53

Forcing himself to walk slowly so as not to arouse the president’s suspicion, Connor headed for the side chamber to speak with the colonel. Finding the room empty, he passed through a set of double doors leading to a long hallway. The corridor was deserted, but Connor could hear voices in a room farther down. Quickly and quietly, he hurried along the polished wooden floor, the sounds of revelry fading behind him with every step.

As he approached the door to the room, he noticed it was slightly ajar and through the gap saw Laurent Barbier. Connor judged the diplomat needed to know about his suspicions just as much as the colonel. He was about to knock on the door and go in when he spied the man Laurent was talking to and froze in his tracks.

The ghost from his past had materialized once more.

The ashen-faced stranger stood opposite the diplomat. Unremarkable in height or appearance, he nonetheless exuded a sinister and baleful presence that seemed to contaminate the room like a virus. Just looking at him made Connor’s skin crawl as if he were covered with driver ants all over again. Connor flattened himself against the wall and, with a growing disquiet, eavesdropped on their conversation.

“You never told me my children would be in danger!” snapped Laurent.

“Such risks go with the territory,” replied the man, indifferent to Mr. Barbier’s fury.

“But why wasn’t I informed about the ambush in advance? We could all have been killed!”

The man replied with a barely perceptible shrug of the shoulders. “Sometimes, the less you know, the better. You hired protection—of an unorthodox sort, granted—so your children are alive. Besides, you’re going to be one very rich man.”

“Mr. Gray, when it comes to life, there’s nothing more important than family.”

“Ah, yes,” he replied with a scornful smirk. “So that’s why you had an affair?”

The diplomat was embarrassed into silence.

Mr. Gray evidently enjoyed putting the man to shame as he pressed the point. “Now, you don’t want Mrs. Barbier knowing about your other little liaisons, do you?” His eyes flicked toward the door, and Connor sharply pulled back.

His breath catching in his throat, Connor prayed the ghost hadn’t spotted him.

“So let’s proceed with our business,” continued Mr. Gray, returning his attention to Mr. Barbier. “Tell me, is the new president fully on board?”

“Yes,” replied Laurent tersely. “The Ruvubu National Park will be a park in name only. We’ll keep up the appearance of a functioning safari destination, but there’ll be no tourists. The park’s to be closed off for diamond mining.”

“Excellent. And Equilibrium has the sole mining concession?”

“In return for keeping President Rawasa in office . . . by whatever means necessary.”

Mr. Gray nodded. “And you, Ambassador, will smuggle the diamonds out, using your diplomatic immunity from customs clearance, and ensure they’re properly certified.”

“Yes,” replied Laurent. “That is the agreement.”

Mr. Gray produced a small suede bag full to the brim with uncut diamonds and handed it to the diplomat. Laurent went over to a table upon which lay a black leather diplomatic briefcase. He unlocked it and deposited the bag inside a hidden compartment.

“Now that our business is concluded, Ambassador,” said Mr. Gray, heading out a side door, “you can enjoy the party. After all, you’ve just become a multimillionaire.”