England far behind.

The journey was not a relaxed one; their minds were in turmoil concerning the possible embarrassments and costly blunders that could lie ahead. After their last stopover in Tunisia, they finally touched down at Johannesburg in South Africa. They checked into their hotel and exchanged Sterling for Rands and Pula, the national currency of Botswana. It took several more days before arrangements were finalized with a small company that ran mixed cargo/passenger charter flights, many of which were to remote places.

Sharing the flight with other people’s weekly grocery deliveries and goodness knows what else, was a new experience, but it helped to make the journey less expensive than other quotations they had received.

The dawn light was just creeping through as they boarded the twin winged cargo aircraft, and it was soon surging valiantly into the clear blue sky. The small plane was not at all like the large comfortable one that had delivered them to Africa. This one not only looked rather battered, it was also very noisy, and jolted about alarmingly on the odd occasion. Thoughts started to dominate their minds of tomorrow’s papers, describing their unfortunate demise in an aircraft disaster.

The pilot, who had been in conversation with some far flung outstation, turned to them and said: “You’re in luck. I’ve managed to arrange a hire vehicle to be delivered at the old hunting lodge where you’re staying.”

Then he returned to some animated conversation with his home base concerning forward arrangements.

Janet took the opportunity to discuss some matters that were not for other ears.

“I know it’s still a long shot,” she whispered, “but in the event we do strike lucky, there could be a very substantial reward waiting. Failing that, what an adventure it will be to re-live in our dotage!”

“Will we never grow up?” said Elizabeth laughingly.

“I hope not,” Philip added.

The flight continued pitching and bobbing along to the vagaries of occasional thermal upsurges, in what would have seemed an interminable journey had it not been for the changing vistas far below.

“I’m taking the flight path diversion you requested,” the pilot said. “We’ll be over the area in a few minutes.”

When those few minutes had finally elapsed, the three of them became very excited, which quite perplexed the pilot.

“There they are!” shouted Philip. “The two rock massifs and the dirt road, exactly as it came to me. It’s all becoming real.”

Half an hour later the long awaited instruction: ‘Buckle up we’re dropping down to the landing field’ was announced and the plane was soon bumping and jolting along an earth runway. It was bordered on one side by a dilapidated hanger-workshop and storage shed; its surroundings were all flat and featureless.

“Don’t worry,” said the pilot, “you won’t be left here. Our mechanic will run you to the lodge.”

The sun was low in the sky by the time they were delivered, to what was obviously an old hunting lodge that had seen better days, although they all agreed it was still very welcome.

Our next day started early, and breakfast was barely finished when they heard a vehicle approaching; it was their hire car – a First World War army relic to be precise.

“Had a direct hit from a bomb in some long forgotten conflict did it?” said Philip to the delivery man, but all he got back was a smirk.

“Runs well,” said the man. “Adequate water, petrol and oil on board and I’ll get a lift back home later by someone.”

Philip checked around the vehicle. It still had its original desert camouflage hiding under the dirt and dust, including the divisional markings. Even the army digging tools were still strapped on the back end. Its tyres looked fine and the spare fuel can was full.

“The plane will be back for you in two days,” indicated the driver. “He’s delivering a few crates of whisky into Rhodesia. Let’s hope he doesn’t drink it on the way.”

Philip turned his attention back to the open vehicle.

“Bit of a squeeze for three people – with food and bedding for twenty. At least that’s what it all looks like in that pile.”

“Stop complaining,” chided Elizabeth. “Come on, all aboard!”

Philip gave the engine a few turns with the starter handle and it roared into life. After several hours of bone jarring dusty tracks, they were beginning to consider the possibility that a wrong turning might have been taken, which was an easy thing to do considering all the other tracks that had crossed theirs.

The open savannah had now given way to undulating hills, which made it difficult to know what lay ahead. Philip suddenly announced that he was taking a detour, and swung the motor up a steeply rising hillside track. Half an hour later he slowed to a halt at the top of a towering hill, then reached for his binoculars and scanned slowly around.

“Got it!” he exclaimed excitedly. “The rock massifs lay ahead on the track we were already on, so we have to head back down.”

An hour and a half later they pulled up at the side of an abandoned lodge that they had been advised would serve to accommodate them for the night.

“Better than sleeping in the open and being eaten by a marauding lion,” said Janet.

There was only one room left in the building with a secure door still in place, in which they piled their sleeping bags onto the floor with the food and cooking utensils.

“We can sort this lot out later,” Philip suggested. “There’s still plenty of day left and we need to know the final answers as soon as possible.”

They were now solely reliant on Philip’s memory, and the burden of possible failure seemed to hang heavy as they moved slowly off. Scarcely three miles had passed when he started to get excited.

“We’ve made it! The massifs are here, and in the correct configuration. Now where is that bloody Boabab tree?”

Elizabeth shrieked excitedly, jabbing her finger repeatedly at something she could see round the side of a large rock. “Do you mean that gigantic upside-down black carrot freak of nature over there?”

“Yes, that’s it! I must be blind or confused – or both,” he answered. “We’ll have to walk, the ground is too rough – we could lose a tyre or break something.”

All eyes were on him as they approached the tree, particularly so, when he suddenly stared fixedly at a small slab of rock at his feet. Philip was holding his head in his hands.

“I feel dizzy!” he exclaimed. “It’s all too surreal for the rational mind to accept.”

Janet was already tugging at the slab of rock, having first raked under its edges with a piece of stick.

“Don’t want to get bitten by anything,” she grunted.

With that assurance Elizabeth joined in, and the heavy stone slid grudgingly to one side. In the meantime, Philip had recovered and returned with the shovel from the vehicle.

The rock strewn soil beneath the slab was surprisingly loose, considering the surrounding ground was as hard as concrete.

“Kgosi must have brought digging tools with him to have got through this stuff,” mumbled Philip as the shovel went deeper. “The sound has changed!” he shouted excitedly, “There’s a tin down here.” The hairs stood up on the nape of his neck.

The container that finally emerged and stood on the ground before them was not what one would sensibly associate with valuable contents. It was an old one gallon English paint can, with ‘Champions Red Lead Paint’ printed boldly across its front, and a few dry red dribbles down its sides lent support to its former contents.

The heavy can was carried excitedly back to the vehicle and a screwdriver soon prised off the lid. They were stunned, as a thousand facets reflected the sun’s rays blindingly back into their eyes. Tears ran down Janet’s face as she looked at the gemstones.

“Thank God! This is a wonderful discovery for my parents.”

Elizabeth reached into the can to retrieve a piece of paper and some pictures. The note said:

 

‘Festus Mogae planned and provided the revolver for the robbery, and his fingerprints will still be on it – because I wore gloves. The gun is in the hole’.

 

The gun was subsequently recovered, still in its protective wrapper.

They didn’t sleep much that night, particularly after they had discovered a pickaxe, shovel and crowbar in the corner of the room where they were sleeping. Obviously this had been the room where Kgosi had been staying. As if to confirm this, a sleeping-bag had been found in another corner, together with a man’s coat. When they examined it, an envelope dropped to the floor; it was not yet sealed and bore the address in Gaborone of a solicitor.

“Poor man,” whispered Elizabeth. The enclosed letter read:

 

‘In the event that I am officially declared dead, there is a sealed envelope of mine held by ............. (and gave the name and address of the solicitor) Please give it to the police’.

 

“Kgosi obviously knew Festus might try to kill him,” remarked Janet, “and took out some insurance. If the letter had been found soon after the murder, this business would have been cleared up years ago and would have saved my parents years of misery.”

Philip was the first to awaken just after dawn, and bleary eyed, he whispered into Elizabeth’s ear, “Come on, we have a busy day ahead. I’ll let you wake Janet up.”

In the meantime, Philip took the opportunity to top up the vehicle’s fuel tank whilst the ladies brewed up some breakfast on the camping stove.

Before returning