Black Diamond

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  What just happened? She tossed her cell phone into her purse. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to know about him. She pulled out the lower right hand drawer, grabbed her purse, and tossed her cell phone inside.

  Working today seemed nearly impossible. She had calls to make and projects to complete, but her thoughts were filled with the man that made her stomach turn flip-flops. Camille positioned herself in front of her computer and began typing the name of a jeweler into the search engine. She tapped her pencil as she waited for the results.

  The only thing between her and Marc was this case. If she solved the case, she could consider having a normal adult relationship. She browsed through the results and made note of the locations in Dallas. She needed to locate the storefront and possibly make an appointment with the owner or someone that can explain the details about the locket.

  Camille looked up from her computer and scanned her office. She felt like she was being watched. She turned her chair towards the open glass. The building across the street had the blinds pulled closed. Through her open office door, she called to Lee, but there was no response.

  Camille decided to turn on some music to eliminate the eerie feeling moving through her. Recognizing the first track, she began to hum the tune. She turned up the volume another notch as she swayed in her chair to the beat of the music. She looked about once again…still nothing.

  She grabbed her cup of coffee and sipped it as she reviewed the Joyas Custom Jewelry website. It appeared to be a small jeweler specializing in custom handcrafted pieces, which would explained the locket’s intricate details.

  At first glance, it appeared to be an heirloom or aged jewelry. The craftsmanship was impeccable. The main website only offered contact information and general business details. She located the number and decided to give them a call.

  * * *

  Talib stood outside Camille’s office. He glanced down the hall, watching for Lee. Camille was talking on the phone. He moved out of viewing range once the call ended. She mumbled to herself, but it was too low for him to hear. She straightened her shoulders while fiddling around on her computer. He could not take his eyes off her. She extended her arm and pressed play on the iPod docking station causing music to fill the air. He suppressed a gasp as he listened to her sing, although he did not recognize the song. She began snapping her fingers and swaying to the music, dropping her head as she worked.

  Talib’s smile was only evident in the sparkle of his eyes. His mind flashed back to his last good childhood memory…his mother. She too would sing while she worked. He closed his eyes tight trying to erase the memory, but he could hear Camille’s voice seeping in past his barriers, beyond his pain, and settling in a place that only a few people knew existed.

  He looked over his shoulder noting he was still alone. He knew he had to keep his growing infatuation with Camille in check, but he wasn’t quite ready to let go of her hold on him. He thought back to the impression of her name on Ashanta's desk. It was possible she knew about his money. He needed to locate the letter he believed existed. He knew she wouldn't tell him, but she would be out-of-town for the rest of the week. He must use his time wisely. With that resolved, he lightly knocked on the door.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, walking into Camille’s office. She leaned over and turned off the music. He watched her transform into the VP of International Accounts. Talib already missed the carefree moment he witnessed.

  “No apologies needed, how are things going?” She motioned toward the empty chair in front of her desk. He nodded at her request and sat in the offered chair.

  “I’m not sure,” he nervously laughed. “I seem to be of very little use around here. I am not familiar with your computer systems and we have not had the opportunity to discuss the current contracts under review.”

  He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs casually. He watched her every move. She was a graceful beauty. He could sense by her posture that he had her undivided attention.

  “I guess I should be the one apologizing, I should have come to talk with you.” She glanced at her watch, “Do you have some time now?”

  He nodded. He wanted to learn all that he could about Camille Carmichael.

  * * *

  Camille and Talib worked through several files. She briefed him and they were scheduled to meet again when she returned on Monday. The two were seated at the small table in her office, talking over coffee.

  “You remind me of my mother,” he said before drinking from his cup.

  “Really,” she shifted towards him, leaning in on the table, “How so?”

  She could not tell whether his statement was a positive or negative one. His face lacked emotion and his piercing stares unnerved her, yet she wanted to make him feel comfortable with her. Her plan was to uncover what he was really doing in Houston and if he had anything to do with Ashanta’s death.

  “Actually, I’m not totally sure. You don’t resemble her, but I heard you singing as I approached your office, and she loved to sing while she worked.”

  “Loved, as in past tense.”

  “Yes, I lost my mother years ago.”

  She watched the traces of pain dance across his face and then it contorted to stone. She almost didn’t recognize him.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She patted his hand, not wanting him to retreat. Camille had a feeling there was more to the story. “How old were you?”

  He tensed and she decided to share some of her past to keep the conversation flowing. “I lost my mother when I was in junior high. I was one of the hardest times of my life.” When she saw the small veil lingering in the depths of his eyes lift, she continued. “It made me feel so isolated and alone.”

  He nodded and reached out, grabbing her hand. “What happened?”

  Camille went on to share her mother’s battle with cancer. She started the story wanting to encourage him to share more, but it ended with her feeling a growing bond with him.

  She did not realize but during her story she’d slipped into a daze, recounting the slow process of watching her mother die. She was left with her father and brother at a critical time as a teenage girl. She felt Talib slip a tissue into her hand. She used it to dry her eyes. “I am sorry, this is very unprofessional of me, pouring my heart and soul out,” she nervously laughed, embarrassed.

  “Don’t apologize, dear.” He squeezed her hand in assurance and began to tell of his family. “How much do you know about the troubles plaguing many South African countries?” He didn’t wait for her response. She watched as he stared at their hands, his midnight black against her light brown complexion.

  “When I was eight years old, our small village was raided by a rebel group. At the time the men were away working, leaving only the women, children, and elderly in the village. I was not old enough to journey with my father and the other men, so my father left me in charge of my mother and two little sisters.” He pulled his hand from her hands. Camille noticed an immediate change in him. He looked withdrawn and distant.

  “They came just after the sun set while the children were running around enjoying the night fires. We were resting as my mother worked by the fire. My sisters were playing, skipping, and running when we heard a piercing scream.”

  He paused for so long that Camille thought he would not continue. His eyes were focused on the glass lining the wall behind her, the muscle at his temple quivered.

  “What happened, Talib?” she asked her voice just above a whisper.

  His eyes met her concerned gaze. “My mother asked me to protect my sisters as she went out of the hut to investigate the commotion. I tried to stop her. We both knew what was occurring. Our best defense should have been to hide and wait, hoping they’d find what they were looking for before they located our tent, but my mother thought otherwise.

  “She grabbed her spear and left my sisters in my care,” he said, in a strained voice, “…and I failed.”

  S
ilence consumed the room. Camille heard him, but she was at a loss for words. He failed, what did that mean?

  “Camille,” Lee called from the intercom. “You have a call holding on line two.”

  Camille gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before walking to her desk. She grabbed the receiver and lifted her finger signaling for Talib to give her a moment. He stood and walked towards the window with his back to her. It appeared as if his shoulders fell forward in resignation. He did not look like the same man that walked into her office. There was more to his story, and she prayed he would share the rest of it with her.

  “This is Camille.”

  “Hey, Camille, I’m a few blocks away. Are you ready?” Marc asked. She could hear the wind blowing as if he were riding with the windows down. His upbeat vibe clashed with the somber mood in her office.

  She and Talib had been talking more than an hour. He stood massaging his temples and then rested his balled fists on his hips. He was a beautiful man. She was sure he had many admirers. He had an edge that told her not to allow his outer appearance to distract her, however they connected on a level that she couldn’t quite explain.

  “Hmm, yeah, I think so.” Camille looked at the time on the monitor of her computer. Talib shifted and she wondered if taking this trip to Dallas was a bad idea.

  “Is everything all right over there? You sound distracted.”

  “I’m fine. I’m finishing up a meeting. I’ll be ready.”

  Talib turned facing her, walked to the small conference table, and sat on the edge, casually crossing his arms across his chest. She could feel his eyes moving across her body. They locked eyes and she could feel the blood rushing to her face.

  Camille dropped her eyes. She mumbled an inaudible goodbye and hung up the phone. She took several breathes before addressing Talib.

  “I’m sorry. I’m leaving early today and my car is expected any moment.” He nodded. “I would like to continue your story. How about lunch Monday?” She needed to talk with him alone. By Monday, she should understand the significance of the contents in Ashanta’s package and maybe some of his story would make sense.

  “Monday, sure, it’s a date.” Talib smiled and Camille watched him change form before her eyes once again. He seemed to be a man of many faces and she would find it appealing if she didn’t feel an uneasiness fluttering in her stomach.

  She nodded her agreement as he walked out of her office. Camille stood behind her desk, watching his back when Talib stopped before crossing the threshold. He turned and gazed into her eyes. “Have a safe trip.” With a wink, he was gone.

  Chapter 17

  Marc parked by the curb facing the building. He had spent most of the day thinking and rethinking about what occurred between he and Camille that morning. He did not want to rush her and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to start relationship with her with such an important case hanging between them.

  Camille exited the glass doors, stopped, and leaned her head back, apparently basking in the sun. It was a beautiful day in Houston. The sun was shining and the temperature was cool enough to ride with the car windows down without melting. Marc walked towards her, taking in her conservative suit. It did her body no justice. Camille was hidden behind a boring navy blue suit and he absolutely despised her signature bun.

  “Your chariot awaits,” he said with an elaborate arm wave and she laughed. “Ready?” He grabbed her bags, freeing her hands.

  “Yes, are you? And I can drive,” she offered as they walked to his rental car.

  “I’m good, besides you look like you need a minute to unwind. Do we need to go by your place? I’ve gassed up and we can hit 45.” He would have the entire trip to pick her mind and Marc planned to figure out what it was about her that made her so appealing. Her beauty was part of it, but his need to assist her with important too.

  He also wanted to spend time getting to know her, outside of work. He knew all too well that as an agent you are not quite yourself while undercover. Working undercover for two years had to reflect on her and who she was.

  Marc switched all her bags to one hand before opening the door. She slid into the car and allowed her head to relax on the headrest. He closed the door and made his way to the back of the car. He opened the trunk, moving his bags to one side before placing Camille’s inside. His cell phone rang. Marc closed the trunk and answered.

  “Russell, man, what’s up?” He leaned on the trunk, noticing he could see the back of Camille’s head.

  “Everything and nothing.” They shared a friendly chuckle.

  “Man, tell me about it.” Marc felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He searched the streets when a feeling passed over him. He knew someone was watching him.

  “Marc, I’m looking into these groups. There are so many players it's difficult to isolate one.”

  “Just give me what you got.” Marc walked to the driver’s side, open the door and sat behind the wheel. He opened the storage compartment, pushing the contents around searching for a pen. He found one, grabbed an envelope, stood and used the top of the car as his writing surface.

  “Okay, I’ve narrowed your search to Militant Renegade, Imperial Dynasty, and Voice. All three are prominent, but underground in South Africa.”

  Marc scribbled the group names down, “How sure are you about these three?” He did not want them shooting in the dark. Any information he could provide would help, as long as it did not lead them in the wrong direction. The window of opportunity for catching these types of groups was usually small, which meant they would have to move quick.

  “Honestly, I'm not sure at all. I'm still waiting on bank records, so I had to go for the most known groups with diamond mines. I may have a few more names by Monday. I wanted to give you something to get started on while I try to secure information about each of the groups.”

  Marc knew his request required Russell to work outside of their usual contacts since they worked exclusively in the Middle East area for several years.

  “I understand, and I appreciate your help with this.”

  “Man, I can't dig too much more without raising some flags. I will try to get the financial records and then you're on your own.”

  “All right. Also, can you see what you find on Precious Ventures? I know very little about it other than it’s a for-profit company that may be based in Africa. They have a program that offers scholarships to students wanting to study abroad.”

  “Yeah man, I got you.”

  They talked a while longer. Marc couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching him. He listened as Russell brought him up to speed with the rest of the team. He folded the envelope and shoved it in his back pocket scanning the street again and then looking down at Camille. Based on the rise and fall of her chest, he knew she was asleep.

  He decided to use the time to examine the neighborhood. IJDC stood in an isolated area. They were in a well-populated area, hidden in a secluded cove. The building was well secured, judging by the security cameras and the guards patrolling the area, which led to them agreeing to leave Camille’s car on the IJDC grounds.

  Marc prepared to end the call when he noticed someone standing in a window near the top of the building. The vertical blinds were open and he could see the man standing, watching him. “Camille, Camille” he said in a hushed tone.

  Marc heard her grunt a response. He ended the call with Russell, but kept the phone to his ear. “Camille, baby, I need you to wake up, but move slow.”

  “Move slow?” That woke her.

  “Yes, move slow, I think someone is watching us from the building.” He heard her moving in the car. He did not want to draw attention to his movements. “Do you recognize who it is?”

  “Yes, I know him. It's Talib.”

  He got in the car, inserting the key into the ignition. He brought the car to life and merged into traffic.

  “What do you think that was about?” Marc asked, driving to the highway.

  “I'm not sure. We had an in
teresting conversation today.” Camille began removing her suit jacket.

  “Really, about what?” He didn't take his eyes off the road, but the tone of his voice changed.

  “Nothing much really, but he opened up. I'm going to lunch with him Monday.”

  “Do you think that's a good idea?” He glanced at her as she tossed her jacket on the backseat. She wore a silk white blouse. He could see the lace trim of her nude color bra peaking through the opening of her blouse. Marc redirected his attention to the road.

  “Yes, why wouldn't it be? I think he's the key to this entire case. I just don't know how.”

  He was still stuck on her sharing lunch with him. Marc wanted to say it was concern for her safety, but that was only partially true. However, he had no right to question how and with whom she spent her time.