Death is Forever

market has gone up by about ten percent every six months for the last nine years.”
    Yarakov turned on Faulkner and spoke before van Luik could. “As a result of recent political changes in our country, the Soviet Union has employment and foreign exchange problems of its own. Your country supports glasnost in the world press, but we still have to pay for American wheat with American dollars.”
    “Take your restructuring even further,” Aram suggested in a hard voice. “Incorporate your farms. Then you’d be up to your ass in wheat, just like America.”
    “Gentlemen,” van Luik said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I believe the basis for compromise exists. Russia will continue cutting an increasing proportion of the larger melees, because the Soviet Union does a better job than anyone else for the same money.”
    Aram looked unhappy but kept silent. What van Luik said was the truth, no matter how distasteful.
    “The Soviet Union will guarantee a good price on melees for Israel’s artisans to fashion into jewelry,” van Luik continued, giving Yarakov an unflinching stare. “In turn, Israel will agree to train a number of Soviet craftsmen in the art of creating luxury jewelry.” He turned toward Nan Faulkner. “Does that seem a satisfactory compromise?”
    “Ask Moshe. It’s his country,” Faulkner said, blowing out a pale stream of smoke. “The United States would have no objection so long as the net result doesn’t hurt Israel’s position within world economies.”
    Van Luik nodded and felt a tremor of relief. Faulkner was the key. Her tacit acceptance of the compromise meant that markets rather than ideologies would rule again today.
    “Mr. Aram?” Van Luik turned toward the Israeli.
    “We would require a twenty-year noncompetition agreement,” Aram said sharply. “We taught the Russians how to cut melees and look what happened. They’re running us out of the market.”
    “Five years,” Yarakov said, looking at his blunt hands rather than at Aram.
    “Fifteen.”
    “Five.”
    “Thir—”
    “Five!” Yarakov interrupted impatiently. “That is my final offer.”
    “That might be your final offer, babe, but can you kill a deal like this without Moscow’s approval?” Faulkner asked. She tipped her glass of water from side to side, making the ice inside click softly. When Yarakov was silent, Faulkner turned to Aram. “How does twelve sound to you?”
    Though Faulkner’s voice was casual, there was nothing casual about her suggestion, and Aram knew it. He hesitated, then nodded. Yarakov didn’t look happy either, but he nodded also, sealing the agreement.
    “Ms. Faulkner, your requests are disappointingly modest,” van Luik continued.
    “So is the market.”
    “We disagree. DSD studies indicate an increasing demand for luxury jewelry worldwide. We have added twenty percent to your request. We are confident that the American market will be able to absorb it, particularly with the new advertising campaign American jewelers will be launching soon.”
    Faulkner knocked the ash from her cigarillo and looked skeptical.
    “The theme of the campaign,” van Luik said, “is ‘The time to show her is now. Give a diamond as important as your love.’ The stress will be on mounted diamonds in excess of one carat.”
    Faulkner shook her head, making the high-quality diamond studs in her earlobes glitter. “It will take time for such a campaign to have an effect. Meanwhile, we’ll have expensive diamond jewelry up the gazoo. Give us a year’s grace.”
    Van Luik made a note on the paper in front of him. “Three months’ grace, Ms. Faulkner. If your sight-holders don’t like the contents of their parcels, they may, as always, refuse them.”
    Faulkner stubbed out her cigarillo and said nothing.
    “Are we in agreement?” van Luik asked, looking around the table. There was no dissent. “ Mazel und broche. ”
    There was a muttered chorus of “ Mazel und broche .”
    Even Nan Faulkner said the traditional words before she shoved back her chair and stalked out of the room, mentally preparing her report for the Secretary of Defense. She was certain of one thing. She would conclude with a bitter truth: Another gem diamond mine was definitely needed.
    A mine controlled by the United States, not ConMin.

17
Darwin, Australia
    Erin looked up from the remnants of her dinner as Cole approached her. A busy restaurant hummed around her. She barely noticed it. She was watching his