Read Online The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) by Ron Sewell - Free Book Online
Authors: Ron Sewell
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them.”
The waitress arrived with Eva’s coffee.
Bear held up his hand and she stopped talking. “You haven’t a clue and you believe we’ll discover granddad’s hiding place.” He glared at her. “Ms Engel, how much money do you have? Libya is a mess and you want me to wander in, have a gander and stroll out. You are one crazy woman.
“Here’s the deal. Two thousand pounds a day, all expenses, half up front and in my bank account before I leave. Initially, I’ll allow one week for me and my partner, Hire of special equipment, one four-wheel drive and a helicopter. Let’s say fifty thousand up front.”
Eva appreciated that as a skilled operative he was the man for the job. “Do you think fifty-thousand will be enough?”
Bear chuckled. “You didn’t even flinch at the mention of the money. Your grandfather’s notebook, where is it?”
From her handbag, she removed the battered leather-bound book. He studied the Luftwaffe emblem and gold embossed swastika on the cover. “If your lot had won I don’t think you’d be talking to me. I gather Hitler believed we, like so many others, were inferior.”
Eva shrugged. “We were defeated, Mr Morris, and those days are long gone. You can read German?”
He looked up from the book. “Not well enough but your grandfather was a stickler for making notes. Somewhere in here is a clue to where he crashed. Without that, you’re looking for the proverbial. I have your number on my mobile. You’ll have my decision within the week. And before you ask, I will not disappear with your book. Pay the bill on your way out.”
Eva stood and appeared serious. “Trust, Mr Morris, is something difficult to come by these days but you have your week and then I want my book back.”
Bear finished his coffee and sat there with his hands behind his neck, waiting.
Petros peered over the partition. “You’re not a nice man, Mr Morris.” The contrast between them was striking. Bear wore an ancient black leather jacket, blue jeans and scruffy jumper over his powerful frame. Petros, slim and muscular, was dressed in his black Armani blazer, grey trousers and crisp white shirt but no tie.
Petros sat and faced Bear. “Eva strikes me as an intelligent woman but there’s something I can’t put my finger on. Would I trust her? No. Do you think the diamonds are still there?”
“Fucked if I know. You decipher this notebook and tell me. You know I can’t read German.”
Chapter Three
In one of the many reading rooms of the London Library, Petros sat, on his own, with Eva’s notebook and a pile of maps purchased that morning from Stanford map shop. Page after page he read conscious of the amount of information it contained. Most were flight plans in note form but it was the final observations he translated.
From what he read the operation was straightforward. Leave Berlin, land Tripoli, fuel, leave Tripoli (Libya) and arrive Luderitz (Namibia). Flight duration 24 hours at four hundred kilometres per hour.
The next entry confirmed the package of uncut diamonds received from the agent and secured in the cockpit. A side note stated, ‘ heavier than last time.’
The flight plan for the return journey copied the original but in reverse. A note commented on the reliability of the autopilot. ‘ Works well under normal conditions but has to be
The waitress arrived with Eva’s coffee.
Bear held up his hand and she stopped talking. “You haven’t a clue and you believe we’ll discover granddad’s hiding place.” He glared at her. “Ms Engel, how much money do you have? Libya is a mess and you want me to wander in, have a gander and stroll out. You are one crazy woman.
“Here’s the deal. Two thousand pounds a day, all expenses, half up front and in my bank account before I leave. Initially, I’ll allow one week for me and my partner, Hire of special equipment, one four-wheel drive and a helicopter. Let’s say fifty thousand up front.”
Eva appreciated that as a skilled operative he was the man for the job. “Do you think fifty-thousand will be enough?”
Bear chuckled. “You didn’t even flinch at the mention of the money. Your grandfather’s notebook, where is it?”
From her handbag, she removed the battered leather-bound book. He studied the Luftwaffe emblem and gold embossed swastika on the cover. “If your lot had won I don’t think you’d be talking to me. I gather Hitler believed we, like so many others, were inferior.”
Eva shrugged. “We were defeated, Mr Morris, and those days are long gone. You can read German?”
He looked up from the book. “Not well enough but your grandfather was a stickler for making notes. Somewhere in here is a clue to where he crashed. Without that, you’re looking for the proverbial. I have your number on my mobile. You’ll have my decision within the week. And before you ask, I will not disappear with your book. Pay the bill on your way out.”
Eva stood and appeared serious. “Trust, Mr Morris, is something difficult to come by these days but you have your week and then I want my book back.”
Bear finished his coffee and sat there with his hands behind his neck, waiting.
Petros peered over the partition. “You’re not a nice man, Mr Morris.” The contrast between them was striking. Bear wore an ancient black leather jacket, blue jeans and scruffy jumper over his powerful frame. Petros, slim and muscular, was dressed in his black Armani blazer, grey trousers and crisp white shirt but no tie.
Petros sat and faced Bear. “Eva strikes me as an intelligent woman but there’s something I can’t put my finger on. Would I trust her? No. Do you think the diamonds are still there?”
“Fucked if I know. You decipher this notebook and tell me. You know I can’t read German.”
Chapter Three
In one of the many reading rooms of the London Library, Petros sat, on his own, with Eva’s notebook and a pile of maps purchased that morning from Stanford map shop. Page after page he read conscious of the amount of information it contained. Most were flight plans in note form but it was the final observations he translated.
From what he read the operation was straightforward. Leave Berlin, land Tripoli, fuel, leave Tripoli (Libya) and arrive Luderitz (Namibia). Flight duration 24 hours at four hundred kilometres per hour.
The next entry confirmed the package of uncut diamonds received from the agent and secured in the cockpit. A side note stated, ‘ heavier than last time.’
The flight plan for the return journey copied the original but in reverse. A note commented on the reliability of the autopilot. ‘ Works well under normal conditions but has to be
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