Oleksandr Dan - Insomvita. Psychological thriller with elements of a crime story

It was just after 9 pm. Chloe did not answer. Robert dialed several more times, but got the same result. A waiter approached him and asked Robert to take a call from the restaurant’s phone. Robert immediately thought about Chloe, but how could she know the phone number of the restaurant?

«Right,» remembered Robert. «I left the details at the hotel’s reception.»

«I suspect, young man, that a certain young woman is tired of waiting for you in your room while you entertain an old man here.» Zimme smiled. «Go, because as a talented fellow countryman of mine once wisely wrote:

Love, love, because time does not wait for you.

It takes away your days and nights.

Love for as long as your body is young and thirsty.

Because when you are old, you will only love with the eyes.

«No, my girlfriend is very far away now, but it could be her calling.» Robert smiled at Zimme’s wit and headed to the bar.

When Robert picked up the phone, he could only hear short beeps. Robert replaced the receiver and waited for a couple of minutes, but nobody called back.

As he was returning to his table, Robert noticed from afar an unknown man of Middle Eastern appearance stop near the gemologist. As soon as Robert approached, the man excused himself and went to another room of the restaurant.

Zimme was still in a good mood and joked: «Well, Mr. Blanche, it seems like we keep getting interrupted.»

«Was that someone you know?» Robert asked, disregarding Mr. Zimme’s comment.

«You mean that guy? God forbid, Robert, he had me mistaken for somebody else,» Zimme said indifferently and continued to thinly slice the large piece of meat on his plate. «I’ve been mistaken for others many times. Once, I was even mistaken for Sir Anthony Hopkins and asked for an autograph. What do you think I did? I gave the autograph! And this one time in Israel…»

He continued to tell funny stories, and from time to time the old man would laugh so hard tears came to his eyes. Robert thought he had never met a more cheerful person in his life.

In the morning, Robert was awoken by a call from Mehmet, the sheikh’s aide. In a troubled voice he informed Robert that Mr. Zimme had had a heart attack and been taken to the ER, and so they had to quickly find a new gemologist. He also said that all the documents where Mr. Zimme was mentioned as an expert needed to be revised.

At that moment, Robert felt a suspicion that someone wanted to disrupt the deal. He immediately called his boss and reported the incident.

To keep the deal on track, the Arab side tried to get a gemologist from Israel. However, he was too busy and had to decline. The same happened with a gemologist from Belgium. Unexpectedly, the Israeli Diamond Exchange offered a professional gemologist from Guinea, who was in the UK at the moment.

The sheikh’s security quickly screened the gemologist’s documents and confirmed that Mr. Kone, a citizen of Guinea, was indeed an excellent expert, who had been in the business for thirty years, providing his services in West Africa, Angola and South Africa. Mr. Kone was immediately summoned to London and introduced to the sheikh.

It turned out that Mr. Kone was short, sturdy, black, and sixty years old. He was very polite and spoke French and English fluently.

That same morning, a white Maybach Landaulet drove up to the bank with the sheikh and his aide. The sheikh’s security detail and partners were already standing at the entrance and politely greeted him.

After all the formalities were observed, the representatives of both parties entered the conference room.

The sheikh was the first to enter, followed by his two strong bodyguards and three Arabs, the sheikh’s partners. Everybody, except the bodyguards, were dressed in long white robes of thin cotton and a keffiyeh affixed with a black head ring. The bodyguards, dressed in black suits, white shirts and colored ties, stood with stony faces in the corners of the room. It was clear from their appearance that they were American. Their conduct, hair and square chins gave away that they were former US special forces, likely Navy Seals.

Then the representatives of the seller, both from Eastern Europe, Czechs or Slovaks, entered the room. Everybody, except the bodyguards, sat down at the big round table, greeted each other and waited. One of the sheikh’s aides, upon his order, opened a grey MacBook and launched the bank’s app to access the account.

Several minutes later, Robert, gemologist Kone and two bank representatives with a metal box entered the room.

Robert placed two packages of documents before the buyer and the seller. All these documents had been examined by the parties a long time ago, but official procedure required it. The diamonds had also been already examined by the bank’s experts. Mr. Zimme personally had checked the quality of each diamond in the presence of bank employees. However, before transferring the money to the buyer and the diamonds to the seller, the procedure required another formal examination.

The metal box was opened, revealing neatly folded plastic bags with big, the size of a hazelnut, diamonds. A gemological certificate was attached to each stone.

Everything was removed from the metal box and placed on a separate table for inspection.

Mr. Kone, in white gloves, approached the table and selected several bags. He took out one stone and looked at it through a special loupe set on a tripod. He compared his examination result with the gemological certificate. Satisfied, he handed the stone to the sheikh, who examined it carefully with his own handheld loupe. Also satisfied, the sheikh nodded.

Kone repeated the procedure with several more diamonds. The Arabs again nodded in approval; they were getting exactly what they expected.

The diamonds were, indeed, wonderful; it was hard to find something of such quality at the price offered by the Russians, and in such quantity.

Finally, the gemologist, having examined yet another stone, looked at the sheikh, but he just made a barely noticeable hand gesture for Kone to continue working. The gemologist nodded, carefully packed the diamond into the bag and placed it back in the box together with the certificate. He then took another diamond from the table and continued to examine it closer through the special loupe.

Robert carefully watched the gemologist.

Thirty minutes passed, but Kone had yet to examine half the stones. He was very thoroughly checking their conformity with the certificates and even more thoroughly packing them into the bags and back in the metal box.

Despite the official nature of the meeting, there was no tension in the room. The Czechs were talking quietly with the sheikh about something through an Arab interpreter.

Robert approached the gemologist and asked quietly in French, «Mr. Kone, do you live in Conakry?»

«No, Mr. Blanche,» Kone answered without pausing his work. «When my great friend Mr. Lansana Conte passed, I had to leave. I moved to South Africa in early 2009. That’s where I live now. That’s where my family lives.»

Kone spoke calmly, peering intently at another piece of treated carbon.

The next moment, a bank officer entered the room and addressed Robert.

«Mr. Blanche. There is a phone call for you.»

Robert picked up the phone and heard the agitated voice of Jovan, his friend and head of the firm’s security.

«Robbie, we’ve got a problem. I just received news from the hospital. Zimme did not suffer a heart attack. They discovered some powerful toxin in his blood.» Jovan fell silent, then whispered, «Poison.»

Robert said nothing. He was stunned.

Jovan quietly continued: «I don’t know where to start digging, but we need to figure out what the deal here is and who benefits. I believe somebody wanted to sideline the gemologist.»