Free Who Killed Tiffany Jones? by Mavis Kaye Page B

was about to launch into a tirade, Hamlin interrupted him. “The bill in Congress now,” he said, “would require importers to provide certification of origin for rough or polished diamonds before they can be sold in the U.S. But, as written now, it would place Sierra Leone’s fate squarely in the hands of De Beers, the conglomerate which controls the world’s diamond production, and the Belgian Diamond High Council, an organization whose past record with respect to sanctioning illegal African diamonds is, at best, questionable. In effect, gentlemen, we would be imposing a kind of economic colonial rule over the duly elected officials of Africa’s free nations. And that is a situation we must avoid at all costs. No, I am con-16470_ch01.qxd 7/12/02 4:33 PM Page 57
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    vinced that we should seek a less politically damaging solution to this situation.”
    Hamlin looked at his colleagues expectantly.
    “Well . . . I, uh, I of course favor an approach in which the diamond industry becomes involved in rallying public support for the fight against rebel factions and the wholesale slaughter of civilians,”
    Hernandez said finally. “Otherwise there is a risk of backlash among Americans who buy about fifty percent of the world’s diamond production. Still, I’m not sure of the government’s proper role here.”
    “But Ray, I think the government must take the lead here,” Hamlin said. “We must set a course that eliminates the unlawful sale of illegally obtained diamonds by the rebels and, at the same time, protect the independence of Sierra Leone.”
    “I certainly agree about the rightness of the cause,” Hernandez said.
    “But achieving those ends may be more, well, complicated than you suspect, Ambassador Kwabena.”
    “I’ll leave my card with both you and Congressman Durham,”
    Kwabena said. “Give me a call, I’m sure I can satisfy your concerns.”
    He shook their hands and smiled knowingly at Hernandez and Durham before walking back toward his table with Hamlin.
    “Did you get a call from Klaus Svrenson?” Hamlin whispered.
    “Yes, I did,” Kwabena said, “and I see that he called you also.” Suddenly a look of grave concern swept across his face. “What do you make of it?”
    “Well, from what I understand from other sources, some internal house cleaning became necessary. Klaus, of course, was incensed by the death of his wife. Still, business is business,” Hamlin said, glancing back toward his own table. “But I’m sure the matter has been cleared up with the incidents in Amsterdam and Dallas.”
    “I hope you’re right. That responsibility, of course, lies with your colleagues in Europe and the States. In Freetown, betrayal or bungling 16470_ch01.qxd 7/12/02 4:33 PM Page 58
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    resulting from greed is not tolerated. The situation would have been quickly dispatched. As it is, I’ve had some explaining to do,” Kwabena said. “It would be unfortunate if I’m forced to turn elsewhere to assure the continuation of this arrangement.”
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    “Good, but let’s talk about it at another time. This is hardly the place to discuss . . . business,” Kwabena said. Hamlin returned to his table.
    Dave Hamlin rose and held the chair for Spivey when she returned from the ladies’ room with the two other women.
    “You’re so sweet,” she said.
    “My pleasure,” he said as the other two men stood up to seat their wives.
    During dinner, Hamlin was generally unaware of anything in the restaurant except the delicious food on his plate and the equally delicious Christine Spivey, who occasionally rubbed her leg against his and smiled as she devoured the grilled catfish and black-eyed peas that she had ordered. He chatted with his dinner guests, occasionally shot a glance at Kwabena to see what he was up to, and, from time to time, smiled lecherously at Spivey. He also took note of the Hispanic man