Chapter 4

When I went out of the hotel with Willem he led me towards a taxi where I joined his wife Helga in the back. We talked in a relaxed manner until we pulled up at a restaurant on the edge of the harbour. Adjacent to the restaurant there was a marina containing a large number of expensive looking yachts.

Instead of going straight into the restaurant Willem took us towards the marina.

‘We have a few minutes to spare before we need go in as the reservation is for 7:45 p.m. I have time to show you the pride of my life, my Beneteau First 46.5 Yacht,’ Willem said with considerable enthusiasm, leading the way.

‘Notice that he doesn’t say that I am the pride of his life Vince,’ his wife said smiling in a good humoured way.

He led us along one of the quays and opened a gate, with a key that he just happened to have in his pocket. This gave access to a pontoon.

We walked along the pontoon until he stopped beside the fifth boat on the left hand side; a singularly handsome looking ocean going yacht.

‘This is my boat Vince, and you will notice the name is associated with what I do, Belle Diamant,’ he said pointing to the name on the stern. ‘I have been remarkably clever and used the French translation as the boat was made in France and the name doesn’t sound as vulgar as it would in Dutch or English.’

‘It is a fantastic looking yacht and looks capable of going deep sea,’ I replied, genuinely impressed with what he was showing me. ‘I have sailed a bit around the south coast of England, but never in anything as grandiose as this.’

‘I haven’t time to show you the interior now, but perhaps on another occasion when you are in Rotterdam we can go for a sail some evening. It is not like the normal Beneteau inside as it has been stripped out to make it go faster for racing.’

‘I’d like to have a sail in it sometime if the occasion ever arises.’

We wandered back to the restaurant where we had an excellent meal and a particularly pleasant evening.

At around 9:30 p.m Willem left the table and went out to the reception area of the restaurant, where I saw him using his mobile. He came back a few minutes later looking a bit anxious.

‘Listen Vince I am going to have to be extremely rude and rush off. I have a shipment of diamonds coming in from Johannesburg in the morning and there are evidently some problems with the paperwork. You can stay on here for a while and have a coffee and a brandy, a port or whatever you would like. When you are ready Helga will take you back to your hotel in a taxi. I will tell the manager that I will come back and pay tomorrow or the next time that I am in. He knows me well, and there should be no problem.’

‘Will I see you in the morning Willem?’ I asked, slightly put out by the course of events.

‘Yes I will come by the hotel and pick you up and drive you to the airport. What time does your plane leave?’

‘It is a bit early I am afraid. It departs at 9:00 a.m.’

‘I’ll pick you up at 7:00 a.m then. That should give us enough time to make your flight. I must dash. Sorry,’ he said as he exited the restaurant.

‘If you want to go now Helga it is OK by me,’ I said, turning away from where Willem had just been standing and looking at her.

‘No, I would thoroughly enjoy a coffee and a digestif. How about you?’

‘If you are having a coffee I will have one too, but probably a decaf, and maybe a port to finish off what has been an excellent meal.’

Helga called the waiter over and ordered coffee for both of us, and then port for me and green chartreuse for herself.

We drank the drinks at a leisurely pace and then organized a taxi for 10:45 p.m. This time I sat in the front while Helga sat in the back for the short trip to the hotel.

‘Good night Helga and thank you for a wonderful evening,’ I said as I climbed out of the taxi. ‘I hope that we meet again soon.’

‘Good night Vince and I must apologise for the fact that Willem had to rush off like that,’ she said as she leaned forward to speak to me.

‘No problem. I enjoyed your company much more than Willem’s,’ I said, smiling.

I closed the taxi door and waved as she left the forecourt of the hotel.

Picking up my key from the reception desk, I took the elevator up to my room.

I switched on the light and could immediately spot that I had been visited. The drawers were all pulled out, the bed was stripped back, and the contents of my bag were strewn across the floor.

As a reflex action, I checked in my pocket to make sure that my notebook was still there, and thanked my lucky stars that I had the presence of mind to bring it with me when I left for dinner. There was nothing in my room to disclose the real purpose of my mission to Rotterdam.

My immediate reaction was to blame Willem. He had left Helga and me in the restaurant and would have had plenty of time to get to the hotel and go through my stuff. But why would he do that if he had already searched my bag in the office?

I remembered when I had suggested to Helga that we just end the evening when Willem left; she had insisted on having a coffee and a digestif. Strange!

Was Willem in some way linked to the smugglers, and, if he was, why had Harold arranged for me to come and see him? Did Harold not suspect that Willem might be involved and was Harold himself on the right side of the fence?

I was confused.

If Willem or Harold were involved in the illegal diamond chain, then they were playing with me, and I was in extreme danger. I was not only confused I was also feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

What had I got myself into? Perhaps being a private investigator wasn’t such a fun occupation after all.

Wound up as I was, I didn’t sleep much that night. I kept hearing noises, and, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I was waiting for the door to open. What was to stop whoever had ransacked my room coming back to finish me off, getting rid of the problem investigator while I was asleep. Despite the chain on the door, I didn’t feel safe.

The morning finally arrived, and I was showered, dressed and waiting in the forecourt of the hotel when Willem arrived.

‘Sleep well Vince?’ he asked me as I placed my overnight bag on the back seat of the car.

‘Can’t say that I had a particularly good night,’ I muttered as I sat in the front seat beside him. ‘I had so much going through my head after yesterday that I couldn’t seem to settle.’

‘I am sorry for being so rude and leaving you last night. For some reason, the papers that are required today to clear a shipment of diamonds from Johannesburg went missing and I had to return to the office and regenerate them,’ Willem said, sounding highly plausible as he started the car and moved out into the traffic.

I thought to myself, what a rogue. He must realise that I knew that he was the one who had trashed my room last night. All this guff about having to go back to his office was a complete fabrication. I decided that I had better maintain the charade and pretend that nothing had happened.

‘Your wife looked after me extremely well thanks, and I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. I would also love to have a sail on your Beneteau sometime if that could be arranged sometime.’’ I didn’t mention it last night Vince, but I actually only own a fifty percent share in the boat,’ Willem added. ‘My partner, Caas Teifel, is an old friend of mine who is also a successful diamond dealer. He is a much more serious sailor than I am, and, for the last two years, has been going on a three monthly voyage once a year.’

‘How does he manage to take so much time off?’ I interrupted.

‘He hires a professional crew, and he joins and leaves them as he has time. In fact he is taking the boat on one of his long trips soon, so don’t come looking for a sail in the next few months.’

‘I will be extremely busy for the next six months getting to know the intricacies of the diamond trade, so I don’t think that I will have time for sailing,’ I replied.

He pulled into the drop off area for the departure terminal.

‘Thanks for chauffeuring me and dining me so well Willem. I also greatly appreciate the insight that you gave me into the diamond trade.’

‘No problem Vince. If you need me for anything just call at any time.’

I got out grabbing my bag from the back seat, shook his outstretched hand and went into the terminal.

The Hague was such a small airport that I got through the check in procedure remarkably quickly, and had time to grab a coffee and a croissant before I had to board. I even managed to get an up to date edition of the English Daily Telegraph newspaper to give me something to read during the flight to London.

Halfway through the flight I had finished reading the latest sports news and managed to rearrange the paper so as I could read page three, the home of the less newsworthy stories.

I froze in my seat as I read an unexpected headline.

‘Tragic death of the son of Sir Montgomery Fortiscue.’

I went cold as fear entered my heart.

Reading the article I fully expected to find that Harold had been killed.

‘Police have now identified the body of a middle aged man that was found last weekend, by a man out walking his dog, in a field beside the river near Henley-on-Thames. The body has been identified as Brian Fortiscue, the youngest son of Sir Montgomery Fortiscue who owns the diamond trading company Fortiscues in Hatton Garden. Foul play has not been ruled out, and the Police are treating it as a murder investigation.’

I leant back in my seat and took a deep breath. This couldn’t just be a coincidence, and I also wondered why Harold never mentioned that he had a brother. Based on the information that I had in my possession, I had naturally assumed that the man found dead in Henley would have been Harold. I now had a further piece to add to the jigsaw that I was trying to put together. Where did Brian Fortiscue fit into all this and who would want him out of the way.

The first thought to hit me was how would the old man take this latest tragedy? At 73 years of age was he mentally and physically strong enough to survive the loss of his son? My mind travelled back to the meeting where I had met Sir Montgomery and the fact that he had erupted in anger in simply discussing the problems that his company was experiencing. What must he be like now after the death of his son?

It was as if a bomb had gone off inside my mind. Before this latest piece of news, I thought that I had some sort of an idea as to what was going on. I was also reasonably confident that I had the names of some of the people that might be involved. The murder of Brian Fortiscue didn’t fit into any of the scenarios that I had mentally pictured. In fact, now I was even more confused. It was like being in the maze at Hampton Court Palace with no knowledge of the way out. The walls of the ‘diamond’ maze were getting higher and higher and I was in danger of getting totally lost.

The CityJet plane touched down in London with my mind still in its confused state. Switching on my mobile I saw that there was a text message from Harold asking me to come to his office on my way home, as a matter of urgency. I sent a text message to let him know that I would be there in an hour. It surprised me that he was in the office when his brother had just been murdered; however, I rationalised that someone had to keep the wheels of the business turning no matter what had happened.

He had told me, when we met in the pub in Parsons Green that I shouldn’t ever go to the office in Hatton Garden. This must be genuinely urgent.