Death is Forever

over one carat after they’ve been cut and polished. In other words, less than two-tenths of one percent of a diamond mine’s entire output ends up bigger than a carat of gem goods. Of those, only a goddam small percentage of that is D flawless.”
    Erin blinked and looked at the diamonds. They were a lot bigger than a carat.
    “I’m too old to be a top color sorter any more,” Faulkner continued, “but I’d bet my firstborn that all but one of those whites is a D. D or not, the bastards will be flawless when they’re cut. Rare diamonds. Very, very goddamn rare.”
    Windsor grunted.
    “Yeah,” Faulkner said. “But that’s not the worst of it. When it comes to fancies, you have to invent another word for rare. That’s what makes this pile of stones so dangerous. If they were just big and flawless, ConMin would still be able to beat you into line with Namibia’s stones. But Namibia has nothing like these. Nobody does. That green is absolutely singular.”
    After a moment of silence, Faulkner turned away from the beautiful, dangerous stones and looked at Windsor. “We should have brought a couple of marines. This is worse than anybody thought. And,” she smiled coldly, “better, too. I’ve waited a long, long time to get van Luik where the hair is short.”
    “Are you the agency’s resident diamond expert?” Erin asked.
    Faulkner hesitated, then shrugged. “Matt says you can be trusted. I hope he’s right. At the moment I’m a government consultant to the biggest American jewelry trade association. The job requires that I work with a company that can’t operate directly in America because monopolies are illegal here.”
    Erin felt the floor shift beneath her feet as she was drawn back into the forest of mirrors that was international power politics. Her father’s world.
    Seven years ago that world had nearly destroyed her.
    “Have you had them certified?” Faulkner asked, gesturing to the diamonds.
    Erin shook her head. “Dad said to stay put. I did.”
    Faulkner smiled at Windsor. “You were right.”
    “Now that we’ve established that I’m a good little girl,” Erin said coolly, “tell me why it matters.”
    “The diamond world is wired together like a power grid,” Faulkner said. “You walk into the GIA out in Santa Monica or into some little appraiser’s office down on Hill Street with these stones and you’d generate a surge that would register in London and Antwerp in a matter of hours. ConMin uses computers to keep track of every important piece of rough in the world, even the ones they don’t own themselves. And believe me, these are important pieces of rough.”
    “I’m getting that message. Why does the agency care?”
    Faulkner’s eyes narrowed. “Diamonds are a big cash item in the economies of a dozen nations around the world. You’d be surprised what countries will do for American dollars or Japanese yen, especially countries whose ideologies are based on Karl Marx rather than Adam Smith. When my predecessor left, he told me the world revolves on a diamond pivot. It’s not always true, but it’s true often enough to put the fear of God into a heathen like me.”
    “That’s why I want you to let me handle it for you, baby,” Windsor said. “I don’t want you hurt again.”
    Erin looked at her father. For the first time she noticed the lines in his face, the heavy splash of silver in his formerly dark hair, and the circles beneath his eyes. He looked tired and uncomfortable, as though caught between his impulses as a father and his duty as a sworn officer of an intelligence service.
    “Did the diamonds come with a note or a map,” Windsor asked, “or a claim register or a bill of sale, anything to indicate their origin?”
    “Everything came in an old tin box that had no markings,” Erin said.
    “Delivered by this Blackburn?” Faulkner asked.
    Erin nodded. “He told me to have the diamonds appraised by someone not connected to ConMin.” She glanced at Nan Faulkner. “I’m not sure you meet those requirements exactly, but at least I know your first allegiance isn’t to the diamond cartel.”
    “Did Blackburn tell you anything else about the diamonds?” Windsor asked.
    “Only that they’d belonged to Abe and that two people had died to see that I got my legacy. He told me that I would die, too, if I wasn’t very careful. Then he told me to call you.”
    “I owe him a big favor,” Windsor said. “So do you. He probably saved your life.