Death is Forever

gains, Matt. We came very close to getting the moderates in power.”
    “Close, but no cigar. For that my daughter was beaten, raped, and tortured by a sadist. Erin hasn’t trusted or loved me or any other man since that day. Seven years. She’s not even thirty. She’s got a whole lifetime of nightmares and distrust and loneliness ahead of her.”
    Faulkner grimaced but didn’t disagree.
    “Every second I stayed with her in the hospital,” Windsor said quietly, “I swore that I would never knowingly use an innocent— any innocent—again. Ours is a game for informed, consenting adults.” He met Faulkner’s dark glance. “The answer is still no.”
    The door to Faulkner’s office opened. Two men came in and stood at either side of Windsor.
    With a great effort he throttled the rage that made his body rigid. If he lost his temper, there would be no chance of helping Erin at all.
    “House arrest?” he asked in a clipped voice.
    “I’m sorry,” Faulkner said simply. “A letter went out to your daughter yesterday. Jason Street will be on the Windsor station by tomorrow. Erin will be safe.”

31
Argyle mine Australia
    Hugo van Luik had forgotten how godforsaken diamond grounds and diamond mines could be. The Argyle mine was in a place so desolate and remote that workers had to be flown in, given room and board, and then flown out at regular intervals, like military personnel at a hardship post. The place was a bleak celebration of technological efficiency, an orderly assembly of barracks and mess halls, power shovels, ore crushers, conveyor belts, and X-ray tables. Argyle produced diamonds with mechanical regularity, even if it crushed some promising gemstones in the process.
    Van Luik only wished the process crushed more. Diamond grit was useful. At the moment, gemstones weren’t.
    Sighing, he leaned back into the Otter’s uncomfortable seat. He was relieved to have the obligatory visit to the Argyle mine behind him, complete with still photos of men in suits shaking hands and smiling into the camera. Van Luik no longer cared for the politically important process of pressing flesh and giving personal assurances to strangers that their lives were important in the international economic scheme.
    Yet he’d played his role with all the skill of the actor he’d once wanted to be. He hadn’t endured the tour out of respect for the Argyle mine and its huge output of muddy industrial bort or its modest numbers of tiny pale-pink or straw-yellow gemstones. A Japanese syndicate had recently been sniffing around Argyle, considering the purchase of the mine.
    Van Luik wished them well.
    Anything that would keep the Japanese from experimenting with better and cheaper ways to produce industrial diamonds was a plus for ConMin. If the Japanese purchased Argyle, it would be something of a relief. The Japanese would be more sophisticated and less impatient with the delicate balancing act among the diamond cartel’s members than Australia was.
    Van Luik tried to ignore the exquisite tendrils of pain infiltrating the nerves behind his eyes. The plane bucked in the torrid, seething currents of afternoon air. The buildup was on, bringing with it a wet heat that heightened van Luik’s headaches and made the blinding tropical light a relentless source of pain. He closed his eyes and endured.
    Not until the twin-engine Otter banked over the shimmering, man-made sprawl of Lake Argyle and lined up for a landing at Kununurra did van Luik open his eyes, mop his flushed face and sweaty neck with a handkerchief, and prepare to deal with the real reason he’d come to Australia.
    Grimacing at a deep thrust of pain, he squinted out the window. River swamps, low-rising red rocks, scrubland, and a town like a crusty rash spread below him. As the plane descended, the temperature rose. The climate was as close to hell as a living man could expect to endure. It made van Luik question the sanity of the English settlers who had chosen Western Australia for their home.
    The Otter touched down smoothly on the sun-softened tarmac and taxied to the mining company tiedown next to the small tin-roofed passenger terminal. The cabin steward popped the door and lowered the stairs.
    “There’s your flight, right on time, sir,” the steward said, pointing to an aircraft that had appeared in the south and was headed straight in for a landing. “It will leave in ninety minutes.”
    Van Luik grunted his understanding and headed for the terminal.