Part 13 (1/2)

'His a.s.sistant, Annette Adams, made the appointment.'

'Yes, so she did. Fair enough. Told me Grev was dead, long live the King. Said his brother was running the shop, life would go on. But I'll tell you, unless you know as much as Grev, I'm in trouble.'

'I came to talk to you about that.'

'It don't look like tidings of great joy,' he said, watching me judiciously. 'Want a seat?' He pointed at an office chair for me and took his place on the stool.

His voice was a long way from cut-gla.s.s More like East End London tidied up for West; the sort that came from nowhere with no privileges and made it to the top from sheer undeniable talent. He had the confident manner of long success, a creative spirit who was also a tradesman, an original artist without airs.

'I'm just learning the business,' I said cautiously. 'I'll do what I can.'

'GreV was a geniuS' he said explosively. 'No one like him with stones. He'd bring me oddities, one-offs from all over the world, and I've made pieces . . .' He stopped and spread his arms out. 'They're in palaceS' he said, 'and museums and mansions in Palm Beach. Well, I'm in business. I sell them to wherever the money's coming from. I've got my pride, but it's in the pieces. They're good, I'm expensive, it works a treat.'

'Do you make everything you sell?' I asked.

He laughed. 'No, not myself personally, I couldn't. I design everything, don't get me wrong, but I have a workshop making them. I just make the special pieces myself, the unique ones. In between, I invent for the general market. Grev said he had some decent spinel, have you still got it?'

'Er,' I said, 'red?'

'Red,' he affirmed. 'Three, four or five carats. I'll take all you've got.'

'We'll send it tomorrow.'

'By messenger,' he said. 'Not post.'

'All right.'

'And a stab of rock crystal like the Eiger. Grev showed me a photo. I've got a commission for a fantasy . . . Send the crystal too.'

'All right,' I said again, and hid my doubts. I hadn't seen any slab of rock crystal. Annette would know, I thought.

He said casually,'What about the diamonds?'

I let the breath out and into my lungs with conscious control.

'What about them?' I said.

'GreV was getting me some. He'd got them, in fact.

He told me. He'd sent a batch off to be cut. Are they back yet?'

'Not yeT,' I said, hoping I wasn't croaking. 'Are those the diamonds he bought a couple of months ago from the Central Selling Organization that you're talking about?'

'Sure. He bought a share in a sight from a sightholder.

I asked him to. I'm still running the big chunky rings and necklaces I made my name in, but I'm setting some of them now with bigger diamonds, making more profit per item since the market will stand it, and I wanted Grev to get them because I trust him. Trust is like gold dust in this business, even though diamonds weren't his thing really. You wouldn't want to buy two-to three-carat stones from just anyone, even if they're not D or E flawless, right?'

'Er, right.'

'So he bought the share of the sight and he's having them cut in Antwerp as I require them, as I expect you know.'

I nodded. I did know, but only since he'd just told me.

'I'm going to make stars of some of them to s.h.i.+ne from the rock crystal...' He broke off, gave a selfdeprecating shrug of the shoulders, and said, 'And I'm making a mobile, with diamonds on gold trembler wires that move in the lightest air. It's to hang by a window and flash fire in the sunlight.' Again the self-deprecation, this time in a smile. 'Diamonds are ravis.h.i.+ng in sunlight, they're at their best in it, and all the social sn.o.bs in this city scream that it's so frightfully vulgar, darling, to wear diamond earrings or bracelets in the daytime. It makes me sick, to be honest. Such a waste.'

I had never thought about diamonds in sunlight before, though I suppose I would in future. Vistas opened could never be closed, as maybe Greville would have said.

'I haven't caught up with everything yet,' I said, which was the understatement of the century. 'Have any of the diamonds been delivered to you so far?'

He shook His head. 'I haven't been in a hurry for them before.'

'And . . . . . . how many are involved?'

'About a hundred. Like I said, not the very best colour in the accepted way of things but they can look warmer with gold sometimes if they're not ultra bluewhite.

I work with gold mostly. i like the feel.'

'How much,' I said slowly, doing sums, 'will your rock crystal fantasy sell for?'

'Trade secret. But then, I guess you're trade. It's commissioned, I've got a contract for a quarter of a million if they like it. If they don't like it, I get it back, sell it somewhere else, dismantle it, whatever. In the worst event I'd lose nothing but my time in making it, but don't you worry, they'll like it.'

His certainty was absolute, built on experience.

I said, 'Do you happen to know the name of the Antwerp cutter Greville sent the diamonds to? I mean, it's bound to be on file in the office, but if I know who to look for. ..' I paused. 'I could try to hurry him up for you, if you like.'

'I'd like you to, but I don't know who Grev knew there, exactly.'

I shrugged. 'I'll look it up, then.'

Exactly where was I going to look it up, I wondered?

Not in the missing address book, for sure.

'Do you know the name of the sightholder?' I asked.

'Nope.'

'There's a ton of paper in the office,' I said in explanation. '

I'm going through it as fast as I can.'

'GreV never said a word he didn't have to,' Jenks said unexpectedly. 'I'd talk, he listened. We got on fine. He understood what I do better than anybody.'

The sadness of his voice was my brother's universal accolade, I thought. He'd been liked. He'd been trusted.

He would be missed.