One of the men gave Leo and Levi a quick and efficient frisk and then knocked on the jamb.
A voice boomed from inside. “Yeah. Come in.”
Abel, easily six foot six and three hundred pounds, stood behind an antique desk in a red silk smoking jacket and black trousers so shiny they gleamed in the light emanating from the crystal chandelier. Three stunningly beautiful young women were sprawled nearby on a pair of sofas, none older than sixteen, judging by their appearance, wearing satin shorts and flimsy halter tops, their ebony skin shining with the vitality of youth.
“Ah, you made it. Come. Sit. What can I get you to drink? Name it,” Abel boomed in accented English. His voice, like the man, was oversized, as though the room was too small to contain him.
“Vodka, if you have it,” Leo said. Levi shook his head.
“I have Grey Goose,” Abel said proudly. “Nothing Russian, I’m afraid. Hopefully that will do. You want it mixed with something or straight up?”
“Straight will be fine. No ice.”
The warlord snapped his fingers and one of the girls stood and sashayed to the rear of the room, where a bar glowed beneath another chandelier. The men’s eyes followed her, the appeal of her strut undeniable, and Abel smiled. “Perhaps once our business is done, you’d like to have a little party with my friends? They’re very hospitable, I can assure you.”
Leo didn’t respond, preferring not to anger their host, who had the reputation of a madman with a hair trigger for brutality. The ingénue reappeared with two crystal tumblers a third full of vodka and set them down in front of both men with a worldly smile before returning to the divan and her companions, who watched the display with indifference.
Abel held his glass aloft in a toast and drained half in a swallow. Leo did the same and set his down, sweating in spite of the frigid blast from the mini-split air conditioner.
“All right. You didn’t come all the way here to drink with me. I know you’re anxious to sample the wares,” the African said, with a lascivious glance at the entourage. “Do you need a loupe?”
“No. I brought my own,” Levi answered.
“Bon,” Abel said, and then slid a drawer open and removed a parcel wrapped in suede. He tossed it onto the desk and sat back with a grin. “That’s a sample. There’s more if you want to see it. Just let me know.”
Levi unwrapped the bundle and set six black velvet bags to one side before opening the first. A stone the size of his thumbnail rolled out, followed by nine more. He picked up the first and studied it with his loupe for several long moments, grunted, and set it carefully aside, and then repeated the process with the next.
“While your man is inspecting the stones, I’ll give you a tour of the place, eh? I bought it for a song and have had it renovated. One of the original colonial places, a French treasure for a prosperous merchant, built by French architects using local labor. Took three years to finish, and began deteriorating before the paint dried.” He shrugged. “Such is life in Africa. Intense, but short, for all but the most fortunate.”
“What happened to the owner?”
“He left shortly before the French officially cut us loose. Smart move. Things got progressively uglier after that.”
The home was huge: nine bedrooms, a ballroom, two dining rooms, and a kitchen large enough for an inn, all finished with elaborate flourishes fit for a royal palace. Two of the hostesses accompanied them silently on the tour, both texting furiously on the latest iPhones without pause.
When they got back to the warlord’s office, Levi was finished, a notebook before him and an unreadable expression on his face. Leo eyed him and he nodded.
“They’re as described.”
Levi’s tone told Leo that they were much more than simply acceptable, but he’d wait to have a discussion until they were well away from listening ears. Levi looked to Abel. “Are they all similar to these?”
The big man nodded and sat in his chair. “Yes. Best quality, no exaggeration.”
Leo nodded. “How soon can you have the shipment in Novorossiysk?”
Abel smiled broadly. “It’s already on its way. You said you had the weapons, so I took measures to speed things along. Scheduled to dock in four days, weather permitting. Will that suffice?”
Leo mirrored the smile and tossed back the rest of the vodka. “I have a function there in four days, so that’s perfect.”
“I know.”
Leo frowned, and Abel shrugged. “We have the Internet here – I saw the announcement of your charity gala on the web. Our little country may be primitive in many respects, but we have some modern conveniences.” He gestured at the young women. “The technology keeps improving with each new generation.”
The Russian nodded his head at the girls. “So I see.”
Chapter 21
Moscow, Russia