The Bronco idled, growling like an impatient tiger.
The guard spoke into the phone, listened, and started nodding. “Yes, sir. Of course, Mr. Stern. I’ll send them right up.” He turned, cast them an imperious glance. “You may proceed.”
The gate swung slowly open. Luke stepped on the gas and the beast rolled forward. They wound their way along the road through the lush green foliage, then up the circular drive, around the fountain in the middle of the circle.
The dented old Bronco looked completely out of place when Luke stopped directly in front of the house. Tudor style, constructed of brick, more than two stories high, the mansion had to be ten thousand square feet.
Ethan’s phone began to chime as Luke turned off the engine. “Brodie.”
“Jack Morrell. I’ve got news.”
Fortunately, the disposable had a speaker feature. Ethan pushed the button, then set the phone so his brother could hear.
“Good news or bad?” Ethan asked.
“Depends on how you look at it. Julian Latham isn’t involved in drug smuggling. From Caracas, he’s flying private into a little town called Santa Elena. It sits on the borders of Venezuela, Guyana, and Brazil.”
“What the hell is Latham doing down there?”
“So here’s the good news. Like I said, he isn’t smuggling drugs. The bad news is he’s smuggling diamonds. Venezuela is one of the world’s biggest diamond producers. Santa Elena is the hub of the black market trade in the country. It’s big business.”
“That so?”
“That’s right. Worldwide about seven billion in rough stones are stolen each year. They call itleakage.It’s a big problem.”
“How are they getting them out?”
“They’re smuggled through Guyana into other countries. Some of them go to Holland. The Dutch cut the stones for half the regular price, then ship them to Antwerp. From there, they make their way into the good ol’ U S of A.”
“Diamonds. Makes perfect sense. Julian’s father is one of the major investors in David Klein Jewelers. That’s where the company’s getting their stones. A few years back, the company was in the red. They started using stolen diamonds, and that’s how they got into the black.”
“The FBI’s stepped in. The Venezuelan authorities are holding Julian in Miami while the feds go after Peter Latham and whoever else is involved.”
Ethan felt a rush of satisfaction. They were going to make this end. He’d have a chance to talk to Val, convince her not to run the way Meg had.
“With the son in custody,” Ethan said, “it shouldn’t take them all that long to figure things out. I really appreciate this, Jack.”
“Are you kidding? I’m looking like a hero, thanks to you. Let me know if you ever need anything else.” Morrell hung up the phone.
Luke stared up at Stern’s impressive Tudor mansion. “Stolen diamonds. The profit’s got to be huge.”
“I’m betting that’s what got Delilah Larsen killed,” Ethan said.
Luke’s jaw tightened. “Why don’t we go find out?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Side by side they climbed the wide front porch steps, Ethan’s shoulder holster hidden by a black Windbreaker, Luke still wearing his camo pants, his gun clipped out of sight behind his back beneath his olive-drab T-shirt, along with the seven-inch KA-BAR knife strapped to his waist.
Ethan rang the doorbell. Seconds later, the ornate wooden door swung open and a small, gray-haired man in a black suit and neatly pressed white shirt stood in front of them. The edge of Luke’s mouth tipped up when he realized Stern had a butler.
“Which of you is Mr. Brodie?” the little man asked.
“That’d be me,” Ethan said.
“Mr. Stern will see you in the library. Your friend may wait in the drawing room.”
Luke grinned. “I don’t think so.”
