As the rabbi’s voice droned on, Michael leaned into the car’s upholstery and watched the outskirts of Brussels slide by, content to ponder the perplexing events of the last hour.
They dined that night on beef and vegetables in the cozy kitchen of the Greenbergs’ house. Lila Greenberg seemed to eat on the run; she sprang up every time one of the men looked around the table or needed something from the kitchen.
As they ate, Michael studied the young couple. Gavriel Greenberg was a pleasant-looking man, with smooth pale skin stretched over high cheekbones, a dark brown beard and earlocks, and slightly protruding coffee-brown eyes. He did not speak much during dinner, and Michael wondered if his reticence sprang from natural shyness or the fact that a learned rabbi was sharing their evening meal.
Lila was a lovely girl, probably six or seven years younger than her headstrong cousin. She had Devorah’s dark eyes and sharp nose, but there the resemblance ended. Devorah possessed the sable beauty of a deadly panther, while Lila seemed an unstylish, soft little woman. The heavy wig that covered her hair for modesty’s sake seemed to compress her small frame, shadowing her eyes and capping her natural exuberance.
No matter how hard he tried to resist, Michael felt his gaze being drawn to Devorah. She ate quietly, respecting her cousins’ beliefs, and didn’t contradict Michael even once. The light from the candles bathed her smooth skin in a golden glow, and twice he had to press his hand to his thigh to restrain himself from reaching out and stroking one of her wayward curls. Though she always looked attractive, she shone with an ethereal beauty in the subdued atmosphere, and Michael knew he would have found himself in real trouble if they had been alone.
When the meal ended, the rabbi led them in a song of thanksgiving. Michael sat silently and listened with appreciation. These people might not approve of him or his relationship with their cousin, yet they had welcomed him to their home and their table. He knew Americans who wouldn’t open their homes to an outsider as easily.
The rabbi closed his eyes at the end of the song, murmured a prayer in Hebrew, then pressed his hands to the tablecloth and gave Gavriel a reassuring smile. As if this was a cue, Lila and Devorah rose from their places and began to remove the dishes from the dinner table. Michael slid his chair back, ready to offer his help, but Devorah caught his eye and gently shook her head.
When the last dish had been cleared from the table, the women resumed their places. As Lila sank into her seat, Gavriel cleared his throat and looked directly at Michael. “I was a little hesitant to take part in this,” he began, one corner of his mouth twisting. “But I would do anything for Israel. The rabbi assures me that this Russian has valuable and important information.”
“Ordinarily,” Lila lifted her chin to meet Michael’s gaze, “a buyer outside the diamond trade would not be admitted to one of our offices, much less be allowed to view a diamond and negotiate a price. Only the world’s most influential diamond dealers are allowed to purchase diamonds at what are known as sights, but we will make an exception in this case.”
Gavriel nodded. “Three months ago, a Russian by the name of Oleg Petrov contacted my father-in-law’s London office with an unusual request. He is searching for an uncut diamond of at least two hundred carats and offering to pay three million euros.”
Michael had heard this much of the story from Daniel, so he nodded at Gavriel. “I understand you are planning to offer him a fake stone.”
Gavriel fingered the edge of his beard. “A synthetic stone, yes. My conscience has troubled me on this account, for I have never defrauded a customer. But the offer of three million euros seems suspect. The Russian economy is weak; the nation can barely feed itself, so how can they afford such a stone? Furthermore, it is our feeling that selling a genuine diamond to the Russian leadership would be tantamount to selling ancient scrolls to an arsonist. Though we are not certain what this Oleg Petrov plans for the diamond, we are not certain he can be trusted.”
“Can any Russian be trusted?” Lila said, each word a splinter of ice.
Michael lifted a brow. Lila had scarcely spoken all evening, and her vehement suspicion caught him off guard.
The rabbi lifted his hand and looked in Michael’s direction. “We have heard about the current purge in Moscow, Captain Reed. Though we are saddened by such grievous news, we are not shocked. The Russians have been killing Jews for centuries. They killed over a hundred thousand as their troops mobilized for World War I.”
“On Tish-ah Be-Av,” Devorah whispered, catching Michael’s eye. “The ninth day of Av.”
Rabbi Witzun shot Michael a penetrating look. “The Russian nation has been persecuting Jews since the time of the czars. The word pogrom, referring to the massacre of a helpless people, rose from the Russian language. Less than fifty years ago, Joseph Stalin, may his name be forever blotted out, planned to exterminate the Jews in Russia. He arrested nine Moscow doctors, six of whom were Jewish, and falsely charged them with plans to murder Soviet leaders. He planned to publicly hang them in Moscow and then incite the public to three days of rioting against the Jews. Like Haman of old, Stalin wanted nothing less than the complete extermination of our people. He told the assembled Politburo that he would round up the Jews of Russia and exile them to Siberia, but two-thirds of the captives would never arrive. His men would kill them en route and blame their deaths on the angry Russian people.”
The rabbi paused and drew a shuddering breath. “Only the almighty hand of the Creator, blessed be he, saved the sons of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Stalin suffered a stroke only days before the doctors were to have been murdered. One month later, Pravda announced that the nine doctors had been declared innocent and released.”
“Of course,” Gavriel added, “that is not to say we mistrust all Russians, no more than we believe all Arabs are intent upon Israel’s destruction. But the country itself has not been kind to the Jews, and we suspect Oleg Petrov is acting as a representative of the Russian government. For that reason alone, I cannot trust him.”
“We are breaking every rule to accommodate this Petrov.” Lila’s mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “Never before have we allowed a stranger to negotiate a sighting. If not for the rabbi’s persuasion, we would not agree to this.”
Rabbi Witzun’s expression softened into one of fond reminiscence. “And I would not agree if not for Daniel. I believe he is right. This ruse is not terribly dangerous, not a moral problem. Tomorrow we shall meet this Russian and give him the false stone. And if the Master of the universe, blessed be his name, is pleased, all will be well with us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
1037 hours
Tuesday, October 17
A COLD LUMP GREW IN DEVORAH’S STOMACH AS SHE SAT IN THE BACKSEAT OF THE BMW. Reed was waiting on the curb outside his hotel when she, Lila, and Gavriel arrived to pick him up, but not even the sight of his confident smile could stem the chilly tendrils of apprehension spreading through her body.
As they drove to the diamond exchange, or bourse, Gavriel assured Devorah that Oleg Petrov did not know what Lila Greenberg looked like. “The Russian was referred to us by my father’s office,” he said, carefully negotiating the winding streets, “and he arranged his appointment by telephone. We have not seen him; he has not seen us.”
Devorah tugged on the bangs of the wig she now wore, a necessary part of every married Orthodox woman’s wardrobe. “Don’t worry about me, Gavriel,” she said, glancing at Michael. “And you need not fear for yourself, either. I’m certain we shall discover all we need to know.”
The bourse was located in the Marolles, an older, fading sector of Brussels. “We do not cater to the tourist trade,” Gabriel explained as he parked in an alley between two brick buildings. “The people who need us know where to find us.”
Devorah was surprised to see that only a simple brass plaque announced the bourse’s address—21 Rue de la Samaritaine. A plush, carpeted lobby beyond the front doors muffled their footsteps as they entered t
he building. A security camera high on the wall monitored the second door.
Loosening the scarf at his neck, Gavriel nodded at the camera, and a moment later a buzzer sounded. He caught the doorknob and pulled the door open, waiting for the others to pass.
The bourse was housed in a long and narrow room. A weighing station occupied the far end, and at least a dozen tables were arranged down the length of the building, perpendicular to floor-to-ceiling windows in the north wall. “So open,” she marveled, blinking in the bright light flooding the room.
Lila nodded as she slipped out of her coat. “Northern light is the best for examining diamonds. A diamond glows in bright sunlight.”
Trading had already begun by the time they arrived. Devorah had heard much about the diamond business, but she had never had an opportunity to visit a bourse. As Reed chatted with Gavriel in low tones, she stood in the center of the room and silently observed the routine.
Once a visitor had announced himself in the foyer, a plain-clothes guard escorted him into the main viewing room. The client was assigned to one of the sellers, who sat patiently behind a fluorescent lamp at a small table. Once the buyer and seller had greeted each other, another plainclothes guard brought out a little wooden box and set it on the table before the buyer.
“Each box contains diamonds specially selected for each buyer,” Lila explained, following Devorah’s gaze. “We know what sort of business each man does, whether high-end or low, whether he wants quality or quantity in his purchase. He is free to accept or reject the box we offer him—but if he rejects his box, he may not be invited to the bourse again.” She jerked her head in an emphatic nod, the heavy sheaf of her wig’s bangs flopping into her eyes. Automatically, she brushed the hair away and continued, “We don’t put up with foolishness. We are serious about our work, and so are our buyers.”
At one table near Devorah, a potbellied balding man pressed a loupe to his eye and shouted something in French while holding a diamond in a pair of silver tweezers. Lila’s tight expression relaxed into a smile. “He’s complaining,” she whispered, pulling Devorah away from the table. “That’s a good sign. Next he will tell David to get Gavriel on the phone so he can complain. Gavriel will listen, and then he will name our final price.” She nodded confidently. “He will buy that stone.”
As Lila moved away to take a phone call, Devorah shifted her gaze to another table, where a business deal had apparently been concluded. The buyer and seller, both men, stood and shook hands, then the seller said, “Mazel U’Bracha.” The buyer scooped the diamonds into a small felt pouch, slipped them into his inner coat pocket, and went out the door wearing a satisfied smile.
Devorah turned around and saw Reed standing behind her. “Mazel U’Bracha?” he asked.
“With luck and a blessing.” She smiled. “It is tradition. Even non-Jews say it to conclude a deal.” She lifted her hand. “Come with me. I think Gavriel is ready to set up our table.”
Reed followed her to the empty table where Gavriel stood. Devorah sank into the empty chair, adjusted the small lamp at her right hand, and smoothed the wrinkles from the velvet-covered foam cushion. While Gavriel murmured a prayer in Hebrew, she grinned up at Reed, trying to disguise her nervousness. “Tell me this could be fun.”
“Lila will ring you when the Russian arrives,” Gavriel said, a no-nonsense expression on his face as he pointed to the phone at Devorah’s left. “You, Captain Reed, will come out of the vault with the stone in a wooden box. You will bring it directly to Devorah, then step back and wait. Do not speak—your accent would arouse suspicion in a moment.”
Reed stared in surprise. “I have an accent?”
Devorah rolled her eyes, momentarily enjoying the upper hand. “A thick one. Believe me, Gavriel is right. Be silent and watch.”
“When you have shown him the stone,” Gavriel continued, transferring his gaze to Devorah, “ask if he would like to have one of our cutters shape it for him. From his answer, we may be able to determine the stone’s purpose.”
“What is a reasonable figure if he wants to have it cut?” Reed asked.
Gavriel folded his arms. “For up to two hundred pieces—tell him ten thousand euros. If he wants it cut into one perfect stone, the price would be a hundred thousand. But after quoting those prices, offer to do the cutting for half that amount. I do not want anyone else to see that stone— they would know he had been cheated and would tell him so in an instant.”
Devorah nodded. “I understand.”
Reed looked down at her. “Seal the deal and pronounce the blessing— but don’t forget to try to find out everything you can.”
“Roger that.” She smoothed her skirt, wishing Reed would leave her alone to center her thoughts, but he merely locked his hands behind his back and looked expectantly toward the front door. Finally she caught his eye and gestured toward the small office across from the weighing station. “Shouldn’t you be getting to your post, Captain? I believe that is where the security monitor is located. From there you can have the first glimpse of our visitor.”
A wry but indulgent glint appeared in his eye, then he walked away. Devorah slowly exhaled as he left, then drew a deep breath and steeled herself for the operation to follow.
It would be simple, Reed had promised. Nothing could go wrong.
Suppressing a smile, Michael left Devorah at her table and moved to the small office across from the weighing station. Lila buzzed him through the locked door, and once inside he saw that one office wall was completely taken up by a steel vault, its wide door now open. Peering inside, Michael saw that the vault was lined with shelves, upon which a series of wooden boxes stood in careful order and velveteen pouches bulged with treasure.
A desk occupied the opposite office wall, and a security guard—this one in uniform—sat at a console watching a row of monitors. Michael noticed that security cameras not only monitored the entrance, but the examination areas as well. A ceiling camera caught every movement of the buyers and sellers seated at the velvet-covered tables.
Gavriel sat at another desk, a phone at his left hand and a cluttered pile of papers at his right. “The high cost of doing business today,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the bank of security monitors. “In my father’s day these things were not necessary. But the world is changing.”
“Everything is changing,” Michael murmured, his eyes following a streak of movement on one of the monitors. A man and woman entered the front doors and announced themselves over the intercom. From her small desk outside the vault, Lila rang one of the guards in the outer room, and a moment later an escort led the couple in and seated them at one of the trading tables.
All the tables were filled now except Devorah’s. Michael glanced at his watch. The Russian’s appointment was for 11:00. According to his watch, the man was already three minutes late.
He turned to Gavriel. “What if he doesn’t come?”
The younger man shrugged. “Who am I to say what will happen? He will call again or go elsewhere. These things are out of my control.”
A bright slash of light crossed the foyer monitor, and Michael refocused his attention on it. Two men stood outside the locked double doors. One of them was wearing an ordinary wool coat and dark trousers, not a military uniform. But the sight of the first man’s companion gave Michael pause— the second man wore the dark hat, coat, and beard of an Orthodox Jew.
“Gavriel,” he whispered, his voice tense and urgent.
The diamond broker looked up, then frowned at the monitor. “This is not good,” he murmured, rising from his chair.
“Why would he bring someone with him? Why a Jew?”
Gavriel crossed his arms and stared at the monitor with a look that said his brain was working hard at a new set of problems. “There is only one reason. The Russian knows nothing about diamonds, so he has brought an expert.”
Michael felt his heart leap uncomfortably into the back of his throat as Gavriel pushed past him into the vault.
“An expert?” Michael asked, following. “But you are showing him a worthless stone.”
“Not if I can help it.” Gavriel’s hands fluttered over the boxes and caressed the felt bags, considering the heft of each through the fabric. “We would be exposed in an instant.”
Michael clenched his fists, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. They had broken one of the first rules of combat and underestimated their enemy. Unless they came up with an answer, their careful plan would be worthless. “Do you have a stone of that size?” he asked, hearing a note of anxiety in his voice.
Gavriel gave him a narrow, glinting glance, then turned to Lila, who sat at her desk with a desperate expression on her face. “We will see what we can find. Meanwhile, Wife, send an escort to let them in. We cannot arouse suspicion by holding them in the lobby.”
Michael glanced up at the monitors while Lila picked up the phone to ring one of the waiting guards. Soon the Russian and the Jew would be seated at Devorah’s table.
“I should warn Devorah,” Michael said, moving toward the door. “She can create a diversion to stall them.”
“It will do no good.” Gavriel stood motionless in the middle of the vault, his hands hanging limply at his side. “I have no stone that size. We have only the synthetic diamond. It will have to do.”
Michael’s mind refused to accept the merchant’s words. “Surely you have something close. A stone of one hundred carats? Eighty?”
“Nothing.” Sighing, Gavriel moved toward his desk, then picked up the phone.
Michael clenched his fist and grasped at a last hope. “Are you calling London? Will they be able to send a genuine stone?”
Gavriel shook his head. “I am calling the rabbi. If we ever needed prayer and inspiration, it is now.”
Devorah took a deep breath and stood as the guard helped the visitors shed their coats, then escorted the two gentlemen to her table. A tide of gooseflesh had rippled up each arm when she saw that a Jew accompanied the Russian, but now she lifted her head with confidence and greeted them with a smile. Reed and Gavriel would have seen both men on the security monitor. They would do something to prevent disaster.
By Dawn's Early Light Page 24