The Devil’s Kingdom

Chapter 60

He was a white man, not tall, not young, but built solid and wearing the dead-eyed look of a jaded veteran who’d survived enough scrapes in his time not to be fazed by a bunch of guns and blades. He spoke with a New York accent. Ben had never seen him before in his life.

‘Who are you?’ Khosa barked at the stranger.

‘Name’s Bronski,’ the stranger replied. ‘Victor Bronski. You know me as Reynolds. Your guy Mr Masango and I did a little business deal together, one that didn’t exactly go according to plan. Remember?’

As Bronski talked, three more hard-looking men appeared behind him, all with short-barrelled pump shotguns and the expressions of experienced fighters ready to inflict serious hurt.

‘Meet my associates,’ Bronski said. ‘Mr Shelton, Mr Gasser, and Mr Jungmayr. I’d tell you more about us, but you might shit your pants, and I’m willing to spare you that embarrassment. Just like I’m willing to overlook the matter of what happened to our other associates, Hockridge and Weller. This is all about business, okay?’

‘You had better drop your weapons,’ Masango said, coming forwards a step with a nervy glance at Khosa. ‘Or we will kill all these people.’

Bronski’s eyes didn’t flicker. ‘Not my problem, sorry. We didn’t come here for them. We came for the rock. Our property, bought and paid for. Let’s have it.’

‘Can you count, old man?’ Khosa said. ‘We have more guns than you.’

‘It’s what you do with them that matters,’ Bronski replied with a faint twitch of a smile. Another man appeared in the doorway behind him. Ben had no idea who he was either. A few years younger than Bronski, but badly out of shape, his blotchy puffed-up face covered in a sheen of sweat below the rim of his Panama hat. With the bulky white suit, its jacket folded over his arm, and the high-dollar shoes and watch, he looked like an actor in a bad movie playing the part of the rich American businessman abroad. Which, Ben quickly realised, was exactly what he was.

‘You have something of mine, Khosa!’ the fat man yelled. ‘I paid you fifty million bucks for it and I want it!’

Khosa held up his clenched fist and slowly unpeeled his fingers. He rotated the diamond so that it caught the light like a disco ball. ‘You mean this?’

The fat man’s eyes popped at the sight of it. He swallowed, gulped, and for a moment seemed about to have a heart attack. ‘That’s my diamond. You stole it from Pender, and Pender was working for me. Which makes it mine, you hear me?’

Jude’s eyes flashed with recognition as he remembered the voice of the man he’d spoken to on Pender’s sat phone aboard the ship. ‘He’s Eugene Svalgaard. The ship owner.’

‘Quiet!’ Khosa snapped, his composure slipping for a second. Mateso pressed the blade more tightly against Jude’s throat. Ben’s fists clenched tight. He’d forgotten to breathe. Rae was struggling in her captor’s grip. The children were streaming silent tears, too terrified to sob out loud. Sizwe was still staring at Khosa, his whole body rigid and trembling in a molten fury. Chief Zandu’s eyes were flicking left and right. He was slowly edging away as the atmosphere of tension inside the warehouse continued to mount up towards a crescendo that could erupt at any moment.

‘Damn right I’m Eugene Svalgaard,’ the fat man yelled, pressing past Bronski to point a chubby finger at Khosa. The blotchiness in his cheeks had gone, as his whole face was now flushed bright red with anger. Spittle sprayed out of his mouth as he ranted. ‘Me. The one who set this whole goddamned thing up in the first place. The one you oughtta be thanking that you ever laid eyes on that beautiful rock, because if it hadn’t been for me, it’d still be locked up a safe in Oman by some hoarding A-rab asshole who didn’t even appreciate it. So now you’ve had your fun, hand it over. A deal’s a deal, even for a lowlife piece of shit jungle bunny like you.’

With a slow, easy smile, Khosa folded his fingers back around the diamond and returned it to his pocket. ‘You want my diamond, fat man? Then come and take it.’

‘I don’t think you heard me, Coltrane. That right there is my property. My diamond. Mine.’

‘You are both wrong,’ said another voice.

Another total stranger stepped out from the shadows at the back of the warehouse. Lean, in his early thirties, with the olive skin and raven hair of an Arab and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He was dressed all in black, his clothes tightly fitted to his lean frame. The tiny machine pistol in his hand was pointed somewhere midway between Khosa and Svalgaard.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Svalgaard yelled, waving his arms and half-turning towards Bronski. ‘What is this? Who the hell is this guy?’

The Arab man took another steady step into the light. His body movements were calm and stealthy, but the dark eyes were quick and alert. Ben knew the look very well. If Bronski looked like an ex-cop, everything about this man screamed military. And he wasn’t alone, either. As he walked slowly towards them all, four more black-clad shapes emerged from the shadows behind him.

Ben now counted thirty-four people inside the warehouse, twenty-four of them with guns. The tension was like electricity in the air, its voltage surging up ever higher and threatening to blow a fuse at any moment. When it did, it was going to be like a bomb exploding within the confines of the building.

‘My name?’ the Arab said. His voice was as smooth as a quiet ocean beneath whose surface predators swam. ‘I am Tarik Al Bu Said. And that diamond belongs to neither of you. It belonged to my brother Hussein.’

Eugene Svalgaard’s eyes bulged in his pudgy face. Even Jean-Pierre Khosa seemed to be speechless as he stared at the newcomer.

The gun in Tarik Al Bu Said’s hand swivelled to aim directly at Svalgaard.

‘And now I know that I am looking at the man who had Hussein murdered for it,’ Tarik said. ‘Along with his wife Najila, my little niece Salma, and my nephew Chakir. You commissioned the robbery.’

‘It’s not like it seems,’ Svalgaard blustered, now turning from bright red to white. ‘You don’t understand!’

‘It is not complicated. You hired Pender and his accomplices, knowing what was in my brother’s safe. You gave them the order to wipe out the family to steal it for you. You did these things, and now it is time for you to pay.’

Svalgaard stumbled backwards, pale, hands raised. In a panic, he tried to get behind Bronski.

Anticipating what was about to happen, Bronski fired first.

Then all hell broke loose.