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“Is there something going on that I should know about?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I looked her up when she was so insistent, and she’s the managing editor for the Times. Not the typical reporter we get calling us for a quote or some information on the diamond business.”
“You think she’s fact-checking an article about Bijoux?”
She nodded nervously. “I think she might be, yes.”
“How come I didn’t know the West Coast’s largest paper was writing an article about us?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m going to find out. Tell the reporter—what’s her name?”
“Darlene Bloomburg, sir.”
“Tell Bloomburg that I’ll be with her in a couple minutes. In the meantime, get Ollie in here, will you, please?”
“Right away, Nic.”
Less than two minutes later, his PR director walked through the door, looking calm and collected despite the fact that he’d hightailed it over here from the other end of the floor.
“You know anything about this story?” Nic asked the other man.
Ollie shook his head. “No, nothing. But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Probably just a puff piece. We are in the middle of wedding season, after all.”
“Maybe.” But something felt off to Nic about that answer. Managing editors didn’t usually need to fact-check fluff pieces. They had copy editors for stuff like that. “Let’s just find out, shall we?” He reached for the phone and put it on speaker.
“This is Nic Durand.”
“Hello, Mr. Durand. My name is Darlene Bloomburg and I’m managing editor of the Los Angeles Times.”
“Please, call me Nic. It’s nice to meet you, Darlene. What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling because we’ll be running an article about Bijoux on the front page of Friday’s edition and I wanted to check some facts as well as give you a chance to make a statement about the article’s claims.”
An alarm bell went off in his head and his eyes shot to Ollie, who looked as clueless as Nic felt. “You want me to make a statement.”
“If you’d like to, yes.”
“About what, may I ask?”
“About the fact that the Times has uncovered some credible information that proves Bijoux has been passing off conflict diamonds as conflict-free ones for several years.”
The single alarm bell turned into a full-fledged five-alarm brigade. “That’s impossible,” he said. “What’s your source?” Beside him, Ollie started turning red and making a stop gesture with his hands. Nic ignored him as the top of his own head threatened to blow off.
“What’s impossible? That we’ve uncovered the evidence or—”
“That you think you can prove such a thing when it is blatantly untrue. I’m going to ask you again. What’s your source?”
“It’s the policy of the Times to never reveal a source. Am I correct in understanding that you dispute our findings, then?”
“Damn right I dispute them. Bijoux deals only in conflict-free diamonds and has for the ten years that Marc Durand and I have been in charge of this company. And it’s Bijoux’s policy to sue anyone who commits libel by printing otherwise.”
“I see. Do you have any proof to back up your claims that your diamonds are conflict-free?”
“Are you serious with this? You’re the one accusing me of lying and cheating and, more importantly, of buying diamonds from countries that allow the enslavement and murder of children as long as it results in gems for them to sell. I feel like you’re the one who needs to provide the proof in this situation.”
Next to him, Ollie changed from red to a very unbecoming shade of purple even as he waved his arms as if he was trying to attract the attention of a rescue plane. More to prevent his top PR guy from having a stroke in the middle of what promised to be the mother of all PR crises than because Nic wanted his help at that moment, Nic hit Mute on the phone and then asked, “What do you want me to say?”
