Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

likely—without a flicker of expression.
    “Blue sapphires, rubies, and emeralds.” Kirby drank coffee. “Might be a colored diamond or two.”
    Peyton gently stirred through the flashing, brilliant stones with his fingertip. Taking tweezers from his bathrobe pocket, he carefully sorted by color. Then he pulled a loupe from his pocket and picked up stones at random to examine them. After a few minutes he put the loupe aside and fiddled with the tweezers. These were nice stones. Really nice. Well cut. Well polished. Except for the diamonds, there was nothing smaller than five carats. Yet no stone was so big it would have been photographed and documented for insurance purposes.
    If Peyton had to bet, he’d bet the stones were naturals. And they were big enough to show all those comforting flaws with just a 10x loupe. Even at wholesale prices, he was looking at a nice pile of portable wealth.
    “Too bad they aren’t Asian cut,” Peyton said, sighing.
    Kirby shrugged. “I take what I get. You interested?”
    Peyton tapped the tweezers on the thick linen, set them off to the side, and reached for his computer.
    Kirby watched Peyton’s quick hazel eyes scanning through whatever he’d called up from the computer’s memory.
    “Okay,” Peyton said after a few minutes. “We’re doing a nationwide loose stone promo in four months. Emphasis on higher-end stones.”
    “Looks like we’re both in luck.” Kirby grinned and poured more coffee.
    “Maybe.” Peyton used the tweezers to sort through the small puddle of green stones. When he was finished, it was divided into two uneven piles. “I can use Brazilian emeralds,” he said, indicating the larger pile, which was a darker green with a very faintly bluish tone, “but not Colombian.” He pointed at the smaller smoldering green pile, which had no hint of blue.
    “Why not?” Kirby asked. “I mean, they’re a little lighter than the others, but who the hell could tell?”
    “I can.” Peyton shrugged. “At the moment, buyers are shying away from the bad press about Colombia, drugs, emeralds, and politics. Traders are staying away because the stuff coming out of the Colombian mines today is treated from beginning to end and some of the treatments aren’t permanent.”
    “These are treated?” Kirby asked.
    Peyton grabbed his tweezers, picked one of the Colombian emeralds up, and viewed it from various angles.
    “Looks like it’s been filled,” he said finally. “Can’t be sure without more testing, but lately the Colombians have been doing everything to emeralds except making them in a lab.” He shrugged again and gestured with the tweezers toward one of the other piles of colored gems. “Blue sapphires are always at the top of the customer list. I’ll take everything you’ve got. Rubies…” Peyton shook his head and pointed toward the red stones that glowed like wind-stroked embers. “I’ll take these because I value your business, but I can’t offer much.”
    “Why?”
    “Like I told you the last time you brought me red stones, even at the mall end of the trade, treated Vietnamese rubies are blowing out the market. Not to mention that anything over four or five carats will have to be reworked. Just too easy to trace, if it’s truly top-tier goods.”
    “So you say.”
    “I’m the one doing the buying, remember?”
    Kirby sighed. He wasn’t going to get as much as he wanted from these stones. On the other hand, he hadn’t paid anything for them other than White’s share, twenty thousand.
    “Reworking an already well-cut stone,” Peyton said with emphasis, “costs time, money, and a lot of the weight of each stone. It’s a very expensive way to do business.”
    “Not when you get the stones at pennies on the dollar.”
    Peyton smiled slightly. “Still, I can’t give you the same money weight for weight as I would for badly cut stones.”
    “One hundred thousand.”
    Peyton’s eyebrows shot up. “For sixteen ounces of hot, finished goods I have to rework?”
    “Yeah.” Kirby smiled thinly. “Trust me. It’s a steal.”

Chapter 31
    Glendale
    Friday
    9:00 A.M .
    Sam leaned on the table and watched Kate working over various pieces of equipment. He was close enough to touch her, but he kept his hands in his pockets.
    Her hair gleamed despite being skinned back in a clip to keep it out of her face; he wanted to take the clip off and bury his fingers in all that sleek hair. Her eyelashes were night-black and long enough to