Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman
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“Who does?”
“VerHauten. You know about them?”
“It’s a South African diamond company, isn’t it?”
“More than a company. VerHauten is a nation to itself.”
“Tell me about them.”
“What’s to tell? They own eighty percent of the diamond mines. VerHauten mines a little more, they bring in more diamonds to sell and they make money. They mine less, they bring in less diamonds, the price of diamonds goes up, they make money, too. They not only own the mines, they own the distribution of the stones. No one can compete against them.”
Decker sensed that Gold was talking from a point of personal experience. “You’ve tried competing with them?”
Gold burst into laughter. “Me? I’m nothing. A glob of spit. I can’t compete with VerHauten.” Again, he laughed. “No, it’s impossible even for the big dealers, let alone small potatoes like me and Arik. No one even tries.”
“You said they own eighty percent of the mines,” Decker said. “Who owns the other twenty percent?”
“There are other mines—in Africa, in Canada, in Russia,” Gold said. “Big mines in Russia in the north area. A region called Yakutia. They are government mines. The last I heard the Russian government was setting up a joint venture with VerHauten. It’s a smart move. The Russians may be able to mine diamonds, but they can’t distribute them without VerHauten’s blessing.”
“Why not?”
“Where would they set up shop?”
“Why not in Russia?”
“The minute VerHauten finds out about competitors, they either buy them out or undersell them. They own the market. What does this have to do with Arik?”
Decker gave a noncommittal shrug. “You said Arik was a hoarder. Maybe he was hoarding too much for VerHauten’s liking.”
Gold grinned. “You know how much inventory we have? Around two million. It seems like a big number, but no one can survive in this business if their inventory drops below five or six hundred thousand. You don’t have stones on hand, buyers find other people. So we put money in stones. You know what VerHauten’s worth?”
“More than two million,” Decker said, dryly.
“Try three to four billion. I don’t think they lose sleep about Arik and me.”
Decker said, “Still, two million dollars is well worth robbing for.”
“Except that nothing’s missing in the vault.” Gold shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Decker said, “Do you know of anyone who might want to shut you and Arik down?”
Gold took out another cigarette. “That’s what worries me. Arik can be reckless and rude in dealing with people. Maybe some dealers would like to shut us down. They know we have the good stones. Not good stones, great stones. I’ve made many good contacts over the years.”
Gold lit up his smoke.
“I’ve got to give Arik credit, too. He has a great eye for stones—cut and uncut. He can tell at a glance what the stone will look like when it’s cut. All those years working as a stonecutter. He learned the trade from his father. Arik’s taken me to Antwerp a few times. He looks at a diamond. To me, it doesn’t look like much. He says, ‘Shaul, this is the one I want.’ Doesn’t have to cut a window in it or anything.”
“Cut a window?”
“Cut a window,” Shaul repeated. “Open the stone. VerHauten sets a certain price for the uncut stone. Nonnegotiable. But what they will let you do is open a small facet so you can look inside and see what you’re buying before you buy it. Arik doesn’t even need to do that. He can smell it.”
“Where is Antwerp?” Decker asked.
“Belgium. It’s where VerHauten distributes its stones. Everyone big goes to Antwerp.”
“Why Antwerp?”
“Why do you go to the supermarket to buy milk? Because it’s where diamonds are.”
Decker held back a smile. “I meant why did VerHauten set up distribution there? Why not in South Africa?”
“VerHauten wants a center in Europe. And Belgium gives them easy laws.” Gold paused. “Sometimes for a special client, Arik goes to Belgium and buys big uncut stones. Mostly we go to Israel and buy cut, mid-sized stones. More diamonds are cut in Israel than anywhere else in the world.”
Gold rested the cigarette in his ashtray.
“Still, I don’t know anyone who would hurt Arik to put us out of business. This whole thing is very strange.”
Decker flipped the cover over his notepad. “Yes, it is.”
Gold ran his hand over his face. “Even with the gun, I’m worried. Because I don’t know who this enemy is.” He looked at Decker. “You keep looking for them?”
“For a while,” Decker said. “But without a body, we can’t justify looking for an extended period of time. The family may have taken off on their own accord.”
He stood and so did Gold. “We’ll keep in touch.”
Decker walked over to the door, then paused. “Mr. Gold, do you know where Yalom might keep his passport?”
Gold was quiet for a moment. “No. Why?”
“If he took off for anywhere international, he’d need his passport.”
“I don’t know about Arik’s passport,” Gold said. “Come. I’ll walk you out.”
Decker realized that Gold was inching him down the hallway. Yalom’s partner had been cooperative, even loquacious at times. But Decker couldn’t shake the feeling that Gold was holding back. He spoke at length about VerHauten, but little about Arik and his business dealings.
They reentered the sally port. Yochie was about to buzz them out. She said, “Uh-oh. You get company, Shaul.”
Decker looked at the outside TV monitor. A Chasid with a white beard. He was wearing a tall black hat and long black coat.
“Shnorrers,” Gold said with resignation. “They don’t leave me alone.”
“No, they don’t,” Decker agreed.
Gold looked at him. “You know about shnorrers?”
Decker nodded. Ostensibly,