He smiled in amusement. He did not need to overturn the government if they could manipulate those already in power. He found the current system amusing, but it made his organization function efficiently and his members benefited generously for their efforts. They too had learned to adapt and transform as lawmakers tried to place a halt on their livelihood. Talib was convinced as long as men like Saul existed, he would always find a way to land on his feet.
“Would you like a drink while you wait?” The waitress smiled and tilted her head to the side.
He returned her smile, ordered a Scotch on the rocks, and watched her walk away. The women in America were different; they openly flirted. He liked it, but he liked the subtle way Camille carried herself.
He finished his drink quick and signaled for the waitress, stopping once he saw Camille heading in his direction. He wondered how she reacted seeing her place in shambles. Did she notice the file he left for her?
He had more questions than answers. Talib stood and pulled out the chair adjacent to his own. She lowered into the seat and began removing her suit jacket. She wore a rose-colored silk blouse. It matched the light tint adorning her lips.
“Hello, Camille. You look beautiful today.” He smiled, unable to help himself. He would do his job and cringed at the thought of hurting her, but he planned to enjoy her company for as long as he could.
“Thank you. Have you ordered?” She motioned toward his empty glass.
“No, I just had a drink. It's been a long day.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. He loved the sparkle in her eyes.
The waitress appeared and placed their menus on the table. She removed Talib's glass and he took a moment to let Camille fill his senses. Her basic hairstyle gave him a full view of her face. She wore a pair of beautiful earrings. He paused, noticing the locket around her neck. He knew he'd seen her wear the earrings before but the locket was new. It looked familiar.
He combed his mind trying to place it while she ordered a grilled chicken salad. He ordered a T-bone steak and decided to ask, “Are those black diamond earrings?”
She nodded, “Yes, they were a gift from my father. You have an eye for jewelry.”
“I am the interim vice president at IJDC,” he said, comically leaning back in his chair and crossing his left leg over his knee. They shared a laugh as she nodded in understanding. “Besides,” he continued, “I think anyone would notice them. You wear them daily?”
“Just about…they are a constant reminder of my mother.”
He nodded a silent understanding. “Is the locket a family piece as well? I'd guess that it's vintage based on the embossing.” He reached over the table and ran his finger across the swirled carving on the face of the locket’s surface. “It's exquisite,” he added, looking into her eyes. Camille's shock was apparent, but she didn't pull away.
Talib’s smile didn't reach his eyes. He knew the greatest advantage with most people lies in manipulating their feelings. He let his personal attachments to others die with his family, yet he thrived on using emotions to gain trust and insight.
“No,” her voice quivered. “It was a gift.”
The waiter arrived with their meals, relieving the tension between them. “Did I offend you?” She looked up from her plate.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“For asking about your jewelry. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just marvel at unique pieces, especially on a woman as beautiful as you.” He watched emotions dance across her face. She dropped her head before responding.
“I'm not offended. You just caught me off guard.”
“I apologize.”
He'd lay off a little. Talib wanted her to open up, not shut down. They talked over their meal, she did not mention the break-in, and he did not ask about Ashanta. He did not want to ruin the flow of their conversation. Instead, he would find a private investigator and learn more about Ms. Camille Carmichael.
Before they knew, it was time to go. Camille noticed how late it was. “Talib, I can't believe we've talked for over an hour. I have to head back. I have a meeting in less than two hours.”
She reached for her purse to pay for her portion of the bill, but he stopped her. “It's my treat.”
“You'll have to let me return the favor,” she said, slipping into her suit coat.
He tilted his head slightly, nodding his agreement. “You will,” he said to her departing figure, “and then some.”
* * *
Marc listened as Russell briefed him on the few groups on their list. He ran his hand over his face, trying to erase the shock of what he was hearing.
“Russell, what is your gut telling you?”
“Honestly...you may not want to know what I'm thinking.”
Marc waited before responding. Camille was complicating his friendly family vacation. He thought she was a beautiful woman and wanted to get to know her, but she was drawing him in, fast and deep, and that wasn’t on his wish list.
He wanted fun, a good time, and temporary companionship. Nothing about Camille said temporary. She was a woman who would expect marriage and he was a man who didn't intend to go down the aisle again. The alternative was leaving her. He knew she had Derek, but he was moving about the country and leaving Camille in Houston to work alone. Leaving her was not an option he would exercise until the case was resolved. Then he'd move on to the next destination, a cruise for some partying and much needed R&R. He had purchased two tickets while waiting for Russell’s call. Yet he wasn’t sure if he’d ask her to accompany him.
“Tell me what you think,” he reluctantly asked.
“You asked for it.” He knew Russell well enough to recognize that he was buying time, giving Marc a chance to change his mind. “Two of the possible groups are high on the watch list. If you brought one of them in, you could guarantee your request to transfer.”
Marc never considered how helping Camille could help him too. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more, but he asked anyway, “What do you mean?”
“Dude, that's like you stumbling upon Bin Laden on vacation and walking away,” Russell laughed. “My top pick of the three groups is the Imperial Dynasty, but man, no one has ever come close to snagging those guys. I talked with some agents working that area and they don't even have a clear clue about their numbers or their leadership. They only know about their dealings in diamond mines and some other legitimate businesses. Other than that, I couldn't find much.”
Marc sat back in the chair. Russell continued to fill him in on all that he found.
“What about Talib?”
“It's sketchy. I have records of him attending college, his employment Visa is sponsored by IJDC. The man is a billionaire.” The amusement left Russell's voice. He was back to business.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Marc stood and sat on the end of the desk. “What does he do?”
“He does a little of everything. I'm trying to dig deeper, but I wanted to get back with you.”
“Do you see a visible affiliation between him and the Imperial Dynasty?” Marc asked.
“No, but that's been the issue with this group. They're not holding political rallies or orchestrating suicidal bombings, yet the feedback from agents in the field is that they are deadly and amassing wealth through legitimate channels.”
Marc prepared to head to Camille's after talking with Russell. He decided he'd keep the information to himself until Russell could tell him more about Talib. He felt uneasy about keeping the details from her, but he needed to determine exactly what was going on.
He let off a soft whistle...he's a billionaire. Then what is he doing working as an interim VP all the way in Houston?
Chapter 22
Saul always knew holding the president's seat would be nice. He was settled in his father's office, actually his office. He was ready to make some changes and move them into the twentieth century. His father's style of leadership differed from his own. He would increase their international exposur
e and decrease their line of custom products. He wanted their primary line of business to include international distribution of precious stones. His relationship with Talib was the first step in making that happen. He had increased their supply of diamonds by more than forty percent in the past four years. The fees involved with greasing palms were kicking his butt, but things were looking up.
As a kid, he watched his father move on with his life without his mother. He had built a deep seed of hate for him, which affected their ability to co-exist on good terms. He knew his old man was rotting in hell and that was fine. He deserved it, he and his little bitch, too.
His mental checklist for taking over IJDC was growing. His father was out of the way. Now he needed to handle Talib.
He did not think it was possible to handle Talib, but the sooner he found Talib's money, the sooner he would board a plane and leave Houston. Why did Ashanta have to mess with that man's money? Saul had decided to start with contacting Camille. They could review files and he would have the finance department match records.
Saul's involvement with Talib came by mishap, almost. They met during his travels abroad, nearly a decade ago. They were far from friends, but they worked well together and their association had padded Saul's bank account nicely. His position in international accounts afforded him flexibility and his father rarely researched the details of his accounts. Harold thought letting Saul travel the world building client relations was a great way to keep Saul out of his hair.
Saul, in turn, used that time to his advantage. He knew the men he dealt with, like Talib, gained their stones through questionable practices, but that wasn't his concern. He'd been in some of the world’s most exotic locations only to visit the slums in jeans and gym shoes to shake hands on contracts netting him millions of dollars.
He knew he had to watch his back. Working with Talib, however, had provided security with other groups. Until his recent trip, their prior dealings were limited to one-on-one transacting. Saul didn't know Talib's people and vice versa.
Talib's visit was a total surprise. Saul did not like having him walking around the halls of IJDC, but he was no fool, he'd learned from the best. His father lived by the old adage; keep your friends close and your enemies closer since he had seated his son and greatest enemy at his right hand.
Saul pushed his chair back and moved from behind his desk. He walked toward the open glass displaying Houston's setting sun. The panoramic view of marigold and burnt orange stretched across the cloudy sky. Nightfall was minutes away. He loved sunsets and if he'd known his father's office offered such a display, he would have off’d him sooner. He smiled at his own jaded sense of humor.
Saul still held the same spot until the sun parted, giving free reign to night. His kaleidoscope view was absorbed by the midnight blue sky and a full moon rising to take is rightful place. Saul turned from the glass with his thoughts and memories to comfort the sullen mood that settled over his office. He stopped and stared aimlessly at the chair Talib had occupied while he met with Camille.
She should be able to help him locate the money without raising too much attention. He would have her itemize the details for the latest shipments from Talib's accounts. Saul masked his plan from his father by allocating the shipments of Talib's diamonds across several accounts. This required payments were disbursed in different international bank accounts. He was sure if he located the last shipments he could trace the payments.
He lowered his body into his chair and positioned it in front of his computer. It sounded simple enough. He'd start with Camille. Saul emailed his secretary instructing her to schedule a meeting with Camille. He would try to settle things with Talib by attempting to locate his money. Satisfied with his solution, he began shutting his computer down.
Saul glanced up from his computer when he heard the janitor moving, emptying the trash in the secretarial cubicles outside his office. He scanned the office and settled his attention on the sitting area. He and his father had similar taste. His move into the office had been as simple as placing Ashley's picture on his desk.
Saul stiffened, recalling his meeting with Camille and the way Talib quietly sat watching the entire meeting. How did he miss that? Saul leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his knuckles. Talib had watched Camille without saying a word.
Interesting.
* * *
Derek reviewed the documents spread across Camille's table.
“What's your take on the current state of this case?”
He looked up from the spreadsheets in his hands and his sleepless nights showed in his puffy eyes. His disgruntled face unnerved her.
“Ashanta and Talib had a personal relationship that began before she started working at IJDC, as you see in this picture.” She grabbed the picture of a younger Ashanta in a cap and gown.
“It’s the nature of their relationship that I need to understand. She began collecting and storing financial records over three or four years intending to blackmail Saul into severing her ties with Talib.
“That leads me to wonder what caused the shift in their relationship. I haven’t found a direct connection with Talib except in her recording and that photograph.”
Camille stood and began to pace, as she pieced together her thoughts.
“What I need is a little more time. Marc has placed some feelers at the agency and we’re hoping to narrow the number of potential groups. Then we can try to trace one of the groups back to one or all of the companies in these records.”
She stopped. Derek did not interrupt, or ask questions. Camille used the back of her hand to wipe away sweat on her brow. She picked up the picture and stared at it, almost as if she expected a response or explanation. She placed the picture back on the table.
“Then there's this.” Camille dipped her finger below the collar of her shirt and revealed the locket.
Derek stiffened.
She was losing his attention. “I have more records that we’ve had in the past. All I need is a little more time.”
He sat unaffected by her plea as he pushed through the papers.
“What do you think Talib's role is?” Derek passively asked without looking up from the file.
“Outside of Ashanta’s statements, I don’t know. My instincts say she was on to something, but I haven’t made a direct connection between him and the alleged conflict diamonds. I haven’t learned whether he is in fact the ‘Talib’ in her recording. The picture is the sole evidence of their past relationship at this point.”
“What all did you learn from her recording?”
The doorbell rang. Camille excused herself and walked to the door. She peered out the peephole, it was Marc. She took several cleansing breathes to calm her racing heart. She knew she had to push her budding feelings aside. Derek was in a surly mood and if he caught wind of their personal relationship, it would make her job more stressful.
She knew he meant well, but he had a poor way of showing it. He sat by and watched her decline over her relationship with Ron. It had been difficult to focus on the case and as a result, she found herself near death.
Camille opened the door and Marc leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips, not noticing Derek at the dining room table. She stepped back to avoid his affectionate jester. He lifted a brow in frustration and asked. “What's up?”
“Derek's here,” she whispered.
Derek appeared to be preoccupied with reviewing the transactions. She hoped it was true.
“So?” Marc's disapproval of her answer showed on his face. His jaw was clenched and he pulled back to his full height, looking down on her like a disapproving parent.
“Nothing, just come in. We can talk later.”
Camille stepped aside, allowing Marc entry into the house. He gave her a parting glance before walking toward Derek. She used his towering height to hide her appreciative stare. His broad shoulders and firm backside made her want to pull him to the side and...
“Camille, did you hear me?” Derek aske
d.
She blinked several times before realizing she was caught like a cat with a canary in his mouth. “Uhmm...no, could you repeat what you said?”
She stepped around Marc and took her seat at the end of the table. He followed her lead and sat across from Derek. Camille knew the look on Derek's face and she didn't like it.
“What have you learned about the companies?” Derek asked.
She ignored the edge in his voice. “Very little, everything appears legitimate on paper. I plan to go back to my office tonight and compare the office files to the records I have from Ashanta.”
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