Free Diamonds Can Be Deadly by Merline Lovelace Page B

frothy, nonalcoholic cocktails. “I contacted our account rep at the Muzo mine to let him know about your proposal and see what kind of a deal he could give us.”
    Us, Jordan noted with great interest. Myers obviously expected a cut of whatever arrangement she worked out with his supplier over and above the profit-sharing percentages she’d laid out in her proposal.
    â€œAlejandro and his associates had planned to make a delivery next week, but he’s moved his trip up so he could meet with you while you’re here.”
    How accommodating of the Colombians to alter their schedule on her account. Jordan downed a sip of her juice to slow her suddenly racing pulse.
    â€œWhen do they arrive?”
    â€œThe day after tomorrow. Alejandro said he’d bring a supply of stones suitable for the frames you’ve proposed.”
    â€œI’ve dealt with Alejandro Garcia for more than a decade,” Bartholomew commented. “He knows as much or more about emeralds as anyone in the business.”
    Jordan logged the name into her memory bank. She’d have to get Claire working on the man, like fast.
    â€œHe supplied many of the stones I’m going to show you,” Greene said as he escorted her into his private lair.
    The study exuded the same tranquil air as of the rest of the residence. Wide windows took up one wall. Fitted with retractable screens to block the glare, they framed a stunning view of Ma’aona, the holy mountain. Bookshelves painted a creamy white stretched from floor to ceiling along the other three walls. Interspersed among the hundreds of volumes were photos of Bartholomew posing with presidents, kings and rock stars.
    Including, Jordan saw with a swift, indrawn breath, a shot of her host with the sultan and sultana of D’han. Cradling her cocktail, she meandered over for a closer look.
    â€œNow, that’s an emerald worthy of a queen.”
    Bartholomew came to stand beside her. “The Star of the East,” he murmured. “There’s not another stone like it in the world.”
    Side by side, they eyed the glistening nine hundred carats.
    â€œI tried to buy the Star from Omar’s father,” her host admitted, “then from Omar himself when he inherited the throne. Unfortunately, he insisted on keeping it to give Barbara as a wedding present. Now,” he added with a sigh, “it’s gone.”
    Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Jordan pumped him for information. “From what I read in the papers, the theft was extraordinarily well planned and executed. Whoever was behind it knew exactly what he wanted and went after it with ruthless determination.”
    â€œThat’s why I guard my treasures with such zealousness.”
    Pulling a leather-bound volume of the works of an obscure Chinese philosopher from the bookshelf, Greene blinked into a small round scanner. The shelves slid to the side on silent skids, revealing a narrow corridor blocked by a steel door.
    â€œIf you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll enter the necessary access codes.”
    Myers lingered beside Jordan at the entrance to the corridor and swiped a palm over his high-domed forehead in what she was coming to recognize as a characteristic gesture.
    â€œThis vault rates higher than most banks on the Insurance Service Office scale,” he told her.
    She believed it. Halon fire-suppression nozzles dotted the ceiling. Red laser beams crisscrossed to form a tight grid. Hidden motion, heat and sound sensors no doubt augmented the surveillance cameras bristling behind protective steel screens. The certainty that TJ was watching her every move raised prickly little goose bumps on Jordan’s arms when the steel door swung open and Bartholomew beckoned to her.
    She expected a sterile vault with rows of steel drawers, each requiring its own access code. What she stepped into was a treasure room.
    â€œMy God!”
    Lighted display cases lined the