Straight. Part 13

'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 shine 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 ravishing 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.

I stood up and said, 'Thank you, Mr Jenks.'

'Call me Pross,' he said easily. 'Everyone does.'

'My name's Derek.'

'Right,' he said, smiling. 'Now I'll keep on dealing with you, I won't say I won't, but I'm going to have to find me another traveller like Grev, with an eye like his. . . He's been supplying me ever since I started on my own, he gave me credit when the banks wouldn't, he had faith in what I could do... Near the beginning he brought me two rare sticks of watermelon tourmaline that were each over two inches long and were half pink, half green mixed all the way up and transparent with the light shining through them and changing while you watched. It would have been a sin to cut them for jewellery. I mounted them in gold and platinum to hang and twist in sunlight.' He smiled his deprecating smile.

'I like gemstones to have life. I didn't have to pay Grev for that tourmaline ever. It made my name for me, the pieCe was reviewed in the papers and won prizes, and he said the trade we'd do together would be his reward.'

He clicked his mouth. 'I do go on a bit.'

'I like to hear it,' I said. I looked down the room to his workbench and said, 'Where did you learn all this?

How does one start?'

'I started in metalwork cla.s.ses at the local comprehensive,'

he said frankly. 'Then I stuck bits of gla.s.s in gold-plated wire to give to my mum. Then her friends wanted some. So when I left school I took some of those things to show to a jewellery manufacturer and asked for a job. Costume jewellery, they made. I was soon designing for them, and I never looked back.'

CHAPTER EIGHT.

I borrowed Prospero's telephone to get Brad, but although I could hear the ringing tone in the car, he didn't answer. Cursing slightly, I asked Pross for a second call and got through to Annette.

'Please keep on trying this number,' I said, giving it to her. 'When Brad answers, tell him I'm ready to go.'

'Are you coming back here?' she asked.

I looked at my watch. It wasn't worth going back as I had to return to Kensington by five-thirty. I said no, I wasn't.

'Well, there are one or two things . .

'I can't really tie this phone up,' I said. 'I'll go to my brother's house and ring you from there. Just keep trying Brad.'

I thanked Pross again for the calls. Any time, he said vaguely. He was sitting again in front of his vice, thinking and tinkering, producing his marvels.

There were customers in the shop being attended to by the black-suited salesman. He glanced up very briefly in acknowledgement as I went through and immediately returned to watching the customers' hands A business without trust; much worse than racing. But then, it was probably impossible to slip a racehorse into a pocket when the trainer wasn't looking.

I stood on the pavement and wondered pessimistically how long it would take Brad to answer the telephone but in the event he surprised me by arriving within a very few minutes When I opened the car door, the phone was ringing.

'Why don't you answer it?' I asked, wriggling my way into the seat.

'Forgot which b.u.t.ton.'

'But you came,' I said.

'Yerss'

I picked up the phone myself and talked to Annette.

'Brad apparently reckoned that if the phone rang it meant I was ready, so he saw no need to answer it.'

Brad gave a silent nod.

'So now we're setting off to Kensington.' I paused.

'Annette, whatts a sightholder, and what's a sight?'

'You're back to diamonds again!'

'Yes Do you know?'

'Of course I do. A sightholder is someone who is permitted to buy rough diamonds from the CSO. There aren't so many sightholders, only about a hundred and fifty world-wide, I think. They sell the diamonds then to other people. A sight is what they call the sales CSO hold every five weekS and a sight-box is a packet of stones they sell, though that's often called a sight too.'

'Is a sightholder the same as a diamantaire?' I asked.

'All sightholders are diamantaires, but all diamantaires are not sightholders. Diamantaires buy from the sightholders or share in a sight, or buy somewhere else, not from De Beers.'

Ask a simple question, I thought.

Annette said, 'A consignment of cultured pearls has come from j.a.pan. Where shall I put them?'

'Um... Do you mean where because the vault is locked?'

'Yes'

'Where did you put things when my brother was travelling?'

She said doubtfully, 'He always said to put them in the stock-room under "miscellaneous beads".'

'Put them in there, then.'

'But the drawer is full with some things that came last week. I wouldn't want the responsibility of putting the pearls anywhere Mr Franklin hadn't approved.' I couldn't believe she needed direction over the simplest thing, but apparently she did. 'The pearls are valuable,'

she said. 'Mr Franklin would never leave them out in plain view.'

'Aren't there any empty drawers?'

'Well, I . . .'

'Find an empty drawer or a nearby empty drawer and put them there. We'll see to them properly in the morning.'

'Yes, all right.'

She seemed happy with it and said everything else could wait until I came back. I switched off the telephone feeling absolutely swamped by the prospect she'd opened up: if Greville hid precious things under 'miscellaneous beads', where else might he not have hidden them? Would I find a hundred diamonds stuffed in at the back of rhodocrosite or jasper, if I looked?