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The German laughed. "I would use it to buy out your holdings."
"You could send me packing to my Devonshire farm for a fraction of that amount."
The United States member spoke up. A former secretary of state and the acknowledged head of one of America's wealthiest families, he was the founding father of the Foundation. "Do we have any idea where Dorsett's diamond inventory is at the present time?"
"With his deadline only a few days away," answered the South African, "I should guess that the stones not being currently cut are in transit to his stores."
The chairman looked from the Italian shipping-fleet baron to the Asian airline magnate. "Either of you gentlemen have any knowledge of Dorsett's shipping procedures?"
"I seriously doubt he would transport his diamonds by sea," said the Italian. "Once a ship docked in port, he'd still have to arrange transport inland."
"If I were Dorsett, I'd ship my stones by air," agreed the Asian. "That way he could distribute immediately in almost any city in the world."
"We might stop one or two of his planes," said the Belgian industrialist, "but without knowing flight schedules, it would be impossible to close off the shipments entirely."
The Asian shook his head negatively. "I think intercepting even one flight is optimistic. Dorsett has probably chartered a fleet of aircraft in Australia. I fear we're closing the gate after the cows have escaped."
The chairman turned to the South African representing the diamond cartel. "It appears the great masquerade is over. The artificially created value of diamonds is not forever after all."
Rather than display any feelings of disillusionment, the South African actually smiled. "We've been counted out before. My board of directors and I consider this a minor setback, nothing more. Diamonds really are forever, gentlemen. Mark my words, the price on quality stones will rise again when the luster of sapphires, emeralds and rubies wears off. The cartel will fulfill its obligations to the Foundation through our other mineral interests. We'll not sit on our thumbs patiently waiting for the market to return."
The chairman's private secretary entered the room and spoke to him softly. He nodded and looked at the South African. "I'm told a reply from your emissary to nego
tiate with Arthur Dorsett has arrived in the form of a package."
"Odd that Strouser didn't contact me directly."
"I've asked that the package be sent in," said the chairman. "I think we're all anxious to see if Mr.
Strouser was successful in his negotiations with Arthur Dorsett."
A few moments later the secretary returned, holding in both hands a square box tied with a red-and-green ribbon. The chairman gestured toward the South African. The secretary stepped over and set the box on the table in front of him. A card was attached to the ribbon. He opened the envelope and read it aloud:
There is limestone and soapstone,
and there is hailstone and flagstone,
But behind Strouser's tongue
is one now cheap as dung,
the gemstone worthless as brimstone.
The South African paused and stared at the box gravely. "That does not sound like Gabe Strouser. He is not a man noted for his levity."
"I can't say he's good at writing limericks, either," commented the French fashion designer.
"Go ahead, open the box," pressed the Indian.
The ribbon was untied, the lid lifted and then the South African peered inside. His face blanched and he jumped to his feet so abruptly his chair crashed over backward, He ran, stumbling, over to a window, threw it open and retched.
Stunned, everyone around the table rushed over and inspected the hideous contents of the box. A few reacted like the South African, some reflected shocked horror, others, the ones who had ordered brutal killings during their rise to wealth, stared grimly without displaying emotion at the bloody head of Gabe Strouser, the grotesquely widened eyes, the diamonds spilling from his mouth.
"It seems Strouser's negotiations were unsuccessful," said the Japanese, fighting the bile that rose in his throat.
After taking a few minutes to recover, the chairman called in the chief of the Foundation's security and ordered him to remove the head. Then he faced the members, who had slowly recovered and returned to their chairs. "I ask that you keep what we've just seen in the strictest secrecy."
"What about that butcher Dorsett?" snapped the Russian, anger reddening his face. "He cannot go unpunished for murdering people representing the Foundation."
