Shorter by half, Giordino had to look up into Boudicca’s face as if he were staring up at a tall building. The scene became even more ludicrous, because he had to peer up and over Boudicca’s bulbous breasts. “There’s a homecoming for you,” he said drolly.
Pitt was familiar with the look in his friend’s eye. Giordino was a keen judge of faces and character. He saw something, some infinitesimal oddity that Pitt missed. Giordino was taking a risk that in his estimation was justified. He grinned slyly as he looked Boudicca up and down. “I’ll make you a wager,” he said to her.
“A wager?”
“Yes. I’ll bet you don’t shave your legs or your armpits.”
There was a moment of silence, not borne by shock but more from curiosity. Boudicca’s face suddenly twisted with fury, and she pulled back her fist to strike. Giordino stood complacently, expecting the blow but making no move to dodge or ward it off.
Boudicca hit Giordino hard, harder than most Olympic boxers. Her balled fist caught Giordino on the side of the cheek and the jaw. It was a savage blow, a damaging roundhouse blow, not one that was expected from a woman, and it would have knocked most men off their feet, cold. Most men would have been unconscious for twenty-four hours, most, that is, that Boudicca had ever struck in ungoverned fury. Giordino’s head snapped to one side and he took a step backward, shook his head as if to clear it and then spat out a tooth onto the expensive carpet. Incredibly, against all comprehension, he stepped forward until he was under Boudicca’s protruding bosom again. There was no animosity, no expression of vengeance in his eyes. Giordino simply gazed at her reflectively. “If you had any sense of decency and fair play, you’d let me have a turn.”
Boudicca stood in confused amazement, massaging a sore hand. Uncontrolled outrage was slowly replaced with cold animosity. The look came into her eye of a rattlesnake about to strike with deadly purpose. “You are one stupid man,” she said coldly.
Her hands lashed out and clamped around Giordino’s neck. He stood with his fists clenched at his sides, making no move to stop her. His face drained of all color and his eyes began to bulge and still he made no effort to defend himself. He stared at her without any malice at all.
Pitt well remembered the strength in Boudicca’s hands; he still had the bruises on his arms to attest to it. At a loss as to Giordino’s out-of-character display of passivity, he moved away from Maeve in readiness to kick Boudicca in a kneecap, when her father shouted.
“Release him!” Arthur Dorsett snapped. “Do not soil your hands on a rat.”
Giordino still stood like a statue in a park, when Boudicca released her grip around his throat and stepped back, rubbing the knuckles she had scraped on his face.
“Next time,” she snarled, “you won’t have my father to save your filthy hide.”
“Did you ever think of turning professional?” Giordino rasped hoarsely, tenderly touching the growing discoloration marks around his neck. “I know this carnival that could use a geek—”
Pitt put his hand on Giordino’s shoulder. “Let’s hear what Mr. Dorsett has to say before you sign up for a rematch.”
“You’re wiser than your friend,” said Dorsett.
“Only when it comes to averting pain and associating with criminals.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I’m a common criminal?”
“Considering that you’re responsible for murdering hundreds of people, an unqualified yes.”
Dorsett shrugged imperviously and sat down behind his desk. “Regrettably, it was necessary.”
Pitt felt feverish with anger against Dorsett. “I can’t recall a single justification for cold-bloodedly cutting short the lives of innocent men, women and children.”
“Why should you lose sleep over a few deaths, when millions in the third world die every year from famine, disease and war?”
“It was the way I was brought up,” said Pitt. “My mother taught me life was a gift.”
“Life is a commodity, nothing more.” Dorsett scoffed. “People are like old tools that are used and then thrown away or destroyed when they have no more purpose. I pity men like you who are burdened with morals and principles. You are doomed to chase a mirage, a perfect world that never was and never will be.”
Pitt found himself staring at stark, unfettered madness. “You’ll die chasing a mirage too.”
Dorsett smiled humorlessly. “You’re wrong, Mr. Pitt. I will grasp it in my hands before my time comes.”
“You have a sick, warped philosophy of life.”
“So far it has served me very well.”
“What’s your excuse for not stopping the mass killing caused by your ultrasonic mining operations?”
“To mine more diamonds, what else?” Dorsett stared at Pitt as though he were studying a specimen in a jar. “In a few weeks I will make millions of women happy by providing them with the most precious of stones at a cost a beggar can afford.”
“You don’t strike me as the charitable type.”
“Diamonds are really nothing but bits of carbon. Their only practical asset is they happen to be the hardest substance known to man. This alone makes them essential for the machining of metals and drilling through rock. Did you know the name `diamond’ comes from the Greek, Mr. Pitt? It means indomitable. The Greeks, and later the Romans, wore them as protection from wild beasts and human enemies. Their women, however, did not adore diamonds as women do now. Besides driving off evil spirits, they were used as a test for adultery. And yet when it comes to beauty, you can get the same sparkle from crystal.”
As Dorsett spoke of diamonds his stare didn’t falter, but the throbbing pulse in the side of his neck gave away his deep feeling on the subject. He talked as if he had suddenly risen to a higher plane that few could experience.
“Are you also aware that the first diamond engagement ring was given by Archduke Ferdinand of Austria to Mary of Burgundy in the year 1477, and the belief that the ‘vein of love’ runs directly from the brain to the third finger of the left hand was a myth that came out of Egypt?”
Pitt stared back with unconcealed contempt. “What I’m aware of is the current glut of uncut stones being held in warehouses throughout South Africa, Russia and Australia to inflate false values. I also know the cartel, essentially a monopoly directed by De Beers, fixes the price. So how is it possible for one man to challenge the entire syndicate and cause a sudden, drastic drop of prices on the diamond market?”
“The cartel will play right into my hands,” said Dorsett contemptuously. “Historically, whenever a diamond-producing mining company or nation tried to go around them and merchandise their stones on the open market, the cartel slashed prices. The maverick, failing to compete and finding itself in a no-win situation, eventually returned to the fold. I’m counting on the cartel to repeat their act. By the time they realize that I’m dumping millions of diamonds at two cents on the dollar with no regard for earnings, it will be too late for them to react. The market will have collapsed.”
“What percentage is there in dominating a depressed market?”
“I’m not interested in dominating the market, Mr. Pitt. I want to kill it for all time.”
Pitt noticed that Dorsett didn’t gaze right at him but fixed his eyes impassively on a point behind Pitt’s head as if seeing a vision only he could see. “If I read you correctly, you’re cutting your own throat.”
“It sounds that way, doesn’t it?” Dorsett lifted a finger at Pitt. “Exactly what I wanted everyone to think, even my closest associates and my own daughters. The truth of the matter is that I expect to make a great sum of money.”
“How?” Pitt asked, his interest aroused.
Dorsett allowed a satanic grin to display his grotesque teeth. “The answer lies not in diamonds but in the colored gemstone market.”
“My God, I see what this is all about,” said Maeve as if witnessing a revelation. “You’re out to corner the market on colored stones.”
She began to
shiver from her wet clothing and a swearing dread. Pitt removed his soggy leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
Dorsett nodded. “Yes, Daughter. During the last twenty years, your wise old father has stockpiled his diamond production while quietly buying up claims to the major colored gemstone mines around the world. Through a complex formation of front corporations I now secretly control eighty percent of the market.”
“By colored gemstones,” said Pitt, “I assume you mean rubies and emeralds.”
“Indeed, and a host of other precious stones, including sapphire, topaz, tourmaline and amethyst. Almost all are far more scarce than diamonds. The deposits of tsavorite, red beryl or red emerald, and the Mexican fire opal, for example, are becoming increasingly difficult to find. A number of colored gemstones are so rare they are sought by collectors and are very seldom made into jewelry.”
“Why haven’t the prices of colored stones matched that of diamonds?” asked Pitt.
“Because the diamond cartel has always managed to push color into the shadows,” Dorsett told him with the fervor of a zealot. “For decades, De Beers has spent enormous sums of money in high-powered research to study and survey international markets. Millions were spent advertising diamonds and creating an image of eternal value. To keep prices fixed, De Beers created a demand for diamonds to keep pace with the mushrooming supply. And so the web of imagery capturing a man showing his love for a woman through the gift of a diamond was spun through a shrewd advertising campaign that reached its peak with the slogan, ‘Diamonds are forever.’” He began to pace the room, gesturing with his hands for effect. “Because colored gemstone production is fragmented by thousands of independent producers, all competing and selling against each other, there has been no unified organization to promote colored stones. The trade has suffered from a lack of consumer awareness. I intend to change all that after the price of diamonds plunges.”
“So you’ve jumped in with both feet.”
“Not only will I produce colored stones from the mines,” declared Dorsett, “but unlike De Beers, I will cut and merchandise them through the House of Dorsett, my chain of stores on the retail market. Sapphires, emeralds and rubies may not be eternal, but when I’m through, they will make any woman who wears them feel like a goddess. Jewelry will have achieved a new splendor. Even the famous Renaissance goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini proclaimed the ruby and emerald more glorious than diamonds.”
It was a staggering concept, and Pitt carefully considered the possibilities before he asked, “For decades women have bought the idea that diamonds have an undeniable tie to courtship and a lifetime relationship. Do you really think you can switch their desire from diamonds to colored stones?”
“Why not?” Dorsett was surprised that Pitt could express doubt. “The notion of a diamond engagement ring did not take hold until the late 1800s. All it takes is a strategy to revamp social attitudes. I have a top creative advertising agency with offices in thirty countries ready to launch an international promotional campaign in unison with my operation to send the cartel down the drain. When I’m finished, colored stones will be the prestige gems for jewelry. Diamonds will merely be used for background settings.”
Pitt ’s gaze traveled from Boudicca to Deirdre and then Maeve. “Like most men, I’m a poor judge of women’s inner thoughts and emotions, but I know it won’t be easy convincing them that diamonds are not a girl’s best friend.”
Dorsett laughed dryly. “It’s the men who’ buy precious stones for women. And as much as they want to impress their true love, men have a higher regard for value. Sell them on the fact that rubies and emeralds are fifty times more rare than diamonds, and they’ll buy them.”
“Is that true?” Pitt was skeptical. “That an emerald is fifty times more rare than a comparable diamond?”
Dorsett nodded solemnly. “As the deposits of emeralds dry up, and they will in time, the gap will become much higher. Actually, it could safely be said of the red emerald, which comes only from one or two mines in the state of Utah, that it is over a million times as rare.”
“Cornering one market while destroying another, there has to be more in it for you than mere profit.”
“Not `mere profit,’ my dear Pitt. Profits on a level unheard of in history. We’re talking tens of billions of dollars.”
Pitt was incredulous at the staggering sum. “You couldn’t achieve that kind of money unless you doubled the price of colored gemstones.”
“Quadrupled would be closer to the truth. Of course, the raise would not take place overnight, but in graduated price hikes over a period of years.”
Pitt moved until he was standing directly in front of Dorsett, peering up closely at the taller man. “I have no quarrel with your desire to play King Midas,” he said with quiet steadiness. “Do what you will with the price of diamonds. But for God’s sake shut down the ultrasonic excavation of your mines. Call your superintendents and order them to stop all operations. Do it now before another life is lost.”
There came a strange stillness. Every pair of eye, turned toward Dorsett in expectation of an outburst of wrath at being challenged. He stared at Pitt for long seconds before turning to Maeve.
“Your friend is impatient. He does not know me, does not recognize my determination.” Then he again faced Pitt. “The assault on the diamond cartel is set for February twenty-second, twenty-one days from now. To make it work I need every gram, every carat, my mines can produce until then. Worldwide press coverage, advertising space in newspapers and time on television is purchased and scheduled. There can be no change, there will be no change in plans. If a few rabble die, so be it.”
Mental derangement, Pitt thought, those were the only words to describe the eerie malignity in Dorsett’s coalblack eyes. Mental derangement and total indifference to any thought of remorse. He was a man totally without conscience. Pitt felt his skin crawl from just looking at him. He wondered how many deaths Arthur Dorsett was accountable for. Long before he began excavating diamonds with ultrasound, how many men had died who stood in his way to becoming rich and powerful? He felt a sharp chill at knowing the man was a sociopath on the same level as a serial killer.
“You will pay for your crimes, Dorsett,” Pitt said calmly but with a cold edge in his voice. “You will surely pay for the unbearable grief and agony you have caused.”
“Who will be the angel of my retribution?” Dorsett sneered. “You, maybe? Mr. Giordino here? I do not believe there will be ordained retaliation from the heavens. The possibility is too remote. The only certainty I can bank on, Mr. Pitt, is that you won’t be around to see it.”
“Execute the witnesses by shooting them in the head and throwing their bodies overboard, is that your policy?”
“Shoot you and Mr. Giordino in the head?” There was no trace of emotion, of any feeling in Arthur Dorsett’s voice. “Nothing so crude and mundane, nor so merciful. Thrown in the sea? Yes, you may consider that a foregone conclusion. In any event, I will guarantee you and your friend a slow but violent death.”
After thirty hours of pounding through the sea at incredible speeds, the powerful turbodiesels fell off to a muffled throb, and the yacht slowed and began to drift amid a sea of gentle swells. The last sight of the New Zealand shoreline had long since disappeared in the yacht’s wake. To the north and west dark clouds were laced with forks of lightning, the thunder rumbling dully across the horizon. To the south and east there were no clouds and thunder. The skies were blue and clear.
Pitt and Giordino had spent the night and half the next day locked in a small supply compartment aft of the engine room. There was barely enough room to sit on the deck with knees drawn up to their chins. Pitt kept awake most of the time, the clarity of his mind heightened, listening to the revolutions of the engines, the thump of the swells. Casting aside all thoughts of restraint, Giordino had wrenched the door off its hinges only to be confronted by four guards with the muzzles of their automatic weapons pushed into his nav
el. Defeated, he promptly dropped off to sleep before the door was rehung.
Angered and blaming only himself for their predicament, Pitt was very self-critical, but no fault could really be attached to him. He should have out-thought John Merchant. He had been caught with his guard down because he miscalculated their fanatic desire to lure Maeve back into their clutches. He and Giordino were mere sideline pawns. Arthur Dorsett considered them little more than a minor annoyance in his insane crusade for an absurd accumulation of wealth.
There was something weird and ominous about their unmoving concentration on such a complex plan to ensnare a daughter and eliminate the men from NUMA. Pitt wondered dimly why he and Giordino had been kept alive, and he had no sooner done so when the damaged door creaked open and John Merchant stood leering on the threshold. Pitt automatically checked his Doxa watch at seeing his nemesis. It was eleven-twenty in the morning.
“Time to board your vessel,” Merchant announced pleasantly.
“We’re changing boats?” asked Pitt.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I hope the service is better than on this one,” said Giordino lazily. “You will, of course, take care of our luggage.”
Merchant dismissed Giordino with a brisk shrug. “Please hurry, gentlemen. Mr. Dorsett does not like to be kept waiting.”
They were escorted out onto the stern deck, surrounded by a small army of guards armed with a variety of weapons designed to inflict bodily harm but not kill. Both men blinked in the fading sunlight just as the first few raindrops fell carried ahead of the advancing clouds by a light breeze.
Dorsett sat protected under an overhang in a chair at a table laden with several savory dishes laid out in silver serving bowls. Two uniformed attendants stood at his elbow, one ready to pour at the slightest indication that his wineglass required refilling, the other to replace used silverware. Boudicca and Deirdre, seated on their father’s left and right, didn’t bother looking up from their food as Pitt and Giordino were brought into their divine presence. Pitt glanced around for Maeve, but she wasn’t to be seen.
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