Carats and Coconuts (15 page)

“
A wee bit tongue-tied are
we?” I asked, circling around him like a lion about to pounce on
its next meal. “Let me give you your choices, you piece of
shit.”

Roman and R pulled up a chair and made
sure Stanley sat in it.

“
The way I see it, you’ve
got three of ‘em.”

I was fairly certain I knew which one
he’d choose, but I like to think of myself as a fair kinda’ gal. So
yeah, I’d go ahead and present his options and let him decide his
own fate. Although, I wasn’t really sure I could make good on all
the options I was about to present. Truth be told, we could all
very well end up as sludge fill, but we’d have to deal with that
later.

“
Option One, you can stay
with our customs inspector friends here and try your hand against
federal prosecutors. Although, let me advise you, that the last
poor schmuck in similar shoes to yours ended up five years later
with nothing. His precious gemstones became the newest additions to
The Smithsonian’s stash.”

Stanley took a deep breath, but said
nothing. Actually, his lack of emotion was starting to piss me off
a bit. Time to up the ante.

“
Option Two…which if you
ever want to see your lovely wife Myra or your terrific daughter
Ugenie again, you may want to seriously consider…”

That at least got him looking straight
at me. The flickers of fear evident in his eyes shot arrows of hope
right into my soul. Maybe he did love Myra and Ugenie. But how much
remained to be seen.

Part of me hated to use Myra, my mom’s
best friend, and her daughter as bait. But if I hoped to take over
Stanley’s operation, I didn’t have much choice. That was the only
way to make it worth his while to cooperate. Hell, I didn’t know if
the guy was even capable of choosing his family over his precious
contraband. But I was about to find out.

“
I’m going to take that look
as a sign you’d like to hear option two then…”

Still not a word from Stanley,
although his stare turned into a glare, and the icy chills
beginning to frost over the formerly stuffy screening room were an
indication he’d entertain my next option.

“
You say nothing of this
stone seizure to your associates and act as if everything went
according to plan and carry on with business as usual…”

“
How the hell am I supposed
to do that without the money I’d have made from getting these
stones sold in Antwerp?!”

“
The money won’t be an
issue,” my prince said, his voice very low but firm and more than
convincing.

“
I’m a dead man,” Stanley
said, twitching in his chair.

“
Is that all you’re worried
about?! Yourself?!” I shouted. “Don’t you know that Myra and Ugenie
are at risk too?!”

“
Of course I know
that!”

“
Then why is it that I don’t
think you give a damn about anyone but yourself?!”

“
You’ve got this all wrong,”
Stanley said, sounding more and more desperate as things began to
heat up again in our room.

“
No. You’ve got it all
wrong, Asshole. But I’m about to help you make it right,” I said,
bending down so that my eyes were even with his.

“
What’s option three?” He
asked, his voice almost too soft for me to hear it.

“
I thought you’d never ask,”
I said, backing away from him a bit but without ever taking my eyes
away from his.

“
Option Three basically goes
along with Option Two. You not only pretend as if you’d unloaded
this batch of stones, you go back with us to Brazil and begin to
work on the next deal.”

“
I can’t do that! They’ll
kill me for sure! Do you have any idea how much I’ve already taken
from the Sol Larga? If they find out…”

“
They already know,” I said,
enjoying how big his eyes got trying to soak in that new
scoop.

“
The way we’re figuring
things, you’re about to become part of a Sol Larga river bank any
day now, with or without our help. So you can accept our plan and
work with us, or I’ll personally see to it that your sludge fate
happens sooner rather than later.”

“
Is that a
threat?”

“
Why yes. Yes it is,
Stanley.”

I’d never been more certain of
anything in my life.

“
Just a little advice…this
woman always makes good on her promises,” Roman said, while he and
R flanked Stanley’s seat.

“
I take it you’ll be coming
with us, then?” R said, securing Stanley’s elbow, while Roman
followed suit on the other side.

“
You have no idea how deep
this goes, Zoey,” Stanley mumbled, shaking his head, although, to
his credit, he offered no resistance to Roman and R.

“
Try me.”

A
board the jet on the return flight to Brazil, I struggled with
the wars in my head, which at times felt a lot more intense than
the ones waiting for us in the rainforest.

What if our plan to stop this
smuggling cycle once and for all failed?

Yeah…well…I shoved that sucker of a
thought to some super-dark corner of my scared shitless
mind.

We simply could not afford to
fail.

As my mind wandered, my fingers
wandered over the multi-faceted surface of one of the Bonus Stones
Stanley had been trying to off-load illegally from our
mines.

This particular piece of rough cut
beryl crystal was a beauty and would bring about a million dollars
on its own on the open market in Antwerp.

It was sure to make some gorgeous
aquamarine-set piece of prized jewelry. I marveled at the feel of
each still un-cut surface against my fingers. Each cold and smooth
facet that met my fingertips was followed by a dull and bumpy
section, which would give way to a brilliant opposing
facet.

How many years had this beauty been
buried in a Sol Larga riverbed?

The morning sun shining through the
window next to my seat illuminated the tray table full of raw gems
from Stanley’s Bonus Stone Bag. Each of the sun’s white-hot rays
made the stones and their impurity gardens shimmer in the light of
the new day.

There was just something pure and
magical about rough cut stones. In fact, I’d take a hunk of
untouched beryl any day over the amazing jewels it would more than
likely be cut into.

I glanced at the two plastic bags
still full of stones. Some of them would clearly outdo the ones I
was examining with my loupes.

Even though I knew the return of these
gems to Chief Valente would serve as a nice peace offering of sorts
and help to ensure the Sol Larga’s continued cooperation, my gut
was still in knots.

How many more risks would we have to
take in order to stop the vicious cycles of smuggling then selling
conflict stones?

There was one thought, however, that
helped offset my fears. Roman and R’s plan on how to proceed from
here seemed just as solid as the crystals now resting in my
palm.

But when human greed, wealth and power
were at stake, reason was nowhere to be found. Also gone was the
sanctity of any life standing in the way of the accumulation of
those evil triplets.

A few of the jewels in my hand were
emeralds, and they were twinkling in the sunlight that was still
hitting them.

Some civilizations believe certain
stones have powers…especially emeralds. Since they were believed to
ease a troubled mind, it occurred to me that perhaps I should be
caressing these beauties with a little more finesse.

My mind was troubled all right, but
the irony was that these stones were causin’ the
trouble.

“
You look lost over there,”
Roman said.

Those were the first words either of
us had spoken on the flight back to Brazil.

“
I haven’t been much of a
conversationalist, have I?”

“
No worries. You were
fantastic back at the airport. I was proud of you.”

I smiled and reached out to squeeze
his hand.

On days like this, I had a hard time
understanding how Roman and R could do this sort of gig every day
and hang onto their sanity. Chasing assholes was a serious
drain.

I was too tired and stressed to even
attempt conversation.

In fact, I’d asked Roman and R to take
Stanley to the back of the plane, way out of my earshot. After a
while, I just couldn’t stand his excuses and gibberish.

When had becoming a pathetic human
being required an explanation? You either were or you weren’t.
Since Stanley landed squarely in the “were” pool of pathetic, I
couldn’t care less what he had to say in defense of his
actions.

Besides, if everything went according
to plan, he was about to be in the custody of Grams and her new
sidekicks, Bunny and Beefcakes. So, if remorse for his behavior
hadn’t set in by the time we landed in a few hours, it would set in
quickly enough.

* * *

Thank the powers that be, Grams and
Company didn’t disappoint.

Back at the Witherspoon Lodge tucked
deep inside the Sol Larga’s Reservation, we were all seated in the
outdoor room, enjoying the sounds of the rainforest while sipping
vibrant-colored cocktails to match the tropical birds flying around
in the dense foliage.

The sounds of the calls of distant
howler monkeys and squawking parrots, a nearby waterfall and a
gazillion buzzing insects and croaking frogs didn’t hold a match to
Grams’ crazy bunch.

Grams and Company were way more
colorful than the mini umbrellas sticking out of the mint julips
and mojitos her new BFF Bunny had whipped up for us.

“
Here’s a cocktail napkin,
my dear,” Bunny said, lifting up my glass and placing underneath it
the cutest napkin I’d ever seen.

Now this was some kinda’ gal. She had
cocktail napkins featuring a very Velveteen-looking Rabbit along
with her initials – BW - embossed in gold at each corner of the
thick napkin stock. Add to that the Brazilian hunk of
nothin’-but-buff trainer at her side. She was definitely my kinda’
happy hour company.

With her Macallan whiskey - going for
around $18,000 per bottle at the Montage Beverly Hills hotel where
it was served in a glass also bearing her initials - Bunny Winston
was something else. I couldn’t believe she even traveled with her
own stemware! She was a mobile, high-class cocktail
queen.

I made a mental note to make sure when
I was 85 years young, I traveled like this gal.

So, there she was…our happy hour
hostess Bunny in her Juicy Couture tracksuit and loads of costume
jewelry. The costume jewelry was a major reason why she got an A+
in my book. Bunny had told me she never bought real jewels, even
though she could obviously buy half the Smithsonian’s
stash.

She didn’t want to take the chance of
purchasing gems that were fueling many of our world’s bloodiest
conflicts.

Far from Bunny’s Beverly Hills
high-class cocktail set which often supported the conflict gem
industry was Grams, who looked like some Mad Scientist version of
Maxine. I swear she used Maxine calendar photos as her style guide
as well as her quote reference.

Today’s ensemble included a lavender
lab coat-esque looking jacket with a bright, tropical yellow Tommy
Bahama brushed silk button down shirt underneath. Gray culottes and
a sunny yellow visor nearly completed the look, but we shouldn’t
forget the pencil she had tucked over her ear that was also poking
out from her blue-gray hair. It wasn’t an accessory I’d choose for
my clientele.

‘
Course that was lost
underneath the swimming goggles and snorkel that were wrapped
around her neck and the diving fins flopping on the floor as she
wobbled toward our table.

The poor woman looked like a duck that
had no business anywhere near a body of water.

“
I’m too overwhelmed to even
ask,” Roman said, clinking his glass against mine.

I rolled my eyes and returned his
toast.

Thankfully, knowing Grams, none of us
would be left wondering what she was up to for long.

She plopped the pile of books she was
carrying on the table, causing our cocktails to slosh over their
sugar-coated rims. So much for the gorgeous napkins. All our
bunnies looked as if they’d soiled themselves.

“
Doing some research,
Grams?” I asked, trying to catch the title of the book on top of
the stack, but the glare of the late afternoon sun made it
impossible to see the cover.

“
As a matter of fact, I am.
I’m about to discover the whereabouts of the treasure we’re
seeking.”

“
What treasure would that
be?” Roman asked.

He was either egging her on just for
the hell of it, or he’d had one too many mint julips.

Grams looked at Roman as if he were
the dumbest guy alive.

“
Um, hello, Prince Genius.
We’re in Atocha country, and there were three ships in that
brigade. Mel Fisher and his crew only found one of ‘em. Or maybe
two. I can’t remember for sure.”