The Cutting Edge (Lincoln Rhyme #14)(24)
“Mel?” Rhyme asked.
The tech jotted it down from the notebook Ackroyd displayed and made a phone call. He had a conversation with their specialist at the Computer Crimes Unit. Then Cooper was on hold for a moment. After another discussion he disconnected. “Whoever called your friend in Amsterdam used a burner phone with a New York mobile exchange that’s not active now. Could be destroyed or the batteries could be run down. They’ll keep it on the alert list if it goes live.”
No probable cause for a warrant, Rhyme reflected. But if it was Unsub 47’s phone and he eventually turned it on they could possibly triangulate and pay him a visit.
“Good. Appreciate that,” Sellitto said. “We were also wondering where the thief might try to fence the diamonds here. I was talking to some detectives and FBI agents who run stolen-jewelry cases—but most of them’re low-end and finished pieces. They don’t know anyone who could move five million worth of uncut diamonds.”
Ackroyd said, “No, that’s quite the specialized market. I don’t know if Mr. Croft mentioned it but the thief took the rough because it would be much harder to trace. No serial number, as there would be on finished stones.”
“Yes,” Rhyme said. “He told us that.”
“Word has spread already about the theft, of course. Everyone in the business is aware of it. I have calls out to contacts here and overseas to let me know if anyone wants to sell the rough…or is looking for an underground cutter.”
Rhyme said, “Croft said that was what he was most afraid of.”
Ackroyd gave a reserved smile. “Mr. Croft…he is our client, of course, but I think even he would admit he gets a touch too attached to his products. You see, he’s part of the old school of diamond production. There’s a new trend called ‘branded’ diamonds, often cut with extra facets and in non-traditional sizes and depths. The manufacturers often do this to charge consumers more than the diamond is actually worth, claiming that the buyer is getting something unique—a special brand. But that’s spurious. The problem is that many of those companies don’t take into account the qualities that make diamonds great. Grace-Cabot would never do that. The rough they sent to Patel for cutting, well, those were going to be exceptional stones when finished. And, if they’re cut underground, they’ll end up in department stores and high street jewelers.”
“These connections of yours?” Sachs asked. “Who are they?”
“Oh, diamantaires, brokers, mining executives, jewelry retailers, precious metal and gemstone dealers, transport and security companies, investment companies too—diamonds, like gold, are hedge commodities. I don’t want to give the impression they’re all a wealth of information, though. Anyone in the trade tends to be distrustful of outsiders. As an insurer, I’ve worked hard to get one foot in the door, so to speak. I’ve made some headway over the years but even for me it’s an uphill battle, getting people to cooperate.”
Rhyme recalled what Ron Pulaski had told him about the difficulties in finding merchants to aid in the search for the elusive VL. “We’re finding a lot of resistance to talking to our canvassing officers.”
Ackroyd added, “And accentuating that natural reclusiveness, there’s the violence. I think people are simply afraid.”
Box cutters will do that.
“Well, it’s a pity the Amsterdam connection hit a roadblock. But the suspect may turn on his phone once again. We can hope. Now, I’ll keep making inquiries and will let you know what I find.”
“If you would, sure,” Sellitto said. “Thanks.”
Ackroyd took his coat from the rack where Thom had hung it and donned the garment. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. I must say at Milbank I have a pretty solid record of recovering the loot for my clients.” Another of his soft laughs. “Just occurred to me. ‘Loot’ comes from a Hindi word, lut. For ‘pillaged goods.’ And poor Jatin Patel—that was his ethnicity. Indian. Bit ironic, wouldn’t you say? Well then, I’ll keep in touch. Good evening.”
*
“And?” Rhyme asked.
“Might be helpful,” Ron Pulaski said. “He’s the real deal.”
Rhyme sighed at the expression. “Specifics would be good.”
It had been an hour since Edward Ackroyd had left. Ron Pulaski had returned from his futile canvassing in the Diamond District, seeking leads to the witnesses S and VL and, of course, to Unsub 47 himself. Other officers were continuing the search.
Pulaski, briefed about the insurance investigator, had been given the task of checking him out. He’d gone online and verified that Ackroyd’s company, Milbank Assurance, based in London, had offices in New York, San Francisco, Paris and Hong Kong. He’d also asked Fred Dellray, an FBI agent they sometimes worked with, to check with Scotland Yard. Yes, Edward Ackroyd had indeed made a name for himself as a detective in the burglary division before retiring from the force to join Milbank. Pulaski couldn’t verify that the company did insure Grace-Cabot—insurance coverage generally wasn’t public information—but Milbank advertised that its specialty was covering precious metal and gem companies, including mining operations.
So, Ackroyd passed the test…and had provided information that might have been useful, and might still be—the Amsterdam dealer. But there was one reservation. Their missions coincided, yes, but only up to a point. Once the diamonds were recovered, Milbank and Grace-Cabot would immediately begin court proceedings to have the rough released from evidence. Rhyme and Sellitto would want them to remain in the custody of the NYPD until the conclusion of Unsub 47’s trial, which could be a while. And if the diamonds were recovered and their unsub was not collared, they would have to remain in evidence indefinitely. Neither the insurer nor the mining company would be pleased at that.