Death is Forever

earth.”
    “Invited?” She cleared her throat. “Really? By whom? When?”
    “By the people who own all the diamonds in the world, that’s who. Consolidated Minerals, the company that controls the output of every diamond mine worth mentioning. ConMin has decided to cooperate in the most extensive and expensive photographic study of their product ever undertaken. They want one and only one photographer to do it. Erin Shane. Apparently somebody saw your work in Arctic Odyssey and said, ‘If she can do that for frozen water, think what she can do for real ice.’”
    Erin closed her eyes and thought about coincidences. Nothing she told herself made her stomach stop sinking.
    Fisher caught onto the fact that Erin wasn’t nearly as excited as he was. “Hey, kid, listen up,” he said. “You’ve been out in the cold too long. It’s frozen your brain. Harry Conner went nuts for the idea, especially because Con-Min would be underwriting the project. He’s talking a solid advance—middle six figures at least, maybe more. If you play your cards right, your agent might be able to get it to seven figures, all to the left of the zero. That would be for world rights, of course.”
    Erin made a sound that could have meant anything from joy to despair. “Jeff?”
    “Yeah, I know, it’s just too—”
    “When did they call?” she asked, interrupting ruthlessly.
    “Who?”
    “ConMin.”
    “I got the first call about an hour ago, some guy with a Dutch name, Hugh van Louk or something like that. He and Harry are thrashing out the details now.”
    “I see.”
    “No, you don’t, or you’d be over the moon the same way I am,” Fisher retorted. “Remember that book you wanted to do years ago? Well, this is it. Diamonds, Grit to Glitz. This time ConMin will let you into a London sight. This time anything you want from them is yours, and they’ll pay you a queen’s ransom in the bargain. The timing is perfect for you. It will mean delaying your European book, but I didn’t get the feeling you were exactly tearing down doors in your eagerness to do that one.”
    She forced herself to listen for a few minutes longer, and even managed a question or two. Then she looked at her watch and knew she’d run out of time. “Sorry, Jeff, my cab is waiting. I’ll call back as soon as I can.”
    She hung up, grabbed her purse, and headed for the lobby. A cab appeared as soon as she stepped through the glass doors. She gave terse directions and settled back for the short ride.
    She wanted to believe that her inheritance and Con-Min’s sudden interest were a coincidence. Nice try. Doesn’t fly. Which left her with an unhappy question. How did ConMin find out so fast?
    Maybe her father would know. Or Cole.
    Neither possibility made her feel good. She arrived at the BlackWing Building ready to push and push hard to get answers. Cole met her as she got off the elevator. As she looked at him, she realized they both were wearing the same clothes they had worn yesterday. Both shirts showed signs of having been put through a hotel’s laundry-room wringer, telling Erin that she and Cole traveled the same way—light. The thought was oddly reassuring.
    Neither of them said a word until they were inside Cole’s office.
    “Is my father here yet?” she asked.
    “The guard hasn’t called up for him,” Cole said, neither lying nor telling the whole truth. His eyes narrowed as he noted the stark lines of tension around her eyes and mouth. “What’s wrong?”
    “I won’t know until I get a few answers.”
    Before Cole could say anything, the phone rang. He picked it up, listened, and hung up. “Your father is on his way up now. There’s a woman with him.”
    “Nan Faulkner. She has something to do with diamonds.”
    A few minutes later the guard returned with Matthew Windsor and Nan Faulkner in tow. Impassively the men introduced themselves and shook hands before taking seats in the conference room. Faulkner sat. Erin didn’t. She turned and looked at the three other people.
    “Which one of the players benefits if the fact that I’m Abe’s heir gets out?” Erin asked.
    “What do you mean?” Faulkner asked.
    “Just what I said. Who benefits? The agency? Con-Min? Cole? Me?”
    “ConMin,” Cole said.
    Faulkner and Windsor looked at each other. “ConMin,” Faulkner agreed.
    Erin turned to Cole. “They’re offering me a million. How much did they pay you?”
    “Not a cent.”
    “Erin, what the hell is this