Harry Stone was restless on the flight to the Caribbean island of Nevis. He fidgeted; he walked around the cabin; he felt nervous and aggressive in equal waves. This cancer was eating away at him. For a short while, he questioned if he should take the palliative and other treatments that were being offered by his doctor. But his impatience did not let him think that far. In the privacy of his first-class seat, in a depressive moment, a single tear crept down Stone’s thin face.
He had barely slept; he was tired after the long twelve-hour journey, and he did not know what he was going to find in this strange place.
At the small, dusty terminal that was Nevis’s airport, the humid heat hit him. His growing depressive mood was not lifted in the sunshine, and as he climbed into a taxi, it started to rain heavily. The forecast was for a hurricane to roll in that would ground all aircraft for several days. He could not get this visit over quickly enough.
Charlestown, the centre of Nevis, is not a big place, and Stone wandered down the main street half an hour later. The town had no buzz to it; there was little noise; it was not busy, and he started to doubt the advice from Roger. This looked an unlikely location for his money to be anonymous and safe. Panama City had high-rise, solid buildings; they gave a signal that his money was at least shielded behind the concrete structures there. And Nevis was small, rustic, with tin roofs, unsophisticated and without the noise of fast-moving traffic, hooting in a cacophony of sound.
In a side street he found the address he had been given by Roger. It was a small, wooden building with a red roof and a balcony that opened onto the road below. Inside it was barely cooler than the humid heat of the road; a Caribbean lady looked at her computer and finally announced that they were expecting him. Roger had cleared his way, and he was soon introduced to an American woman with long, blonde hair hanging over her shoulders who was just half his age. She was sitting at a large, almost bare, desk but with three landline phones on the edge. A fan whirled overhead, but it was still very humid and warm.
‘My contact tells me you might be able to do some business for me. I’ve got dollars in Panama, but I’ve now got to get them to London. Without any busybody knowing about it.’
‘Yeah, we know all about Panama. Nasty bit of business. So, you first transfer them here, then with one or two twists we’ll help you get them quietly to London. And unlike Panama, we keep all details here secure. We shoot anyone who tries to steal them.’ The American laughed but her voice had serious depth to it.’
‘Keep it simple; don’t try to fiddle me and maybe… well, just maybe we do some business together. But there’s at least $400,000. That’s big money – how safe would it all be in this wooden building?’
The American woman’s face turned to a wide smile. She was sitting stiffly upright, and Stone saw her searching his face across the desk as if she was looking for something.
‘We deal with a lot of money being transferred around the world. First, I’ll set up a company for you here in this beautiful little island of Nevis, and what say we make it owned by your business in Panama. Then you transfer your dollars across into it. Any account here will have passwords that only you know. No questions from anyone but me, nothing in writing that will let anybody know what you’re doing here. All with a cast-iron guarantee we will never give your name away.’
Stone was testy – how could he trust the set up here? For some reason he felt nervous sitting in front of, and listening to, this blonde American woman. He fidgeted in his chair and his back was again beginning to ache badly.
‘Yeah, okay, but words are the easy bit. How do you get my money to London? And fast.’
‘We don’t do bag loads of dollar bills stuffed in suitcases. Too dangerous from sniffer dogs when walking through airports. But there are other safer ways to transfer your money. You’ve got two options. Number one you go round London and set up ten different bank accounts with just a few thousand in each one. That’ll look like normal banking and not seen as seed beds for money laundering. So, I split your money up over ten accounts, send it over the wire spaced out over the next few months. It’ll be small enough in each account not to alert anyone.’
‘I’ve already got accounts in London. But can’t do ten. Too much paper to fill in, and I don’t do forms. So, tell me something else.’ Stone turned away and stared towards the window.
‘Okay, number two. Ever dealt in diamonds, Mr Stone?’
Stone looked up. Now was the time to sound naïve.
‘Diamonds? No that’ll be new to me.’
‘If your dollars are as big as what you say, we’ll give you three very high-value, cut and polished, five-carat, lab-certified diamonds. Cut to size and shape, they shine with brilliant colour. And to make up any balance, we’ll throw in a few rough, uncut diamonds. We’ll make them all add up to the same value as your Panama money.’ The American woman’s face relaxed into a tight grin.
‘Come on then, what’s the catch?’
‘It’s sound business. We have traded this way before, and graded diamonds are the easiest way for you to get a good swap for dollars. They can be sold for sterling. You then no longer have to worry about unusable dollars stuffed in Panama.’
‘How do I know your diamonds are worth my four hundred grand dollars?’ Stone asked.
‘We only deal with people who have been recommended and you come from my contacts in London. And I remind you, Mr Stone, we trade worldwide, and I’m not going to blow it all on some fake stones. That enough?’
‘You sure I can carry them just like that?’ Stone asked.
‘They’re small enough to slip into your pocket and there’s no way anyone’s going to find you’ve got them. No customs checks are likely to find diamonds. They don’t leave a marker; they’re invisible money and not even sniffer dogs get close. So, unless you’re stopped with a full body search, you pass easily through the airport. But why would they want to search a smart gent like you?’
‘What do you get out of all this? What’s your pay-off?’
‘Ten per cent. Flat. You get ninety per cent; I get ten per cent.’
‘Show the gems to me. Do you keep them here?’
‘Sure, why not? Give me two minutes, Mr Stone, and I’ll show you what we have to offer you.’
Stone stared at the young American woman as she left the airless room. He walked to the balcony. The rain was hitting the roof of this two-storey building noisily; the wind was gusting just outside in the wide road and Stone was beginning to feel sealed into this place for a few days if he did not get away soon. And he was very uncomfortable; he had not taken painkillers for twenty-four hours – he walked around the room and then sat again heavily into a chair to rest his back.
This wooden building with its verandah, plain and simple, looking down to a quiet road, did not feel real. Had Roger ever been within a hundred miles of this place to see a gem dealer hiding away in the middle of the Caribbean? Even a smart American, sounding as if she knew what she was talking about, adding sophistication, was only a veneer.
He suddenly felt that diamonds for dollars was too easy to be real. It was just like dealing with share tips from a con in jail. But his reckonings on buying Marine House were hanging right on the edge, and that was when he felt the strong tug to get his dollars cleared. He looked at his watch; he wanted to get away.
With loud talking, the American returned, followed by a big, imposing Caribbean man well over six feet tall and with shoulders as wide as a New York Yankees quarter back. He had a freshly laundered white shirt. He grinned and placed a tray of seven glinting diamond gems onto the desk. Three large ones stood out, glistening in blues and yellows as he turned the desk light onto them.
‘I’m sure you understand that we must have strong security with such valuable items as these. But handle them, study them, hold them to the light,’ the American said as she stood back to let Stone get closer.
Stone picked up the small, uncut diamonds, all of a similar size but with different shapes and colour. He held one to the light and even tried to bite it to see if it crumbled, as that is what he had been told was a true test of a diamond. But he felt its jagged edge on his gum, and he took it from his lips quickly. Then there were three big, round diamonds, the facets cleanly cut and again glinting in the light with blue colour brilliance. He handled them for a couple of minutes, held them in his hand as if he was weighing them, held them to the light, but Stone was not sure. How could he know what they were really worth?
The American saw Stone hesitating and the big Caribbean man moved away towards the window.
‘The ten per cent you’re after is a big take from $400,000. What about seven and half per cent?’ Stone said.
‘No, that’s the deal we offer whatever the transaction. You want to move your money and I assure you our discretion and service is rock solid. And we have to be paid for it.’
Stone did not see the pun in the American woman’s words. She watched him closely and there was silence for a minute as Stone studied again each of the big-cut diamonds in his hand.
‘How much is each of these worth?’ Stone asked.
‘I will guarantee when you want to cash them in you will get your money in full. You take two uncut and this five-carat, round-cut, very valuable stone with you today. This one is worth up to $110,000. Its clarity and colour you can see, and let me show you this tiny number lasered into the girdle. Take that one with you to London – if it’s ever lost or stolen, it can be identified by that number. So, I’ll know where it is if you don’t bring it back.’ She laughed again, sensing Stone’s tenseness.
‘I’ll take ’em, but give me time to have them valued by my contact in Hatton Garden.’
‘There are lots of diamond dealers in London – get an unbiased assessment from someone who’ll give you money for them. And then, when you’re ready, you get the rest. Come to Nevis and stay longer another time. But you won’t be able to sell the big ones without the certificates from an independent certification laboratory, and I give you those when our dealing together is finished. For my security, today you give me access to half your Panama money and I get the rest when you collect the other diamonds and the certificates. And remember, my ten per cent I take only when all your money is cleared from Panama. And that’s when the deal is finished and we’re both satisfied.’
For a moment, Stone just stared at the diamonds. This is not what he had expected, and he had no idea if this woman was telling him the true value of this gem. He handled again the large diamond and thought of over £80,000 just resting in his hand. It felt unreal.
‘Maybe we’ll talk again,’ Stone said.
‘Yeah, we’ll talk again, I’m sure.’ The American nodded.
Sitting in this humid place was making Stone sweat. The deal was clear. The American put two rough and the finely cut large diamonds in a string pouch which slipped easily into Stone’s pocket. They sat together for another hour as she called in a young American man in a colourful shirt who had the forms all ready for signature to set up a company in Nevis. Without showing either of them, Stone put in his codes to transfer up to half of his dollars from Panama into this anonymous shell company.
This visit to this torrid place was already too long for Stone; he was unsure what he had done, and his pain was increasing as he sat there. Within an hour, he left with three diamonds in his pocket. A small, private plane was quickly arranged by the American to take Stone to a neighbouring island for his flight back to London.
The parting was businesslike, and he left Nevis sure that he would never come back again. His time was too short. But his dollars were moving; if he was careful, he could get them back to London and start to close the gap for the money to buy Marine House.
He kept the diamonds in their string pouch at the bottom of his travelling bag, which he never let out of his sight, as he flew back on an overnight flight to London. Inevitably, he did not sleep; he did not drink or eat; and when he arrived at Gatwick airport, he was in a hurry. But he slowed as he walked to the green customs channel, milling with holidaymakers returning from the Caribbean. A young customs officer looked at Stone, almost singling him out as a sniffer dog ran around his bag.
‘Just one moment, sir,’ the officer said.
Stone said nothing, but he felt his scalp tingle with nervousness. He turned to face the officer as he saw the sniffer dog again walk around his bag.
‘Are you travelling alone today?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where have you come from?’
‘Antigua.’
‘Have you been on business, or a holiday break?’
Stone wanted to get on and he felt his back stiffen.
‘Bit of each,’ Stone replied.
The officer’s attention was drawn away as his dog was sniffing closely and pawing at another traveller’s bag.
‘Continue your journey, sir, and have a good day,’ he said to Stone.
Stone was hot and tense after a long, uncomfortable journey, but as he took a breath, he felt his hunched shoulders drop. Walking in the slowly moving queue in front of him, within half a minute, he was in the arrivals hall. He felt free – he put his hand into the bottom of his bag to feel the diamonds. No, they don’t smell; they are just good lumps of easy-to-carry money.
Today was a big first step in clearing four hundred thousand dollars. He was trusting that American woman, with the long, flowing hair over her shoulders. He would waste no time finding out if these precious stones had real value.