Erica Orloff - The Golden Girl

“I know what the SVR is.”

“Stupid Violent Russians.”

Becca compressed her lips and crossed her arms. “What is it about the Russians you don’t like?”

“Besides the Cold War?” He shrugged. “It’s a joke. You know, humor?” He sighed and punched a fist into his opposite palm. “Tough room. SVR, Russian intelligence,” he said. “But isn’t that an oxymoron? Russian. Intelligent?”

Despite her reservations, Becca had to smile at that one. Ah, hell, she let out a chuckle.

“Whew. The room is finally starting to warm up.” Dane’s smile was easy and it piqued Becca’s attention. Yes, definitely an open man. Direct opposition to her need to keep things close. “So the CIA has flown you all the way over to London for that pretty little rock?”

Nodding and exhaling a sigh, she said, “Don’t remind me of the flight.”

“Don’t like to fly in airplanes?”

“I fly well enough, it’s over water that makes me, mmm—” she tilted her palm up and down “—nervous.”

“Hydrophobic?”

“Yes.” And, far too much information to reveal to a perfect stranger.

He gestured to the diamond. “A nice piece. Ten carats, I believe. Snatched earlier this morning from a gems dealer over in Liverpool. But I don’t understand why the entire store was not ransacked. There were other gems of equal size, yet this bit of sparkle was the only thing taken.”

“It is curious nothing else was stolen,” she agreed. “There was no sign of forced break-in at the New York store. The dealer said the thief specifically asked for this stone. As if he knew she had it. And yet, she had only purchased it five days earlier.”

Picking up the diamond, she redirected her focus. Hefty. Solid. The asscher-cut was rather ugly. Herself, she preferred the classic round brilliant-cut stones.

Either way, it was an extraordinary showpiece. A stone this size would likely be utilized as the key setting in a necklace or brooch. Only the wealthiest of wealthy could touch such a fine piece, a social set with which she was familiar.

What troubled Becca was that someone had tried to kill for this diamond. Murder didn’t seem necessary. Had the London theft been foiled by the arrival of Scotland Yard? No time for murder? Or had the thief’s MO changed? Was this even the same thief who had struck in New York? Or had that man alerted another in his gang to the sale?

If it was organized crime, as Agent Dane had alluded, the scenario seemed likely.

She fished out a disk light from her valise. It was a little larger than a quarter; a snappy little device Alan Burke had designed for her. A squeeze of the rubber case produced UV light on one side and white light on the other side. Alan was the gadget guru for the Gotham Roses, who operated out of the brownstone on Sixty-eighthAvenue. Alan never met a challenge he couldn’t fill or a foreign movie he didn’t like.

Leaning over the table to block some of the unnatural overhead light, Becca beamed the ultraviolet light across the diamond. As expected, the diamond fluoresced. But wow, it fluoresced…pink! Most diamonds fluoresced blue, and fluorescence wasn’t necessarily favorable when pricing a stone. More fluorescence tended to make the diamond murky, sometimes oily in color when viewed in natural daylight. As an attribute it was prized only if the fluorescence cut the yellow in the stone to produce a blue-white color.

But this stone wasn’t yellow; in fact, it was quite clear.

“That’s odd.” Flipping the light disk to white light, Becca then tilted the diamond to redirect the blocks of prismatic color beamed across the white card. There was something…

Startled at her discovery, Becca turned the crown of the diamond toward the tabletop. By beaming the white light through the lower pavilion of the gem, it produced a kaleidoscopic dance of light on the pale gray Formica. Within the glow, small, dark spots littered the colors…in a pattern.

Letters?

“There’s something on the table of this diamond. An ion beam brand?” she spoke her suspicions out loud.

Dane leaned over the table. “There’s something inside the diamond?”

“I’m not sure.” Becca held up the diamond before him. “There is a method jewelers use to mark diamonds in a minute manner. It’s completely invisible to the naked eye, unlike the oft-used laser engraving burned into the girdle. This is the girdle.” She ran a finger around the edge of the diamond. “Ion beam branding deposits identification codes or matrices inside the diamond, which are only viewable with a high-powered microscope.”

“And where is yours?”

“Not here. The 200x microscope required is too large to lug about in my little case. But what makes the discovery strange is that I didn’t need it.”

She flashed the light over the crown of the diamond. Just one more check. Indeed, a faint pink glowed within the stone.

“Brilliant.”

“Yes, but check this out.” She flashed the white light across the stone. “Hell.”

“So that’s where diamonds come from, is it, Miss Whitmore? Hell?”

This time, Becca did not see anything. No letters or branded matrix. In fact, the marks she had seen were now completely gone.

“This isn’t right—”

“Oh, blighted bollocks!” Dane dashed from the room.

Whatever had bit him in the ass?

Becca spun to the two-way window. She jumped up and rushed to it, slapping her palms to the glass. The suspect convulsed on his chair.

Dane appeared and grabbed the man by the throat. White spittle oozed over his tightly clamped lips. The agent pounded a fist against his chest then released the bound man with a thrust. Still strapped to the chair, the man fell backward, landing on the floor, his feet in the air. He didn’t move.

Dane shouted, “Sod me!”

He flung his arms out and turned to approach the two-way window. He gave the glass a good pound with his fist. Anger stretched his mouth to a tight sneer.

He kicked the chair leg, and exited the room.

Becca rushed to the open door and peeked out to find Agent Dane standing in the hallway, hands to hips and head shaking. He looked to her and fisted the air again. “Bastard killed himself.”

________________________

Erica Orloff

2005

1-55254-366-8

en

Harlequin

Copyright © 2005 by Harlequin Books S.A.

Published by Silhouette Books

America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

Erica Orloff for her contribution to

THE IT GIRLS series.

SILHOUETTE BOOKS

ISBN 1-55254-366-8

THE GOLDEN GIRL

Copyright © 2005 by Harlequin Books S.A.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.SilhouetteBombshell.com

Books by Erica Orloff