Reverse: 1999 story · Event stories
Anecdote: The Diamond Con
7 scenes, 512 lines
1. The Hope Diamond
78 linesDiamonds.
It was in the 13th century when European merchants first re-encountered this fabled gem of kings.
By the 14th century, Venetian craftsmen began cutting and polishing them to remove their flaws.
In the 15th century, Archduke Maximilian of Austria presented a diamond engagement ring to Marie de Bourgogne, marking the first use of the stone as a symbol of eternal love.
By the 16th century, Antwerp controlled forty percent of the world's diamond trade; they maintain a dominant share of the industry even today.
Then, during the 17th century, a passionate French gem hunter carried off a massive blue diamond from India's Kollur mine. After it was polished and cut, he named it "The French Blue" ...
...
...
... "The French Blue." A fitting name indeed. Your knowledge of diamonds impresses me deeply, madam.
The man raises a glass of golden champagne, and the one receiving his toast accepts it with calm poise.
Trouble is, when it comes to diamonds, there's always a mix of truth and fiction.
One thing is true enough—the diamond ring I bought my ex-wife cost me three thousand dollars.
A sly smile tugs at the man's lips.
Diamonds are fitting symbols of love. On that, I must wholeheartedly agree.
I have to say I enjoy all of this diamond talk, madam ... Oh, I forgot to ask your name.
He extends his hand, inviting the woman to take it.
Fleming Longen, international trade manager.
Tennant slips off her glove and clasps the scarred hand.
... Brette Cosette. I deal in jewels, occasionally.
Madame Cosette? I heard from our host you were recovering from another bout of gastritis.
You must be mistaken. I've never had gastritis. The only thing that plagues me is a bad tooth.
But Mr. Rawls has found me an excellent dentist, bringing him all the way from Austria just for a little toothache.
Fleming narrows his eyes, thumb rubbing the silver ring on his pinky. After a pause, he downs his champagne.
... Mm. I suppose that must be it.
Apologies, Madame Cosette. I've only just arrived from America. I'm still feeling out the atmosphere.
I presume you're seeking new opportunities in Paris then? I may just be able to make some introductions.
Is it true you brought a shipment of classic "typewriters" along with you?
The man taps his empty champagne glass impatiently.
Let me give this to you straight—I'm always happy to make a new friend, but if you're after my business ...
The answer is: no.
I might be new here, madame. And you may well be enchanting, but I didn't get this far by trusting dames with smiles as quick and crooked as yours.
"Brette" hits the wall earlier than expected, yet the accusation doesn't break her stride.
Of course, how could I object? Caution is a virtue in our line of work.
Enjoy the party, Madame Cosette.
Well said, Fleming. Knowing how to enjoy oneself is a fine thing.
A woman in a brilliant blue gown appears at their side. Her voice is soft and sleepy, betraying a growing weariness with the party.
The white-haired woman's gaze lingers on Tennant for a long while, but neither speaks.
...
After their silent exchange, Fleming feels the need to step in.
This is Ms. Adelita. A friend—I invited her to join me tonight.
Madame Cosette here is a talkative jeweler. We were just discussing the history of diamonds.
I do believe we left off on "The French Blue." I can only imagine how a gem like that would pair beautifully with your attire tonight—if only it were mine to give.
Diamonds hold little novelty for me.
The elegantly dressed woman makes a weary show of her indifference to jewels and to flattery. Tennant finds herself at a rare loss for words.
I think you'll find Madame Cosette has a wealth of knowledge beyond the topic of jewels. I'm sure she'll find something that will take your interest.
Alas, I have no interest left to give. The drinks here are too strong to suit conversation. I should like to return to my hotel.
Please, madame, it's much too early to leave. The night is only just about to come alive.
All the better for you, Fleming. I wouldn't want you to miss me too much. But all I want now is a good radio drama before bed.
How about I take you to a late-night comedy show instead? Only, I've got a matter to settle with Mr. Drelome first.
A night wasted on comedy and pawnbrokers? You aren't making a very convincing offer, darling.
The man is caught in a clear dilemma, unwilling to leave the party but loath to see her go so soon.
Perceptive as ever, Adelita catches his hesitation.
Ten. Fleming, I'll wait until ten. But not one moment later.
You've got a deal. I'll go see if I can speak with Drelome now and free myself before half past nine. After that, we'll still have time to talk.
I'll be waiting. But only for so long ...
She turns toward the bar. The arms dealer sighs, first to himself, then to no one, before hurrying off.
Tennant wastes little time before following the mysterious woman. Adelita leans with her back to the counter, looking at her expectantly.
... Adelita. That name stirs the imagination.
Forgive me, I've forgotten ... What was your name?
It's no small wound to be forgotten by such a beauty. It was and is Madame Cosette.
But if you'll indulge me, Brette is the only name I'd ask you to use.
Brette ... It's got a lovely ring to it.
Adelita's response suggests she isn't averse to conversation, so Tennant presses further.
... Adelita, I hope you don't mind my asking—Mr. Longen, is he your travel companion?
In the most basic sense. We both recently arrived from the States. But I only just met him today.
But allow me a question, Brette. What made you approach him at this party?
Truth is, I was told he was aiming to sell submachine guns through the underground. A man like that is often in need of connections, and I am an expert in such things—for the right price, naturally.
You came on much too strong. Mr. Longen could see your intentions from a mile away.
Because I never intended them to be hidden, my dear. Sincerity is a rare and valuable commodity in my trade.
Is it now, Brette? I think you haven't shown nearly enough. And I suspect you aren't getting what you want tonight.
Like a spider sensing its prey, she already knows what's coming next.
Tennant tips her hat, and in a flash, smooth as silk, she closes the distance between herself and the white-haired woman.
Tell me then, how much would be enough?
Tennant whispers to the bartender. Before long, two glasses of crimson liquor are placed before them.
Tennant slides one toward Adelita.
A "Bloody Sunset." Can I tempt you, madam?
Adelita lifts the glass but only breathes in its fragrance.
"Bloody Sunset"?
2. Bloody Sunset
90 lines... You can only taste this in Paris. Its name will never appear on any menu.
Dark red, like the blood of a sinner.
From the first taste, you'd never imagine it's made from grapes alone.
It has a dryness that parches the throat until you start to crave its warmth again. Like a hungry vampire, you'll never be sated, always seeking another sip.
Then you're hooked, my dear. Each day onwards is spent waiting in anticipation for the next "Bloody Sunset."
...
Adelita takes a sip and lets slip a rare smile.
My, my. This truly is an extraordinary vintage. You may just be sincere after all, Brette.
Words like that are sweet pleasure to my ears.
Adelita and "Brette" share the rare "Bloody Sunset" as time slips away with the faint ticking of the corner clock.
At nine forty-two, Adelita has only a single swallow left.
As a matter of pride, I always reward a good turn.
Hearing that, I can't help but look forward to a gift from you.
What I'll give you is a possibility, just as you gave me the "Bloody Sunset."
Adelita reaches into her jellyfish-shaped handbag and produces a small box bedazzled with jewels, its delicate silver inlay hinting at great value.
Meanwhile, the arms dealer, looking worn, arrives back at the bar.
As you can see, I've returned with time to spare.
What's that you're drinking?
"Bloody Sunset." Brette recommended it to me. I promise, once you taste it, you'll never forget it.
If you say so, I'll give it a try.
Adelita drains the last drop from her glass.
A pity, Mr. Longen. Adelita just had the final one.
That's right. The last "Bloody Sunset" in this establishment, this city, maybe the country.
I don't appreciate being toyed with, Adelita.
Fleming waves the subject aside, annoyed.
Drelome was drunk out of his mind. I couldn't get a word in edgewise.
I hope at least you kept my guest entertained, Madame Cosette.
Naturally, and I must say your timing is impeccable. Adelita was just about to show me a little surprise.
A surprise? Well, go on; I could use something to pick me up.
Of course. Come closer.
The two lean in as Adelita flicks open the tiny bronze latch.
With a crisp click, the box reveals a velvet cushion—empty where a jewel should rest.
There's nothing inside.
To gain anything, one must first pay a price. The first and unchanging rule of commerce.
Price?
This box is the life's work of a South African pure-blooded arcanist. I call it the "Box from the South."
All you have to do is put a diamond on the velvet cushion, then turn the hidden mechanism inside the lid, following the instructions—
Eight hours later, when you reopen it, you'll find another identical diamond beside it.
Hah.
A wry laugh escapes him.
It's quite the story, I'll say that for sure.
But I've got to figure that if this thing were really spitting out diamonds, then every crook from L.A. to Sicily would be after you.
The kind of thing you don't carry around if you know what's good for you.
Every treasure has its first discoverer, Mr. Longen.
When Marshall found gold at Sutter's Mill, only a handful of locals knew of his find—at first.
...
The minute hand passes forty-five, but none of them mention the time.
The "Box from the South" lies open in Adelita's palm, awaiting the presence of a diamond.
The arms dealer studies it, caught between doubt and desire.
... In my experience, anything tied to arcanum is the furthest thing from trustworthy.
The way I see it, there's a simple way to test our charming lady's claim.
What? You want to put a diamond inside and then lock it away for eight hours?
I can't see a reason why not. Though, perhaps a stipulation is due.
If the box does not yield another diamond. Then, Ms. Adelita will pay us its value in compensation.
That's still a big risk. Who's going to look after it? I'm not really keen on watching a box all night.
I'm certain we can find a safe somewhere here. So, why don't we lock it inside there?
Allow me to set the combination, and you may hold the key. That way neither of us can touch it until our next meeting.
That works. I can vouch for the owner.
I'm game, but ...
He feels as though he's about to make a serious gamble, but then again ... what if this is another "Sutter's Mill"?
It's a game in your favor, Fleming. One way or another, you gain.
I'll even arrange the collateral—money equal to the value of two diamonds.
If the box works, you keep the diamond and return my money.
And even if Adelita disappears, you still have the collateral.
Seems like a game worth playing to me.
Tennant stands between them, playing the part of a less than impartial judge.
Even if I wanted to play, where would I get a diamond at this hour?
My dear Fleming, you seem to have forgotten our conversation; allow me—
A pea-sized crystal glimmers in Tennant's hand, as if conjured from thin air.
A round-cut diamond, brilliant and flawless, flashing dazzling light across its 58 facets.
After letting it shine, Tennant closes it back into her hand.
Mined from Panna, India. One and a half carats. Near-colorless. Internally flawless. Excellent cut.
What are the odds of that?
The odds of a jewel dealer having a jewel on her person? My dear Mr. Longen, I shouldn't imagine it would surprise you.
I just so happen to always have a few samples on hand for clients.
The logic of the statement puts Fleming at ease.
Okay. I'm in. But what's this thing worth?
At market price, I would suggest twenty thousand francs. So, two would make forty thousand.
Would that be agreeable to both of you?
The arms dealer lowers his head, mind racing.
So, if I've got this right. Out of the gate, I'm up twenty thousand. Enough to cover my expenses.
And if this thing's a phony, I walk away with forty thousand?
... For that matter, if this diamond of yours disappears, that's your problem as far as I can see.
The sharp-nosed merchant smells opportunity. His eyes gleam.
Sounds like a deal.
Tennant sets the diamond on the velvet, and Adelita snaps the lid shut.
The clock strikes ten.
Come, Mr. Longen. Let's ask the manager for a safe.
3. The Box from the South
106 lines
Fleming, where did you manage to find forty thousand francs overnight?
There are opportunities everywhere, sir. You've just got to keep an eye out for them.
Monsieur Drelome arrives to meet with Fleming early in the morning, still obviously hungover from last night's drunken revelry.
So, you won't be selling "The Merciful Maria" after all?
It looks like I won't have to; I've got time to spare and money to burn.
I've heard it all before. Just remember, my offer for that pistol stands.
But its value here will only drop with time.
Fleming leans back, relaxed.
All I need to do now is move my shipment. Then I'll really be set.
I doubt it'll take long. They're going to be begging for these beauties.
Picture it—you storming into your enemy's Christmas dinner with this beast, spitting lead at seven hundred rounds a minute.
Ten seconds—no, five—and the whole family is in hell.
Drelome raises a brow.
How cruel.
I'm not interested in judgment from a half-drunk loan shark.
Now make yourself scarce. I've got more important guests coming.
Whatever you say. But just remember, if things fall through, I'm always ready to make a deal.
The pawnbroker stumbles out, either unconcerned or too bleary-eyed to care.
Fleming pours himself another drink, tapping his foot, waiting for the woman who can bring him two diamonds.
...
Ten minutes later, the door opens and Adelita steps in lightly. Fleming rises to greet her.
We meet again, Mr. Longen. I do hope it won't be a wasted trip.
One way or another, we'll soon find out.
Where's Madame Cosette?
However in the world would I know? We never agreed on when to meet. I came now only because it was convenient.
So, do we wait for her?
Brette isn't part of this game. As long as we can return her diamond, that's enough.
... True. No point wasting time.
He raps the safe's sturdy lock with his knuckle.
Then take out the "Box from the South" and place it on the table.
If you're telling the truth, that should mean there are two diamonds inside.
Let me think through that long code ...
She turns the lock with ease and opens the safe. The "Box from the South" lies inside, unchanged.
She lifts it out, sets it on the table, and with the same motion as last night, unlatches the lid ...
...!
Two diamonds of equal size rest on the velvet cushion. That much is undeniable.
As you can see, this is the diamond Brette provided—along with its copy.
I trust you remember its value. Twenty thousand francs. By our agreement, you should return my collateral.
Th—this is impossible ...
Fleming no longer cares about the money. He crouches over, stroking the miraculous box.
Despite his disbelief, he finds an impulse surging up inside him.
I want that box. Name your price.
A gun.
A gun?
Heh, I've got plenty of guns. I'd sell you one for a hundred and fifty dollars ...
But I have my sights on a very particular one.
Fleming lets go of the box, his thin lips pressing into a hard line.
"The Merciful Maria."
That's the one. A beautiful little pistol. It once belonged to a Mafia matriarch—and it was said that it could tell who was a traitor.
Fire it at your own men, and if they're loyal, the bullets will spare every vital point of the targets.
You've heard of it.
Call it a hobby. I like digging into and collecting such curious things.
And while I've heard less-than-pleasant rumors, I personally don't care how the gun ended up in your hands.
...
Hurried footsteps sound outside the door. Moments later, "Brette" flings herself into the room.
Perfect. I'm glad to see you're still here, Adelita.
Brette?
You've come at just the right time, Madame. Come, take a look—
She's deceiving you, Mr. Longen. The "Box from the South" is nothing but a cheap trick.
What are you saying? I saw it with my own eyes. Look at another stone, identical as far as I can tell. Though maybe you ought to take a look.
I have no doubt the diamond is real. But the "Box from the South" is far from the life's work of an arcanist.
It's only a jeweled puzzle box.
Brette, please, I really don't appreciate this attempt at ruining my deal.
Without another word, Tennant draws her pistol and fires, striking the box's lid dead on.
—Good God!
The lid shatters into powder, spilling several diamonds across the table.
...
These diamonds ... where did they come from?
They were hidden in the lid. All you need to do is turn the spring, and one will pop out every eight hours.
From your point of view, it would seem like it was creating diamonds from thin air.
It's a clever trick, isn't it? With six stones in reserve, it would take another two days before you'd realize something had gone wrong.
Have I got that right, Adelita?
The startled woman steps back from the shattered remains of the box.
I don't really know all the details; I didn't make it. It just happened to fall into my hands.
I hate to think you were fooled by this, Fleming. I should expect it's clear as day to you now.
You investigated it?
It was my diamond inside that box. It was entirely in my interest to know its secrets.
Fleming glares at Adelita.
You were after my pistol from the very start!
Her scheme laid bare, Adelita offers no defense.
I never meant for things to be like this ... I should go.
Fleming slams his palm on the remains of the box, sending small pieces flying off.
Go? You think I'm gonna just let you walk out of here?
Let her go, Fleming.
What?!
She's a fraud; we can see that plain as day. But I do hope you can see why violence wouldn't be good for any of us.
So what, she just gets away with making a fool of me? Like I'm just some dumbass tourist to be fleeced?
Fleeced? Take a look at what you have right in front of you.
...?
He glances down at the table strewn with shards and at last grasps "Brette's" point.
Diamonds.
Just think of these diamonds as your "damages." Aside from my own, of course. The rest should come out to one hundred and twenty thousand francs.
I think you'll find they're worth even more than that. I choose them specifically—
Don't push your luck, Adelita. We're letting you walk away without harming a pretty hair on your head.
...
She hesitates, her eyes lingering on the diamonds with a defeated and wistful expression.
But she has to choose.
... I suppose I have no choice.
Get out. And don't ever let me see your face again, swindler!
Adelita whirls and makes for the door, brushing past Tennant on her way out.
I won't forget this, Brette.
With the con artist gone, Fleming plucks the scattered diamonds up from the table, his lips twitching into a crooked grin.
—A bruised ego traded for a hundred and twenty thousand francs. Not a bad bargain.
He tosses a diamond to Tennant.
Sit with me, Brette. I owe a loyal friend my thanks.
Didn't you say you were curious about my "typewriters"?
4. Synthetic Diamonds
64 linesI should've trusted you sooner, Brette. You really saved my bacon back there.
I never imagined things could go this smoothly. That client you introduced me to was perfect; my first shipment is already out.
I believe my fee was ten percent of the deal, cash.
Fleming leans closer, locking eyes with Tennant.
I was waiting to see when you'd name your price.
Fleming bursts into a belly laugh, then pulls a thick stack of bills from his coat and hands it over.
There's no better conversation than one that ends with money—and no easier conversation partner than someone who wants yours.
Say, you'd call yourself a businessperson, wouldn't you?
Last time I checked.
Ah, but I get the feeling you've got something else going. What's your real angle?
Research. Pointless research, I'm afraid. Far from profitable.
Research?
It isn't worth wasting words.
The car comes to a steady stop at the curb.
I should go. Best of luck with your business, Fleming.
You live here? Do you mind if I were to swing by sometime?
I'm out, Mr. Fleming.
Huh?
I have no intention of digging myself deeper into the arms trade. This was just a means to an end.
No, wait.
Can't I just come by as a new friend?
Allow me to stress this: I'm not interested.
Not about business. Just a drink. Conversation.
Maybe we'll find other ways to work together.
The room is nothing like what Fleming imagined.
No heavy grandfather clock in the corner, no mounted trophies on the walls, no spacious, luxurious sofa in sight.
I'm afraid I'm far from set up to entertain guests. This is a lab, not a parlor.
You actually live here?
Tennant sighs helplessly and sets the cash she just received on the table.
Every franc I earn goes into the instruments and materials in this room.
Seven hundred and fifty thousand francs, so far.
Fleming's face twitches, his scars contorting with it.
What could possibly be worth that much?
We really shouldn't talk business, Fleming. Besides, I worry you'll start comparing me to Adelita.
What does that fraud have to do with this? C'mon, Brette, let me in on this thing.
You're a smart gal. If you've spent three-quarters of a million francs on this place. Well, I refuse to believe it's something foolish.
Reluctantly, Tennant picks up a clear beaker and swirls it, the crisp clink echoing through the lab.
Tiny sparks glimmer at the bottom.
These are diamonds. But they weren't mined from any pit.
The raw material is nothing more than charcoal. And they were made right here, in this little room.
... Give me a break, diamonds, really?!
Tennant sets the beaker back down and covers it with a handkerchief.
See, Fleming? This is why I didn't want to talk about it.
I assume you think this is just another scam.
No ... no, not at all!
Now I see. This is why you exposed Adelita's trick so quickly.
You're exactly who you say you are. An expert in your trade.
You and that fraudster are nothing alike. I can feel it.
You're calm, disciplined. My friend, you're a—yes, a scientist. A true scientist.
And this is one hell of a science. Diamonds from charcoal. I've heard of the idea before.
Tell me, Brette. Who else knows this technique?
For now, just you and me.
And once they're made ... they stay diamonds?
... I've never seen one turn back into charcoal.
Fleming steps forward, lifts the handkerchief without asking, and peers into the beaker.
The diamonds refract the light, dazzling in his eyes.
He breathes hard, squinting.
We could do something big with this, Brette. Growing diamonds! Just think of the money!
We would need more than this lab. To produce anything at capacity and make it cost-effective, we'd need a proper factory.
Then tell me—how much to turn your little lab into an underground factory?
Tennant takes a long moment to form her answer.
Ten million francs.
5. Ten Million Francs
55 linesDidn't expect to see you again so soon, Fleming.
From behind the thick glass wall of the counter, Drelome pokes out with a bemused look on his face.
Thought you just pulled off a big deal? Have you burned through all that money so soon?
Don't ask stupid questions, Drelome. You'll live longer.
But of course. Your business is your own; only I wonder if you're willing to name a price on that pistol of yours now.
Fleming shoots him a look of cold disdain as he sets a plain wooden box on the counter.
A withered hand reaches across, opens it, then snaps it shut again.
She is beautiful indeed. So, what sort of deal are you after?
Ten million. Cash.
Impossible.
He pushes the box back across the glass.
Damn it, you realize that right there is "The Merciful Maria"!
It may be, it may not be; all I can see is a "Greedy Fleming."
It has a fine story, bloody, dark; I may have a customer. But for ten million?
As I told you before, my offer was only ever going to drop.
Fleming slides the pistol box back across the counter again.
Nine.
Eight. And naturally you'll be signing all the relevant transfers.
... Deal!
Voila, sign here. I'll have the money sent your way—minus a five percent fee, of course.
You slimy old drunk. After I strike it rich, I'll buy this whole block and put you out on the street.
He scrawls his name across the page.
I will be looking forward to that day, monsieur.
Fleming turns, his step and demeanor a combination of excitement and anger.
It's a plain, tired old inn, just across the street from the pawnshop.
Tennant leans against the window, idly spinning a revolver. Cobwebs glint faintly in the corner, waiting for some unlucky insect.
Fleming's been in that pawnshop for twenty minutes now.
You think he'll get ten million?
The cylinder snaps open, spins fast under her thumb, then clicks shut again—Empty.
I can hardly imagine Drelome being that generous, can you?
The old fox might barely be able to walk without wobbling, but he's still sharp.
Little doubt he'll sniff out Fleming's desperation.
You think he'll get seven?
The cylinder spins again, stops. Still empty.
I doubt he'd part with it for less. We are talking about "The Merciful Maria."
Our friend went to great lengths—from procuring those diamonds to fixing up that box—just to get her hands on it.
Heh ... so eight million?
The cylinder spins a third time with a faint whir, just as Fleming comes into view outside Tennant's window.
Tennant holds the cylinder still, a diamond bullet ready in its chamber.
From the look on his face, I do believe you're right on the money.
Eight million is still a fine haul. Enough to buy a villa in Saint-Remèze, complete with a Second Empire stone fireplace and southern sunlight.
I can see it now. Fully electrified, ready for everything a modern life requires.
Money isn't the goal of this game of ours. Ten million is just the bottom line. The only way to prove the seeker's sincerity.
Say what you will about the man, he's crafty. I do believe he'll find a way to gather that final two million.
You should head back to your little lab. Odds are he's eager to get that money in your hands.
No, I doubt that.
Oh?
Tennant watches as Fleming turns and disappears into the alley.
I said he was crafty, but note I didn't say wise.
I'm sure when he first laid eyes on those synthetic gemstones, he was giddy with delight.
But now, the rush has worn off. He's pawned off his most prized possession, and now he's wandering Paris laden with cash.
No, I believe he'll cool off first.
Then, because he is crafty, if not clever. I do believe he'll make an effort to hedge his bets. He might start digging into just who this "Brette Cosette" really is.
Oh, so you think Brette's about to be exposed. How will she handle it?
With sincerity—always, sincerity is her greatest strength.
6. British Isles News
87 lines"Since the 19th century, scholars have theorized diamonds could be made through industrial means."
"But human industry still hasn't discovered the technology needed to sustain the pressure and heat necessary to turn carbon into diamond."
"However, certain arcanists of special bloodlines know another path to creating diamonds."
"Sir Laurence Tennant, a British colonial officer in India, was able to use an arcane skill to turn charcoal into diamonds ..."
"... and his sole daughter, Ada Tennant, inherited the same fraudulent craft."
...
The rest is a series of criminal accusations against Tennant related to diamonds, and a brief mention of his daughter, Ada Tennant.
Fleming sets the papers down, his face dark as he stares at the private detective in the passenger seat.
A clipping from England? That's all you've got for me?!
I paid you to investigate Brette Cosette, not some missing charlatan.
Sir, I think this is more than enough to provide the answers you need.
I trust you recognize the details in this report.
An unidentified fugitive woman, and the arcane skill that turns charcoal into diamonds.
The detective gives him a pointed wink.
You're saying Brette Cosette is Ada Tennant?
I would say the evidence is clear, Mr. Longen. No one but the Tennant family knows how to turn charcoal into diamonds.
That's all I've got. Now I need to get going.
I have other clients to tend to, you understand.
He lowers his hat and leaves the car.
Fleming leans back in his seat; his eyes drift up and lock on the car's ceiling.
He needs a drink—or a cigar—both maybe. But neither can be found in this car.
... Tennant.
He slaps the driver's shoulder hard.
To Cosette's—ah, damn it, I mean Tennant's!
The door flies open from a weighty kick.
Tennant!
At the far end of the room, a woman leans out from behind a row of equipment.
You seem flustered, Fleming. I hope you're not in any danger.
Danger? You—you are the danger!
You're not Brette Cosette. You're the daughter of an old fraud!
Ada Tennant!
He slams the newspaper clipping down on the table.
Tennant arches a brow and strolls to the table. She grabs the newspaper with a casual motion.
She makes a play of scanning over the words, once, twice.
Then tosses it back onto the table.
I suppose you had a good reason. Still, I hadn't expected you to hire someone to dig into my past ...
Fair is fair. Mr. Longen. I am Ada Tennant.
Fleming is speechless, half-stammering. As if he had still hoped she would deny it.
...
So what about it?
Wh- ... what do you mean?
You deceived me, and now you say, "so what"?
You've swindled me just like that fraudster, Adelita!
Is that so? What have you lost, sir? Have I taken even a single franc from you I hadn't earned?
... ?!
Unconsciously, Fleming rubs the silver ring on his pinky, replaying every detail since he'd met this "Brette Cosette."
—"Brette" exposed Adelita's trick with the "Box from the South," leaving him with several real diamonds.
—"Brette" helped him close a lucrative deal, and the commission she took was fairly earned.
—As for synthetic diamonds, "Brette" never tried to share that secret ...
I admit I am not Brette Cosette, but surely you can see why I might use an alias in our line of work?
As for Sir Tennant ... it has been many years since I last saw him.
I can still recall the weight of the massive diamond that he placed in my hand, but we're far from close.
I never foresaw that those clear, glittering stones would bring such hardship for my family.
She lifts a sharp pear-shaped diamond and closes in on Fleming.
Wait—stay back ... What are you doing?
Tennant holds the diamond before his eyes and lets go.
Instinctively, the arms dealer catches it. The hundred-carat stone tumbles in his palm.
That is the largest diamond I've ever produced in this lab. But even its size falls short of what my arcane skill can fake.
Tennant spreads her hand wide, drawing his gaze to the countless synthetic diamond machines around her.
If I truly meant to turn charcoal into diamonds with my arcane skill, then what use would I have for all this equipment?
I refuse to walk my father's path, Fleming. The arcane skill would only lead me to the same fate.
—Ruin, exile, stripped of name and honor.
So then this set-up—what's the difference, really?
The diamond in your hand was made by theory and precision instruments. It's a product of industry and science, not arcanum.
Like a soda from a bottling company or a bit of canned beef. Abundant, mass-produced, bringing vast wealth to its maker.
For a moment Fleming freezes, brow furrowed as he stares at the stone in his palm.
Brilliant, flawless, impossibly hard ... indistinguishable from the real thing.
Keep it.
Even the sharpest-eyed jeweler in the world would tell you this stone is authentic, identical in composition. Take it as compensation for my little deception.
... Hmph.
He presses the pear-shaped diamond against the metal frame of the chair and scrapes hard.
With a shrill screech, a groove etches into the steel, and the diamond is untouched.
And what do you plan to do now?
I'll send you flawless stones regularly—so long as you keep this operation secret.
Then I'll keep building capital until I can raise a factory and a network of distributors. Then earn even more.
What's worth pursuing other than profit?
Profit ...
His fist tightens around the synthetic diamond.
You aren't wrong.
I underestimated you—no. In fact, I'm beginning to admire you, Madame Tennant.
I can tell, deep down, we're the same kind of people.
Whatever do you mean?
I mean, I'm not gonna hold the past against you.
I'll still make my investment. But here's the deal—once everything is started, I run the factory.
And I would just be the technician then?
Absolutely. I'll get started on the plans.
You and me, Tennant! We're gonna turn the diamond market of Europe—no, the whole world—upside down!
7. The Merciful Maria
32 linesWhat a beautiful view.
I'll miss the fields and villages outside Paris, but a journey like this comes with its own thrills.
And what does my dear, lustrous beauty think of it?
Eternity is still appreciating her newest addition—"The Merciful Maria."
Rare, dazzling, gaudy in its power, priceless in appearance, and acquired at nearly no cost.
Don't expect too much of me for now, "Brette." A trip like this always leaves me sore and tired; I'm in no mood for it anymore.
Have you taken a liking to that name? Shall I go by Madame Cosette a little longer for you?
You know how I crave novelty, Ada—like that "Bloody Sunset" you treated me to.
If it left you longing, we can plan another night out for drinks. But then, surely you knew it was only a raspberry cocktail?
A lovely way to signal our little conspiracy. Memorable—fun even, wasn't it?
Neither of us imagined we'd cross paths at that party with the same goal in mind.
—But just look at the surprise we crafted together.
This was truly an unbelievable gift, Ada.
All I really paid was a few lies and some diamonds destined to turn back into charcoal. Truly you ought to be thanking our dear Mr. Longen.
I'd call that a happy ending.
Oh, don't forget one more small cost—my "Box from the South" stuffed with diamonds.
Of course. A clever box and a handful of sparkling stones—perfect bait for that first taste of trust.
And smashing the box—that was thrilling, unforgettable. I'll cherish this little performance of ours forever.
It was a true stroke of brilliance to bring in that detective. Every single angle accounted for.
That clipping may have exposed "Brette," but it let Tennant twist Fleming into believing an even deeper story.
Though it does make me wonder—what became of the real Brette?
At last, Tennant shares her secret candy.
The real Madame Cosette is still abroad, recovering from gastritis. She won't be returning to France for a long time.
It was a risk, taking on a real name like that.
Their laughter is carried on the wind down the French country road.
You know what we're missing?
Some sound techs, a camera perhaps, and a crew to cheer—"Heist successful!" Something we might broadcast to the world.
You've won me over, Ada. Have you thought of our next move?
If you'll join me, we can lay low together for a while.
I know someone with a very special suitcase ...