A gold buyer visits many gold camps in Northern California where he is initially met by hostile miners who have guns aimed at him from behind trees, boulder and tents. During his buys he meets camp bosses, sexy camp girls, drug users and people who are not generally considered as being socially acceptable. Nothing during his buys in the States has prepared him for the dangers he is subject to in Africa. How can a person escape when he finds himself in dark Africa threatened by a member of the African Mafia who wants his diamonds and gold? There is nowhere to hide or anyone to turn to for help.

GOLD, DIAMONDS AND HELL

By Carl Tatus

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Carl Tatus
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-3836-6

Chapter One

Another horrendous morning in San Francisco, thought Clark as he slowly made his way down 17th street then even more slowly down Market Street towards the Embarcadero. Descending down the hill he saw the Civic Hall, among other buildings, rising above the ground fog-seemingly like tall monuments in a fog layered cemetery. On his car radio he listened to the great Tony Bennett singing "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." Clark always loved that song; especially when sung by the master himself.

Clark had no idea that events during the next four days would radically alter the course of his life; there would be a day in his future when he would pray to be back here in the "City by the Bay."

The rising sun burned off areas of the ground fog, separating them into small patches. One minute Clark would be in the fog, the next minute he was in the sun. His 1967 Volkswagen Beatle was great for maneuverability and economy, but its low profile made driving in fog very difficult-and driving towards the sun equally difficult. The traffic increased the closer he got to the Moscone Convention Center. The usual traffic flowing in from Oakland, via the Oakland Bay Bridge, combined with the local city traffic thereby causing the usual morning traffic jamb. Clark looked for, and soon found, Grant Street going north to the business district below Nob Hill. He turned.

"If it isn't the fog or the sun in my eyes, it is these damn stop lights," Clark angrily uttered out loud after hitting several red lights in a row. More and more he was getting disgusted with the hassle of getting to work and then with his job once he got there. Being in the stock market business wasn't fun anymore since the market was in a decline. For the last six months his clients constantly complained about all the money they were losing. Most of them still made a profit on the selling of their stock but not what they would have made if they had listened to him and sold their stock when he suggested.

His clients were not the only ones complaining. Overall sales volume had dropped considerably as buyers became more cautious about investing in the market. His boss, being concerned about the decreasing income from commissions generated by stock sales, was constantly pushing for more sales, even of borderline stocks, to make up for the decreasing revenue. Some of the stocks the boss wanted pushed would not have been considered portfolio material six months ago. Clark refused to push stocks that he knew were "dogs."

After the fifth red light, he finally arrived at the building where he worked on the 10th floor. Turning into the entrance leading to the building's underground parking facilities, he looked at his wrist watch and saw that he was eighteen minutes late. I guess I'm going to get a ration of shit from J.P., he concluded. J.P., Clark's boss, had been becoming more and more arbitrary each day. He demanded that all employees report early to work, at least by 7:30 a.m., and to stay as long as necessary to complete their work load.

Well, at least I'm here, Clark sighed, looking for his assigned parking spot. His sigh of relief was short lived. He let out a series of expletives when seeing his assigned parking spot was occupied by a fire red Porsche convertible. "God, I would like to find the owner of that car and jam his nose up his exhaust pipe," Clark said angrily as he searched for an empty spot.

The assigned spot was a perk which came with his position as Vice President and Senior Assistant Broker. The perk meant more to him than his title because it saved him a lot of time not having to look for a parking spot when running late. Some jerk occupying his assigned parking space caused him to lose three minutes looking for another, which he found on the fourth underground level. By the time he parked, waited for the slow moving elevator and ascended to the tenth floor, he was twenty-four minutes late.

Standing outside the massive double mahogany doors leading to the foyer where the receptionist was located, he stared at the initials "S.I.C." above the company's name "SAFE INVESTING CORPORATION" in gold letters. Taking a deep breath, he opened the doors and walked through.

"Good Morning", was the greeting by the pretty blond girl seated behind the reception desk. She wore a low cut yellow blouse and was leaning slightly over her desk thus displaying her well-tanned breasts. "Or should I say, 'Good Afternoon'?" she added with a snicker of a smile. Her name was June. She was hired only three weeks ago to replace the previous receptionist who left under strange circumstances. June was twenty-three years old with wide open blue eyes, manicured eyebrows, and an hour glass figure which she loved to display. Two days after being hired she let Clark know that she had the 'hots' for him. At first he was flattered but soon realized she had the 'hots' for anyone who had the power to get her a pay raise or a better position in the company. Frequently she made suggestive remarks, heavily on the risqu side, to him. Clark ignored her sexual antics. Disappointed by his lack of attention, one day she came right out and asked him if he would like to come to her apartment for dinner and "whatever". He explained that although she was good looking and well developed, he had a policy of not getting involved with his fellow workers. "No offense meant," he added. She became offended anyway and was noticeably upset with him. No one had ever refused what she had to offer-especially when she offered it with a full course meal.

Her attitude towards him changed considerably in the last two weeks. No longer coming on to him, she now made sarcastic remarks not caring whether they offended him or not. Clark made mention of her changed attitude to J.P. and was told that his job was to sell stock and to leave the personnel problems to him.

Unknown to Clark, two weeks previously June was working after the normal quitting time in order to catch up with her paper work. Busy filing folders in a cabinet located against the back of the reception room, she did not hear the door from the workroom open. J.P., who had an unusually tough day, stood there quietly watching her as she leaned way over to do her filing. The view of the back of her long shapely legs, starting from her spike heeled shoes to above her nylon stockings, and then past a few inches of flesh to her frilly black thong panties, was enhanced by her black skirt creeping high on her well developed ass. J.P., although being somewhat old, could not resist the opportunity to enjoy the view displayed.

June heard the heavy breathing, turned around to see from whom it came and saw J.P. standing there bug-eyed. Startled, she dropped a folder scattering the papers in it on the floor. Leaning over to pick up the papers, she gave the boss a most desired view of her assets. "Let me help," offered J.P. as he got on one knee facing the view presented. The girl, seeing the rising excitement of her boss, took advantage of the situation and soon they made love on the leather couch in the foyer. When J.P. got home he took a shower and went to bed telling his wife he had a good but strenuous day and was tired. When June got to her apartment, she took a shower, had a couple glasses of wine, and retired knowing she did a good job for the boss. The old boy was pretty good, she concluded.

Their activities were repeated several times since that day. June's fellow workers noticed that she suddenly had a rather strong influence on J.P. and, although still the receptionist, she received a good pay increase and a parking spot. They, of course, started speculating about the relationship. The word was soon out that J.P. would not tolerate any criticism of his new found charm.

"J.P. is waiting for you, and I must say, he is pretty angry about you being late again," June told Clark.

"Yeah, yeah," responded Clark, knowing that she was a direct link to the boss. "Some person with a red Porsche was in my parking spot."

"That must be the new guy the boss hired. Rumor has it that he is a really hotshot, high-pressure salesman. Not only that, but he is very good looking and built like a stud." Clark never understood how a guy could look like a stud with his clothes on.

"They all start out that way," Clark commented sarcastically as he opened a door with a sign on it indicating 'Stock Transaction Room-Authorized Personnel Only.' Immediately after opening the door, he could hear the constant hum of noise generated by a room full of people. It was a room full of activities. Agents at their desks were talking to clients by telephone offering stock market information and taking orders to buy or sell. Others in the room were communicating with each other via their intercoms, seeking or giving information. There was a large panel, six feet by eight feet against one wall. The panel had a ribbon of lights displaying stock symbols and prices. Next to the stock price were red and green bulbs followed by another set of figures. If the red light was lit it meant the stock price was down the amount displayed; if the green light was lit it meant the stock price rose the amount indicated. Unfortunately there were more red lights than green ones lit.

Clark loved the activities and the noise in this room. It excited him as much as being at a race track and seeing his horse break out in front.

Stock purchases were frequently made involving margin buying. Specifically, this allowed buyers to purchase stock by providing less than the buying price in cash; the difference being the margin. The buyer had thirty days to come up with the amount still owed, or according to law, the broker was on the hook for the margin. J.P. found himself being forced to pay for an increasing number of margins thereby causing the company's cash position to slowly be depleted. 'No wonder the boss was acting strange lately,' thought Clark.

At the far end of the room were two independent offices, a large meeting room and a secretary's room leading to J.P.'s office. These offices were formed by walls separating them from each other and the transaction room. The walls were wooden for the first four feet of height and then had glass going to the ceiling. The half-walls facing the stock transaction room were painted a glossy white. The half-walls inside the offices were covered with veneered mahogany. Each office had an entrance to the large transaction room; all had windows with views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Chinatown, and the bay. The importance of the people using these offices was indicated by the sheer contrast of their offices and furniture to that in the large transaction room.

Clark walked down the aisle separating the rows of desks saying 'hello' to most of his coworkers; notably, only a few replied. Twenty feet from his office, Clark saw J.P. talking to a man who was sitting on the edge of his desk. As Clark entered his office the boss turned to him and said, "It's about time you got to work. What the hell is your reason for being late again?" Clark was surprised and embarrassed by the greeting; especially in front of the stranger. Without waiting for an answer the boss continued, "Whatever it is, it better be good. Did you close the Friskcolf deal?"

"I'm late because I spent half the night trying to get Mr. Friskcolf to buy a block of ADM. He must have decided the stock was not up to his standards because at the last minute he asked for a couple of days to think it over. Frankly, by the time I got home I was so tired I overslept an half hour this morning. To make matters worse, not only did I get tied up in some pretty bad traffic, but when I got here I found that some jerk parked in my parking space. It took me several minutes to find an empty one."

Clark did not tell J.P. about the hours he had spent during the past several nights developing a list of stock to present to Mr. David Jacobson, a man well known for his business acuteness and who, according to the "Daily Transcript", just sold a major shopping center in the suburbs for fifty million dollars. Obviously the man must be loaded with cash, Clark reasoned. If a meeting with the gentleman could be arranged, maybe he would invest in some of the stocks on Clark's list. The big problem was in getting to see Mr. Jacobson. Clark sent his list of suggested stocks to Mr. Jacobson as an introduction and requested a meeting at any time of his convenience. Normally one would not provide the names of stock in advance of a meeting for fear the potential client would just go ahead and buy the stock without going through the salesman, thereby eliminating the middle man's commission. From what Clark read about Mr. Jacobson, he felt very strongly that the gentleman could be trusted. Clark purposely did not tell J.P. about his project because if he did not get the meeting, at least J.P. would be none the wiser. On the other hand, if he was able to get Mr. Jacobson to buy a block of stock maybe J.P. would get off his back.

Clark was so deep in thought he hardly heard J.P. explain. "That guy is Steven," pointing to the man sitting on Clark's desk. "I told him he could use your parking spot when vacant." Then continuing he said, "Steven, this is Clark, the two of you will have to share his office for a while". Without waiting for a comment from Steven, J.P. turned to Clark, "You probably heard, I fired Mr. Smith yesterday-the old boy was just too outdated for aggressive sales. His office furniture is as outdated as he is and needs to be replaced. Tell the purchasing agent to order a new desk and chair and have them put in Smith's office. If all goes well, Steven will use that office when the furniture arrives. Meanwhile Clark, you can learn from Steven and maybe get back some of your aggressiveness by watching him."

"He can watch just so long as he keeps out of my way," Steven said to J.P. ignoring the fact that Clark was right there. Then addressing Clark he said, "My name is Steven, not Steve, and that is what I expect to be called. I understand you go by Clark?"

"Yes," said Clark, "and that is what I expect to be called."

There was no shaking of hands.

Sensing the 'I don't like this guy' vibrations from each, the boss left contented that he had created a brewing pot of competitiveness. 'I can't wait to see what is going to happen between those two guys,' thought the boss smiling as he left the room.

Chapter Two

"Now, if you will get off my desk, there is some work I have got to do," Clark stated in a forceful tone.

"Okay, okay," Steven agreed to Clark's request. "While waiting for my desk, which you have not ordered, I think I'll go down and hit on that blond receptionist. She sure has a 'pair.' How do you think she keeps them all tanned up? The weather in this city isn't exactly great for growing tomatoes."

Clark cracked a smile and said, "I don't know, maybe she paints them."

"Well, maybe I'll find out."

"What makes you think you can, even if you can get her to go out with you?"

"It's my Porsche convertible. Get a woman in a car like mine, lower the top, cruise around town for a little while, stop for a couple of drinks at a good bar with a jazz quartet, have dinner with a few more drinks, and she can't wait till you take her to the last stop-either a motel, hotel, or even her apartment. They are all the same. If they think you are rich and you treat them like a queen, they'll do anything just to keep you coming back."

"What happens if one, or several, of them pushes you to make your relationship permanent?" asked Clark.

"No problem, if one gets too serious I just tell her some story, like-I just got word that my divorce decree got screwed up and I am still married. Usually they quit bugging me when they hear that story."

"Are you married?"

"I was until my old lady caught me with her sister."

Hearing Steven boast, Clark felt this guy was just a B.S. artist trying to impress him. Still, he did have a red Porsche convertible and was, according to June, built like a stud. "Don't you want to know if she is available?" Clark asked.

"They are all available as far as I am concerned," Steven replied boasting. "I'll go and work on her now while you work on getting me that desk," Steven said departing. Clark did not tell Steve about the rumored relationship between June and J.P. 'Let the jerk find out for himself,' he thought.

Clark called the purchasing agent and asked him to get a good used desk for Mr. Smith's office. The purchasing agent acknowledged that he had heard a new man was hired and was to use Mr. Smith's old office when refurbished. However, he thought a new large oak desk was going to be requisitioned to replace the small one still there. "No," Clark told him. "A good used desk will be fine. Also, buy a desk sign with the name Steve for the new guy."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from GOLD, DIAMONDS AND HELLby Carl Tatus Copyright © 2009 by Carl Tatus. Excerpted by permission.
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