"Now that we have those boxes out of here, we’re not sweating security as much, so no need to ask Tom for a replacement when you talk to him. Tell Tom the same – he shouldn’t miss any income because of it. We’ll cover it. You ok with that?"
"Yeah we’re fine with that. He’s not my drinking buddy either. Are you taking Ono with you today?"
"Yeah, we’ll call when we’re close to going down," he promised and hung up
* * *
On the screen Ono scribbled something on a pad and slid it over to Steve. Josh zoomed in and it almost filled the screen. "Told you so," it said.
Chapter 21
"I don’t like this," Martee said, putting her purse with its pistol into the room safe. They had just finished a light lunch and then dressed for the consulate meeting.
"None of us do dear, but the Israelis of all people have reason to be careful. They aren’t paranoid, because there really are a lot of people out to get them. On the plus side, we’ll probably be safer under their protection than we have been for weeks depending upon our own skills," Josh said. He refrained from pointing out that purse clashed with her dress anyway. That wasn’t the point he was sure.
As Roger predicted Josh was in the blue. Martee had the dove suit on, as requested by him. She looked perfectly comfortable without a purse anyway. She looked like someone who didn’t need a purse, because her help took care of things like paying and documents. That was something that had always bugged Rog. The Queen of England always carried this dorky purse. What the heck did the queen need to carry in it? Driver’s license? Lipstick? Passport? Come on.
Roger had a dark grey pinstripe that wasn’t very stylish in cut or fabric. Mostly it looked exactly like what he wanted, which was expensive. His briefcase was less exotic than the suit, he couldn't see the need for an expensive one and he had almost all the stones he had separated originally back in Martee's ship inside. They kept just a few back, in case they met someone else who would need a sample.
Ono was dressed in another nice suit. Apparently, he figured if they were upgrading their appearance, he shouldn’t drag the average down.
The car dropped them at 800 2nd Ave. Not a very long ride at all. It was a neighborhood of commercial buildings, multistory but not skyscrapers. The front doors had the unobtrusive thin poles that modern security scanners used. Josh was concerned because he’d been told the security perimeter was further in.
Then he saw the narrow tunnel that was the real security scan, behind the reception area. He had a sudden feeling he could ask them if he had any medical problems he should attend to, after passing through that. He pointed out the lounge to Ono, who was already briefed.
There were two young people, a man and a woman, at the reception desk and Josh introduced them all, as having a one o’clock meeting with Haim Sheer. The young lady called someone who replaced her at the seat and she invited them to follow. She indicated Roger’s briefcase should go on the belt that disappeared into a machine. He bent down and looked but there was a curtain that obscured the view through the machine.
"No, that’s not acceptable," Roger informed her as pleasantly as he could. "The case does not leave my sight. Can you have somebody perform a hand inspection?"
"A hand inspection cannot detect several known risks in a case like yours. If you can’t allow the case to be inspected I’ll inform Mr. Sheer you canceled your appointment and you will have to remove the case from the building."
Josh spoke up, "I think your commander would be unhappy if they knew how quickly you become rude, when somebody does not instantly do your bidding. We’ve not pushing at all to bypass any security, just to find a mutually acceptable way to accommodate it. We’ve been polite. We expect the same treatment. Otherwise perhaps you should get a TSA job at an American airport. My associate offered one possibility for inspecting it. I suggest you explore a few others, before you rush him out the door like some panhandler that wandered in. The case is the problem I take it – not necessarily the contents?"
"I really can’t say until I see the contents too," she insisted. But her tone had changed. She was looking at them like it was the first time she’d really looked and for some reason Martee in particular was bothering her. What was wrong she probably could not have defined, but theirs wasn't a normal reaction. Very few people are unintimidated by authority and fewer still could handle conflict without quickly displaying anger. In a world where the individual was at the mercy of unpredictable bureaucracy, it was insane not to be intimidated. They were just patiently regarding her like a disagreeable child having a tantrum.
"Could you possibly get a simple sack and remove the contents to inspect them? Then send the case back to our security man in the entry lounge, so he can return it to our car?" Josh suggested when she had no ideas.
"That…might work," she admitted. "Let me ask a superior." She walked a little away and appeared to talk to the air, complete with gestures, standing with her back to them.
"There will be a man right down," she told them when she turned around.
The fellow who came down had a case of his own. He opened it and had a cloth shopping bag that had obviously been snatched from some personal use.
He even turned it over and gave it an extra shake, to make sure nothing was lingering from its previous duty. He opened his case and Roger’s, on the end of the conveyor that was now stopped.
"All I really care about taking in are the items in plastic bags," Rog told the fellow. "The pens and notepads and all the little things can go out with the case."
The fellow didn’t acknowledge him, but took him at his word. He laid four bags on the rubber belt. Two had a mere handful of big stones but the other two were enough gravel to fill a small aquarium. It took a good grip on the slick plastic to lift them. Then he closed the case for the young woman to take to Ono. She looked just as happy to be leaving them.
"Do you have a name, guy? Or are you not allowed to speak?" Josh asked.
"David – English – I don’t talk real good - OK?"
He checked along the seam of the bags with some sort of sniffer. He got nothing. He opened the seal of the one with larger stones, holding the sniffer right at the opening. It was obvious the readouts didn’t change at all. It wasn’t detecting anything.
"They don’t outgas," Josh offered, but the fellow ignored him.
There was a box of some sort and he pulled a slide out of it and attached a self-adhesive paper strip. There was a tab he pulled which cleared a protective film off the surface. He put on a rubber glove, grabbed one of the large stones and drew it across the paper. You could see a shiny line where it crushed the fiber and embossed the paper. Then the slide went back in the box and after a button was pushed a yellow LED on top started flashing.
"Take a hell of a lot more than that to rub any off," Josh commented. He didn’t expect a reply and didn’t get one.
When the yellow light turned to steady green the technician pulled out a gun-like instrument with a short antenna hanging off the grip and put it right in contact with the stones in the bag before he pulled the trigger.
"Neutron back-scatter analysis," Josh informed Roger, which got no comment for the techie, but David raised an eyebrow. "Yeah – neutron," he agreed.
A small flat screen in the case had a bunch of text scroll down and the man looked quite startled at it. He jammed the instrument in the openings and shot each bag as if one might be different.
"You know what you have here?" he asked Josh, suddenly more articulate, tapping them with his finger.
"Yes, yahalomim," he confirmed, keeping his voice down.
David wrapped everything up, closing his case, dumping the diamonds in the shopping bag and reported first to the guards in Hebrew. "All done, no hazard," he informed them in English and ambled off.
The three proceeded through the sensor tunnel, Roger carrying the bag by its handles. It was bulged in the bottom, with too much weight for an ordinary shopping bag.
A di
fferent guard than the young woman from the reception desk, guided them to a conference room. The table was three times as big as needed, so they clustered around one end.
Haim Sheer was probably a few years older than Josh or Roger. He had a bit of grey starting at his temples and carried another fifteen or twenty pounds. He didn’t put on a show of fake pleasure at meeting them, but was pleasant enough and easily likeable, not hesitating to shake their hands although Rog noted he didn’t use the full meaty grip he did with the men, with Martee. He merely took her fingers lightly.
"You’re American citizens, correct?" he asked them immediately, which was an awkward question with Martee. Josh decided to meet it head on.
"My partner Mr. McGregor is a US citizen, as I am. I’m also Jewish. Our associate here, Ms. – deTrishal, however is not. We don’t want to say too much about that and would appreciate your temporary discretion, because there have been a couple attempts to harm her by agents from her previous country."
"That is all just incidental however. There are several business opportunities she is kindly allowing us to pursue with her, in exchange for our help and advice, with her situation. We have come in a very short period of a few weeks, to regard Martee as our close friend, as well as a business partner. Right now we are in a fundraising stage, where we are liquidating assets, to pursue the longer term projects. We brought along some samples if you have any desire to see what we are offering."
"Don’t waste your time," he waved the idea away. "If you dumped them in my flower beds at home I’d never notice they were any different than the other gravel I’m sure." They didn't play games pretending security hadn't reported to him. "Are those other projects also in the diamond industry? That is what you mentioned to me on the phone."
"We plan to keep dealing in diamonds long term, if we can find a suitable partner. We also have tangibles in precious metals, but that market is so open we don’t need any help there. However we have intellectual property we intend bringing to market in electronics and in biotech. There again we need to raise funds to engage a first rate legal firm, that deals in patent law. I’m not sure we need help with that, but if you have some firm you know is particularly effective, feel free to suggest them."
"We will be interested in seeking to send some of the research, as well as production facilities to Israel. That’s why we came to you at this early stage, because we are looking ahead to a mutually beneficial relationship."
"So what do you seek to do right now?" Sheer asked.
"We’d like a recommendation of someone who can cut some stones for us, for samples and for the trade. We don’t know anyone in the diamond dealers club or even the retail business. We’d like someone you know to be either a branch of an Israeli firm, or has a sound relationship with Israeli diamond merchants, so when we bring further quantities of stones to market we can just keep working smoothly with them, to go outside the New York market. Do you have somebody you can recommend?"
"I have someone who I can ask to see you, as a favor," he said. "Give me a moment to call him. One last blunt question before I do," he said looking at Martee. "Can you assure me you are not being sought as a criminal here or in your native land, in connection with these diamonds or intellectual property? We could not afford to be associated with aiding someone in that situation."
"As far as I know the only criminal complaint they have with me, is that I came here without permission. Which permission was impossible to obtain. Everything I am selling I bought and paid for and own free and clear," she assured him. "Oh and I’ve kept a rental vehicle beyond the turn-in date."
He had already stood up and just smiled at the last. "Last I heard they don’t hang anyone for that. You did not appear to me as someone without assets," he told Martee. "I hope I didn’t offend you."
Josh looked over at Roger and gave him a single nod of agreement. Roger knew what he was saying. Roger’s insistence they put forth the best possible appearance, was probably just validated by Sheer’s remark.
When he came back Sheer looked puzzled. "There are other – uh – interest sections of the Consulate, that deal with the Jewish community more than the general public, but they are unavailable today."
It was Roger’s turn to look at Josh, with a - Yes, you told me so, look.
"I did however call a fellow, Aaron Schumacher, who I already know has been friendly to our interests before. He said they would have to set up an appointment with one of his dealers, for next week. They cannot by agreement, take anyone not a member of the dealers club into their offices. The building security is just too sensitive to have outsiders in. And tomorrow is out of the question, as they have to wrap everything up early for the Shabbat."
"However when I described you just a bit, he suddenly asked if it was you by name. I mean – he already knew your names. As soon as I confirmed them, he informed me he would be right over personally. He also has his youngest son at the offices with him today, which is unusual, he is normally in school. But he said, ‘Hyman is with me all day so I’ll bring him along too.’"
"That’s interesting," Josh said. "The name doesn’t seem familiar, so I’m not sure where we might have met each other."
"How long will it take them?" Martee asked.
"Oh, perhaps twenty minutes from now, I…" He suddenly looked alarmed at where that question could lead. "I do hope you are not pressed for time," he said anxious. "Members of the community who support us like the Schumachers are to be cultivated. If he got here and you were gone, it would be terribly embarrassing for me to explain to him and the – uh – other aide who usually deals with him."
Seeing the advantage to press their awareness and not be rebuffed for it Josh replied, "No, we aren’t going to rudely march off over a twenty minute delay. We’re reasonable people and we don’t have any desire to screw up your consulate’s relationship with your sayanim, since that’s precisely why we came to you in the first place. What I really want to accomplish in the long run is make you regard us, as just such an asset you are concerned about keeping."
"Well… since we are all waiting, would anyone like a cup of tea?" he suggested, "or coffee, perhaps?" neither denying nor acknowledging anything Josh had said.
Martee thought that would be lovely.
"There are several things I don’t understand…" Martee started when he was gone.
Josh held up a restraining hand. "A place like this, you assume the walls have ears." He warned her.
It took her a moment to process what he meant from the literal expression, then her mouth formed an Oh…
After a moment she looked happier again and rattled off her question to Josh in her native tongue. He smiled, realizing nobody here could possibly know it and answered her concerns until the tea came.
* * *
When Aaron Schumacher came in the room, he projected a presence that was positively patriarchal. He seemed to seize the room as his territory and allowed his liege Haim to remain to attend him.
His boy, perhaps fourteen years old, behind him had the same look, but on him it was arrogance instead of presence. He was dressed different than his father, bright colors and stud earrings, that while modest were obviously pierced. Nothing about him visually said he was Jewish.
Aaron immediately took the chair at the head of the table, from which Haim had jumped when he’d entered the room. That left the boy standing and behind his seated father, who ignored him leaving him to his own devices. He gave Josh a look like he might want his seat and got an eye contact that actually made him take a step back. He blushed and was angry with himself for the retreat.
Haim rescued the boy, to Roger’s disappointment. He’d have made the kid stand in the corner. But the consular aide grabbed a chair from further down the table and rolled it down beside the father’s right hand. Unfortunately it was too narrow to wedge it in right to the table, so he ended up in a visibly inferior position at his father’s elbow.
"How is it you know us?" Martee wondered.
"Haim what’s wrong with you? You don’t serve a lady like this tea in a cheap coffee mug. Tell them to bring a proper tea service and some little treats – cookies - perhaps some baklava," he commanded.
"I’m not sure we have one," Haim stammered, all intimidated.
"Then tell my driver to fetch us one and I’ll gift you with it. He has supplied stranger requests for me, in less time than we need to wrap this up."
Haim disappeared into the next room to do his bidding.
"Now I understand you have some diamonds. What are you interested in doing with them?" He perceptively looked to Roger for that question.
"We’d very much appreciate having someone like you cut some of our stones for promotional items and for the trade. We have a few larger stones we want cut for special sales and our personal use. Any advice you can give us is welcome and we expect you to factor the expertise we are getting, into what you charge us."
"We realize we are in an inferior position to your normal clients and we don’t begrudge paying for that. We’re trying to raise money for other ventures, so if we could pay in kind that would be of help to us. But if not we can pay cash."
When he suggested paying in kind, the kid went from a smirk to an openly disdainful look. "It’s going to be synthetics isn’t it? A bunch of melee, probably Russian crap again?" he predicted.
"Who knows without seeing it?" his father counseled. "You should hold such opinions until you see. And if it isn't, the man may decide he doesn't need your attitude and take them elsewhere," he reproved him, motioning him back in his chair.
All three of them, Martee, Josh and Roger were put off by the way the kid talked around them like they weren’t there. He was young, but it wasn’t going to take much more to get him penciled in their shit list.
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