Dance Of Death

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kaplan, but rules require me to open the box," said the security director.

Kaplan waved a hand irritably. "So be it. Don't drop it, sir. Diamonds may be hard but they shatter as easily as glass."

Beck leaned over the box, inserted the key, and raised the lid. All eyes were riveted on the box.

"Don't touch it with your naked, sweaty hands," said Kaplan sharply.

The security director withdrew. Kaplan reached into the box and plucked out the gem as nonchalantly as if it were a golf ball, laying it on the velvet in front of him. He opened a loupe and leaned over the stone.

Suddenly, he straightened up and spoke in a sharp, high, querulous voice. "I beg your pardon, but really, I can't work being crowded around like this, especially from behind. I beg you, please!"

"Of course, of course," said Grainger. "Let's all step back and give Mr. Kaplan some room."

They shuffled back. Once again, Kaplan bent to examine the gem. He picked it up with a four-pronged holder, turned it over. He laid down the loupe.

"Hand me my Chealsea filter," he said sharply, to no one in particular.

"Ah, which is that?" Beck asked.

"The white oblong object, over there."

The security director picked it up and handed it over. Kaplan took it, opened it, and examined the gem again, muttering something unintelligible.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Kaplan?" asked Grainger solicitously.

"No," he said simply.

The tension in the vault went up a notch.

"Do you have enough light?" the CEO asked.

A freezing silence.

"Hand me the DiamondNite. No, not that. That."

Beck handed him a strange device with a pointed end. Ever so gently, Kaplan touched the stone with it. There was a small beep and a green light.

"Hmph. At least we know it's not moissanite," the gemologist said crisply, handing the device back to Beck, who did not look pleased to be cast in the role of assistant.

More mutterings. "The polariscope, if you please."

After a few false starts, Beck handed it to him.

A long look, a snort.

Kaplan stood up and looked around, eyeing everyone in the room. "As far as I can tell, which isn't much, given the horrendous lighting in here, it's probably a fake. A superb fake, but a fake nonetheless."

A shocked silence. Smithback stole a glance at Collopy. The museum director's face had gone deathly white.

"You're not sure?" the CEO asked.

"How can I possibly be sure? How can you expect an expert like me to examine a fancy color diamond under fluorescent lighting?"

A silence. "But shouldn't you have brought your own light?" ventured Grainger.

"My own light?" Kaplan cried. "Sir, forgive me, but your ignorance is shocking. This is a fancy color diamond, graded Vivid, and you ca

"You should have mentioned this when we made the arrangements," said Beck.

"I assumed I was dealing with a sophisticated insurance company, knowledgeable on the subject of gemstones! I had no idea I would be forced to examine a diamond in a stuffy basement vault. Not to mention with half a dozen people breathing down my neck as if I'm some kind of zoo monkey. My report will be that it is a possible fake, but that final determination will await reexamination under natural light." Kaplan crossed his arms and stared fiercely at the CEO.

Smithback swallowed painfully. "Well," he said, taking what he hoped were intelligible notes, "I guess that's it. There's my story."

"What's your story?" Collopy said, turning on him. "There's no story. This is inconclusive."

"I should certainly say so," said Grainger, his voice shaky. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

Smithback shrugged. "My original source tells me that diamond's a fake. Now Mr. Kaplan says it may be a fake."

"The operative word here is may," Grainger said.

"Just a moment!" Collopy turned to Kaplan. "You need natural light to tell for sure?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

Collopy turned to the CEO. "Isn't there someplace he can view the stone under natural light?"

There was a moment of silence.

Collopy drew himself up. "Grainger," he said in a sharp voice, "the safekeeping of this stone was your responsibility."

"We can bring the stone up to the executive boardroom," Grainger said. "On the eighth floor. There's plenty of light up there."

"Excuse me, Mr. Grainger," said Beck, "but the policy is quite firm: the diamond can't leave the vault."

"You heard what the man said. He needs better light."

"With all due respect, sir, I have my instructions, and not even you can alter them."

The CEO waved his hand. "Nonsense! This is a matter of critical importance. Surely we can get a waiver."

"Only with the written, notarized permission of the insured."

"Well, then! We've got the museum's director right here. And Lord's a notary public, aren't you, Foster?"

Lord nodded.

"Dr. Collopy, you'll give the necessary written permission?"

"Absolutely. This has got to be resolved now." His face was gray, almost cadaverous.

"Foster, draw up the document."

"As director of security, I strongly recommend against this," said Beck quietly.

"Mr. Beck," said Grainger, "I appreciate your concern. But I don't think you fully comprehend the situation. We have a hundred-million-dollar limit on our policy at the museum, but Lucifer's Heart is covered in a special rider, and one of the conditions of the stone being kept here for safekeeping is that there's no limitation of liability. Whatever the GIA independently determines the stone's value to be, we must pay. We've got to have an answer to the question of whether this stone is real, and we've got to have it now."

"Nevertheless," said Beck, "for the record, I still oppose taking the gem out of the vault."

"Duly noted. Foster? Draw up the document and Dr. Collopy will sign it."

The secretary took a piece of blank paper from his suit jacket, wrote some lines. Collopy, Grainger, and McGuigan signed it, then Lord notarized it with his signature.

"Let's go," said the CEO.

"I'm calling a security escort," said Beck darkly. At the same time, Smithback watched as the security chief slid a gun out of his waistband, checked it, flicked off the safety, and slid it back.

Kaplan picked up the stone with the four-prong.

"I'll do that, Mr. Kaplan," said Beck quietly. He took the handle of the four-prong and gently laid the stone in its velvet box. Then he shut the lid and locked it, pocketing the key and placing the box under his arm.

They waited while Kaplan packed up his supplies; then they shut the i