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“No. El Salvador, and probably Haiti. The theme of the dinner is supposedly a cigar tasting. Cuban cigars.”
“So someone from France is hosting a dinner in order for someone to hand off diamonds from Zimbabwe to fund an insurgency in Latin America?”
“You wanted to get into international affairs? Here you have it.”
“So which country is behind this deal?”
“Unfortunately, we are dealing with international mercenaries. While some still sign up for serious battle, many have discovered it’s easier to smuggle. Less physical risk, and they can avoid aligning themselves with any political party. The jobs are quicker, and the payoff is huge.”
“Even mercenaries get to change their career paths,” Melanie mused. “Do we know who will be carrying the diamonds and how?”
“We’re not sure if Monsieur Escoffier is in on it. His history here in the States is squeaky clean. He may be a pawn. Sometimes these dignitaries are asked to host events as front men.” He continued, “The only caveat for the dinner is that the men wear the club blazers during the meal.”
“People still do that?” Melanie made a sour face.
“Oh, my dear MelDrake. Do you really think much has changed in the sphere of worldly men?”
She grimaced. “How far we’ve come and yet not so much.”
Gilmour began giving her the rundown. Again, she would be picked up by James and taken to the club. There would be six men and six women at the event, including Melanie.
“Do you know who I will be seated next to?”
“I have no idea, so you’re going to have to keep your eyes and ears peeled.”
He pulled out another pouch. This time, the camera was hidden in a David Yurman necklace: the Streamline pavé tag in sterling silver; one side was encrusted with diamonds.
“Wow. This is stunning.” She held it up to the light.
“We thought a diamond necklace might intrigue the interested party. Oh, and this is the real thing. Boss didn’t want you to wear paste, especially if real diamonds are involved in the deal.”
“Wow,” she repeated. “I’ll wear it with the Armani silk jumpsuit, the Mach & Mach bag, and the ankle boots.”
“Getting a little kinky?”
“Don’t be a doofus. It’s edgy.”
“And what color hair?”
“Everything I’m wearing is geometric, sculptural. Probably the white chin-length bob and gray contacts.”
“Now that sounds kinky.”
She slapped him with a kitchen towel. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“I can tell when I’m not wanted,” he joked.
“And where will you be in this?”
“I’ll be doing janitorial duty.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll be the valet in the men’s room. Handing out towels and cologne.”
“Do you get tipped for that?”
Gilmour burst out laughing. “If only.” He gathered his things, put the paperwork in a bag, and handed it to Melanie. She knew what to do with it. As she walked him to the door, she tossed the bag into the fireplace.
