SS Glasgow Castle 45 Chapter Forty Five

France was great. France was in Europe, very far from Africa and dead bodies in the bush. I told the immigration officer I had succ.u.mbed to a sudden desire to stay in his beautiful country for just a few days, and that I didn't realize there was a temporary visa requirement for Canadians. I didn't need to invoke Raymond's name.

I subsequently changed my solitary remaining traveler's check and raided an automatic teller belonging to one of the networks listed on my credit card. I managed to get three 1,000 franc payouts from the machine before a computer somewhere got wise. Then I caught a cab to the Pension Savarini, which turned out to be located in a nineteenth century apartment building on a narrow downtown street called Rue de Miromesnil.

The six or seven a.s.sorted Savarinis lived on the ground floor, having converted one room into a reception lounge and another into a small dining room; the remaining four floors contained the guest rooms. Mine had had a hardwood floor and long white lace curtains, antique furniture and a shower to match - it hardly worked at all. But there was an agreeable, homely smell about the place, with a tinge of b.u.t.ter-fried onions around dinner time, and having refreshed myself with as steak and a bottle of good red wine I went straight to bed.

I woke up very early next day which was a good thing: Raymond called a quarter past seven to warn me he'd be arriving at nine. I was standing on the pavement outside the Pension Savarini when he swooped down the narrow street in a big, black Citroen and swung it to a stop inches away from the tips of my globetrotting desert boots. He wordlessly dropped the sock with the stones into my lap the moment I was seated and we zoomed away. It convinced me to trust him (though he could've taken a few stones and I'd have never known) and some time later, when we halted to pay a motorway toll, I confessed to the sorry state of my finances. I also asked Raymond if he thought Kross would make it to safety.

Raymond Best told me not to worry about Kross ('he'll manage. He always does.') He went on to advise me not to worry about money ('you'll be rich soon'), and not to worry so much in general ('it gives you bad dreams and it's bad for the digestion.'). Then he concentrated on driving very fast. I could see how Kross and him could be good friends.

Raymond Best and I arrived in Brugges at three in the afternoon, having been impatiently waved through a Belgian customs post. We took rooms at a respectable middle-cla.s.s hotel overlooking the medieval town square, whereupon I admired the view from my window while reviewing the contents of the mini bar. But Best was busy on the telephone, and at seven that evening we drove off to see a lawyer he knew. He was called Sanis and did business out of a home office on the outskirts of the city. I was glad I'd taken my black Italian suit. Best was impressed, and I hoped Sanis would be, too.

Mr. Sanis was very fat, very bald and in his fifties, with a Levantine swarthiness and sensuousness in face features that hadn't been entirely buried in folds of fat. He wore spectacles, thick lenses suspended from very fine gold wire, and his plump hairy fingers sported several rings of impressive size. He looked more an owner of a carpet shop than a lawyer and I was initially extremely suspicious. But when we'd sat down in his study and he began asking questions and making comments I quickly realized there was a very fine and devious brain hidden in his egg-shaped, mottled head.

He asked me what I proposed to do with the money I got for the diamonds - how would I take it home, how would I account for it to the authorities? - and I didn't know. Raymond intervened and told Sanis I needed the complete package. Sanis nodded sagely, and observed that this incurred extra costs; Raymond waved a world-weary hand and said we all knew nothing ever came free of charge. Then the two predators, the greying wolf and the fat octopus, exchanged glances of mutual admiration and Sanis told me to show the diamonds.

They were still in their original sock, which caused merriment. Sanis scattered them on his desk top and poked among them thoughtfully ('this is rubbish,' he said at one point, sweeping a comma of diamond sand to the side with a fat finger). But several pieces clearly weren't rubbish - there were two which were the size of very healthy peas - and after much poking and murmuring a mildly excited Sanis told me to return the next afternoon, 'and I'll have the whole package ready. So much to do...' He rolled his eyes dramatically to ill.u.s.trate the point. He asked me to leave the diamonds with him.

I looked at Raymond and Raymond nodded. So what the f.u.c.k could I do? I nodded too.

"Don't worry about Sanis," said the observant Best when we emerged from the building and were walking towards a taxi stand. "He's a good man. An honest man."

"I'm past being worried," I told him. "I just want to eat."

I'd lied to him. I was worried all right - I worried all night. I didn't sleep at all. I remembered Joe's advice about watching my back in the final stage. I'd kept a.s.sociated fears under lock and key, but the lock broke down when I'd left the diamonds with Sanis. Raymond and Sanis could just take the diamonds and tell me to f.u.c.k off and to talk to the police if I felt robbed.

"You're still worried," commented Raymond that afternoon, as we sped to see Sanis in the black Citroen.

"My stomach's f.u.c.ked up. You know, different food, different water."

"You had a healthy appet.i.te yesterday. Never mind. You don't understand so I'll explain. You're Kross's partner, okay? That means something. Though why..." He shrugged and added: "I'm a serious man and Sanis is a serious man. We don't f.u.c.k around. We make money. Understand? I like having good digestion and nice dreams."

"So do I."

"Good," he said. "Good."

Sanis was waiting for us in a green silk dressing gown over white shirt and evening trousers. He was refreshing himself from a large balloon gla.s.s quarter-full of brandy, and offered us some. I turned it down. I was very tense. Sanis noticed. He cut short the pleasantries and shepherded us to his study and briskly proceeded with what he called 'the business'.

He said right away the diamonds were worth almost thirteen hundred and fifty thousand American dollars - he slid over a three-page estimate I couldn't read: the tightly typed columns jumped and swayed. I refocused quickly when Sanis said my stones would fetch only fifty per cent of the estimate. This was in accordance with the time-honored rules of paying for hot merchandise, apparently.

My cut, after expenses, would amount to six hundred and thirty six thousand American dollars, payable any way I wanted. I had acquired this minor fortune by winning a prize in a lottery held three months earlier - here Sanis picked up a lottery ticket stub, and remarked that this alone cost nearly twenty thousand American. In the unlikely event someone would get curious he was prepared to swear before any court that he'd known me for years, and had personally purchased the ticket on my behalf.

As for the money itself, he proposed investing it in a private subscriber-only mutual fund he was running with great success. He guaranteed a flat ten per cent return and would be only too happy to supervise my account. He advised me to register a company and open a corporate bank account with some of the cash ('this way the money comes as salary from this company that is retaining you as consultant. Of course I'm the company president and everything runs very smoothly.')

I had already calculated that I'd have just over five hundred and seventy left after Raymond. So the payoff was fifty seven thousand American per annum. This wasn't bad. In fact it felt too good. But a little while later, as I signed the papers which appointed Sanis as my lawyer, my doubts dissipated. He'd just made a profit of half a million on the diamonds, awarded himself a ten thousand annual retainer, and likely secured nearly sixty grands' worth of extra yearly income from his financial scam. It was reasonable to a.s.sume he wouldn't pay me more than he paid himself – after all, he was the company president, and I was to get fifty plus a year.

We spent another twenty minutes setting up a company called AG Design which immediately appointed me its Chief Executive Officer. After ten minutes spent on signing various papers, Sanis clasped my hand in both of his and gravely asked if there was anything else he could a.s.sist me with as my attorney. I told him about the unpaid room service bill at the Hotel Ivoire, and he immediately promised to see to it and forward me an itemized expense sheet. I asked him if he could pay Raymond his ten per cent - I knew they'd already discussed that from the looks they exchanged. I also jokingly asked for five thousand American, half in French francs. Sanis listened gravely and said he'd have the money delivered to the hotel the next morning.

Then he said:

"And now we have to celebrate. I have just become president of the twenty fifth company under my wise guidance and you have just become a rich man. So I'd like to invite you two gentlemen for dinner followed by entertainment. I would be proud to have you as my guests - and I'm absolutely at your disposal."

No doubt; if people came around to drop hundreds of thousands on my doorstep, I'd have willingly served them dinner myself if necessary, dressed in a French maid's outfit if so desired.

And so I spent a night on the town with Sanis and Raymond. We began with dinner at a fancy restaurant, whose mustachioed waiters visibly fawned over Sanis - he must have represented important income. The taciturn Raymond started smiling after the second bottle of champagne.

The evening ended at a brothel. I was drunk enough not to question this destination when we left the restaurant. I spent my time there in the bar together with Raymond. Sanis the Nightlife Star was greeted with shouts of joyful surprise by a group of middle-aged, suited types that hung around the far end of the bar. He went to converse with them and then returned with a blonde hooker dressed in seventeenth century dress. Her hair was a mountain of chestnut ringlets piled up high above her forehead, and she actually carried a tiny lace umbrella.

"I might not see you before you leave," Sanis said, breathing brandy over my face. "I'll call you at the number you gave me in a couple of weeks to let you know that I'm sending you your first check." He gave me a wink and added:

"And now, as your attorney, I advise you to make merry." And he went off with his courtesan.

I turned to talk to Raymond and found that a wh.o.r.e in a red latex dress had interposed herself between us. Raymond's hand was already resting on her a.s.s. I caught his eye over her shoulder and said:

"Raymond. Who is Giselle and what did she say?" He looked at me reproachfully, patted the red rubber rump and said:

"Oh, she likes to say me and Kross get innocent people into trouble. Are you innocent and do you like trouble?" he asked the wh.o.r.e, in English for my benefit. She giggled and tousled his hair with one hand and put her cigarette out with the other, taking special care not to melt her red glove.
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"Who is Giselle?" I asked again. Raymond grinned at me. He said:

"She's my wife. We've been married nearly twenty years."