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Robert carefully watched the gemologist.
Thirty minutes passed, but Kone had yet to examine half the stones. He was very thoroughly checking their conformity with the certificates and even more thoroughly packing them into the bags and back in the metal box.
Despite the official nature of the meeting, there was no tension in the room. The Czechs were talking quietly with the sheikh about something through an Arab interpreter.
Robert approached the gemologist and asked quietly in French, “Mr. Kone, do you live in Conakry?”
“No, Mr. Blanche,” Kone answered without pausing his work. “When my great friend Mr. Lansana Conte passed, I had to leave. I moved to South Africa in early 2009. That’s where I live now. That’s where my family lives.”
Kone spoke calmly, peering intently at another piece of treated carbon.
The next moment, a bank officer entered the room and addressed Robert.
“Mr. Blanche. There is a phone call for you.”
Robert picked up the phone and heard the agitated voice of Jovan, his friend and head of the firm’s security.
“Robbie, we’ve got a problem. I just received news from the hospital. Zimme did not suffer a heart attack. They discovered some powerful toxin in his blood.” Jovan fell silent, then whispered, “Poison.”
Robert said nothing. He was stunned.
Jovan quietly continued: “I don’t know where to start digging, but we need to figure out what the deal here is and who benefits. I believe somebody wanted to sideline the gemologist.”
“Did you tell the boss?”
“Roland? Of course, I did. He's already dropped everything and is coming to the office. But I wanted to tell you personally.”
Robert realized he had to do something and do it now. Before the main contract was signed and the transactions begun. He smelled fraud. The reputation of the firm was at stake.
When Robert returned to the conference room, all appeared normal.
Who would benefit if the deal falls through, he thought, looking around at each man in turn. The Arabs? No. They transferred the money to the bank, the account has been checked, so everything is good there. They rejected the idea of cash right away. Everything is clean there. The Russians? The diamonds are here. Everything was thoroughly checked in advance, and double-checked for compliance of the stones with the certificates. Mr. Zimme praised the quality of the diamonds yesterday at the restaurant. He said that every stone was worth at least fifty percent more than what the Russians were asking. This gemologist, Kone, is also a reliable expert. It was the Arabs who found and vetted him. Seems like everything is clean here too.
Robert, however, knew that if Mr. Zimme had been poisoned, then his illness and replacement with another gemologist were links in a single chain. It all looked very suspicious. The 5 % penalty clause for breaking the deadline was a demand of the Russians, the seller.
Robert looked around the room again. Everybody was talking quietly and waiting for the gemologist to finish. He looked intently at the gemologist and was suddenly struck by a strange idea. He had to test it, but not raise suspicion.
He approached Kone and asked in Bambara[18 - Bambara, also known as Bamana or Bamanankan – language spoken natively by the Bamana people, West Africa. Family language – Mande.]: “E be moun fo, a kani?[19 - E be moun fo, a kani? (Bamanankan) – Do you think the stones are worthy?]” Robert decided to ask a question in the language Trevor from his dreams was fluent in. He had never used this language, but if Kone was who he said he was, then he must understand him. Almost everybody in Conakry speaks Bambara, as well as French.
However, Kone did not reply. He held a big round diamond in his hands and acted as if he hadn’t heard Robert.
“A be dioli soro sissan?[20 - A be dioli soro sissan? (Bamanankan) – How much could this stone really cost?]” Robert asked and drew closer to Kone.
The gemologist remained silent, looking intently at the diamond through his loupe, as if nothing had happened.
The Arabs noticed the gemologist’s unresponsiveness and fell silent. The Czechs, it seemed, grew nervous and one of them picked up his phone and quickly exited the room.
A bank officer entered and asked Robert what had happened.
Robert stared at Kone, still waiting for answers to his questions, but Kone remained silent. He was still examining the same diamond. Rather, he was not so much examining is as simply staring at it. And he seemed to have stopped breathing.
One of the Czech men broke the silence. With a common Czech accent he said hesitantly: “Everything is fine. Some just can’t take it they see those diamonds. Big money, big anxiety."
Mehmet approached Robert and asked what happened.
Robert looked at the sheikh, then at Mehmet, and answered in Arabic: “No, not alright, gentlemen. This man is not who he says he is. He is not Guinean. And most likely his name is not Kone. I was just informed that our gemologist, Mr. Zimme, was poisoned."
The sheikh nodded and one of his bodyguards approached the Czech and the other – the gemologist. The bank officer called the bank’s security.
Dumbfounded and sweating profusely, Kone looked around and with trembling hands lowered the stone into the metal box, as though defeated.
The scam was simple, but daring and craftily elegant.
Mr. Zimme, whom the Arabs trusted fully, had performed the first examination of the diamonds. Then he was sidelined. Poison was the simplest way to go and, seeing as Zimme was polite and friendly, did not require additional preparation. While he was distracted by conversation, someone slipped a small dose of poison into the gemologist’s food.
If the Arabs were to go back on the deal in the absence of the gemologist, they would have been forced to pay the fifty-million-dollar penalty. Nobody wants to lose this kind of money on an almost closed deal. Naturally, the buyer would approach top gemologists in Antwerp or Israel in search of an experienced professional. On their side, upon getting the information about the gemologist chosen by the buyer, the scammers took steps to ensure that he was unavailable by offering him a better job which he could not refuse.
Then using an employee of the Israel exchange, who suspected nothing, the scammers offered Mr. Kone, who was known and respected there. To replace Kone with their own person, a gemologist, was just a technicality. Nobody really cared where the real Mr. Kone was at the moment, as a beneficial contract worth over a billion dollars or a huge penalty for disruption of the deal was at stake.
When the switch was made, the new “Kone” was presented to the parties as a person of the buyer, i.e. the Arabs. The only thing he needed to do was to confirm that all the stones complied with the gemological certificates and that Mr. Zimme did all the work regarding their examination.
After “Mr. Kone” confirmed to the buyer that everything was good, the box with fake stones would be passed to the buyer and the buyer would transfer all the money to the seller’s offshore account. To make it more convincing, several of the stones were authentic and “Kone” showed them to the sheikh, as the latter could easily tell a fake just by looking at it. The rest of the stones were excellent fakes from wonderfully cut cubic zirconia.
Nobody would have thought to examine the diamonds immediately thereafter. So, the scammer had a huge time advantage to tie up any loose ends.
Because the seller did not act directly, but through representatives, he might not have had any idea about the scam. His own people might even be using him, taking advantage of the trust. After the scam was complete, the scammers would have had the real diamonds, which they could leave in a safe deposit box in the same bank.
The scam was win-win. The scammers would benefit in any case – the fifty million dollar penalty if the deal fell through at the least or a lot with high quality diamonds worth over one billion dollars at the most.
The police arrested the gemologist and one of the Czechs. The one who had left the conference room disappeared.
After Robert spoke to an officer of Interpol, Mehmet, the sheikh’s aide, approached him.
“Mr. Blanche,” he said politely. “His Highness would like to discuss with you some of the details of what happened here and invites you to his suite at the Savoy.”
Robert was in a rush to get to his hotel. He looked at his watch; it was close to five. All his thoughts were with Chloe now; she hadn’t answered his calls for three days. He also needed to pack his things. His flight to Prague was the next morning. Still, Robert agreed to the meeting.
“Please tell His Highness that I will be there at nine.”
“No, no, Mr. Blanche. His Highness kindly offers his limo and security men. He is already waiting for you at the hotel. If you don’t mind, we can leave now.”
“Ok, let me collect my things here and I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Very well, Mr. Blanche. I’ll be waiting at the hotel for you. John and Jake are at your disposal.” Mehmet pointed at the two bodyguards in black suits, who gave short, almost imperceptible, nods to Robert. “They will accompany you.”
Mehmet politely said goodbye and left the bank. The two strong bodyguards with unmoving faces, equal in height and build, looked like twins. They never let Robert out of their sight.
On the way to the hotel, Robert tried reaching Chloe a couple of more times, but was unsuccessful.
Mehmet was waiting for him at the hotel’s reception desk. He nodded at Robert and said to follow him.
The sheikh's suite was huge with several spacious rooms in the elegant Edwardian style with a view of the Thames. In the distance, on the south bank, Robert could see the flickering lights of the 135-meter London Eye, one of the London’s main attractions.
The sheikh came up to Robert, greeted him and asked him to sit at a small table.
“People, Mr. Blanche, always desire to see more than they can,” he began in Arabic, pointing at the Ferris wheel. “But what they want most is to enjoy what they see. Isn’t that so? What do you think?”
“That is human nature, and there is nothing you can do about it. The desire to enjoy is the driver of progress, to some extent.”
“Robert… May I call you that? I call all my friends by their given name.”
“Of course, I’m humbled that you are calling me your friend.”
“You speak Arabic well. Not many Europeans speak Arabic as fluently as you do. These days, everybody wishes to speak only English.” The sheikh paused and then asked, “Would you like tea or coffee?”
“Thank you. Well, we are in England, so tea, only tea.” Robert smiled.
The sheikh poured tea into two porcelain cups and handed one to Robert.
“Did you know, Robert, that nearly three hundred million people speak Arabic,” the sheikh continued proudly. “That’s the size of the population of the United States. By the way, Arabic is one of the oldest languages in the world. And it is the language of the Holy Quran. Did you study it somewhere?”
“No, Your Highness. I had a very good teacher. We studied different languages every night, including Arabic. Ever since I was a child.”
“Well, let’s switch to English. After all, as you rightly said, we are in England and we are drinking English tea. So, it would be unfair not to use this opportunity and practice a bit, maybe improve my English,” offered the sheikh and continued in English. “What about African languages? Your teacher must have been a polyglot.”
“Bambara, that’s different,” Robert answered. “There is a story there, which, by the way, is related to the diamonds from Guinea and Sierra Leone."
“Well, I hope you will share this exciting story with me one day, but now I would like to ask you, Robert: when did you suspect or guess that they were scammers? My aide, the former chief of security, is a very experienced and cautious man, yet he was caught with his pants down, as they say.” He stressed ‘former’.
“It wasn’t just a guess. I don’t know much about gemology, but I do have pretty extensive experience in law and I do not rely on chance. The first time I had a suspicion was when Mr. Zimme suddenly had a heart attack. We had dinner at a restaurant the night before and he looked very healthy. Then, when we were in the conference room, I got a call from my law firm’s security service, which said that the heart attack was caused by some strong toxin. Comparing these facts, I realized that the gemologist was the weakest link. And the fact that he was introduced to us as a Guinean and my modest knowledge of Bambara – those are pure coincidences." Robert smiled and placed his cup on the table.
“I do not believe in coincidences; everything happens at the will of Allah. The bad and the good. You saved me a lot of money, Robert, and you helped preserved my authority. That is more important than the money. So, how can I thank you?”
“You’ve already done that, Your Highness. You have generously paid for the work of my firm as agreed, even though the deal was a bust.”
“No, Robert. I’d like to thank you personally. It is the right thing to do. Thanks to your perceptiveness, you have replaced the whole security department for me.”
The sheikh opened his checkbook, which was lying on a table nearby, wrote down a sum, tore out the check and handed to Robert.
“Please accept this gift from me as a sign of my gratitude.”
“Your Highness, there is no need,” Robert began, but the sheikh interrupted him.
“Any work must be properly rewarded. This is just a number on a nice piece of paper, but what I value most are human relationships.” The sheikh looked at Robert as he began to fondle a string of prayer beads and continued. “Robert, can I count on you should I require your legal services again?”
“Of course. It would be an honor to be useful to you.”
“Well, my dear friend. You know what they say in the East – a good meeting is a short meeting,” summed up the sheikh, making it clear that the audience was over. “It was very nice getting to know you better. I hope this is not our last meeting.”
Robert unfolded the check only when he was in the car returning to his hotel. He saw “Five million dollars” written in a neat, calligraphic handwriting. And there was a long signature in Arabic ligature – the first and last name of the sheikh without abbreviations.
Back at the hotel, Robert relaxed a bit. He poured a glass of whiskey, opened the curtains and fell deep in thought while watching the night city. Not everything was clear in this case and he could not figure out who was behind it all.
His phone started ringing.
“Blanche.”
“Robert, good evening,” said Roland, the firm’s director. His voice was very agitated. “I’ve been informed about everything. Are you alright?”
“Yes, boss, everything is fine. I’ll be in Prague tomorrow morning.”
“Well, I am expecting you in the office tomorrow at 11:30 am. We’ll talk then. Now, just rest. Jovan will pick you up at the airport tomorrow.” Roland rang off.
The flight was early, but Chloe still was not picking up her phone. He glanced at his watch and called once again, but all he got was the answering machine – again.
The watch showed 1:30 am.
The flight from London is at 7:15 am, Robert thought. The flight is three hours. Then a couple more hours and I’m home, and then we’ll see. It is a good thing Jovan is picking me up.
Robert trusted Jovan completely and unconditionally.
They had been friends since childhood. Both had applied to Charles University and planned on becoming lawyers. But Jovan failed his entrance exams, which did not stop him from applying to the Police Academy of the Czech Republic right away. After graduating magna cum laude, he became the youngest police detective in Prague.
Jovan served on the police force for nearly 15 years and rose from inspector in the serious crimes department to colonel in the post of senior advisor. However, during the corruption scandal that erupted during the government of Stanislav Gross, who had been an interior minister before becoming prime minister and was a close friend and boss of Jovan, he resigned, having become disappointed in his friend and boss. Four years ago, with Robert’s help, he became the head of the firm’s security.
Jovan was short, sturdy, bald, and in his early forties, with a carefully trimmed long moustache. He came across as a very nice and pleasant man. Those who didn’t know him would never have guessed that he was the head of security somewhere and had been a high-ranking cop. He once told Robert: “There are two types of policemen: good and bad. Well, I am the vicar of good policemen. In the firm, he was called "our Poirot”, and that was indeed so. In addition to having been a genuine detective, he was the soul of any company, was always witty, threw jokes around and shared interesting facts about the lives of fellow police officers.
He always got on with those around him, never raised his voice when speaking to subordinates and nobody ever saw him in a foul mood.
He was very secretive about his personal life, but everybody in the firm knew that Jovan was single, his wife had left him a year into their marriage, unable to handle the burden of being a policeman’s wife, especially the fact that he was rarely home. Only Robert knew that somewhere on the outskirts of the city Jovan was seeing a young woman who had come into his life about two years prior. That was why Robert and Chloe were waiting excitedly for Jovan to introduce her to them. Instead, he would dismiss the relationship with a joke.
When speaking with colleagues, Jovan was always amiable, but Robert was his only true friend and someone he trusted. Like old friends, they often spent time at Robert’s home or at a pub drinking beer, which Jovan loved. Chloe liked the funny and cheerful man, and the door of their home was always open to him.
Robert was lying on his hotel bed trying to reach Chloe for the umpteenth time. Her phone was off. When he felt he was falling asleep, Robert put the phone aside and closed his eyes.
Suddenly he felt dizzy, followed by an incredible force that pinned him to the bed. Robert opened his eyes; he could see everything around him, but he did not have control over the rest of his body. An unknown force kept pressing him to the bed.
Robert gasped. He tried to flex his muscles or at least scream, but his body remained beyond his control. Suddenly all went black. Robert found himself in complete darkness, with no feeling in his body, no smell, no hearing. It seemed like he was suspended in air, although his brain continued to frantically seek a way out of this chilling captivity. Robert could not understand what was happening to him. He was still conscious. And then he heard a steady sound coming from somewhere inside his subconscious, gradually filling the space around him. In an instant, it seemed to be pulsing even in his veins. It was like the pendulum of the clock, swinging back and forth, but purer, sharper, clearer. He had neither the strength nor the senses to resist the sudden numbness. Robert mentally groped to understand what was happening to him.
Then he heard a woman’s voice…
“Sleep peacefully, deeply… You are falling into deep sleep… deeper…even deeper.” Someone’s powerful voice became increasingly loud in Robert’s head.
Suddenly he realized that the voice was coming from inside his dream, and he could hear it, even though his memory and his being remained on this side of the dream.
The sensation was wholly new to him and Robert could not believe in the reality of what was happening, so he listened. There were voices all around, but the woman’s voice was distinct. Another voice, male, echoed in his head, but his words were muffled. So, Robert decided to relax fully and try to understand what was really happening to him.
Eventually, the fog began to lift and the voices became discernible. For a moment, Robert thought he himself was participating in the dialog.
