"Could we see some of these stones we’d be cutting for the trade?" the father asked.
Roger fumbled at his feet for the two big bags of smaller stones that were somewhere around six pounds each. Call it on the shy side of seventy thousand carats. When he brought them around the table and set them at the man’s left hand, the boy seemed to have trouble breathing. The first bag was stones that would cut about one to two carat finished gems.
The second bag was about the same total weight, but in rough that would probably cut two to four carats and maybe an occasional six carat stone. He played it up by acting like they were heavier than they were, exaggerating the grip it took to hold on to the slick plastic and setting them down with a little thump and a rattle of the stones against each other.
"You’re not bringing any melee to the table?" the boy asked.
All three of them had been studying up on diamonds on the internet. Roger was glad, because he had not known before melee were the little fraction-of-a-carat stones, so common and cheap, as side stones and pave in jewelry.
"These are sorted robotically. That also means it is unusually clean rough, you are going to find when you get into them. When you examine them you’ll see every one has a little window polished on it somewhere, to allow the interior to be inspected. Smaller stones are just not considered worth bothering with," That addressed the boy's mistaken jab.
"And you have more?"
"We have about seventeen more lots, similar to this one in the pipeline and then we will have to personally travel to the source and get more."
"Well, that should keep us busy for awhile," Aaron allowed.
"Do you have any problems accepting these? We read that DeBeers pretty much has a lock on the rough market. Will they give you trouble?"
"They may try, but they have always accepted reality when it’s in their face. In the last century the Russians brought diamonds to market and DeBeers had to meet them half way and bring them into an orderly market rather than have a trade war. Before that they had to let my people into the market, when Hitler overran the diamond cutting center of Europe. If they want to have some say in how these come to market I’m a reasonable man."
Haim came back in from his mission and found a seat.
"We have some more," Roger reminded them. He produced a smaller bag of rough that would cut ten to twenty carat finished stones. There were only a couple hundred carats of them, maybe twenty-five stones. "Would you take these to your dad?" Roger asked the boy. He had already stood up and obviously was dying to see them, so it only made sense to let him. He took them back but walked slow – like sleepwalking – and trying to inspect every stone before he had to hand it over to his father.
"We understand the value goes up quite a bit per carat when you get in this range. We’re counting on you to maximize that for us," Rog suggested. "Now these are three stones we want cut for our personal use. These are the only three, that we’d like to be consulted on how you propose to cut them."
Aaron’s son hurried back around the table this time to act as courier, without being asked. Roger handed him a blocky violet stone – maybe sixty or seventy carats now before cutting. So the rule of thumb was it would yield half weight in a well cut gem – maybe thirty or thirty-five.
The kid just breathed – "Ahhhh," when he looked at it, then remembered himself and ran it around the table. He’d lost that arrogant look he had when he came in. It was merely a notably large gem, if it had been white, but the bright violet made it precious beyond its size.
"I’m thinking something like a cushion if I remember what I saw right. Square, but with an arc on each edge not straight. I’d like to be able to wear it as a tie chain hanger, or a pin on a beret," he suggested.
"We’ll have our designers do some possibilities for you. They compose on a computer and then it shows you on the monitor what it will look like and rolls and rotates it to show how the light will play through it."
"That sounds nice. I’d like that. This one is for Josh," he explained. "We wanted it to replace the brass ball on his walking stick. It’s pretty much the right shape already, without even trimming it up."
"Indeed, it will yield very well," he predicted, as his son carried it around the table. It was so big he didn’t need it in hand to see that.
"The final piece I have here is to be cut for Martee. I can’t visualize what you’ll do with it," he admitted. It was an intense bright yellow, not a dull champagne or orange color. It was almost fluorescent. And it was big.
"Please sir," the boy asked, taking the stone double handed. "We always hear when a great stone is found, even if the details are missing at first. I don’t understand how this could have been found even in the most remote field and we have heard no rumor at all. This must be five or six hundred carats. Can you tell me where it is from?"
"Hyman, you shouldn’t press the gentleman so. If he wanted to tell us he would have already."
"I’m really sorry kid. I’d love to tell you all about it. But we need to keep it a secret, to keep our lady friend here safe for now. There have been two attempts to hurt her in as many months. In maybe three or four years, I hope we can sit down together and I’ll tell you quite an adventure."
Hyman looked at them and thought for a moment, then got a satisfied look. "That’s ok. I figured the big part of it out anyway. But I’d still like the story when we can. Good for you," he added firmly.
"Do you want to share with the rest of us Hy?" his dad invited.
"No, I like them. I bet the guys that tried to hurt her, well, I don’t think her buddies here would take that very well. Just because I figured it out I’m not going to blurt it out to try to convince anybody I’m smart. I know I’m smart enough, even if I’m not as old as all of you. I can keep a secret and that’s different than smart anyway." He became aware of the diamond in his hands again. "This is really sweet. It’s neat just to have seen it." He ran it around to his dad.
"Can he keep a secret?" Martee asked.
"Hymie, who busted your mother’s porcelain, two years ago your birthday?"
"One of my brothers."
"Which one Hymie?"
"I already said I won’t tell. The State of New York would take me away if you hurt me and if that isn’t enough to worry you, I’ll tell your mother," he threatened, darkly. It was amazing his grandmother was the greater threat.
"I see…" Martee seemed shocked at how hard the child could be.
His father, unsurprised, just rolled his eyes. "See what I deal with?"
"Aaron, I have a question if you don’t mind?" Haim interrupted.
"Certainly. What is it?"
"I asked Ms deTrishal for her personal word that these are her legitimate property, but I don’t have the time or readily available resources to confirm that. I was counting on you to judge if that was the case, because I imagined it is something you have to consider every time a new dealer lays goods in front of you."
"And maybe a few old dealers too," Aaron admitted.
"So, from what I am hearing, may I assume these stones are unusual enough and valuable enough, that there is little chance of them being – misplaced – or a dealer like you would have heard about it?"
Aaron smiled, a little amused at the euphimism. "Haim, have you bought your wife a little something sparkly lately?"
"Well," he looked uncomfortable. "It’s expensive living here. I haven’t been able to buy her diamonds in – quite a while."
"So you are not current on prices?"
"Actually, the last time I bought a diamond was just after the turn of the century. It was a bit more than a carat and I remember exactly what it cost. My uncle Sid got me a ‘deal’ on it and it was a bit more than five thousand set in a ring."
"Your engagement ring?" Aaron asked.
Haim just nodded. Embarrassed, Josh thought, then realized, no it was much more. He was choked up with emotion, thinking about his wife and proposing. Here was a man that was still very much in love with h
is wife. That was precious today.
"Well, the market has had ups and downs," Aaron explained. "People were concerned about synthetics for awhile. Then the market stabilized pretty much, just as emerald and sapphire did after they became available as synthetics. People don’t want artificial perfection. Wars and economic ups and downs move the price. But if it is pretty clean rough, like they think it is, figure at least eight thousand dollars a cut carat, retail. So these two bags," he spanned with one hand, "are worth somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty million dollars."
Haim nodded and managed not to show surprise. He’d been sure it was a few million dollars worth, but not that much. "Somebody would be yelling if they were missing," he properly concluded.
"And these," he indicated a few hundred carats of larger stones, "It’s hard to tell. They may only yield four or five million, or have a couple exceptional gems and be worth near as much as the big bags."
"These however," he laid the three large stones in a row, "are probably worth all the rest of them together. It’s hard to say. A stone like this," he prodded the smaller purple, "may bring five million at auction, or fifty. There is no telling. A unique gem picks up appeal as it develops a history, but these sorts don't have a measured market. They sell on the whim of very wealthy men," he mused.
"There are always stories attached to diamonds, of historic owners. Deals, thefts and curses seem to be favorites. But there are only a few hundred large gems like this, in all of the world, that are unique and special. Sometimes in cases of war, or the death of rulers, they may disappear for years, but they are known when they reappear even if they were re-cut. For three to be suddenly missing and that not be in headlines around the world is unthinkable."
"So…" Aaron Schumacher switched his attention back to the trio, "when we buy from DeBeers, they have a take it or leave it price. If we are working for an in-kind fee this becomes complicated. Do you have some idea how you want to document the goods and structure the contract?" His manner said he was holding something back here. He seemed rather expectant.
"Let me see if I can satisfy you," Josh suggested. He grabbed a pad and pen, from the supplies in the center of the table.
He wrote their names and - received of the above – approximately twelve thousand carats of rough to be cut for the trade. Fee to be taken in kind, from the lot for that and also for several hundred carats of significant quality stones, ranging to about 20 carats finished. Fee to cover design and cut, of three great stones of significance. Fee in line with normal industry standards and allowance for exceptional service. He printed signature lines for Aaron and Hyman Schumacher. It didn’t even fill the whole page.
The father considered the receipt, contract if you could stretch the point. "Hyman is not yet a member of the firm," he pointed out.
Josh lifted an eyebrow. "I’m sorry. He seemed to be acting the part, even if it was a very subordinate role. Do you have anybody else here to sign with you? We wouldn’t even mind a couple more. A deal this large you usually have several officers of a firm sign. If you should slip and fall under a bus this evening – God forbid - it may be awkward for us after, when they say they don’t know anything about a deal you made."
Hyman just stood still, with as neutral an expression as he could.
"With this one," he pointed at his son, "I’d call this conspiracy, if I didn’t know you’ve never had time to speak privately," he scribbled a signature and pushed the paper to his son. "Just sign your name. Don’t be thinking up some title to attach. I set the example by signing plainly myself."
Hy signed very carefully and tucked the pen in his pocket, probably for a keepsake. He suddenly looked about six years older.
"So, how does it feel to have scratched your name down and told these people you are responsible for a hundred million or so of their property?" his dad asked him.
"If you’d put it that way first, I’m not sure I would have signed," he admitted. "Do you think we could spring for a big armored car? Maybe one of those they charge extra for, with the big double machine gun in a turret? "
"We certainly will. But for now they are safer here, until after the weekend we can arrange a transfer. You don’t mind holding these for us for a day or two do you Haim? And make some copies of this," handing him the sheet, like he was their clerk. "If your safes are good enough for the secrets of state, they should be more than adequate for a poor merchant’s goods."
"I’ll arrange something," he promised.
"The fewer people who know the better," Aaron suggested, "including that new fellow, who introduced himself to us last week."
"Ehud? Properly, it’s his duty to deal with you, but I don’t know where he is anyway. He went upstate and told us his phone would be off and don’t bother him today. I’d have had him call you, because it is his job, but he hasn’t been around to do anything."
"Ehud… I’m not even sure that’s his real name," Aaron accused. "He might think it cute to give himself a field expedient identity. I think he is what they call a cowboy. He fancies himself special and the rest of us his spear carriers. He didn’t seem to understand the fellow he replaced knew everyone for years and he couldn’t just step in his shoes and demand the same respect before we know him well. You – you, I know. I’m much happier dealing with you anyway."
"These, I’ll take with us," and he scooped each of the huge diamonds and the bag of very large rough into a separate pockets.
"So, now can you tell us how you know us?" Martee persisted.
Haim was very interested in that too, but Aaron made a little gesture to him of sipping from a tea cup, so he went to the door and signaled Aaron’s driver who was waiting to serve them.
"But of course. I thought by now you might have figured it all out – like my precocious son," he said a bit tartly and gave the poor kid a stare. It had no effect whatsoever. "You sold all that platinum to my brother-in-law Benjamin. He described the whole thing in some detail, so I was very interested to see if you’d insist on a simple, casual contract, like what you insisted on with him."
"He’s going to be crediting your accounts sometime today and is in anticipation wondering whether to seek another lot of the metal from you, or wait for you to approach him. Please, let him know if he has some more business coming from you. When he gets all stressed out like this, he sometimes starts smoking again. I hate to see that."
"But we’re very easy to talk to," Josh protested. "All he has to do is ring us up and chat. Just tell him we are wondering if he is going to call us up again, if he really needs a nudge."
"That should do it," he agreed. "People make things complicated," he shrugged. "I don’t see why either. But speaking of complicated – he attached a video from his surveillance when he emailed me. Why were you dressed down so, when you met with him?"
Rather than admit they didn’t have anything better to wear, Roger told a little white lie. "We try to present ourselves the way we think people will be comfortable dealing with us."
"Hmm… Flatterer," he accused Rog, but seemed amused.
Haim came back hoping he hadn’t missed much.
"My cousin Gil said they had guns," Hyman suddenly volunteered, making his father look at him in astonishment.
"You knew about them before we came here?"
Haim was definitely going to have to listen to the embassy recording, being made of this meeting. He didn’t want to miss anything from this sort of conversation.
"Well, I didn’t know they’d be here," he admitted. "But I knew they were the same people he described, as soon as I saw them. But they don’t have guns today," he said managing to sound a little disappointed. "It’s strange, they don’t have them, but they carry themselves as if they do."
By then the driver had served Martee and her friends and placed a cup for Hy. Haim wasn’t sure if there was a protocol to the order. He’d ask.
"And how can you be so sure my little friend?" Josh asked.
Hy looked embarrassed, realizing he’d
said too much and was caught out by the expectant looks focused on him. He pulled a little printed circuit board out of his pocket. It didn’t even have a case, just a nine volt battery held on with a rubber band. "Resonance," he said, like that explained it all.
Josh tried to hide his smile behind his hand, but it didn’t work.
"You don’t have your own armored car, do you?" Hyman asked, hoping to deflect the attention he'd drawn.
"No, we’re in town temporarily. We don’t have even rented offices, or our own car," Josh said.
"That’s what Gil told me. Well you should drop his metal off, when you send us some new stones," the teenager suggested. You’ll get better value for your armored car rental to do both. They are really outrageously expensive."
"Hy is – frugal," his dad explained, immediately lifting the cup he received. "Do you talk back and forth with Gil about such things, that might be intercepted?" he worried.
"My goodness, no," Hy denied, horrified. "We don’t just use commercial encryption. We exchange a memory chip with one time pads, when we see each other. Gil is almost certainly smart enough to know your secret too," he warned the trio. "Does your platinum have the same isotopic ratios as – uh – regular metal?" he asked."
"Damn, he does have it figured out." Martee acknowledged, sipping her tea. "No, little sir, but it is vacuum distilled, so the iridium is mostly eliminated. That would be the give away to most people," she gave him that much. Roger had never heard her use an Earth cuss-word before. She was really going native.
Hy, meanwhile, had been examining a few of the stones from one bag. "These are different," he told nobody in particular. "The stones we see are usually either taken from matrix, or alluvial. These look more like synthetic with sharp edges, but a few of them have an interesting frosting on one side. I’ll want to save a couple as mineral specimens rather than cut them."
"And why do you think that is?" his father asked.
"It’s to be expected, because of where they are from," he evaded.
"Well I think that wraps us up," Josh said standing, eager to end this dangerous conversation. The old man wasn’t stupid. If they spoke long enough, he’d have it puzzled out too. In the meanwhile, his money was on Hy to keep it to himself.
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