Chapter 18

Slightly later than usual I headed for the Waterfront to my usual lunch spot, but this time without my notebook in hand. The afternoon was spent touring the wide variety of retail outlets at the Waterfront buying presents for my family. My wife has a particular penchant for glass ornaments, and I found a glassblower in a craft shop who made me a unique piece. I just hoped that I would be able to transport it home without breaking it.

That evening I dressed up a bit smarter than usual as I had decided to visit an Italian restaurant that I had picked out on my frequent visits to the Waterfront. Any time that I had passed Balduccis it had always seemed to be full of people and there was a fantastic buzz coming from it. I reckoned that tonight I was in the right frame of mind, to enjoy such a place. It certainly wasn’t a venue to do any thinking in.

The manager, who showed me to my table, was obviously disappointed that I was a single booking. He also tutted at me for not having made a reservation as he conducted me to a table well away from the door and in an alcove where there were three other tables. The largest of the three tables was overflowing with a large family, obviously celebrating some occasion. There was a lot of good natured banter going on. I decided to enjoy the atmosphere and enter into the spirit of the place.

The food was excellent, and the wine that my waiter suggested was probably the best that I had tasted in my visits to South Africa. Sir Montgomery Fortiscue was paying for all of this, so I might as well enjoy it.

A very pleasant evening suddenly took an extraordinary and unpredicted turn. I needed to visit the toilets, and was directed by the waiter to a door close to the entrance to the restaurant. I squeezed past a number of tables and found the sanctuary of the Gents.

It was on the return journey that my whole evening changed. As I emerged from the toilets, I looked over towards the window that opened out onto the esplanade of the Waterfront. Who should be sitting at a table near the window but Moira Fortuin, accompanied by a distinguished looking gentleman. I assumed he must be her ‘missing’ husband, Jacques Fortuin. After a momentary pause, I hastily ducked down behind a convenient partition and went back to my table at the other end of the restaurant.

I called the waiter over and asked for my bill.

‘Is something wrong sir?’ the waiter asked me.

‘No, there is nothing wrong. The meal was excellent,’ I replied.

‘If you want I can get the manager if you want to complain about something,’ he persisted.

‘I have no complaints and your service was first class. I have just remembered that I was meeting someone, and I have stayed here too long. I am now late for my appointment,’ I just wanted to escape from the place, in case I was spotted, and go and grab my car from the multistorey car park.

‘Oh I am sorry if I delayed you by serving you too slow. We have been extremely busy tonight with the party beside you,’ the poor waiter was still convinced that he had done something wrong.

I paid my bill, making sure that he saw that I had added a good tip for his services. I got up and managed to sneak out without the Fortuins seeing me.

On my way to the car park, it suddenly struck me how lucky I had been that the Fortuins had not been seated closer to me. Moira Fortuin would have undoubtedly recognized me, and an embarrassing situation would have arisen. Also, if they knew I had seen her with Jacques, they would have had to put their ‘monsters’ on to me to get rid of me as his cover would have been blown.

I rushed back to the guest house to get the electronic listening device before going to get my car. When I arrived back at the Waterfront, I selected the car park nearest the restaurant. I drove around to see if I could spot a black Mercedes 500. Even amongst the affluent of Cape Town, a Mercedes 500 was not a terribly common car. In fact, the Fortuins had made it exceptionally easy for me to find the Mercedes. Sitting in the car park was a black Mercedes 500 with the registration number MER500GP. They must have both bought personalised number plates at the same time and used the same format for each one. All I had to do now was follow the Fortuins home, and I would find out where they were staying.

I found a vacant parking bay where I could keep an eye on the Mercedes, and waited for them to finish their meal.

They obviously weren’t in any hurry to get home as it was about an hour and a half later that I saw them eventually approach their car. I followed them as they left the car park, keeping what I felt was an adequate distance behind them. There was quite a lot of traffic about, which had its disadvantages as I found it difficult to stay close; however, it also had its advantages, as it would be pretty well impossible for them to detect that I was following them.

Instead of heading out of the city towards Hermanus and the coast, the car took a turn towards the Kloof area and then towards Camps Bay. Not much further on the car slowed down and stopped. To the right of the road an automatic gate opened. The car started moving again and drove into the driveway of the house. A few minutes later the gate closed behind them. I drove just past the house and dumped my car, rushing back with the listening device.

What a bit of luck and how easy was that. It had taken me nearly a week to locate the house in Hermanus, and it had only taken me a few hours to track them down to this house. It all made sense to me now. Hermanus was ninety minutes from Cape Town, and this house was only fifteen minutes from the Waterfront and the Royal Cape Yacht Club. Jacques had obviously wanted to be in a house where he could see what was going on until the diamonds were shipped.

I found a group of trees to the left of the entrance gate and wriggled my way through up to the fence where I managed to point the listening device towards the house.

In fact, I didn’t need the device as I could hear them talk quite clearly with my own ears.

‘Thank you Jacques that was a fabulous meal,’ Moira said, confirming to me that it indeed was Jacques.

‘It’s always good there isn’t it darling,’ Jacques replied.

There was the sound of a door closing so they must have gone inside. I tried the listening device, but there were no more voices that I could pick up.

Getting back in my car I stowed the listening device and went to find a street name. The number of the house was 16, and the name of the road was Geneva Drive. A point that I noted was that the security system surrounding this house wasn’t up to the standard of the two properties I had seen in Johannesburg and Hermanus. This fact just might prove a flaw in their armour.

A very happy Vince returned to his room, and a good night’s sleep.