Black Diamond (15 page)

“How about we get to the point?” Talib ordered as he stood a mere inch away from Saul. He towered over Saul by nearly half a foot. He liked seeing a grown man reduced to a mumbling idiot.

“Yes, yes. Would you like to have a seat?” He gestured toward the table.

“No, thank you. I like seeing you sweat.” Talib said with a spine-chilling smile.

Saul shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Hum…okay. What is it that you’re looking for?”

“It’s simple, Saul. I want my money. I sent you diamonds worth a half million and my bank account is empty. Why is that, Saul?”

Saul tried to answer but Talib raised his hand, halting his attempt to respond to the rhetorical question.
 

Saul inserted his finger into the collar of his shirt as Talib watched the beads of sweat streaming down his face. He could care less. He wanted his money and he would get it or they all would die.

With that settled, he decided to give Saul a break, just for a moment, but not without making a point. With a heavy hand, he gripped Saul’s shoulder, added a little pressure and leaned in close to his ear.

“Let’s make sure we have an understanding,” Talib said.

Saul nervously nodded.

“I have no issue with killing you where you stand, but I would hate to do that to such a dear friend.” He laughed at his own joke. Apparently, Saul did not find the humor in his statement as he stood stiff as a board. “So, find my money and I’ll leave you alone and we can resume our agreement. No love lost.”

He landed two bone-crushing pats on Saul’s back. Saul winced.

“Now, let’s go and get ready for our meeting with Camille.”

Talib turned and exited the conference room with Saul on his heels.

* * *

Camille searched her cell phone for Derek’s number as she marched into her office, closing the door behind her. Derek answered on the second ring.

“Lewis.”

She could hear the strain in his voice. “Have you received any word about Harold?”

She paced the office floor, listening to Derek share the results of the police report. The police suspected drugs were the cause of Harold’s death. Camille stopped mid-stride.
Drugs?
Her hand rested on her chest in attempt to slow her racing heart.

“What type of drugs are we talking about here?”

Derek was awaiting the results of the autopsy. She sat behind her desk. This case was turning into a runaway train and she did not know how to stop it.

“Camille,” he interrupted her thoughts, “I need you to hear me good.”

She nodded as if he could see her.

He continued, “Be careful. I have no reason to believe your identity has been compromised, but this death seems out of place. Do you think he engaged in recreational drug usage?”

“No.”

“Do you have any other reason to believe that someone would want him dead?”

“No.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She had to find the missing piece, her mind immediately moved to Ashanta…or Saul?

She heard a light knock on her door and it opened before Camille had a chance to respond. It was Talib.

“Dad, I have to go.” She nodded her head as if deep in conversation. She lifted her hands and shrugged her shoulders as if apologizing for being tied up.

He mouthed, I’ll come back.

She nodded. He walked out, closing the door behind him.

“I have to go.” she said to Derek. Then she remembered the reason for her call. “I have a meeting with Saul, but I need you to check on two things for me. First, I haven’t heard from or seen Ashanta. Second, we have an interim president of international accounts. His name is Talib Kam-wai.”

She spoke into the phone a few octaves above a whisper.

“Do you know how to spell his name?”

“No, but I’ll see what I can find out from Saul and call you later tonight.”

They talked a few minutes longer before disconnecting the call. Camille stood to leave the office when her phone rang again.

“Hello.”

“I’m home.”

“Marc?” Her statement sounded more like an airy question.

“Yes, are you expecting someone else?” He asked with a light chuckle.

“No, look, I’m heading to a meeting.” Hearing his voice made a ping of awareness move through her body and she did not sound like herself. Her feelings were foreign and she did not have time to think past getting him off the phone.

“Okay. I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Okay. Bye.”

How did her life get turned upside down in a matter of days? Shaking her head, she stood and walked down the hall. It was time to meet with Saul.

* * *

He sat comfortably in front of Saul’s desk. The office reeked money. He had a solid dark cherry wood ensemble, with matching bookshelves lining the perimeter of the room. The furniture that occupied the far side of his office included a chocolate leather couch, wing chairs, coffee table, end tables, and a Tiffany antique lamp.

Talib stopped his visual tour at Saul’s large, oversized desk. Two chairs faced the desk, one of which he occupied. He leaned forward and picked up a picture. From his peripheral vision, he noticed Saul tense up, which made the identity of the woman in the picture more intriguing. The sterling silver frame seemed to weigh a ton, monogrammed
with love
in script. The woman bore into him with hazel-green eyes.

“She’s beautiful.” Talib wanted to gauge Saul’s reaction and to learn the identity of the woman.

“Thank you,” he replied.

Talib heard the tightness in his voice and lifted his head to look into Saul’s eyes.

“Is this your wife?” Talib watched his eyes widen and his nostrils flare.

“No.”

“Really? I hope that you’ll introduce us during my visit.”

Ignoring his statement, Saul asked, “How long do you intend to stay?”

“Long enough to get my money.”

“I told you I sent your money to the usual account.”

“I don’t have it. I suggest you contact your accounting department and find it because I only plan to play nice for a short period of time. After that, I will not be responsible for my actions.” Talib said with a smile.

He did not like Saul, but their relationship was financially beneficial and although he did not like having to travel to the United States, it was necessary. You didn’t casually misplace a half million dollars. He hoped for Saul’s sake that it was a mix up.

“Saul?” A woman’s voice traveled through the intercom on the desk phone.

Saul reached over and pushed a button. “Yes, Linda.”

“Camille is here to see you.”

“Thank you Linda, please ask her to give me a few minutes. I’ll buzz you when I’m ready.”

The line when silent and they both sat waiting for the other. Talib planned to stay until she left. There was something about her that fascinated him.

Talib stood and Saul followed suit, seemingly out of instinct. They would finish this conversation later. For now, he’d give Saul some space and observe his conversation with Camille.

“I’ll move over there,” he said, pointing towards an arm chair that sat across the room. “Could you have Linda bring us some coffee?”

Saul’s eyebrow lifted and Talib was sure he heard a groan, but he did not protest, instead he leaned over his desk and picked up the receiver.

Talib moved and settled into the arm chair ensuring that he had an unobstructed view of the empty seats in front of Saul’s desk. He had a keen sense of hearing, so he was sure he would not miss a detail of their conversation.

Saul rounded his desk and pulled a file from his right-hand drawer, reviewing it as if Talib was not present. Talib could see the slight shake in his hands and the small beads of sweat escaping his hairline. Saul wiped it away with a white handkerchief.

A soft knock interrupted Talib’s observation. He felt an excitement in the pit of his stomach. He could not recall the last time a woman elicited such a response. He was no saint. He chuckled to himself,
him a saint?
That was downright comical. He caught Saul’s eyes and lifted his shoulder passively as if dismissing Saul’s pathetic attempt at intimidation.

Talib would play along, but not for long. Saul failed to realize the lengths Talib would go to get his money. Their lucrative agreement was the only thing keeping Saul alive.

Saul stood, and Talib did the same, both straightening their jackets in anticipation of Camille’s entrance.

Camille kicked her front door closed with a sigh of relief. Her day was nonstop and full of drama. She removed her shoes at the entrance table, dropping her keys and mail there while securing her grip on the bags of groceries. She made her way to the kitchen and planned to cook a nice meal after taking a shower.

Camille began putting away the groceries, grabbing a few frozen items. As she placed them in the freezer, she thought about Ashanta. She’d gone by her house with no luck. Camille slammed the freezer door closed, reached for the phone and called Ashanta’s house again.

She placed the chicken she bought in a plate that she retrieved from a nearby cabinet. Camille rinsed and seasoned the meat. Deciding on chicken and rice for dinner, Camille reached for a pot and began adding water for her rice after placing the plate in the refrigerator covered in plastic wrap.

The shock of her day came from her meeting with Saul. Talib sat in the corner watching them, not saying a word. A slight chill raced up her spine. She could feel his onyx eyes boring into her. She looked his way hoping he would divert his attention elsewhere, but that request fell on deaf ears. Talib did not look away.

Saul continued to talk as if oblivious to Talib’s interest in her. She wondered what Talib was thinking and what he was doing at IJDC. Camille came to and snatched her cordless phone from the docking station. She wanted to check in with Derek. She’d asked him to look into Talib. She was turning up more dead ends; first Harold’s death, then Ashanta’s disappearing act, and now Talib’s mysterious presence. She had a feeling all three were connected, but didn’t know how.

Camille listened to the phone ring as she tapped her fingers on the countertop. Derek didn’t answer, so she was forced to leave a message. She lowered the temperature under her rice and made her way to the bathroom for a shower.

She turned on the water and walked back to her room, unbuttoning her blouse. She stopped at the foot of her bed and allowed her blouse and pants to fall to the floor. She bent to pick them up when she heard her phone ring. She bundled the clothes in her right arm as she reached to answer the phone.

“Hello,” she said, repositioning the phone on her ear.

“Hello, how are you?”

In the shuffle of readjusting her clothes and the shock of hearing his voice, the phone slipped off her shoulder and landed on the floor. She quickly picked it up with a strong grip. She sat on the edge of her bed with her clothes still in her hands.

Camille heard him laughing. As her cheeks tingled, she exhaled a sharp breath. Why did he affect her so? He turned her into a mumbling, blushing, clumsy shell of her normal take charge, got-it-together, self.

“Hey, sorry about that. My hands were full and I dropped the phone.”

“Really?” he said as if he didn’t believe her. “Should I call back?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said with a slight quiver in her voice. Camille looked around the room for her robe. She felt exposed, even though he was thousands of miles away. She placed her clothes on the bed and moved about the room.

“What are you doing? You sound distracted.”