Deadly Diamonds (16 page)

“That's fair. On that basis, a car will be at your hotel in ten minutes.”

“To go where?”

“Again, I don't trust telephones. Bring your suitcase, and please bring the items in question. I believe we can do business.”

It was a short ride to the tarmac of the Galway Airport. A small, two-engine Cessna aircraft was already in the warm-up phase when Mr. Walker was escorted aboard. An hour later, the plane touched down at the Dublin Airport. A car was waiting to drive him to the Gresham Hotel on O'Connell Street.

Mr. Walker was just entering his room when the phone rang.

“Mr. Walker, I trust you've been made comfortable. Are you ready to meet?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I'll be at your room in ten minutes.”

“You'll find it empty. The flight was pleasant. The room is comfortable. But I still have no basis for trust. I noticed a quiet, public room off the lobby. People are enjoying a small meal.”

“They're having afternoon tea, Mr. Walker. And, if that suits you better, that's where we'll meet.”

The single man of about fifty years in a conservative dark suit and tie at a table in a far corner before the window on O'Connell Street rose and waved when Mr. Walker appeared. They shook hands, sat, and placed an order for tea and scones. The hum of voices at a sufficient distance assured privacy.

“And now may I have a name?”

The man smiled an ingratiating smile, but Mr. Walker had seen smiles on the faces of RUF guards at the pit.

“Of course, Mr. Walker. In fact, while I suspect your name is adopted for the occasion, my true name is Declan O'Connor. I have no reason to hide it.”

“I'll take you at your word.”

“That's good. This may be the beginning of a long and prosperous business relationship.”

Mr. Walker hid his revulsion at the thought. He knew he was dealing in a product he detested to the bottom of his soul—smuggled diamonds harvested on the blood and pain of his countrymen. He would do it this once because it could lead to a windfall of money to ransom his father. But not once more.

“Now we have names, Mr. O'Connor. Where do we go from here?”

“A simple exchange. I assume your people have a private account. I'm prepared to transfer the amount we agreed on with Mr. Bunce to that account. I have a man waiting in a room upstairs to examine the items. As soon as he verifies the quality and quantity, I give the word to transfer funds. It's that simple.”

“Perhaps not quite that simple.”

“Why not? I assume you have the items with you. Perhaps in your room.”

The waitress appeared with cups, a pot of tea, and a plate of scones and clotted cream. When she left, Mr. Walker leaned back to look Mr. O'Connor eye-to-eye.

“If you assume that, then you're still assuming that you're dealing with an idiot. That won't get us anywhere.”

Mr. O'Connor's expression remained unchanged except for the slightest narrowing of the eyes. He held up his hands. “Then, what do you suggest?”

Mr. Walker laid out the process explained in detail to him by Jimbo and Bunce in Freetown. He handed a slip of paper to Mr. O'Connor.

“First, you transfer the complete price to this account. It's a bank in Belgium.”

“Ah, Mr. Walker, now who's making assumptions?”

“Hear me out. The account is opened jointly in the names of both you and Mr. Bunce. Neither will be able to get the funds without the permission of the other. Your money is safe.”

“Go on.”

“When the transfer is made, I'll give you the key to a particular
room in the Meyrick Hotel in Galway. I also give you the combination to the room safe. Your man can see the items and report back to you. When he does, you release the funds in the joint account to Mr. Bunce.”

Mr. O'Connor sat back with a piece of scone and took a sip of tea while he considered the option. When he set the cup back down, his smile was more relaxed.

“Mr. Walker, I'll say it again. I underestimated you badly. This will take time. I'll do the transfer of funds this afternoon. Mr. Bunce can check with the bank this evening. When he notifies you that it's all there, you can leave the key to the room at the Meyrick and the combination of the safe in a sealed envelope with the concierge here. My man will fly to Galway this evening. We should be able to wrap this up tomorrow at breakfast in the dining room here if that suits you.”

“Very good.”

Mr. Walker followed O'Connor's lead in standing up. He accepted the offer of a handshake on the deal.

Mr. O'Connor leaned close to Mr. Walker's ear to say in a quiet but unmistakably firm tone, “I'm doing it your way, Mr. Walker, because you're entitled to exercise caution. Also, because it seems fair. Don't for a fraction of a second take it as weakness. My organization has a long reach. If matters should become—unsatisfactory from my point of view, there will be no hiding place on earth for you or your Mr. Bunce. You'll convey that to Mr. Bunce, won't you?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mr. Walker was well into his full Irish breakfast when Mr. O'Connor joined him at the table. The smile on Mr. O'Connor's face told him that the exchange had gone smoothly.

“Johnny, before you leave Dublin, can I buy you a pint of Guinness? A bit early, but we'll drink to happy conclusions. I guarantee you'll taste nothing like it in Sierra Leone.”

Mr. Walker smiled and accepted the outstretched hand. “I'll accept, if you let me buy you a late breakfast.”

“A fair exchange. And a fitting end to a profitable business. I suppose you'll be off to Africa.”

Mr. Walker had no reply for the moment. He had accomplished half of what he had come for. The less important half to him.

“I have something to show you, Mr. O'Connor.”

“I think it's time you called me Declan. We have a bit of history with each other now.”

“So be it, Declan. That makes it easier.”

He took out of his shirt the bag of rough diamonds he had carried out of the jungle of Sierra Leone after the Kamajor attack. He set it on the table in front of Mr. O'Connor.

Mr. O'Connor looked down at the pouch and back up at him. “You seem to trust me now. Why?”

Mr. Walker leaned forward, “I've had an interesting life. Sometimes my intuition is all I've had to guide me through difficult times. I won't bore you with details. My intuition tells me you're a man who doesn't hesitate to do business on either side of the law. But something says to me there's a strong sense of loyalty inside of you. I
sense you won't easily go back on your word if you give it. I'm trusting in that.”

Mr. O'Connor sat back. “I've said it twice now. Here's a third time. I underestimated you badly before we met. There's a good deal more to you than meets the eye, Johnny, or whatever your real name is. I've had no occasion to say this to another man. Your trust won't be broken by anything in my power. What are we talking about here?”

Mr. Walker opened the bag. He poured out onto the linen tablecloth twenty-two milky rough stones similar to the ones that had just been successfully transferred.

“I need to sell these. I need money. A lot of money.”

“How much?”

“As much as I can get. Much more than you paid for the other stones.”

Mr. O'Connor looked at the rough gems. He looked around for curious eyes and covered the stones with his linen napkin.

“I don't suppose you'd tell me why you need that much money. You don't strike me as a man who hungers after wealth.”

“You're from a different world, Declan. I could tell you, but you might not understand. Or you might not believe me.”

“You've never lied to me yet. Try me.”

The room was empty but for the two at that table. Mr. Walker thought long and hard before he spoke. Where to begin to bring this Irishman into the world of Sierra Leone; the world of the pit, the loss of his family, the incomprehensible cruelty of the child soldiers of the RUF, the desperation of every waking moment in slavery to those whose only emotion was lust for the diamonds.

Somehow he began talking, and for some reason, he laid open his soul to this stranger. At the points where he could not hold back the tears, he simply let them flow.

Mr. O'Connor listened without speaking, and the words dug deeply into his own soul. Mr. Walker finally told him about his chance meeting with his brother, and the news that their father was alive and
held captive by the RUF. He spoke of the chance that his father could be bought out of captivity if the price could be raised. The only chance of that happening lay in the stones on the table in front of them.

When he finished, Mr. O'Connor made a call on his cell phone. Within ten minutes, another suited man of about his age joined them at the table.

Mr. O'Connor put his hand on the napkin and looked up at Mr. Walker. “You can trust Lannie McLaughlin as far as you trust me. He knows the value of diamonds better than any man I know. May I?”

Mr. Walker nodded his assent. Mr. O'Connor lifted the napkin. Lannie McLaughlin took every diamond individually in hand and held them to the jeweler's eyepiece. When he laid down the last one, he just sat quietly. Four eyes were on him.

“What do you think, Lannie?”

He turned to Mr. O'Connor and spoke quietly. “I've never seen a collection of rough diamonds so pure. These are rare. They're worth ten times the amount you paid for that whole batch in Galway.”

“How much, Lannie? Fair price.”

“Rough estimate. One million euros.”

Mr. O'Connor gave a low, expressive whistle.

“And that's a fraction of the profit to anyone who can get them into the legal mainstream of the cutters in Antwerp.”

Mr. O'Connor and Lannie McLaughlin locked eyes for a few seconds as if they were exchanging the same thoughts.

“You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you, Lannie?”

“I am. With all deference to Mr. Walker, stay the hell away from these, Declan. You've stayed under the radar of the international enforcers so far. That's because you deal in pedestrian diamonds. When word of these gets out somewhere along the line, you could have the full attention of black market law enforcement that could shut you down. Or worse.”

“Worse meaning jail time.”

He nodded. “Could happen. I've seen it.”

Mr. O'Connor breathed a long sigh. He turned to Mr. Walker. “I
hoped I could help you, but it's out of my league by a long shot. Lannie, can you think of a buyer?”

“Around here? No. Anyone who knows diamonds will spot these. No offense, but good as they are, they're blood diamonds. Probably from the Kono region of Sierra Leone. To begin with, they're smuggled. Then, on top of it, the buyers are beginning to get a conscience about paying for diamonds that buy guns and drugs for that gang in Sierra Leone. You'd be lucky to get ten percent of what they're worth from the people we know around here, if they'll take them at all.”

Mr. Walker asked, “Are you saying the market for diamonds is that bad?”

“Oh, hell, no. The market for mainstream legal diamonds is as puffed up as it has been. It'll never drop. It's something of a fiction to begin with. Diamonds are not the rare gems people think they are. Years ago the De Beers crowd bought up every diamond source they could get their hands on. They held such a monopoly that they could release them in small amounts so the public would think they were rare. That still keeps the price up.”

“Then there is a solid market for diamonds.”

“Ah, that's just the beginning. Then they put together the greatest marketing device in advertising history. They came up with the slogan, ‘Diamonds are Forever.' Worldwide, people would hardly think of getting engaged without the biggest diamond ring they can afford. Sometimes bigger than they can afford. It was ingenious.”

Mr. O'Connor added, “But not these diamonds?”

He shook his head. “Not blood diamonds. Not now. Not unless they get blended into the mainstream flow of clean diamonds to the cutters and polishers in Antwerp. Once they do that, nobody can tell the difference. They'd get their real value.”

“And how's that done?”

“Connections. Connections to the world diamond merchants you don't have, Declan. Not for these diamonds. Connections to people up around the top of the chain who're willing to take the dirty ones with the clean ones and don't care whom they deal with.”

Mr. Walker's expression said that he had come to a dead end. Mr. O'Connor
leaned toward him and spoke just above a whisper. “Maybe there's a possibility. Someone approached me a while ago. He was talking about getting into the diamond business with us for rough diamonds. He knew we had a source. He says he has the connections to go from there. This was someone in America. How soon do you have to go back to Sierra Leone?”

“I have nowhere to go. I have no home in Sierra Leone. I can stay as long as necessary.”