Clive Cussler - Skeleton Coast

That made her smile. “Two out of three.”

“Two out of three, huh? I know they’re expensive and I know they’re rare so you must have men casually giving you diamonds all the time. You’re certainly attractive enough.”

Her smile turned into a little laugh. “Ah, no. They are expensive and you should mean it, but diamonds aren’t rare. They’re not as common as semiprecious stones but they’re not as scarce as you’re led to believe. The price is kept artificially inflated because one company controls about ninety-five percent of the market. They control all the mines so they can set any price they wish. Every time a new diamond field is discovered they are there to buy it up and eliminate any chance of competition. It’s a cartel so tight it makes OPEC look like amateurs. It’s so controlling that several executives would be arrested for antitrust violations if they ever set foot in the United States.

“They dribble out stones from their vaults at a very selective pace in order to keep prices at a constant.

If inventories dwindle they increase production and when there is an excess of stones they hoard them in their London vaults. Bearing all this in mind, what do you think would happen if a billion dollars in diamonds were ever to be dumped in the marketplace?”

“Prices would drop.”

“And we lose our monopoly and the whole system comes crashing down. All those women out there would realize the rocks on their fingers aren’t forever after all. It would also ripple through the world’s economy, destabilizing gold prices and currencies.”

That was something Juan knew a little about since it was only a couple months ago that he and the crew thwarted an attempt to flood the world’s gold market. “I see your point,” he said.

“If such a treasure-laden ship existed, there are two ways our office would prevent this from happening.

Number one is wait to see if someone else finds the diamonds and simply buy them all outright.

Obviously this would be expensive, so we would want to take the second route.”

“Check to see if the rumor of a sunken treasure is true and find it for yourselves.”

Sloane touched the tip of her nose. “Bingo. I was the person who first pieced together the story behind the treasure so I was given the lead on this trip. Tony’s ostensibly my assistant but he’s absolutely worthless. This is a big deal for me and my career. If I could find the stones I would probably be named VP.”

“Where did the diamonds come from?” Juan asked, interested in what she had to say despite himself.

“Fascinating story there. They were originally mined in Kimberley by members of a tribe called the Herero. The Herero king knew there was a battle coming with the German occupiers of his homeland and thought if he had the diamonds he could use them to buy English protection. For a decade or so his men worked in Kimberley and snuck stones back to Hereroland when their contracts ended. From what I was able to learn, workers would cut themselves in the arm or leg a couple of months before starting their contracts. When they arrived at Kimberley charts of their bodies were made noting all the old scars they had. Once they were in the workers’ compound a tribesman who had been there for a while and had already pilfered a suitable stone from the pit would reopen the wound and slip it inside. When it came time to leave a year later, the guards at the workers compound would check the chart made when the Herero first showed up. They would often surgically reopen fresh scars to check for hidden stones, a popular smuggling system after the more obvious down-the-throat technique, which was literally voided with laxatives. But the old scar was on their chart and wouldn’t be checked.”

“Damned clever,” Juan remarked.

“According to what I was able to discover they had sacks and sacks of only the largest and clearest stones when the tribe was robbed.”

“Robbed?”

“By five Englishmen, one just a teen whose parents were missionaries in Hereroland. I was able to put the story together from the father’s journal because after the robbery he went to track his son. His journal reads like a torturer’s checklist of things he wanted to do once he caught the boy.

“I won’t bore you with the details, but the teenager, Peter Smythe, hooked up with an adventurer of the old school named H. A. Ryder as well as three other men. As part of their plan they cabled Cape Town to have a steamship, the HMSRove , wait for them off the coast of what was then called German South West Africa. They planned to cross the Kalahari and Namib deserts on horseback and meet up with the ship.”

“And I take it theRove was never heard from again?”

“She left Cape Town right after receiving the telegram from Ryder and was later reported lost at sea.”

“Say all this is true and not another myth like King Solomon’s mines. What makes you think it would be in this area?”

“I drew a straight line west from where the diamonds were stolen to the coast. They were crossing perhaps the worst stretch of desert on the planet and would have taken the most direct route. That puts the rendezvous with theRove about seventy miles north of Walvis Bay.”

Juan found another hole in her logic. “Who’s to say theRove sank after steaming back to Cape Town for a week, or what if the men never made it and the stones are someplace in the middle of the desert?”

“Those are the same two points my boss threw at me when I brought this to him. And to that I said: If I was able to figure all this out, then someone else could, too, and a billion dollars’ worth of diamonds could be sitting a couple miles offshore where anyone with scuba tanks and a flashlight could find them.”

“To which he said?”

“ ‘I’ll give you a week and Tony Reardon to help you. And no matter what, destroy all the evidence you’ve gathered.’ ”

“That isn’t anywhere near enough time to check an area that must be a couple hundred square miles,”

Juan said. “To do it properly you’d need a ship able to tow a side-scan sonar unit as well as metal detection gear. And even that isn’t guaranteed.”

Sloane shrugged. “They didn’t put much credence in my idea. Giving me a week, a little money, and Tony was more than I could hope and why I wanted to tap local sources for information.”

“I’m curious—why did you take this to your superiors? Why not just search for the ship yourself and keep the diamonds if you found them?”

Her mouth turned downward in a deep frown as if he’d just insulted her, which he had. “Captain, the thought never crossed my mind. Those diamonds were mined at a DeBeers facility and rightfully belong to the company. I would no more keep them for myself than I would walk into the vault and load my pockets with loose stones.”

“I’m sorry I said that.” Juan was charmed by her integrity. “That was way out of line.”

Sloane said, “Thank you. Apology accepted. Now that I’ve told you the truth, will you help? I can’t promise you anything but I’m sure the company will reimburse you for your time if we do find theRove .

It’s only a couple hours of your time to check the coordinates Papa Heinrick gave me.”

Juan said nothing for a moment, his blue eyes cast toward the ceiling as he thought through his next moves. He suddenly got to his feet and started for the door. “Would you excuse me a moment,” he said to Sloane, then addressed the hidden microphones. “Max, meet me at my cabin.” He meant the faux cabin they used for Customs inspectors. It was the midway point between the elevator up from the op center and the mess hall.

Hanley was waiting outside the filthy cabin when Juan rounded the corner. He was leaning against a bulkhead tapping his pipe stem against his teeth, a sure sign something was on his mind. He straightened when the Chairman approached. Even with the door closed Juan’s nose wrinkled at the stale smoke smell emanating from the cabin.