Free Black Onyx by Victor Methos Page B

not enough to ensure the safety of the workers.
    He filled half his gym bag, digging further and further down, before he turned and began flying out of the mine. At the very lip was a young boy. His feet were cut and he was malnourished. He stood silently and watched the figure floating above him.
    Dillon reached into his gym bag and took out a large diamond. He flung it to the boy, who immediately hid it in his clothing. Dillon winked at him.
    He shot into the air and was gone.

19
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Night had just fallen as Dillon sat on the beach, a towel laid out in front of him. On it were, by his estimation, about four million dollars in unrefined milky diamonds. The moonlight was reflecting off the water in shattered splinters, making the light appear like it was alive. Dillon watched the stars as he heard footsteps behind him and Jaime sat down next to him.
    “Sounds like another party at your house,” Dillon said.
    “Just my family. I want you to meet them, actually. My mom is really anxious to meet you. She saw your article in Outside .”
    He looked to her. “Really?”
    “Don’t be so shocked, it was a nice article.”
    “Read by ten people, three of which were my friends. Doesn’t matter , though. I’ve got something that…Jaime, I don’t even know how to describe it.”
    “What?”
    “No, I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you. Tonight. Give me…one hour.”
    “Oh,” she said with a smile, “why Mr. Mentzer, you have me intrigued.”
    “You majored in art history, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Okay. You’re gonna love it. One hour?”
    “ One hour.”
    Dillon gathered his towel, making sure the diamonds were hidden, just as the alarm on his watch went off. It was time to go.
    “One hour,” he said, walking away.
    She just smiled and watched him leave.
     
     
    Dillon was in the suit above the clouds. He drifted over them lazily, dipping his hand into them as if he were on a boat with his fingers running over the surface of water. Then he remembered he had a schedule to keep. He could play later.
    He ducked his head and aligned his body, shooting forward with such force his stomach seemed to jump into his throat. It was a silent force and inside the suit he could only hear a soft wind.
    The dark landscape was before him as he checked his GPS. He was less than a mile from where he need ed to be. Flying down, he came to the top of a small hill overlooking a village. Thrusting out his legs, he slammed into the earth, his hands down on the ground, the suit absorbing the impact. He stood up, his eyes taking on the blue glow that turned on in the dark.
    The village below him wasn’t really a village. It was a compound . A warlord named Sabba controlled this region. Inside that compound were the result of years of mining in Sierra Leone, both diamonds and precious gems. Dillon didn’t doubt that there would also be an ample supply of gold and silver but that was more than he could carry in a gym bag.
    He observed the compound. About twenty g uards on the exterior, maybe thirty on the interior, all armed with semi-automatic rifles. He saw a tank and several jeeps with massive guns secured on top.
    Most of the compound was barracks and training facilities, but at the center, guarded by the bulk of the men, was a cement bunker. He knew of this compound like he knew about most things of the world: from James, who should be getting back to the house by now and wondering where Dillon was.
    James would complain about this, but would retire as a millionaire. Forget renting a condo on a beach; when Dillon was through and he gave James his cut, he and Niles could retire on their own island.
    Dillon sprinted through the dense jungle, entire trees breaking and collapsing as he came through. As he neared the compound, he leapt into the air, held up in the night like an owl observin g mice, and hurtled himself toward the cement bunker. The men jumped out of the way, only vaguely