L'Homme trafiqué
(Les Débuts de F)by
Jean-Jacques Pelletier
(Excerpt: Spring 1978, p. 3-13)
Rio das Mortes, Brazil
At the far end of the river, the sky cut a gash through the thick blanket of the forest. The sun sank to the horizon and its rays were drenched in the blood-coloured water.
The man's arms and legs were spread in a cross like of a diving parachutist. He seemed to be floating, motionless, face down, over the river.
The water was rising.
His ankles and wrists were bound by ropes tied to the branches of a gigantic tree that rose above the water.
Beside him, two other bodies were tied, each one a little closer to the water, in the same position.
The water continued to rise.
Now it had almost reached the lowest body. A body smaller than the other two and whose cries, interspersed with gulping sounds, that died out lost on the other bank.
All the man had to do was answer a question, a single question, for them to be untied. For them all to be freed. But he couldn't.
Suddenly all three started screaming. And struggling.
The water, which had just reached the smallest of the bodies, was boiling with horrible gurgling sounds, as if it has suddenly come alive.
Very quickly, the body disappeared.
Then the red surface of the river calmed again.
And the water continued to rise.
The bound man could see the frenzied movement of the fish, with their grey-green backs, beneath him. The storms during recent days, which had swelled the river, seemed to have driven them wild.
He was asked the question again.
He could scream all he wanted, twist and turn, promise anything: to no avail. He did not know the answer.
His muscles, exhausted by the weight of his body, were becoming heavier and heavier. He was having trouble breathing.
Without warning, the water started to boil again. The second body was struggling more vigorously. A little longer too.
But the man still didn't know the answer.
And the water was rising.
The movement, the screams, then the gurgling stopped. The red surface of the river calmed again. Only a few ripples still glinted in the light of the setting sun.
He was asked the question again.
After all his struggling, his limbs were nothing but pain now. Every gulp of air was a struggle, an exertion that wrenched every muscle.
And the water was rising.
It was rising steadily towards him.
A few inches from his eyes, he could see the fish watching him as they swam around. Their bellies were orangey red, all the way to their mouths.
One last time, he was asked the question. But he still did not know the answer. He had never known it.
And the water reached him.
He instantly felt the pain explode in his body. It travelled from his lower abdomen up to his throat. At the same instant, there was a huge blast of sound, as if the river was exploding over his whole face. The red became black. And the black swallowed him.
The droplets of rain stopped falling.
On the surface of the river, hundreds of dead fish were floating on their backs, mouths open, their jaws rigid with the last bite that would never come. The sun sparkled softly on the scales of their orangey bellies.
The ropes, tied to the branches of the tree, still hung limply in the water.Ramat Gan, Israel
He was arriving directly from London. He was the most powerful man in the Syndicate. The meeting had been called at his request.
He sat down in the chair at the end of the table, and placed a huge bluish diamond in front of him. This was not a provocation. Simply a display of wealth. The diamond was not a copy. They all knew it. Even though, officially, the original was on exhibition in Le Louvre.
"My visit is not a complete surprise to you, I presume," was all he said by way of an introduction.
Then he took the time to scan them with his eyes, to ponder their anxiety. Fifteen of the most influential financial, political and military figures in Israel. All men. They were on the top floor of one of the two towers of the Diamond Exchange in Ramat Gan, on the outskirts of Tel Aviv.
There was the Prime Minister, the Minister of Defence and the president of the Diamond Exchange. He was, thought the man from London, without doubt one of the main architects of the Israeli plot.
There were also three of the most important bankers in the country, two high-ranking military officers, plus a few other ministers apparently summoned on short notice and who seemed to be still reeling from astonishment.
There was also the official representative of Mossad, as well as the man with the eye patch. The latter, even though he no longer occupied any official function, was still one of the most prominent personalities in the country. He surely would have been consulted before such an adventure was undertaken.
Finally, at the end of the table, there was a rabbi dressed in a traditional costume. He was the only one the man from London did not know, the only one for whom his intelligence services had not provided him a file before the meeting. Perhaps an obscure bureaucrat, he thought at first. Then he changed his mind: he was probably the watchdog for the ultra orthodox religious groups. Rumour had it that in exchange for their support for the government coalition, they been given the right to place observers almost everywhere in the political apparatus.
"To be perfectly frank with you," continued the Syndicate representative, "London has followed your recent initiatives with a certain amount of irritation. An irritation that it would be best to contain."
"What do you want exactly?" interrupted one of the military men.
The man from London took the time to look at his antagonist and smile. His smile was legendary. It was said that when he wanted to avoid a question, he smiled. It was also said that he almost always smiled.
"I am certain that it would be in your interest to listen until the end," he said in his velvety voice, as if he was trying to speak even more softly.
The military man started to reply, but a signal from the Prime Minister shut him up.
The Syndicate, as it was called most often in Israel, controlled eighty-five per cent of the world diamond trade. It controlled everything, from the mines in South Africa to the luxury boutiques in New York and Paris, as well as the cutting factories in Calcutta, Antwerp and Tel Aviv. Nothing escaped its influence.
Largely made up of Jews, in spite of the fact its head office was in South Africa and its origins went back to the British Empire, this network of brokers, banks, distributors, factories and dealers had grown into a supranational empire. It was mentioned as an example of a successful monopoly: fifty years of absolute control over diamond prices and global distribution.
It went without saying that all the activities of this empire revolved around one major concern: protect the "pipeline." Ensure that nothing interferes with, at any stage, the delicate alchemy that transformed pieces of crystallized carbon into symbols of wealth, power and eternal love.
Now Israel had blocked that "pipeline." Introduced into this refined structure a bypass pipe that diverted diamonds to accumulate in Israeli bank vaults. A growing proportion of stocks never reached the market. The whole delicate balance between supply and demand nurtured by the Syndicate was on the brink of collapse.
For the Syndicate, the consequences would be catastrophic: at best, it would lose a significant share of its monopoly to Israeli hands; at worst, the whole diamond market would simply collapse. In either case, it would mean the end of the Syndicate as it now existed.
The reaction of the man from London was understandable, and the Prime Minister knew all too well what his intentions were. He listened to the rest of the speech without really being surprised.
"Until now, we have always observed the same policy: every five weeks, our three hundred forty-two exclusive brokers come to get the consignments that we have allocated to them for redistribution. In return for a profit. A reasonable profit. And they redistribute the diamonds under the conditions we set. Following our instructions. They know that there are plenty of candidates on the waiting list. Many people would like nothing better than to take their places. That's how the system works. And it works because we control, with few exceptions, global distribution in its entirety of. This is what permits us to continually adjust supply to demand, by putting on the market just a little less than what consumers are ready to purchase. During years with greater production, we hold back part of the new stocks; during years of low production, we sell off part of these reserves. Always adjusting to demand. Just a little below, to be precise. This way, prices increase steadily. Perhaps not spectacularly, but steadily.
The man from London paused before continuing. No one took the opportunity to speak up.
"In short," he continued, "we much prefer a certain profit, guaranteed in over the long term, to a sudden price increase that would inflate revenues for a few months - a few years perhaps - but which would destroy the system.
He slowed down his rate of speech, emphasizing the pauses between certain words.
"This is where your initiative comes in. Buyers from your country, backed by Israeli banks, have started accumulating stocks. Buying everything they can. We can keep putting more and more diamonds on the market, but they will not reach consumers. And prices are rising. Far too much. Far too quickly. This leads to negative consequences."
Now that he was getting to the most recent events, he could read the interest on their faces, interest shaded with apprehension. Under his fine grey moustache, his smile sharpened a little more.
"The goal of my presence here is to implement measures to remedy these consequences. I'm certain that we will reach an agreement. But first of all, let me outline for you the measures I have already taken. First of all..."
He stops himself.
Someone had just come into the room and whispered something in the ear of the rabbi. The old man smiled imperceptibly and the man from London had the impression, in the space of a second, that the rabbi's cold, sharp gaze had sliced right through him. But the instant later the rabbi's eyes again expressed only quiet, politely interested attention.
The man from London continued his story.
"First of all, the eighty-nine brokers who contravened our instructions by selling you their shares have been removed from our list of accredited dealers. They will learn the news in the next few days, when they come to receive their usual allotments. This should have a prophylactic effect among the others. Next there will be a new price increase of thirty per cent, in addition to the forty per cent hike last month. This is once again, of course, a temporary increase. I assume you grasp the implications of this measure. A temporary increase. Which can be cancelled at any time. I'm curious to know what the reaction of your bankers will be when they find out they are guaranteeing gems the value of which may fall by half from one day to the next. That will create a certain liquidity problem. With the inflation you are already experiencing in your country... Not to mention the recent spate of bankruptcies... And if you try to sell off your stocks too quickly, the price of diamonds will plunge. You will lose even more. I wouldn't be overly surprised if your whole economy ended up... Well, you understand. Especially since the foreign banks will also likely increase pressure on you. And inflation will rise more and more quickly.
The man from London stops again, both to keep them on tenterhooks and to take the time to observe the rabbi. To see if he could again find that disturbing gaze.
To no avail. The rabbi stares at him with the same restrained, polite interest as in the beginning.
Without being able to completely dispel his unease, the envoy from the Syndicate continued:
"In my opinion, it will not be necessary to go so far as supporting certain of your neighbours in their territorial demands, nor supporting their struggles monetarily. I am certain that we will be able to come to an agreement.
While the envoy from the Syndicate has been speaking, the old rabbi has been admiring his skill. If only the politicians and the military men had listened to his warnings! But no! They were in a hurry. They had wanted to act quickly. And the Syndicate had reacted. A brutal reaction. The entire financial structure of the country was threatened with collapse!
Now that the operation was crumbling, of course, everyone was washing their hands of it. It was his plan, it was he who had conceived it: it was therefore his fault.
His plan!
He no longer recognized his plan, the politicians and military people had fiddled with it so much! They had messed up the calendar of events, modified the scope of interventions, and pushed deadlines with predictable results: an outright loss of several billion, dozens of financial institutions ruined or in difficulty - not to mention that the country was stuck with a monumental stockpile of diamonds. Diamonds it would not be able to get rid of for many years. And even then, it would be at a loss.
As the Prime Minister had put it, a national disaster.
However, there was still a chance of salvaging everything. Of taking resounding revenge. He had just received confirmation of that.
In Brazil, they had found Kat: in a state of shock, half drowned, but alive. In spite of serious injuries, he would pull through. They had retrieved him just in time.
During the rescue operation, most of the enemy personnel had been subjected to "extreme inconvenience." Only one seemed to have come through it: Athanase Bort. One of the most highly regarded contract employees of the Syndicate. The man who everyone in the intelligence community in Israel called the Rabbi had already had dealings with Bort. He was a formidable adversary. Not surprising that he had managed to escape. Perhaps he had simply disappeared in the explosion on the river, the analysts had suggested. But the Rabbi considered it more prudent to assume he was alive until there was evidence to the contrary.
From now on, the Rabbi would concentrate all his energy on taking revenge. It would be a long-term undertaking, one that would require great sacrifices from him. The old man knew this all too much.
Immediately after the meeting, he would put his affairs in order and he would fly to a destination known only to a few individuals. For many years, as far as everyone in the entire world was concerned, he would disappear. He would no longer set foot outdoors. His arrangements had already been made. Where he was going, there were few chances that he would be found. The high command of Mossad had approved the broad lines of his plans. As for the details, he had asked them to trust him. No one knew the exact place where he was going to take refuge. Before leaving, all he needed to do was obtain final authorization from the politicians. A formality. And there would be no trace of it anywhere; everyone would hasten to deny it if things went badly.
At the beginning of the meeting, the Rabbi had had a momentary lapse of attention. He had not controlled his gaze and the man from London had immediately picked up on something. But the Israeli had immediately recovered. And, even though the other man had subsequently looked at him several times, he had seen only the attentive eyes, a little tired perhaps, of an old rabbi.
The rest of the meeting went quickly. The Syndicate offered help the Israeli banks absorb their financial losses by buying a share of their stock of diamonds. He also promised not to force the closing of the Tel Aviv Exchange.
In exchange, Israel would authorize the organization to leave "advisors" in place to ensure that the agreements and quotas were respected. Of course, there would be no assistance from the Syndicate to Arab countries. With passing years, things could get back to normal. Profits would regain their steady growth. There would be prosperity. For some a little more than for others. But, as the man from London explained ironically, in this world, nothing is ever perfect.
They quickly came to an agreement. Which was predictable. The revelations from the man from London had left them no choice.
As soon as the meeting was over, the Rabbi was summoned to the home of the Prime Minister to explain the basic elements in his new plan. Two hours later, he had obtained what he wanted.
Of course, they did not completely trust him. But, as the Rabbi had predicted, they had no other solution. They would give him the funds he was asking for. They would not be able to use those funds for a long time anyway. Because what he needed was diamonds. And Israel now had more diamonds than it knew what to do with. It would be years before the country could put back on the market half the reserves it had. And that was the beauty of his plan: he would use that fabulous reserve of precious gems without having to actually put them on the market!
Barely had the Rabbi left that second meeting, when he telephoned one of his agents in Lucerne.
"The first deposit will take place as planned, next week," he said.
He hung up.
One or two more calls, to make sure that the operations in Russia, Zaire and Australia were moving forward and he could leave. As for the rumours, they would begin to spread just a few hours after his departure.
***
The man from London took the plane almost immediately. He was satisfied. He had settled everything precisely as he had planned. One detail continued to bother him, though he could not exactly say why: that curious look that he had had the impression he spotted the old rabbi giving him. But he had not imagined it.
After a moment's hesitation, he decided to think about something else. He took the bluish stone from his pocket and looked at it in the light from the window. It was right that the magnificent stone belonged to him. He was Otto Oberkfeld.
But, above all, he was the Regent...© 2000 Éditions Alire & Jean-Jacques Pelletier
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