Clive Cussler - Shock Wave

Carlisle looked at his old friend as if he were drunk, then thought better of pursuing the matter. “She sent young children alone on a long voyage from New Zealand to England?”

“Not so young,” said Scaggs. “The oldest must be going on nineteen.”

“If they left the island the early part of April, they may come knocking on your door at any time.”

“Providing they did not have to wait long in Auckland to find a stout ship that made a fast passage.”

“My God, man, you’re in an impossible situation.”

“What you really mean is, how can a dying man carry out an old friend’s dying wish?”

“You’re not going to die,” said Carlisle, looking Scaggs in the eye.

“Oh yes I am,” Scaggs said firmly. “You’re a practical businessman, Abner. Nobody knows that better than me. That’s why I asked to see you before I take my final voyage.”

“You want me to wet-nurse Betsy’s children.”

“They can live in my house until you drop their anchor in the best educational institutions money can buy.”

“The pitiful amount that Betsy made selling hats and food supplies to visiting whaling ships won’t come close to covering the cost of several years of boarding at expensive schools. They’ll need the proper clothes and private tutors to bring them up to proper learning levels. I hope you’re not asking me to provide for total strangers.”

Scaggs pointed to the leather pouch.

Carlisle held it up. “Is this what Betsy sent you to educate her children?”

Scaggs nodded slightly. “Open it.”

Carlisle loosened the strings and poured the contents into his hand. He looked up at Scaggs incredulously. “Is this some sort of joke? These are nothing but ordinary stones.”

“Trust me, Abner. They are not ordinary.”

Carlisle held up one about the size of a prune in front of his spectacles and peered at it. The surface of the stone was smooth and its shape was octahedral, having eight sides. “This is nothing but some sort of crystal. It’s absolutely worthless.”

“Take the stones to Levi Strouser.”

“The Jewish gem merchant?”

“Show the stones to him.”

“Precious gems, they’re not,” said Carlisle firmly.

“Please ...” Scaggs barely got the word out. The long conversation had tired him.

“As you wish, old friend.” He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. “I’ll call on Strouser first thing in the morning and return to you with his appraisal.”

“Thank you,” Scaggs murmured. “The rest will take care of itself.”

Carlisle walked under an early morning drizzle to the old business district near Castlegate. He checked the address and turned up the steps to one of the many inconspicuous gray houses built of local granite that gave the city of Aberdeen a solid if drab appearance. Small brass letters mounted beside the door read, simply, Strouser & Sons. He pulled the bell knob and was shown into a Spartan furnished office by a clerk, offered a chair and a cup of tea.

A slow minute passed before a short man in a long frock coat, a salt-and-pepper beard down to his chest, entered through a side door. He smiled politely and extended his hand.

“I am Levi Strouser. What service can I perform for you?”

“My name is Abner Carlisle. I was sent by my friend Captain Charles Scaggs.”

“Captain Scaggs sent a messenger who announced your coming. I am honored to have Aberdeen’s most renowned merchant in my humble office.”

“Have we ever met?”

“We don’t exactly travel in the same social circles, and you are not the kind of man who buys jewelry.”

“My wife died young and I never remarried. So there was no reason to purchase expensive baubles.”

“I too lost a wife at an early age, but I was fortunate enough to find a lovely woman who bore me four sons and two daughters.”

Carlisle had often done business with Jewish merchants over the years, but he had never had dealings in gemstones. He was on unfamiliar ground and felt uncomfortable with Strouser. He took out the leather pouch and laid it on the desk.

“Captain Scaggs requested your appraisal of the stones inside.”

Strouser laid a sheet of white paper on the desktop and poured the contents of the pouch in a pile in the center. He counted the stones. There were eighteen. He took his time and carefully scrutinized each one through his loupe, a small magnifier used by jewelers. Finally, he held up the largest and the smallest stones, one in each hand.

“If you will kindly be patient, Mr. Carlisle, I would like to conduct some tests on these two stones. I’ll have one of my sons serve you another cup of tea.”

“Yes, thank you. I don’t mind waiting.”

Nearly an hour passed before Strouser returned to the room with the two stones. Carlisle was a shrewd observer of men. He had to be to have successfully negotiated over a thousand business ventures since he purchased his first ship at the tender age of twenty-two. He saw that Levi Strouser was nervous. There were no obvious signs, no shaking hands, little tics around the mouth, beads of sweat. It was there in the eyes. Strouser looked like a man who had beheld God.

“May I ask where these stones came from?” Strouser asked.

“I cannot tell you the exact location,” Carlisle answered honestly.

“The mines of India are played out, and nothing like this has come out of Brazil. Perhaps one of the new diggings in South Africa?”

“It is not for me to say. Why? Is there a value to the stones?”

“You do not know what they are?” Strouser asked in astonishment.

“I am not an expert in minerals. My business is shipping.”

Strouser held out his hands over the stones like an ancient sorcerer. “Mr. Carlisle, these are diamonds! The finest uncut stones I have ever seen.”

Carlisle covered his amazement nobly. “I don’t question your integrity, Mr. Strouser, but I can’t believe you are serious.”

“My family has dealt in precious stones for five generations, Mr. Carlisle. Believe me when I say you have a fortune lying on the desk. Not only do they have indications of perfect transparency and clearness, but they possess an exquisite and very extraordinary violet-rose color. Because of their beauty and rarity they command a higher price than the perfect colorless stones.”

Carlisle came back on keel and cut away the cobwebs. “What are they worth?”

“Rough stones are almost impossible to classify for value since their true qualities do not become apparent until they are cut and faceted, to enhance the maximum optical effect, and polished. The smallest you have here weighs 60 carats in the rough.” He paused to hold up the largest specimen. “This one weighs out at over 980 carats, making it the largest known uncut diamond in the world.”

“I judge that it might be a wise investment to have them cut before I sell them.”

“Or if you prefer, I could offer you a fair price in the rough.”

Carlisle began to place the stones back in the leather pouch. “No, thank you. I represent a dying friend. It is my duty to provide him with the highest profit possible.”

Strouser quickly realized that the canny Scotsman could not be influenced to part with the uncut stones. The opportunity to obtain the diamonds for himself, have them faceted and then sell them on the London market for an immense gain, was not in the cards. Better to make a good profit than none at all, he decided wisely.

“You need not go any farther than this office, Mr. Carlisle. Two of my sons apprenticed at the finest diamond-cutting house in Antwerp. They are as good if not better than any cutters in London. Once the stones are faceted and polished, I can act as your broker should you then wish to sell.”