The Diamond Hunters

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His flight had been delayed for three hours at Nairobi, and despite four large whiskies he slept only fitfully until the intercontinental Boeing touched down at Heathrow. Johnny Lance felt as though someone had thrown a handful of grit in each eye, and his mood was ugly as he came through the indignity of Customs and Immigration into the main hall of the international terminus.

The Van Der Byl Diamond Company’s London agent was there to meet him.

“Pleasant trip, Johnny?”

“Like the one to Hell,“Johnny grunted.

“Good practice for you.” The agent grinned. The two of them had seen some riotous times together.

Reluctantly Johnny grinned back at him.

“You got me a room and a car?”

“Dorchester - and Jag.” The agent handed over the car keys. “And I’ve got two first-class seats reserved on tomorrow’s nine o’clock flight back to Cape Town. Tickets at the hotel reception desk.”

“Good boy.” Johnny dropped the keys into the pocket of his cashmere overcoat and they started for the exit. “Now where is Tracey van der Byl?” The agent shrugged. “Since I wrote to you she has dropped out of sight. I don’t know where you can start looking.”

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