Something in the Water(67)

“How much are you after?” Martin’s chillier now than his initial hello, businesslike. I suppose that means it’s something they want. Game faces are set.

“I’m not too sure, to be honest. I know it’s two carat. The cut and color are pretty flawless. I’m guessing around…five grand?” I aim low, low, low. I’m testing the water. I’m pretending I don’t know what I’ve got. I know what I’ve got. Charles confirmed what we’ve got before he bowed out. This diamond, like all the others in the pouch, is color D (colorless), clarity IF (internally flawless) or VVS1 (very, very slightly included). Charles wrote the specs very precisely on the receipt he gave me. A basic round stone with those specs would reach eight grand per stone wholesale, nine and a half grand with tax. But the stone they hold in their hands now is a radiant-cut diamond, rectangular and cut to enhance brilliance and sparkle. These stones are rarer, they’re brighter. They come in, wholesale, at about eighteen to twenty grand before tax.

These guys can’t believe their luck.

The guy with the fleece juts out his lower lip as if to say five grand seems reasonable. He glances at Martin.

“What do you think, Martin? Can we stretch? It’s a nice stone.” He’s playing it well—if I didn’t know any better I’d think they were doing me a favor.

Martin eyes the stone again before exhaling loudly. He looks at me, his mouth pursed, weighing up the decision.

“Yeah, we can do that. Why not? Sure, let’s do it. I’ll get it written up.” He nods at the fleecy man.

Fleecy Man smiles over at me, brisk. “You happy with that, love?” he asks.

I’m happy in that I’ve achieved here what I wanted to achieve. These stones can be sold. There are people who will overlook where they might come from, if there’s a bargain to be made. Even if we let them all go for five thousand each, that’ll still give us a cool million. We could get more than that, I know we could, but a million is fine. Let’s not be too greedy.

I nod my head sagely, having a think, and I let them stew a moment.

“That sounds great, guys. Fantastic. I’ll have a chat with my husband about it tonight and see what he says and maybe pop back in tomorrow?” I give them a chummy smile—we’re all friends here—and pocket my stone.

Of course, I have no intention of coming back. I have no intention of selling two hundred diamonds one by one at various diamond markets. And as we’ve learned, the high-end traders won’t touch them with a barge pole. So, what we need is to find someone who will look the other way for the right percentage. I think of all the stories Mark’s told me over the years about the people he’s worked with, the people he’s worked for. The things they do, the things they’ve done. I’m certain we can find somebody.

Mark’s in the living room when I get home, full of renewed vigor. His business meeting went really well, apparently: thankfully, most of the industry regulations encourage and support new business; people are setting up their own firms more than ever before, and there’s plenty of demand for them in the current climate. He’s been working on his potential client list too. It’s looking very healthy, he says with a smile. His luck finally seems to have turned. A rich fug of coffee hangs in the air. He hands me a cup too, a welcome-home gift.

“Any luck with anything?” he asks. He leans against the side of the sofa, his arms folded across his chest with the low light from the setting sun illuminating him. We’ll have to turn the lamps on in a minute.

It’s funny how much we’re both enjoying this. It’s become a game; sometimes a game of skill, sometimes a game of chance. Maybe we like it so much because we’re winning it right now.

“I had an idea after I left you,” I say tentatively. “Bear with me. I went to Hatton Garden. Don’t worry—I didn’t do anything crazy. I just wanted to test the waters. I wanted to see if there were people who might be willing to look the other way on provenance. And, Mark, there are! There definitely are.” I smile at him, feeling my face flush. He doesn’t smile back.

I persist. “What we need is someone just the wrong side of legal to buy them off of us. Someone who wants the money and isn’t too worried about where they came from.” I try another tentative smile but he looks back at me blankly. Why isn’t he going with me on this?

He rises and starts to pace the room, lost in thought. Something’s not quite right. I bite my bottom lip and wait.

After a moment he turns and looks at me, his face unreadable.

“What is it, Mark? What’s bothering you?” It comes out slightly sharper than I’d expected. He looks away. I guess I can only hold so much in before it starts to seep out. I’m keeping too many secrets right now, the pressure too heavy in my head. We need to sell these diamonds as soon as we can so we can go back to our real lives. I don’t understand why he doesn’t see that. We were having so much fun together earlier. I don’t understand the sudden withdrawal.

He turns back to me. “I just can’t believe how incredibly stu—Nothing. It’s fine. No. You just carry on, Erin.” He stops and goes to his desk; he busies himself with work papers.

“How stupid what, Mark? What? Sorry if I’m not getting this but…Just say what you want to say to me, please. Today has been tough and I think I’ve played it pretty well, so if you have a problem with what I’m doing, then could you please tell me? Or better yet, why don’t you tell me your ideas, Mark?” I demand.