head. “I picked it up with a glove, put it in a box.”
“You can do that now.”
“Please,” he said. “Help me. It is not for me. It is for Romania, for the first Katerina. For justice.”
For a long moment, I thought about it. There was more I didn’t know, more I wanted to understand, and it all bumped around in my head like boxes on a stormy sea. None of the story hung together. Probably a lot of that was exaggerated by the very real case of jet lag that was dragging on my brain cells.
But the one thing I did know was that I did not want to let the jewel go just this moment. Before I decided, I wanted to get some sleep. And if I were honest, didn’t some part of me want to carry it to Paul himself, like an offering?
“All right,” I said, and bent down to pick up the jewel. In my hand, it was startlingly alive, with a deep vibration I could feel through to my wrist. I looked at it. “It’s very powerful, this stone,” I said quietly.
Luca looked as if he’d throw up. “Put it away,” he said.
I tucked it into my bra again, then remembered my clothes, now sitting upstairs in the hallway. “Damn it! I want to go back for my clothes.”
“No,” he said, adamantly.
“I have a pair of very expensive custom-made red leather pants in that bag, damn it.”
“I’ll buy you a new pair for God’s sake. Let’s go!”
Chapter 7
Clarity is the next step in determining the value of a diamond. Diamonds, more than any other gemstone, have the capability to produce the maximum amount of brilliance. And a diamond that is virtually free of interior or exterior inclusions (commonly called flaws) is of the highest quality, for nothing interferes with the passage of light through the diamond. To determine a diamond’s clarity, it is viewed under a 10-power magnification by a trained eye. Minute inclusions neither mar its beauty nor endanger its durability.
—www.costellos.com.au
In the parking lot, he headed toward his ridiculous little car. I shook my head. “I’m driving.”
He wiped his forehead, looked at the blood smeared on his fingers. “You’d better get me a towel first.”
I looked in the trunk, but it was as bare as every other rental car trunk in the world.
The pair of photographers, who’d obviously followed me to the hotel, swarmed suddenly out of the close, flashes popping. Grr. What an irritation!
“Get in the car,” I barked at Luca, and followed him in. “Put something over your face.”
“What? I do not have anything!”
“Use your hands, your arms. Cover the fucking blood, all right?” I turned the key. The engine rumbled to humming life, and I backed out, hit the road, letting the car have her head as we hit the open road headed south. Behind us, the photographers scrambled to follow us, but I knew they’d never catch me. Not in this car.
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