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“Of course she wouldn’t tell you that, because the source is bullshit. The whole story is bullshit. I know where every single shipment of diamonds comes from. I personally inspect every mine on a regular basis. The certification numbers come straight to me and only our in-house diamond experts—experts that I have handpicked and trust implicitly—ever get near those numbers.”
“I told her all of that. I invited her to come in and take a tour of our new facilities and see exactly how things work here at Bijoux.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said she had tried to come for a tour, but PR had put her off. It’s too late now. The story is slotted to run on Friday and that she really would like a comment from us before it goes to print.”
“That’s in six days.”
“I’m aware of that. It’s why I’m here, freaking out.”
“Screw that.” Marc picked up his phone and dialed an in-house number. Waited impatiently for the line to be picked up.
“Hollister Banks.”
“Hollister. This is Marc. I need you in my office now.”
“Be there in five.”
He didn’t bother to say goodbye before hanging up and dialing another number. “Lisa Brown, how may I help you?”
He told his top diamond inspector the same thing he’d just told the head of his legal team.
“But, Marc, I just got in a whole new shipment—”
“So put it in the vault and then get up here.” He must have sounded as impatient as he felt, because she didn’t argue with him again. She just agreed before quietly hanging up the phone.
It took Lisa and Hollister less than three minutes to get to Marc’s office, and soon the four of them were gathered in the small sitting area to the left of his desk, listening as Nic once again recounted his discussion with the reporter.
“Who’s the source?” Marc demanded of Lisa as soon as Nic finished up.
“Why are you asking me? I have no idea who would make up a false story like this and feed it to the LA Times. I’m sure it’s none of our people.”
“The reporter seemed pretty adamant that it was an insider. Someone who had the position and the access to prove what he or she is saying.”
“But that’s impossible. Because what the person is saying isn’t true. The claims are preposterous,” Lisa asserted. “Marc and I are the first and last in the chain of command when it comes to accepting and certifying the conflict-free diamonds. There’s no way one of us would make a mistake like that—and we sure as hell wouldn’t lie about the gems being conflict-free to make extra money. So even if someone messed with the diamonds between when I see them and when Marc does, he would catch it.”
“Not to mention the fact that there are cameras everywhere, manned twenty-four seven by security guards who get paid very well to make sure no one tampers with our stones,” Nic added.
“What this person is saying just isn’t possible,” Lisa continued. “That’s why Marc insists on being the last point of contact for the stones before we ship them out. He verifies the geology and the ID numbers associated with them.”
“There is a way it would work,” Marc interrupted, his stomach churning sickly. “If I were involved in the duplicity, it would explain everything.”
“But you’re not!” Nic said at the same time Lisa exclaimed, “That’s absurd!”
Their faith in him was the only bright point in a day that was rapidly going from awful to worse.
“It’s what they’ll argue,” Hollister said, and though it was obvious by his tone that he disagreed, the thought still stung. This was more than a company to Marc, more than cold stones and colder cash. His great-grandfather had started the company nearly a hundred years before and it had been run by a Durand ev
er since. He’d put his life into continuing that tradition and building Bijoux into the second largest diamond distributor in the world. He’d brought it into the twenty-first century and created a business model that didn’t exploit the people who most needed protection. Not dealing in blood diamonds was a matter of honor for him. To be accused of doing that which he most abhorred...it made him furious—and determined.
“I don’t care what you have to do,” he told Hollister. “I want that story stopped. We’ve worked too hard to build this company into what it is to have another setback—especially one like this. The jewel theft six years ago hurt our reputation and nearly bankrupted us. This will destroy everything Nic and I have been trying to do. You know as well as I, even if we prove the accusations false in court, the stigma will still be attached. Even if we get the LA Times to print a retraction, it won’t matter. The damage will have already been done. I’m not having it. Not this time. Not about something like this.”
It took every ounce of his self-control not to plow his fist into the wall. Goddamn it. He wasn’t doing this again. “Call the editor of the LA Times. Tell him the story is blatant bullshit and if he runs it I will sue their asses and tie them up in court for years to come. By the time I’m done, they won’t have a computer to their name let alone a press to run the paper on.”
“I’ll do my best, but—”
“Do better than your best. Do whatever it takes to make it happen. If you have to, remind them that they can’t afford to go against Bijoux in today’s precarious print media market. If they think they’re going to do billions of dollars of damage to this company with a blatantly false story based on a source they won’t reveal, and that I won’t retaliate, then they are bigger fools than I’m already giving them credit for. You can assure them that if they don’t provide me with definitive proof as to the truth of their claims, then I will make it my life’s work to destroy everyone and everything involved in this story. And when you tell them that, make sure they understand I don’t make idle threats.”
