Death is Forever

wave, a curling line of extraordinary rough stones ran the length of the DSD’s conference table. Like water itself, the first impression was of transparency flushed with blue, yet there were rainbows trapped within. Rising like bubbles amid the clear foam were flashes of chrome yellow and vivid pink, and exclamation points of a green so pure it had to been seen and touched and held to be believed.
    Cole shook the last stone from the battered rucksack and walked the length of the long polished table where crystal ashtrays, sparkling water, and ballpoint or fountain pens awaited the pleasure of the members of the diamond cartel. He nodded slightly to Chen Wing, who was pulling BlackWing’s “prayer” from a sleek leather folder.
    Saying nothing to the other people who were staring in shock at the centerpiece he’d poured down the table, Cole went to the chair that had been placed at his request along the wall rather than at the table.
    A rising hum of excitement ran through the room.
    Mr. Feinberg picked up a pink stone the size of his thumb, pulled a loupe from his pocket, and began muttering in reverent Dutch.
    Nan Faulkner gave Cole a shuttered glance, poured a glass of ice water, drank it, and walked over to him.
    “I didn’t know Street was compromised,” she said bluntly.
    She spoke in a voice that carried no further than his ears. Not that she needed to worry about being overheard. The cartel members were still transfixed by Cole’s casual display of incredible rough goods.
    For a long moment Cole looked at Faulkner with eyes that were as hard and emotionless as the clear stones he had dragged from beneath the relentlessly rising black water.
    “That’s what Matt told me,” Cole said finally. “If he believes you after the stunt you pulled with that forged letter and house arrest, I guess I can.”
    “Does that mean you’ll extend your agreement with DSD?” Faulkner asked quickly. “Three years ain’t shit in the diamond trade and you know it.”
    “That’s up to my partner.”
    “Mother of God,” Faulkner muttered. “Erin refuses to see me or any representative of DSD.”
    “Do you blame her? You nearly got her killed.”
    With a narrow black look, Faulkner turned away.
    “Faulkner.”
    Warily she turned back and faced Cole, warned by the quality of his voice.
    “Don’t get in Erin’s way again,” he said.
    “I hear you, babe.” Faulkner grimaced. “I heard Matt, too. But both of you would make life a hell of a lot safer for everyone—especially Erin—if you’d get her off the goddamn dime!”
    With ill-concealed frustration, Faulkner stalked to the head of the conference table, lit a cigarillo, and opened a beautifully worked Moroccan leather folder. Instantly the room became still but for the soft rustle of prayers being passed up to her and the muted crystal music of stones being returned to the center of the table. Faulkner blew out a stream of smoke, set the cigarillo in a crystal ashtray, and began gathering up the prayers.
    “Before I proceed to the business of the day,” Faulkner said, stacking the prayers neatly in front of her, “Mrs. van Luik asked me to express her thanks for your sympathy at the tragic death of her husband. It’s times like this when you find out who your friends are.”
    Cole didn’t see the black sideways glance Faulkner threw in his direction. He was doing what he’d done many times since Erin had walked out of his life. He was staring at the green diamond she’d given him to seal their bargain. The stone had been extraordinary in the rough. Shaped, polished, and set in a brushed-platinum band, the tear-shaped diamond was a brilliant green flame burning with every dream, every secret, every hope of man.
    Slowly his hand clenched around the ring until the stone’s unfeeling edges bit into his flesh.
    “You’ll be pleased to know that a scholarship has been set up in Mr. van Luik’s name,” Faulkner continued. “The money will be used to train promising young geology students who wish to specialize in the discovery and utilization of diamond mines. Bringing such mines into production in an orderly, rational manner is crucial to maintaining stable prices in the diamond market. At a time when economic regimes are collapsing more quickly than we could have imagined a few years ago, maintaining DSD’s stability is pivotal to the economic hopes of many nations.”
    She flicked her cigarillo against the crystal ashtray, opened a folder,