Jigsaw Lovers (26 page)

He watched it again, pausing at a number of frames to look in more detail at the young lady.

His opinion of Smith took a further decline as the video continued. He learnt that Smith viewed him personally as a doddery old coot, who was going senile. He also had a very low opinion of the way in which the Bank’s management, both at this branch and at head office, operated. But a more serious aspect was Smith discussing with this woman, confidential details about individual clients and their accounts.

Returning to his office he picked up the telephone, dialled Smith’s extension and summoned him immediately.

‘Come with me,’ he said without greeting, as he led the way into the training room.

‘I received this in the mail this morning. Maybe you’d like to explain what’s going on.’ He pushed the play button and sat down to observe Smith’s reaction.

Smith was horrified. As he watched the video the blood drained from his face, and his hands trembled. He remembered that particular Saturday afternoon clearly. The video had been cleverly edited to give maximum impact and emphasis to the matter of his arranging an overdraft for her. There were none of the bits where he was expressing doubts or her reluctance to involve him. It looked as though he had offered the money without any initiative from her. And, as for the comments about Stephanus and the Bank, he was in serious trouble.

The video came to an end. Both men sat perfectly still and silent for some time.

Then Stephanus stood. ‘I’m not that concerned about what you think of me. I’m sure you’re not the only one to hold such views. I am a little surprised though. I’d expected better of you. There are more serious matters at issue here.’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Smith mumbled.

‘Is the woman a client of the Bank?’ He cleaned his glasses on his handkerchief.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Who is she?’

‘Her name’s Diana Johnston.’

‘And how long has this – this affair been going on between you? He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

‘Three months, sir.’

‘I am right in assuming that you didn’t arrange a facility for this young lady.’ It was more of a statement than a question. ‘That it was no more than just pillow-talk.’

Smith could hardly speak. ‘No, sir, you’re not.’

‘What do you mean, “No, sir, you’re not”?’ he asked the question very quietly, with a sense of foreboding as to what the answer was going to be.

‘I authorised a facility for her.’ There was a tone of resignation in his voice as he realised the terrible situation he was in. Stephanus noticed that Smith’s hands were shaking.

‘When did this happen?’

‘Six weeks ago.’

‘I’ve seen nothing about a facility of that size in the last month. Something like that would have to be authorised by me.’

‘You weren’t here.’ Smith held his hands together in an effort to stop them shaking. ‘I spread the amount over three different accounts. That way I didn’t need higher authorisation. I could approve the amounts myself.’

‘I’m going to have to report this irregularity to head office, I’m afraid.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘In the meantime we’ll cancel the facilities, before things get any further out if hand.’

‘It’s not that easy, sir.’

‘Meaning?’ He asked in a menacing tone.

‘She’s already taken the money.’

‘Then we’ll put a hold on her account. She can’t have spent that much already.’

‘She took the money in cash, sir.’

‘Cash? What do you mean cash? Cash cash?’

‘Yes, sir. She took it all in cash.’

‘What!’ Stephanus lost his temper that he had managed, up until this moment, to hold in check. Ultimate responsibility rested with him. ‘Are you telling me you gave this woman one million rand in cash? In cash! Didn’t it seem unusual to you?’ He smashed his fist down on the table.

‘She was very convincing at the time.’

‘I bet she was, you fool.’

‘I thought I knew her well enough to trust her.’

Regaining his composure Stephanus sat down and took a deep breath.

‘I think you’d better tell me everything that has happened, and I mean everything. After I’ve heard what you have to say we’ll take it from there.’

For the first time in almost two months Smith found himself in a position to share his problems with someone else. It was with relief that he began to tell his story. Hesitant at first, his reluctance faded and soon he was pouring out the entire sequence of events that led up to this morning’s meeting.

He told of how Diana came to the Bank to invest money, how they began having an affair, how he had fallen in love with her, how he was going to leave his wife, and how he had been convinced that the franchise plan was a sound investment. He went on to describe the arrival of the jigsaw photograph and the CD, Diana’s disappearance and the complete transformation of her apartment.

Stephanus listened attentively, and carefully observed the man in front of him. It was a most intriguing tale, which stretched the limits of credibility. His first reaction had been that Smith had set out, with this woman as an accomplice, to perpetrate a fraud on the Bank.

However, as he listened, the experience which a lifetime of meeting people, of all different types, had given him, convinced him that John Smith was telling the truth; that Smith and the Bank were the victims of an ingenious, well-crafted and cleverly executed scheme, which had defrauded the Bank of
one million rand.

Smith stopped talking. He felt exhausted from the effort of reliving the last four and a half months.

Stephanus walked over to the DVD player and ejected the disk. He placed it on the table in front of his assistant manager.

‘Has it occurred to you that this didn’t just happen?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Smith was bewildered and uncomprehending.

‘You’ve been set up from the very beginning.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Somebody’s planned this with meticulous attention to detail.’

‘They’ve used me to help them rob the Bank of a million rand. It was so easy. I fell for the woman the moment I laid eyes upon her,’ he said almost reminiscing. ‘I was and still am in love with her. I was going to leave Catherine, once Diana came back.’

‘But there’s more to it than that,’ mused Stephanus. ‘Why should they go to all the effort of sending you pieces of a photograph? Then a CD. Why did I receive this video?’

‘Somebody is trying to blackmail me.’ Smith said.

‘If they were trying to do that they wouldn’t have involved me. They’ve already got the money.’

‘Maybe they’re going to demand more money.’

‘What is the point of sending you and me these photos and the video?’

There was a knock on the door. It was the manager’s secretary.

‘Sorry to disturb you sir, but there’s a special delivery for Mr Smith.’

‘Oh thank you. Would you bring it in please.’

‘That might be a bit difficult, sir. It’s rather large. It’s downstairs in the main-banking hall.’

‘Well how big is it?’ asked Smith.

‘Big, sir. It won’t fit through this door.’ she said sizing up the aperture.

‘Very well.’ Stephanus rose and headed for the doorway. ‘Come, let’s see what’s arrived.’

James had sat outside the Bank all morning from nine o’clock. He was wearing a discreet flesh-coloured earpiece, but unlike a normal hearing aid this one was connected to a high-powered miniaturised receiver recorder. It had picked up the entire conversation between Smith and Stephanus, which had been transmitted from a small microphone hidden in the casing of the DVD, that had been sent to Stephanus the previous day.

On the basis of this conversation he decided that it would be appropriate to send in the card. The two men had been waiting in a truck, parked around the corner, with it all morning. The man who was going to compère the little show that had been planned for Mr Smith was also ready. It was the beginning of lunch time and the Bank was full of people.

The timing could not have been more perfect.

From mid-way down the staircase that led from the first floor into the main banking hall they could see that a large crowd had gathered. It was lunch time and the Bank was filled with customers going about their business.

In front of the enquiries desk in the centre of the hall there was a huge package, being held up by two men. It was like a giant-sized envelope. At a rough guess Smith estimated it to be two metres high and 4 metres wide. It was wrapped in brown paper and around it from top to bottom and from left to right ran a wide red ribbon, and which culminated in an enormous bow.

Across the package in hand-painted letters a foot high was written ‘
JOHN SMITH – HAPPY ANNIVERSARY
’.

Smith walked down the last few stairs in a trance-like state. He was dreading what would be revealed when the wrapping paper was removed.

To one side of the package stood a man in a tuxedo and red bow-tie. In his hand he held a cordless microphone. To his left was an amplified portable speaker. He recognised John Smith as he came down the stairs from the photograph he had been given earlier. He began to speak.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.’

His voice boomed out from the speaker. The hall became quiet. All activity came to a standstill. All the tellers and Bank’s employees were looking at the huge package. Staff from the first floor crowded the stairs.

‘Today the assistant manager of this branch, John Smith, celebrates his fifteenth wedding anniversary. We have been asked to deliver this very special card to him, from a very special lady.’

There were murmurs of how sweet and how nice from the crowd, and then someone started clapping.

‘Mr Smith, will you come over here please and open your card?’ The master of ceremonies walked towards him and before he could do anything Smith was being ushered over to the huge card.

‘Just pull the ribbon, sir.’

In a trance-like state Smith reached up and pulled one of the ends of the big red bow. It undid with ease and slid to the floor. As it did so the brown wrapping paper also tumbled off, to reveal an enormous high-quality photograph.

Smith recognised it as the one that had previously been sent to him in pieces, except here two cartoon style speech bubbles had been added.

She was saying, ‘
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, DARLING
’, and his reply was, ‘
BUT YOU’RE NOT MY WIFE!
’

Initially the crowd laughed and clapped, especially those customers whose accounts were handled by Mr Smith. Then it became apparent that Smith was not enjoying the gift. He turned and staggered through the people, heading slowly up the stairs to seek sanctuary in his office. He noticed the smirks and smiles that his colleagues were unable to keep off their faces. These were the same expressions he’d noticed in the last two days. He realised then that they already knew, that they had seen the picture before.

Stephanus went over to the man in the bow-tie.

‘I’d like to talk to you. Will you come to my office?’ the man nodded. Turning to the other two holding the card Stephanus told them to remove it from his bank immediately.

‘Well, was that your idea of a joke?’ he asked as he closed his office door.

‘I had no idea what was in the package.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘It’s my living. I’m a master of ceremonies. You know, weddings, parties, company do’s, etc,’ he said. ‘Here’s my card, if you don’t believe me, or, if you ever need an MC for a bash.’

Stephanus took the card. ‘Who paid you for this morning’s little show?’

‘I had a phone call from a woman called Mrs Smith. Said it was their anniversary and she wanted to do something special and out of the ordinary. She wanted to deliver a big card to her husband. I was told to turn up here at twelve, with the portable speaker, and I’d be told what to do.’

‘What did the woman look like?’ asked Stephanus. He knew Catherine Smith quite well.

‘Never met her. When I got here there were those two holding the card on the pavement outside, and another chap who gave me R1500, a photograph of Mr Smith and the speech he wanted me to make. You know the rest.’

Stephanus realised it was pointless talking further with this man. He was telling the truth. He was just another pawn in the game to discredit John Smith. But for what reason?

Stephanus had found Smith, somewhat dazed, head in hands, sitting at his desk in his office. Even his own authority had been insufficient to restrain the atmosphere of hilarity and knowing glances that were now being exchanged openly by his staff. He realised that he needed to find out what, exactly, was going on, and take measures to reassert his control.

‘John, you know I don’t normally, but I think after what’s happened this morning, we should go and have a drink.’ Stephanus was showing genuine concern despite what had been revealed to him.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Smith replied as though far away.