Dying to Live

Chapter 36 - Sparkling Conversation

Kevin is an engaging storyteller. This guy knows how to keep an audience entertained. We belly-laugh as he recalls the story of his trip to Rio. So much of it reminds me of my own ill-fated trip to Bangkok. Some of the details are alarmingly similar, particularly the under-blanket frolicking on the plane which sticks to my mind, for a couple of reasons. It would be fair to say that the mile-high club is going to become over-subscribed soon if that woman keeps on flying.

We listen to his travel show description of sightseeing in Rio; Sugarloaf Mountain, Christ the Redeemer and Copacabana Beach, to name but a few. His description of his day at the beach, while Hazel attended to business, rekindles memories of my adventure at Pattaya Beach; the adventure which netted me a cool hundred grand.

"Too much detail," says Marty when Kevin describes their night out at Centaurus, the most elite brothel in Rio. "Come on, pal, what about the diamonds?"

"Yeah, and what about the drugs?" I say.

"We only smoked weed, but it was great weed."

"No, I meant what about the drugs which Hazel planted on you?"

"I know," he says, "but I want to set the scene."

"Trust me, the scene is well and truly set and the audience is on the edge of its seat."

"Okay, the drugs first," says Kev, taking a sip of champagne and pausing like a TV talent show host trying to build up the tension. "I found them in my case, after my day out at Copacabana but I did nothing straight away. Hazel packed for both of us the night before we were leaving and I just waited until she was asleep. I slipped the drugs out of my case and into hers, couldn't have been easier. Next day, once we'd split up at the airport, I rang the customs people, from the throwaway phone I bought in Rio. I hung about long enough to watch her get picked up. God, you should have seen her protest; she was like a banshee on steroids. They dragged her away and that's the last I saw of her. I bet she'll be locked up for a long time, because there were a lot of drugs."

"Result," I say although something stirs in my gut. I'm not sure if it's to do with memories of my horrendous experience in the Bangkok jail, or sympathy for Hazel because deep down I still love her. "And what about the diamonds?"

"Better still," says Kev.

"How could it be better than the drugs result?"

He roots around in his backpack and produces a plastic souvenir bag; 'Rio Stones. Feel Like a Millionaire' proclaims the label.

"Fuck me," I say as he empties a stream of sparking stones onto the table. "Fuck me sideways."

Only an expert can tell the difference between real diamonds and cubic zirconium. A customs officer would assume this was, as the bag says, a load of fake gems but I can tell there are loads of genuine diamonds here. I begin to sort through them, separating the horde into two piles, real and fake. The number of real stones is unbelievable, there must be over a million-quid's worth.

Kevin watches me sort, a grin spreads over his face.

"I took all the diamonds," he says. "I took the MIB diamonds as well." He sits back in his chair sipping champagne. He looks like the Cheshire Cat that got the double cream and the cheese.

"You did what?"

"I took the lot. It was so perfect, just like we planned. Hazel went to the loo before we split up at the airport so I said I'd look after the diamonds rather than her take them into the Ladies."

"So why the hell didn't you just take the dodgy diamonds?"

"It was too good a chance. It was actually easier to take all the diamonds and replace them with a couple of handfuls of fakes. By the time she came back, they were all wrapped up, and she wasn't going to check them again. Why would she?"

"Nice one," says Marty high-fiving Kevin.

"You fucking idiot," I say. "This is a disaster. MIB won't rest until they've tracked us down. I told you we didn't want to get on the wrong side of those psychopaths."

"No, that's where you're wrong. I did put a little thought into this. MIB will think Hazel or the dealer were responsible, I mean, I wasn't even there. Who's going to tell them any different? Hazel from her prison cell? Richard? He'll want to keep as low a profile as possible."

"Anyway," chips in Marty, who seems to have got swept up by this act of lunacy, "if the rest of our plan works out, Richard will be in prison soon too."

Bile rises in my throat. I swallow hard, trying to stop myself vomiting. Thinking straight isn't an option, a red mist has filled my brain, my fingers are numb and I actually begin to sway in my seat. Vomit or faint, my body seems unsure which to choose... so it goes with both.

Black turns to light as I open my eyes. A puddle of vomit warms my face. Helping me to the bathroom, Marty tells me how funny it was watching me slither off the seat while I boked up a puddle of vomit to slide into. He leaves me to clean myself up while he goes to clean up his carpet.

"That was bizarre," says Kevin as I return to the room. A sip of champagne gets rid of the bitter taste in my mouth, well, it gets rid of most of it. A second sip finishes the job.

"I'm scared," I say. "You guys have no idea what a vicious organisation MIB can be. I've heard rumours about beatings and even castrations."

"Bollocks," says Kevin. "I've heard those rumours too but I don't believe a word of them. I reckon they're just stories put about to frighten people. I mean, they're bound to be insured against such losses so why would they care that much?"

"Yeah," says Marty, "just rumours to scare people; people like you, Dave."

"Bottom line is it doesn't matter now," says Kev. "The dirty deed's been done, we can't undo it."

"That's true, Dave. We are where we are, so let's plan accordingly."

My mind is racing, I still can't think straight. Half of my brain is thinking about what castration would feel like, while the other half is thinking Kevin might be right. Maybe MIB will blame Hazel, and Richard if they find out what his little scam was. And the dealer's position isn't great either, considering he was in on the scam.

Anyway, one fact is indisputable, we are where we are. I look at the pile of genuine diamonds; it's a big pile, my best guess is they're worth eight to nine hundred thousand on the grey market; the sparkly grey market.

"Seriously, Dave, think about it," says Kevin. "There's nothing to link us to the diamonds. Maybe Hazel could implicate me but you guys have nothing to worry about."

"Unless they catch you and make you talk."

"Guys, guys," says Marty. "The point is, there's nothing we can do about the fact we have their diamonds so let's plan with that in mind. How are we going to cash in on this and stay out of the clutches of MIB... if they even have clutches?"

"He's right, Dave. This is a golden opportunity, well, a sparkling opportunity, let's make the most of it."

"I know, but..."

"Look," says Kev. "Here's the story. Hazel's been caught with drugs and a bagful of fake diamonds; diamonds which were meant to be a genuine shipment for MIB. Did she sell the real diamonds to buy the drugs? Is the rest of the diamond money hidden in a bank account somewhere? And she couldn't do this alone, could she, so maybe she's in bed with her lover – see what I did there – and who's her lover? Well, well, well, against all the company's protocols, it's her boss, Richard Foster. Oh, and Richard's got a gambling problem, and some unaccounted-for money in the bank. If I was MIB, I know where I'd be looking."

"And if we can follow through on the rest of our plan and plant drugs on Richard, that's even more 'evidence' against him," chips in Marty.

"Okay," I say, "let's do this." After all, what choice do we have?

"Good man," says Marty. "Oh, and Kev, how did the wedding go? Any plans for the honeymoon?"