Something in the Water(64)

To be clear, I personally think Charles is doing really well. He’s got a lovely place here. It seems like a lovely job. I’d be a proud mother. That’s another thing about private school boys. They tug at the heartstrings, don’t they? They bypass the sexual and hotline the maternal. They never grow up.

I pop the diamond pouch out of my coat pocket and onto the desktop. The stones are now safely stored away in the soft cream leather wallet that Mark and I purchased for the purpose. The plastic baggie was not appropriate, and although the pouch set us back ￡150 it gives a wholly different tone to the current endeavor.

Charles clicks to attention. It’s the reason he’s here, after all, and it has been a bad year.

I explain that the family I work for is looking to liquidate some assets over the next months. The stones will be an initial sale to test the waters, to see how receptive the market is at the moment.

Of course, in reality there are no other assets. I wish there were. I wish we’d found more bags. But I figure the prospect of more sales to come for Charles will (a) get us the best price for the stones today and (b) lessen the suspicious nature of a one-off sale.

Charles’s interest is piqued. I knew the leather pouch was worth it.

He fetches a jewelry tray. I pass him the pouch. I want him to pour it out himself. To have the feeling I had the first time I saw hundreds of diamond pills pour out into the refracting light.

He shakes the pouch gently and they tumble out onto the green felt tray.

He feels it.

The hairs on the back of my arms rise. I feel it.

Opportunity. Possibility. He moistens his lips before he looks up.

“Very nice, lovely.” A hint of joy bubbles just under the surface of his deadpan expression. He’s no poker player, that’s for sure.

A rate of ten percent commission is agreed upon. He’ll get started as soon as I leave and should have some offers by the afternoon. Things move very fast in the diamond market. He can have a sale arranged by the end of the day if that’s something the family I work for would be interested in.

I leave with a handwritten receipt in lieu of the stones and head back to the café to meet Mark. And then I feel it: eyes on my back. I stop on the corner of Pall Mall and St. James’s Street, and with nerves fizzing pretend to look for my phone in my bag. The two men behind me pass by. They’re not police, and they aren’t following me, they’re just two well-dressed men on their way to a long lunch. I check over my shoulder, back all the way down the Mall to Trafalgar Square, my eyes searching for DCI Foster’s stocky frame among the few pedestrians. Of the twenty or so passersby, no one fits the bill. DCI Foster’s not here. He’s not watching me.

Stop it, Erin. Don’t be paranoid.

My heart flutters in my chest. A ghost instinct, nothing more. I head off up St. James’s to meet Mark.

He lights up when he sees me enter. He wants to know how it went with Charles.

“Very, very good,” I assure him. “He’s looking for buyers as we speak. He was really excited. He was trying to hide it but I could tell. This might be done in a couple of hours! He’s going to call me this afternoon with some offers.” My hands are shaking ever so slightly. Mark slides his hand over the café table and rests his palm over mine.

“You’re doing really well, honey. I’m impressed.” He undercuts it with a grin. I can’t help breaking into one too. What are we doing? It’s scary but it’s also completely thrilling. I can’t speak for Mark, obviously, but I’ve only ever gotten the occasional parking fine before now. I’m not a criminal. But it’s amazing how smoothly we’re taking to all this. I console myself that it’s okay to be paranoid every now and then, it’d be crazy if I weren’t, considering what we’re doing. We’ve brought all of this danger home with us, to England.

“Listen, Erin, honey, why don’t we just stay in town and wait for Charles’s call together? And if an offer comes through, we’ll just take it, okay? And you can pop back down there and do the deal and we could be completely done by this evening. Diamonds out of the house, done. We can go back to our normal lives. Well, normal-ish.” That smile again.



* * *



—

My mobile rings at around one-thirty. It’s Charles, calling back already. I recognize the final three digits from Mark’s call this morning. Mark gives me the nod and I answer after four rings. We don’t want to sound too desperate.

“Hello?” I answer, brusquely. Sara, my imaginary PA character, has much more important things to be getting on with than waiting for Charles’s call.

“Hello there, Sara, it’s Charles from Naiman Sardy?” He’s tentative.

“Oh, fantastic. Hello, Charles, what can I do for you?” I sound breezy, aloof, and professional. Mark catches my eye and smiles. He likes this character. Very sexy.

Charles hesitates again ever so slightly, but I catch it. An infinitesimal pause down the line before he plunges in. “Sara, I’m ever so sorry. But unfortunately I’m not going to be able to help with this. As much as I’d love to, I’ll have to sit this one out, I’m afraid.”

My stomach flips and my eyes dart to Mark. He’s already caught the change in energy from me and he quietly scans the faces in the café. Are we busted? Is it finished?