Authors: Vish Dhamija
'So what are you suggesting?'
'I buy ten million worth — provided they are what we want — and get billed for close to five million.'
'That's a whopping fifty percent discount.'
'It's not a discount Leonard, it's the value declared. It also helps you to get rid of the unaccounted merchandise you hold, so it's a win-win, isn't it?'
Aaron smiled. If he had thought he could swindle this Indian for extra money for under-billing, he had grossly overshot.
Jogani smiled back. 'Could I see the diamonds now?'
'Yes, of course.' Aaron nodded and, after both the men had finished their coffees, he pressed the buzzer under the table. The door to the dark wainscoted room opened and a blond girl walked in. She acknowledged Jogani with a smile before Aaron said something to her in French or Flemish, Jogani couldn't be bothered; he was intensely admiring the girl's pert rump. She scuttled out and returned almost immediately with a tan suede spread that she unfolded on the table and left the room once again.
Aaron waited to see her leave and then got up. He walked to the door, locked it. The switch to open one of the panels only activated after the room was locked from inside. A naked eye browsing through the room would have certainly missed that one of the walls concealed a vault. Aaron kept his camels tied too. Behind the panel was a substantial safe that required a key, a numerical combination and Aaron's fingerprints to open. He deftly opened the safe, not giving his client any opportunity to see what else was in the safe, removed a small pouch and shut it back. Locked.
Jogani withdrew his loupe as Aaron sat down again, opened the velvety pouch and let the sparklers roll out on the suede. In all, there were twenty rocks. If someone wanted to learn how to shrink cash, this was a crash course. Jogani was well versed with diamonds. Diamonds are valued on cut, clarity, colour and carats. And their imperfections. He looked for the imperfections first. He spent the next two hours in silence, studying the twenty diamonds — varying from a single carat to a little over six carats —with Aaron quietly watching him.
'Fantastic, Leonard.' He finally pocketed the loupe after he couldn't find a reason to reject any of the rocks presented. Aaron wasn't here to play games.
'It's always a pleasure to be at the service of my clients.' Aaron picked up the largest diamond — a six point something carat rock — and superciliously looked at it in the light. The sparkle was worth killing for.
'What's the total price?'
Aaron kept looking through the rock he had picked up. 'I couldn't get the exact pieces to balance your order. These are worth hundred thousand over ten million.'
'I'll give you fifty over.'
'Done. Only because you're an old client, Ron.'
'And a loyal one at that. What's your account number?' Jogani pulled out his wallet and extracted a card that had nothing except a number embossed on it; the number of his relationship manager at his private bank in Switzerland.
Aaron scribbled a number on the pad in front and pushed it towards his client: his account details to transfer the funds into.
***
Jogani was back in the car a little after
5 PM
.
The diamonds were in a black crocodile leather briefcase — gifted to him by Aaron — biometrically locked and placed under the front seat, accessible only to him from the rear seat he sat in. The briefcase wasn't an off-the-shelf one, the leather was only a veneer; it was made from a single piece of reinforced steel and the handle was an inherent part of the structure, not a bolt on. His little strolley-bag was in the boot of the car. Jogani asked Aaron's chauffeur to drop him at the Hilton at Place Charles Rogier. He tipped the driver, picked up his briefcase and placing it on top of his luggage dragged it on wheels like a wayfarer. The insouciant driver in livery didn't even look back, but Jogani wasn't risking it. What if he did? He walked in and stood in the queue at reception, waited a few minutes till he saw Aaron's car roll away, then briskly walked out of the hotel without looking up or causing any suspicion. He walked about fifty metres and turned left on to Bolwerklaan. Another hundred metres and he was at his destination: Crowne Plaza. He checked-in at the reception, collected his key, whistled like a carefree soul and took the elevator up.
Jogani looked around before inserting the key card in room 513 to check if he was being watched though he had no reason to be paranoid. No one knew he was here. No one knew about the diamonds. Nothing seemed odd, no one besides him in the corridor.
***
What he missed was an eye keenly glued to the eyehole of the door directly opposite his. The occupant/s of room 514 had been informed that the target was on the way. Those in room 514 had been busy from noon, since they had checked into the hotel. They had accomplished finding, and then distracting the housekeeping service maid long enough to exchange their room key for the master key, got into room 513, installed four high sensitivity cameras in existing electrical fittings to capture images in low light, unbolted the standard hotel room safe and replaced it with the one they carried. If Jogani secured the diamonds in the hotel safe, irrespective of the code, they had the key. They had even chicaned the security cameras of the hotel. The digital security cameras had been frozen and were now replaying the live feed from exactly twenty-four hours prior. But unless someone compared them to the real scene outside, who was to know? The time stamp only showed the hours and minutes, not the date. When all was accomplished and the diamond heist worth circa five million reported they would have no one on camera to go after. Now, all that remained was to wait for the quarry to leave the room on his own for a drink or dinner or to ensure that he was somehow drawn out from the room for enough time for them to collect the diamonds, disconnect his room phone — they would also ensure the lifts wouldn't respond immediately — and exit the hotel before he could physically get down to the reception to raise the alarm. However, they had to wait for darkness to fall, and the traffic to wane for the escape plan to work.
The cameras installed in room 513 had started relaying activities of room 513 to room 514.
Jogani walked into the room, closed the door, double locked and engaged the door chain and looked around. It didn't appear that he had found anything off kilter. It was reasonable to expect him to go straight to the — unbeknown to him, new — safe, extract the diamonds from wherever he had them and lock them there. So far so good, but the briefcase wasn't anticipated in the plan since Jogani hadn't carried one from Mumbai. Where the fuck had he got it from? Instead of heading to the safe, Jogani went directly to the bed, used his index finger to open the biometric lock on the briefcase and removed a pair of shiny handcuffs. He attached one cuff to the handle of the briefcase and clicked it shut, and then locked it with a combination — so even that wasn't a bare standard handcuff that typically had a universal key. He looked around the room, found nothing he could attach the other side of the cuff to. He moved into the bathroom — there was a camera implanted there too — and behind the commode he found what he appeared to be looking for. He placed the briefcase on the floor and secured the other cuff to the chrome water inlet and charily locked it with a combination too. He forcefully yanked at the briefcase to check if it was fortified. Holy Fuck!
***
18:30 Hours: Jogani lay on his bed and the television was on. Fatigue had started catching up; he had been up since last night, save some sleep on the flight. He had looked into the drink cabinet and decided he should take it easy. He had to get up early tomorrow morning to allow himself enough time to get to the airport. And although he had no reason to suspect someone was watching him or the merchandise that he carried, it was still simply good caution not to be tanked-up when you were responsible for merchandise of that value. Having flicked through channels, he decided nothing was sufficiently interesting for him to watch. He picked up the menu. The restaurants below had some appetizing French classics, but he wasn't keen to step out of the room leaving the diamonds even though they were fastened. Carrying them around didn't appear a sound option either. Room service, like anywhere else in the world, listed appetite-subsiding sandwiches.
He glanced at his Rolex again. The entire process of securing the diamonds, channel hopping, menu thrashing had consumed all of fifteen minutes, and he had another few hours to kill till sleep knocked him out.
The drinks cabinet suddenly looked appealing. Belgium, he knew, was famous for its beers: Hoegaarden, Leffe Brune, Leffe Blond, Rochefort all adorned the little refrigerator. Conscious that he hadn't tasted Rochefort before, he pulled out the bottle and came back to the bed.
It was nine-thirty and he lay on his bed in his boxers enjoying the late night film he'd paid for, one that was graphically amorous enough to stir him. He had chomped on the sandwich and fries he had ordered from room service, consumed six beers and was ready to tuck in. He called Reception and requested a wake-up call for six in the morning, then additionally set the morning alarm for 6:15 on his bedside clock and dozed off with the telly on.
***
Jogani did not appear to have any inkling that the prominent flickering of light from the screen would indicate to the observers that the room lights had been switched off and that the target had turned in. Thank you very much!
***
Jogani woke up to his bedside phone shrilling. Coming out of his stupor he read the display: Reception. He reckoned it was morning already and this was his wake-up call till he looked at the time: 00:03. They better have a good reason for this, he thought and picked up the receiver.
'Sorry to bother you at this hour Mr Jogani, but could you come down to the reception please?'
'You got to be kidding me, it's midnight for God's sake.'
'I know that sir, and I wouldn't have called you at this hour if it wasn't urgent and important,' the receptionist politely responded.
'What's the urgency? Is there a fire in the building?'
'Nothing of that sort sir.'
'What
is
the problem then?'
'This is a reputable hotel sir, and it's against policy to invite escorts into your room—'
'Excuse me? Who's called for an escort?'
'It seems that you called her, sir. We have here... a lady of suspicious character...' there was a pause, like the receptionist was looking at the lady in question, ' .. .somewhat inappropriately clad, and she is looking for you.'
'For me?'
'Yes sir, she asked for you by name.'
'There must be some mistake. I didn't call for any escort, you can send her back.'
'Mr Jogani, she even knew your room number, and our records show that you made a call at seven minutes past eleven…'
'I made no such calls, in fact I didn't make any calls whatsoever.' Jogani could sense his temper and voice rising. Wary that he might disturb people in the nearby rooms, he lowered his voice. 'There must be some mistake. Listen—'
'I'm afraid Mr Jogani, if you do not come down to the reception right away I'll have no choice but to call the police.' The receptionist did not raise his voice but there was certainly a hint of menace in it.
'OK, I'll be down. Hold her there, I would also like to know who called her.'
'Certainly sir, she isn't going anywhere.'
Jogani rubbed his eyes. Was it some hooker from his last visit who had seen him in Brussels today? He thought about other possibilities as he put on his jeans and T-shirt and glanced in the bathroom. The briefcase was safely tucked away. This should be a quick conversation, there seemed no need to unlock and carry the briefcase with him downstairs to Reception at this hour.
***
In room 514 they waited for the elevator door to close, and the moment it chimed they knew the target was now away. They sprang into action.
No time to squander.
***
Jogani seethed as he rushed out of the lift on the ground floor and headed to Reception only to find it unattended. There was a bell kept on the desk that he fisted repeatedly, till it sounded like continuous trill and not staccato tings, to beckon the receptionist who had awakened him and roused him out of his bed just minutes ago, and had now appeared to have gone missing from his post.
'How may I help you sir?' The receptionist yawned and sounded sleepy.
'I'm Ron Jogani — you just called me in room 513 and told me there was someone down here to see me.'
The receptionist looked perplexed. 'Sorry sir…
I
called you? I didn't call anyone.' He glanced around to see if someone was around who might have used the unattended phone at the desk. No one. The hotel's main entrance was locked. Anyone arriving this late needed to buzz to gain entry.
'Then who called me?' Jogani gave a once over. 'Who else has been manning this desk?'
'I don't know sir. I'm the only one on duty and I made no calls.'
'The call was from reception, I saw the display...' Jogani realised mid-sentence that he had been deked. He had made a huge mistake by falling for — what now sounded like — some kind of a trap. The rage morphed into nervous energy as he turned around and ran to the elevators making his second mistake of the day, which he didn't realise, and it was a mistake he would never get time to regret.
He didn't think about the odds that someone who had deked him out of his room at midnight to burgle diamonds was unarmed? None. But his mind wasn't thinking how deleterious his next move could be. He could only feel cold tiny rivulets running down his back. Cold sweat.
He hurried out of the elevator car and darted to his room, swiped the key, opened the door and shut it behind him immediately.
***
But it was too late. The invader in room 514 had already been informed about Jogani's truncated visit to the reception.
Even when it is most meticulously planned there are so many things that can go wrong in a burglary. Like in this case they hadn't planned to kill but there was no other way to jettison Jogani now. There was no other way if they were to finish their job. There hadn't been a plan B. There was no plan to eliminate Jogani, but the bald truth was that Ron Jogani was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Only this time it was fatal. The coda was as dramatic as it is meant to be — sepulchral sound of two bullets muffled by a silencer.