Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

oiled to deepen the color for hundreds of years. Rubies and sapphires have been heated for the same reason for thousands of years. Take corundum that’s too light or too orange or too purple or whatever, add controlled heat, and you end up with better color in your gems. For every gem in creation, there’s a way—usually several ways—to enhance it.”
    He leaned against a table and told himself he couldn’t smell her citrus scent. Really. “So why the fuss? If everyone does it, who cares?”
    “Rarity. Rarity. Rarity. A synthetic gem is the bottom of the barrel. We can make them by the container load. A treated stone is more valuable because naturally occurring gems of any color or clarity are, by their very nature, relatively rare.”
    “What you’re saying is synthetics suck bad water.”
    The corners of her mouth curled upward and she admitted that the man was getting to her. “Yeah. Treated stones are naturals that weren’t up to par. All treatments I know about can be detected if you and your tools are good enough. Heat treatments leave traces that any expert should recognize. Despite that, a treated stone of fine color will almost always cost more than a natural stone of inferior color, and a synthetic of any color is just plain dismissed.”
    “Okay.” He leaned slightly toward her, breathed in. Lemony and warm. Definitely. “So what kind of premium does a natural stone get?”
    Kate’s hair slithered out of its coil. With a muttered word she gave up trying to look professional and clipped it all at her neck.
    “Say you have two blue sapphires of equal weight and extra fine color,” she said, tugging at the clip. It held. “One is heat treated.One isn’t. The stone that hasn’t been treated is priced at least a third higher—sometimes a lot more, depending on size—than a treated stone of equal weight and color. When you’re talking natural, untreated gems, you’re talking about the best of the best.”
    “So when Lee disappeared, you started looking for the natural, fine, very rare blue sapphires he’d been carrying.”
    She blinked and reminded herself that a half rubbed-off milk mustache didn’t make the man slow or stupid. “I hoped I could backtrack one or all of the Seven Sins and find out where it came from.”
    “You must have had some luck.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Someone offered to kill you.”
    “But it didn’t make any sense.” Kate threw up her hands and looked away from Sam’s vivid blue eyes. “Sure, I’d been bugging the FBI and the local cops and putting pictures of the missing stones online so that I’d be notified if any of them turned up, but nothing—”
    “Hold it,” Sam cut in. “You have photos of the McCloud sapphires?”
    “Both the Seven Sins and the synthetic ones I cut while I was deciding how best to work the rough.”
    He shook his head like a dog coming out of water. “Back up. You cut synthetic sapphires?”
    “Of course.”
    Sam told himself to be patient. “Why?”
    “Burmese rough as valuable as McCloud’s doesn’t come along every year or even every fifty years. Take my word for it,” she said quickly, heading off another question. “The Thai dealers who control sapphire and ruby rough have a stranglehold on mines, miners, and smugglers. Everything is treated. McCloud’s rough had been mined more than a hundred years ago, before every last gem was cooked, filled, oiled, pressure diffused, and in general dicked with.”
    “Got it. Rarity, rarity, rarity.”
    “Right. So when I saw the McCloud rough, I did what a lot of high-end cutters do. I bought a synthetic version of the rough andpracticed on it, trying out various cuts and sizes so that I would get the most valuable finished stones possible out of the natural rough.”
    “Isn’t that work computerized now?”
    “A lot of it is, especially at the lower end of the trade. And some high-end gem cutters are enthusiastic about the computer-aided design programs they use on their computer when it comes to deciding how to cut rough, but I’m not convinced.” She shrugged. “For me, nothing works as well as hands-on experience.”
    “Well, that explains it.”
    “What?”
    Sam rubbed his short, almost spiky hair. “Why you didn’t have to chase around and hustle up a big blue stone to run the con on Purcell. You already had one right at hand. I thought maybe you went to him the first time to size up the stone, then came back with the fake the next