EXTRACT FOR
The South African Connection
(Author Unknown)

Chapter 1 - The Crime

      

      No-one saw the dark van parked up a side street by the main diamond exchange in Johannesburg. Inside were four thieves; the getaway driver, Albert the leader, Basher the extra muscle, and Fingers. Aptly named because he could feel the tumblers falling, his fingers were so sensitive and well trained in opening safes of any description.

      "Precision, remember, timing must be perfect to avoid the cameras. Fingers, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, go," Albert said, and pointed to the back door.

      Fingers had hold of the handle as Albert counted down, and opened the door as Albert said, 'Go.'  He ran to the back door of the diamond exchange, huddled, and entered the code to open the lock. Whilst he entered the code, Albert and Basher leapt from the van and joined him just as he opened the door.

      They entered and closed the door, hugging the left hand wall. Fingers began to enter the code in the alarm system whilst Basher closed the door. Basher's next job was to take a photo of the hallway from above the camera, whilst Albert fixed a frame to the camera. As soon as the photo was developed from the instamatic camera, Basher slipped it into the frame with one second to spare before the cameras switched, and that one became active.

      They now moved over during the second when no camera was covering the hallway, into the safety of the camera showing the picture, and then repeated the process with the other camera, securing their exit without being seen.

      Down the corridor to the corner before the one leading to the vault, a quick check to make sure the route was clear, and then to the last corner. Albert looked carefully around the corner to Walter, who was sat at his desk reading his newspaper.

      Two cameras criss-crossed this area, covering almost all of the corridor leading up to the vault. As arranged, Walter stood up and moved, so that he was blocking the view of the camera, whilst they moved into position, as if stretching his legs, and then sat down again. Orchestrated, and timed to the second. Each camera worked for one minute, then it took three seconds for the cameras to change over. During this time Basher took a photo of the corridor, and Albert again fitted the frame, when the cameras next switched. Albert dropped the picture in the frame, and Basher took the second photo, whilst Albert fitted the frame, and then dropped the picture in the frame.

      Basher moved forward. Fingers began his night's work on the vault lock. Albert watched him at work, appreciating his skill and ability.

      Basher hit Walter over the head with a crow bar. It was meant to knock him out to cover for his involvement, but Albert saw the force Basher used and knew Walter was dead. They needed to be silent, so Albert didn't say anything, but he would do later.

      The vault door opened, and they entered. Albert selected several uncut diamonds from the trays whilst Fingers opened the secondary safes, with the more expensive diamonds inside. Sometimes there were just two diamonds in a safe, their value being so high. The twenty diamonds they selected were valued at over fifteen million pounds when cut. The two handfuls they collected from the trays would be worth another five million at least. Small, easy to carry, and very valuable. With all the cameras covered, they walked out unhindered. They climbed into the van and the driver moved off at a sedate pace. The alarms hadn't been triggered and the guard watching the screens saw nothing. It would be another half hour before the third security guard made his rounds. Then all hell would be let loose when the robbery was discovered, by which time, Albert and his crew would be well away from the area, after dumping the van, and getting into their car, before driving back to Albert's house.

      "That was perfect, timed to perfection, and executed with ease, apart from Basher. What the fuck were you doing? A tap on his head, knock him out, not knock his fucking head off," Albert yelled at Basher.

      "Do you honestly think they would have fucking believed him? We would have had to approach him from the front. There would have been time for him to sound the fucking alarm, and they wouldn't have thought of that?" Basher queried. "They would know that there was an inside man. How else would we have been able to get to the safe without him raising the alarm, hey, think man think? Once he had recovered, how long before he would have told them who had organised it. By now the coppers would be knocking on your front fucking door," Basher said.

      "Basher, has a point boss. He was dying anyway, which was why he agreed to this. Cancer. Give his share to his wife, he did it for her. It was as if he knew. One, he would die in prison, or two, what happened, would happen," Fingers said.

      "I said no-one was to die, no-one," Albert shouted. "It was so well planned and executed that there was no need. He was supposed to go to the toilet and that was where you supposed to hit him, and not with a crow bar, a cosh. You almost lifted his fucking head off, you hit him so hard. Walter's share goes to his wife, plus a bit. You're a fucking animal Basher," Albert said.

      "Now we lie low for a few months, allow the excitement to die down, and then I have a plan to sell the diamonds on, at a very good price. Five months from today we meet here to divide up the spoils from the first sale, and then every month after that until they have all gone. I estimate that the share out will be close on two million each, after expenses. I am sure, for that kind of money, you can wait a little longer," Albert said.





Chapter 2 - The Deal

      

      Nigel gazed out of the window of the airplane as France skipped under them. He thought back to how he had arrived at this very exciting and lucrative situation.

      The plane was a flight from Johannesburg to Heathrow. He was relaxed and comfortable as the towns came and went, each set out like a jigsaw puzzle, connected and not. Thin strips, barely visible, with dots moving along them. It wasn't his first trip in an aircraft, he had made two trips previously, but this was to be his last trip. At the end of which he would have quite a bit of money, and he would apply for a permit to stay in England, with his sister. She had moved there with an Englishman five years ago, or was it six now, he couldn't quite remember. All he knew was that she was happy, and had been very pleased to see him.

      As a black South African, life was very hard in South Africa, but in England, as long as you were prepared to work and earn your money, you were welcome. Nigel was not afraid of work, he had been working a twelve hour day, just to keep his head above water. Then again his mother being ill hadn't helped, he was keeping her as well. Six months ago she had died, and he was alone now. Their father had left them long ago.

      It all began a few weeks ago when he was sat just a few tables away from his next prey. He was not a hardened criminal, he didn't rob banks or jewellery stores, he went for the soft prey, snatching handbags and picking the pockets of the holiday makers in Johannesburg.

      By the door sat two rather attractive women in their early twenties, he guessed, and easy prey. They looked slightly intoxicated, their hand bags on the near side of the table as they drank and talked, oblivious to the amount of handbags that were snatched daily in the area.

      Two seconds, and he would have their bags in his hand, and be out the door. Fifty feet and down a dark back alleyway, another fifty feet, and down the rear of the shops, a left onto what was almost a dirt track, and then stop, and look to see if they had the guts to follow him down the dark alleyways. Very few did. They were fearful of being mugged, as well. Yes, they were a prime target for him. He would finish his drink, and then go for it.

      "Nige, old son, dodgy. Detective Sandra Andrews, on secondment from New Scotland Yard, and Special Officer Kate Mgaby. You really should do your homework before selecting your targets, there have been several bag snatches recently, and they are trying to catch the thieves. This is the third bar tonight they have visited, and they have two collars already. Do you really want to make it three out of three, for them?" the man stood behind Nigel said.

      "Shit Gord, thanks, they nearly had me. I was just going to finish my drink, and then go for it," Nigel said, relieved at the narrow escape.

      "Twenty four and what is it now, six years inside, bag snatching, the easy targets pay most of the time, but not always. What do you get now for a passport, twenty Rand, and credit cards another twenty each? Not exactly raking the money in, are you?" Gordon asked.

      Gordon was touching thirty and was a professional thief and a thug. He was good. As yet he hadn't been caught, but the police were aware of his activities though they lacked evidence to make an arrest stick. Gordon was making a very good living from his night time activities, usually in a gang that hit banks, and jewellery vaults, but also from house burglaries.

      Gordon knew several of the petty thieves like Nigel. They were always useful in telling him about the contents of handbags; which contained a driver's licence with an address, or an ID card with address. And from the quality of the contents, they would tell Gordon which house would be worth his while casing. For which they would be given a small, but acceptable reward, if it proved to be a good lead.

      "How would you like to make twenty five thousand pounds, and have a holiday to boot in my home town, London?" Gordon asked.

      "Gord, I know my limits. I am not like you, in with the big boys. I mean if, and when you get caught, they will throw away the key," Nigel said, jokingly.

      "Only if you make a mistake. Plan and execute professionally, and do not get caught. Do you get caught? I do not. I do my homework, besides I offered you a free holiday, as well. The job is as a courier. We do the job, and you just take the goods out of the country. I feel very strongly that they would pay much more attention to me leaving the country than you. They will not think you, as a petty thief, to be carrying a lot of money," Gordon said.

      "Thanks, but no thanks, I don't do drugs, and want nothing to do with them," Nigel said, and turned to look at the two women again.

      He was sorry he hadn't tried the bag snatch. They looked very pretty and he wouldn't have minded being tackled by them. The blonde one sat at the far side of the table, the one Gordon had identified as the Police officer from London, got up and went to the bar, leaving her bag almost unattended. The snatch was now or never. Nigel made to get up.

      "Nige, you are not listening to me. They will have you on the floor before you reach the door, don't be stupid. Did I say anything about drugs? We can't talk here, come on. I will tell you as much as I can, trust me. You will be going on holiday, and with all expenses paid, and walk off with twenty five thousand, in Pounds, not Rand," Gordon said, and took Nigel's arm, almost dragging him out for his own safety. Gordon knew that Nigel was more interested in the women than the bags. They did look very pretty and sexy in their low cut tops and short, short skirts. The handbags were not the small clutch bag holding just a purse and compact. These were larger, and held the handcuffs and guns the officers were supplied with.

      They left the bar, and went to a seedy bar around the back, off the main street, where Nigel worked his trade. It wasn't much more than a two minute walk, but the difference was miles apart. This bar was for locals, seedy and not very well kept, unlike the glitzy bars on the front, with lights and music blaring out, trying to attract the customer in. Here you either knew it existed, or didn't.

      The bar was more of a wooden hut. Gordon told Nigel to sit at a table outside, whilst he got the drinks. Nigel was sweating in the hot night air, and it would have been no better inside the bar. This bar, and the others like it, didn't have air conditioning, just an open door to allow the hot air inside, and then trapping it as it was circulated around by the ceiling fan, inside the smoke filled room. 

      Gordon placed a cold beer in front of Nigel and sat next to him. They raised their glasses and took a big drink to quench their thirst.

      "Nige, can we say that some precious stones have found their way into the hands of a friend of mine, and he needs to get them out of the country to a friend in London. He will pay your air fare, and put you up in a good hotel, but don't expect the Savoy, ok? But it will be a good one. You are on holiday, visiting your sister, a week and then back, and it's all paid for. All you have to do is act like a stranger, and be on holiday. That can't be bad, can it?" Gordon asked.

      "Twenty five thousand pounds, and a week's paid holiday for carrying diamonds, smuggling diamonds into England. Hum, interesting, but not my style," Nigel said.

      "Nige that is why I picked you. It isn't your style, you will not be suspected after the way you handled the last time you were caught. Luckily you had discarded all the evidence, but you were so cool, the woman couldn't identify you, and the police had nothing. You sat them out so cool, so convincing. Again they will have nothing. Even if they do an internal a full body search, they will find nothing, because the diamonds will be in your stomach, and not up your arse.

      Look, you swallow the diamonds, they pass through your digestive tract, and then the messy bit. For the next two days roughly, every time you shit they will come out. Then you sort through it to find them, and take them to this address. Or you could just parcel the shit up, and take that to them, we count them in, and they count them out, simple. Once all the diamonds have been passed, you get your money, five thousand pounds. We will want you to make just three trips, so that is fifteen thousand plus an extra ten, when the job is done.

      Five diamonds, with a cash value to my friend of two million, so twenty five grand isn't going to break the bank, is it? He can afford that much, can't he? And a free holiday to see your sister as well, all paid for by my friend," Gordon said, encouraging Nigel to take the deal. "Play it cool, just like you did in the police station, and ask for fifty grand. He is that desperate that he will agree, trust me," Gordon said.

      "So you want me to swallow five diamonds, fly to London, have a shit, and spend a week in London seeing my sister, and he will pay me, fifty grand? What's the catch?" Nigel asked.

      "Nige, Nige, you are not listening. My friend is desperate. If he doesn't get rid soon, he will lose the offer he has for the stones, and it will cost him more than twenty five grand, which is why I am betting he will give you the fifty. I did put a word in for you, you know? I told him you were good and reliable, and that he could trust you.

      Look, if I go they will strip search me, because of my record, and they will be watching me. We need someone who they won't suspect. I am disappointed in you. I mean, I gave my word for you, and recommended you. It's such a simple little job, and well paid. Just keep your cool. You are on holiday, see your sister, see London, show her the sights. God knows, you'll have enough money to paint the town red after the trips. Don't come back, live there if you want. Offer to do just one trip, for ten grand. If you are unhappy when you get back, deal done. If you see that what I am telling you is the truth, then do all three trips, for fifty grand. What do you say?" Gordon asked him with a nudge, as a friend offering a good deal.

      "I'll see your friend, and if he offers me the fifty, then I'll do it," Nigel agreed.

      "You won't regret it, I assure you. I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow night. Meet me here at seven thirty, tomorrow night. If all goes well, you will be on the flight a week on Friday, to London. You do have a passport don't you? Everything must be legal, up front, as it were," Gordon said.

      "Yes, I do. See you tomorrow night, here, at seven thirty," Nigel said.

      

      Nigel arrived a little early. Gordon was in his car when he arrived, and they went to his friend's house where Nigel did as Gordon had suggested, and held out for the fifty thousand.

      There was a bit of an argument over the amount, but as Gordon had said, his friend was desperate and agreed to the figure, reluctantly. To make sure that Nigel didn't keep the diamonds, it was agreed that he get paid once the diamonds had been delivered to the address he was given.

      They had booked Nigel on the morning flight, and he was to be met at the airport by the London contact, at the information desk, and taken to a house in Kensington, where he would stay until the diamonds had been passed. Then the London contact would pay him and take him to his hotel.

      They estimated two days at the most, before the diamonds would have been passed. The only other condition was that he only contacted his sister once he had been paid. They didn't want an unexpected visitor, or a third party involved in any way. Also Nigel was not to tell her how he had found the money for the trip. Nigel agreed, saying that he was earning the same as when his mother was alive, and wasn't spending as much because he was no longer looking after her, hence the savings.

      Gordon told him that was a very good reason, and explained his trip very easily, but it would work only once.

      "She knows what I do. So I fell lucky, and had a big snatch, which paid for the second trip. The third one, I would be staying, and so would only need a one way ticket. And you had paid me for an address which paid so well, you paid for the trip, as a thank you," Nigel had said.

      "She will smell a rat, she knows I am not that generous," Gordon said.

      "Does it really matter? By then it will be too late to do anything, won't it," Nigel said, with a smile.

      

      The first two trips had gone exactly as planned, and he had been paid the money which he gave to his sister for safe keeping, handing her an envelope sealed and signed across the seal.

      "Sis, I trust you, but by doing that we both know that the seal cannot be broken. I will be back in a few weeks, then I will tell you everything, and I will be staying here. Trust me," Nigel had told her, and kissed her sweetly as a brother would do.

      Now he was on his last trip with six not five diamonds in his stomach, and he was flying at thirty thousand feet over France, and beginning to descend as the Channel came into view, and the English coast line.

      Down, down, he would soon be back on land, and the anxieties began, but he managed to control them as he always did. This was just the preliminaries. Control these, and he would be in full control of his emotions by the time he landed. Even now after two perfectly normal trips, he still had these feelings of butterflies in his stomach.

      "Wow," Nigel thought as the plane became blurred, he felt nauseous, and very tired. Then he was having difficulty breathing, then nothing as he blacked out.