Dance of Death (52 page)

They moved forward, the well-armed security guard bringing up the rear, and passed through two other massive doors before entering what was evidently the main vault, a huge steel space with metal cages enclosing drawer upon metal drawer, rising from floor to ceiling.

Now the CEO stepped forward, clearly relishing his role. "The inner vault, gentlemen. But even here the diamond is not kept unprotected, where it might tempt one of our trusted employees. It is kept in a special vault-within-a-vault, and no fewer than four Affiliated Transglobal executives are needed to open this vault: myself, Rand Marconi, Skip McGuigan, and Foster Lord."

The three men, dressed in identical gray suits, bald, and looking enough alike as to be mistaken for brothers, all smiled at this. Clearly, they didn't get many chances to strut their stuff.

The interior vault stood at the far end of the chamber, another steel door in the wall. Four keyholes were arrayed in a line across its face. Above them, a small light glowed red.

"And now we wait for the outer vault doors to be locked before we open the inner vault."

Smithback waited, listening to the series of motorized hummings, clickings, and deep rumbles.

"Now we are locked in. And as long as the inner safe is
unlocked,
the outer vault doors will remain
locked.
Even if one of us wanted to steal the diamond, we couldn't leave with it!" Grainger chuckled. "Gentlemen, take out your keys."

The men all removed small keys from their pockets.

"We've set up a small table for Mr. Kaplan," said the CEO, indicating an elegant table nearby.

Kaplan eyed it narrowly, pursing his lips with tight disapproval.

"Is everything in order?" the CEO asked.

"Bring out the diamond," Kaplan said tersely.

Grainger nodded. "Gentlemen?"

Each of the men inserted his key into one of the four keyholes. Glances were exchanged; then the keys were turned simultaneously. The small red light turned green and the safe clicked open. Inside was a simple metal cabinet with eight drawers. Each one was labeled with a number.

"Drawer number
2,"
said the CEO.

The drawer was opened; Grainger leaned in and removed a small gray metal box, which he carried over to the table and placed before Kaplan with reverence. The gemologist sat down and began fussily laying out a small collection of tools and lenses, adjusting them with precision on the tabletop. He took out a rolled pad of plush black velvet and laid it out, forming a neat square in the middle of the table. Everyone watched him work, the people forming a semicircle around the table-with the exception of the security guard, who stood slightly back, arms crossed.

As a last step, Kaplan pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. "I am ready. Hand me the key."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kaplan, but rules require me to open the box," said the security director.

Kaplan waved a hand irritably. "So be it. Don't drop it, sir. Diamonds may be hard but they shatter as easily as glass."

Beck leaned over the box, inserted the key, and raised the lid. All eyes were riveted on the box.

"Don't touch it with your naked, sweaty hands," said Kaplan sharply.

The security director withdrew. Kaplan reached into the box and plucked out the gem as nonchalantly as if it were a golf ball, laying it on the velvet in front of him. He opened a loupe and leaned over the stone.

Suddenly, he straightened up and spoke in a sharp, high, querulous voice. "I beg your pardon, but really, I can't work being crowded around like this, especially from behind. I beg you, please!"

"Of course, of course," said Grainger. "Let's all step back and give Mr. Kaplan some room."

They shuffled back. Once again, Kaplan bent to examine the gem. He picked it up with a four-pronged holder, turned it over. He laid down the loupe.

"Hand me my Chealsea filter," he said sharply, to no one in particular.

"Ah, which is that?" Beck asked.

"The white oblong object, over there."

The security director picked it up and handed it over. Kaplan took it, opened it, and examined the gem again, muttering something unintelligible.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Kaplan?" asked Grainger solicitously.

"No," he said simply.

The tension in the vault went up a notch.

"Do you have enough light?" the CEO asked.

A freezing silence.

"Hand me the DiamondNite. No, not that.
That."

Beck handed him a strange device with a pointed end. Ever so gently, Kaplan touched the stone with it. There was a small beep and a green light.

"Hmph. At least we know it's not moissanite," the gemologist said crisply, handing the device back to Beck, who did not look pleased to be cast in the role of assistant.

More mutterings. "The polariscope, if you please."

After a few false starts, Beck handed it to him.

A long look, a snort.

Kaplan stood up and looked around, eyeing everyone in the room. "As far as I can tell, which isn't much, given the horrendous lighting in here, it's probably a fake. A superb fake, but a fake nonetheless."

A shocked silence. Smithback stole a glance at Collopy. The museum director's face had gone deathly white.

"You're not sure?" the CEO asked.

"How can I possibly be sure? How can you expect an expert like me to examine a fancy color diamond under
fluorescent
lighting?"

A silence. "But shouldn't you have brought your own light?" ventured Grainger.

"My
own light?"
Kaplan cried. "Sir, forgive me, but your ignorance is shocking. This is
a fancy color
diamond, graded
Vivid,
and you cannot simply bring in any old light to look at it with. I need real light to be sure.
Natural
light. Nothing else will do. No one said anything about having to examine the finest diamond in the world under fluorescent lighting. This is an insult to my profession."

"You should have mentioned this when we made the arrangements," said Beck.

"I
assumed
I was dealing with a sophisticated insurance company, knowledgeable on the subject of gemstones! I had no idea I would be forced to examine a diamond in a stuffy basement vault. Not to mention with half a dozen people breathing down my neck as if I'm some kind of zoo monkey. My report will be that it is a possible fake, but that final determination will await reexamination under natural light." Kaplan crossed his arms and stared fiercely at the CEO.

Smithback swallowed painfully. "Well," he said, taking what he hoped were intelligible notes, "I guess that's it. There's my story."

"What's your story?" Collopy said, turning on him. "There's no story. This is inconclusive."

"I should certainly say so," said Grainger, his voice shaky. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

Smithback shrugged. "My original source tells me that diamond's a fake. Now Mr. Kaplan says it may be a fake."

"The operative word here is
may,"
Grainger said.

"Just a moment!" Collopy turned to Kaplan. "You need natural light to tell for sure?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

Collopy turned to the CEO. "Isn't there someplace he can view the stone under natural light?"

There was a moment of silence.

Collopy drew himself up. "Grainger," he said in a sharp voice, "the safekeeping of this stone was
your
responsibility."

"We can bring the stone up to the executive boardroom," Grainger said. "On the eighth floor. There's plenty of light up there."

"Excuse me, Mr. Grainger," said Beck, "but the policy is quite firm: the diamond can't leave the vault."

"You heard what the man said. He needs better light."

"With all due respect, sir, I have my instructions, and not even you can alter them."

The CEO waved his hand. "Nonsense! This is a matter of critical importance. Surely we can get a waiver."

"Only with the written, notarized permission of the insured."

"Well, then! We've got the museum's director right here. And Lord's a notary public, aren't you, Foster?"

Lord nodded.

"Dr. Collopy, you'll give the necessary written permission?"

"Absolutely. This has got to be resolved now." His face was gray, almost cadaverous.

"Foster, draw up the document."

"As director of security, I strongly recommend against this," said Beck quietly.

"Mr. Beck," said Grainger, "I appreciate your concern. But I don't think you fully comprehend the situation. We have a hundred-million-dollar limit on our policy at the museum, but Lucifer's Heart is covered in a special rider, and one of the conditions of the stone being kept here for safekeeping is that there's no limitation of liability. Whatever the GIA independently determines the stone's value to be, we must pay. We've
got
to have an answer to the question of whether this stone is real, and we've got to have it now."

"Nevertheless," said Beck, "for the record, I still oppose taking the gem out of the vault."

"Duly noted. Foster? Draw up the document and Dr. Collopy will sign it."

The secretary took a piece of blank paper from his suit jacket, wrote some lines. Collopy, Grainger, and McGuigan signed it, then Lord notarized it with his signature.

"Let's go," said the CEO.

"I'm calling a security escort," said Beck darkly. At the same time, Smithback watched as the security chief slid a gun out of his waistband, checked it, flicked off the safety, and slid it back.

Kaplan picked up the stone with the four-prong.

"I'll do that, Mr. Kaplan," said Beck quietly. He took the handle of the four-prong and gently laid the stone in its velvet box. Then he shut the lid and locked it, pocketing the key and placing the box under his arm.

They waited while Kaplan packed up his supplies; then they shut the inner door and waited for the outer one to open. They proceeded back through the succession of massive doors, where they were met by a brace of security guards. The guards escorted them to a waiting elevator bank, and within five minutes Smithback found himself being ushered into a small but extremely elegant boardroom, done up in exotic wood. Light flooded in through a dozen broad windows.

Beck stationed the two extra security guards outside the doors, then shut and locked them.

"Everyone please stand back," he said. "Mr. Kaplan, will this do?"

"Splendid," said Kaplan with a broad smile, his whole mood seeming to change.

"Where do you want to sit?"

Kaplan pointed to a seat in a corner, between two windows. "That would be perfect."

"Set yourself up."

The jeweler busied himself laying out all his tools again, spreading the velvet. Then he looked up. "The stone, please?"

Beck laid the box next to him, unlocked it with the key, and raised the lid. The gemstone lay inside, nestled in its velvet.

Kaplan reached in, plucked it out with the four-prong, and called for a Grobet double lens. Using this device, he peered at the diamond, first looking at it through one lens, then the other, then both at once. As he held it, light struck the gemstone, and the walls of the room were suddenly freckled with dots of intense cinnamon color.

Several minutes passed in absolute silence. Smithback realized he was holding his breath. At length, Kaplan slowly laid the diamond down on the velvet, swiveled the Grobet lenses from his eyes, and bestowed a beaming smile on the waiting audience.

"Ah, yes," he said, "how wonderful it is. Natural light makes all the difference in the world. This is it, gentlemen. Without the slightest doubt, this is Lucifer's Heart." He placed it back down on the velvet pad.

There was a relieved exhalation, as if everybody else in the room had been holding their breaths along with Smithback.

Kaplan waved his hand. "Mr. Beck? You may put it away. With the four-prong, if you please."

"Thank the Lord," said the CEO, turning to Collopy and grasping his hand.

"Thank the Lord is right," Collopy replied, shaking the hand while dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. "I had a bad moment back there."

Meanwhile, Beck, his face unreadable but still dark, had reached over with the four-prong to pick up the gem. At the same time, Kaplan rose from his chair and bumped into him. "I beg your pardon!"

It happened so fast that Smithback realized what he'd seen only after the fact. Suddenly, Kaplan had the gem in one hand and Beck's gun in the other, pointed at Beck. He fired it almost in Beck's face, just turning the barrel enough so the bullets went past and buried themselves in the wall. He fired three times in rapid succession, the incredibly loud reports plunging the room into terror and confusion as everyone dropped to the floor, Beck included.

And then he was gone, out the supposedly locked door.

Beck was up in a flash. "Get him!
Stop him!"

As he picked himself up from the floor, ears ringing, Smithback could see through the double doors the two security guards sprawled on the floor scrambling back to their feet and taking off down the hall, fumbling with their guns.