Death is Forever by Elizabeth Lowell


  She shifted again. Her knee hit the shotgun. “I’ll take that,” she said, reaching for the shotgun. “We’re safe.”

  “Not quite, Miss Windsor,” Lai said from the doorway. “But you soon will be. Move away from Cole.”

  Startled, Erin looked up and saw an automatic pistol held in Lai’s left hand. The muzzle was pointed directly at Cole’s heart. Nothing about Lai suggested that she wasn’t willing to pull the trigger. In her right hand she held a small battery-operated tape player.

  “Move beyond his reach,” Lai said. “Even wounded, he is still very dangerous.”

  Erin retreated down the couch toward the rucksack.

  “Put the shotgun on the floor and shove it away with your foot,” Lai said to Cole. “Move slowly or you will force me to kill you.”

  In slow motion he bent over, set the shotgun on the floor, and shoved it away with his foot. Black eyes and the muzzle of the gun followed him every inch of the way. Lai’s attention was so fixed on Cole that she didn’t notice Erin’s hand coming out of the rucksack.

  “Put down the gun,” Erin said in raw voice. “I’m too tired to care if I kill you.”

  From the corner of her eye, Lai saw the gun in Erin’s hands.

  “Don’t be foolish,” Lai said quickly. “It is your life I am trying to save!”

  “I’m damn tired of being called a fool—and being taken for one. If Cole wanted me dead, he could have killed me a hundred times over by now.”

  “You don’t understand what is at stake.” Lai spoke in a calm, low voice, and her attention never wavered from the man on the couch. She knew very well his strength, coordination, and intelligence. Obviously Street had underestimated Cole.

  Lai never would.

  “Street was playing the Chen family against ConMin,” Lai said, “hoping to gain control of the mine for Australia. The Australian government wouldn’t have ordered your death, Miss Windsor, but if you and Cole died in the bush and Street came to his superiors with the coordinates of the mine, the government would have registered the mine, declared you dead by accident—or by Cole’s hand—and ridden out the storm of protest from the CIA.”

  “I’m alive,” Erin said, “and planning to stay that way. Put down the gun.”

  “If I do, Cole will kill you. Listen to me, Erin. Your life depends on it. Cole has a forged gambling note from Abelard Windsor giving him half of the Sleeping Dog Mines.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I oversaw the forgery,” Lai said simply. “Now Cole controls half of the mine outright, plus half of your half. Don’t you, Cole?”

  “Whatever you say,” he said. “You’re the one with the gun.”

  Erin looked quickly at Cole. He was watching Lai with predatory focus, waiting for the least flicker of distraction on her part.

  “Fascinating,” Erin said, “but Cole never said one word to me about any gambling note.”

  Lai’s mouth tightened. “He did not have to use the note. He had a much better lever against you: his body. He is a skilled, powerful lover and you are a woman of little experience. A very easy conquest. He has probably asked you to marry him already. If not, he soon would. And when you died a few months later—and you would die—Cole would have control of the mine in a way no man or government could question. You don’t want to believe me,” Lai said quickly, “but you will. Listen carefully, Erin Windsor. Your life depends on it.”

  “Cole?” Erin asked.

  “Do as she says. You’ll hear it all sooner or later. Divide and conquer. The oldest game of all. But whatever else you do, Erin, keep pointing that gun at Lai. The second you flinch, you’re as dead as diamonds.”

  Lai pressed a button on the small machine. The tape started moving.

  “The first speaker is my brother, Wing,” Lai said. “You will recognize the second man. Cole Blackburn. The conversation took place the day before Cole came to you in Los Angeles.”

  After a brief silence, a voice came from the speaker.

  “The Chen family didn’t hire you merely because you’re a brilliant prospector, although you are. We brought you into this because you have a verbal promise from Abelard Windsor of a fifty-percent interest in Sleeping Dog Mines Ltd. as a full repayment of gambling debts incurred by him during a night of playing Two Up. Do you have an IOU?”

  “Old Abe wasn’t that crazy.”

  “This was found at the station.”

  “Wing is referring to the IOU,” Lai said in the silence that came when the men stopped speaking. “The IOU said, ‘I owe Cole Blackburn half of Sleeping Dog Mines/Because I lost at 2-up one too many times!’”

  After a few more moments of silence, Wing resumed speaking.

  “The Chen family has taken the liberty of having two handwriting experts certify this document, so you need not fear embarrassment on that score. Even without the note, it is a legitimate gambling debt. With the note, the debt will be promptly recognized by the Australian government when you press your claim.”

  The tape went silent.

  “There is more,” Lai said.

  She watched Cole with unblinking attention. He watched her in the same way.

  After a few seconds of silence Wing’s voice came again.

  “If a woman was all that stood between you and ‘God’s own jewel box,’ what then?”

  “I learned long ago that diamonds are more enduring than women.”

  “And more alluring?”

  There was a brief pause before Wing continued.

  “Whether you seduce her or not is your choice. Your job will be to keep her from getting killed while she unravels Crazy Abe’s secret or until you find the mine yourself. After that, Miss Windsor no longer matters. Only the mine itself is important. That must be protected at all costs.”

  “Even at the cost of Erin Windsor’s life?”

  “Next to that mine, nothing else is important.

  Nothing.”

  A pause, then, “All right, Wing. Tell Uncle Li he has his man.”

  The silence hissed with unused tape.

  Lai waited, never looking away from Cole.

  “I would like,” Erin said hoarsely, “to hear that tape again.”

  Lai groped one-handed for the rewind button, then glanced aside to find it.

  Cole’s foot lashed out and connected with her wrist. The gun went flying. When his hand wrapped around Lai’s delicate throat, she went utterly still. In a gesture that could have been a caress or a warning, he ran his thumb over the pulse beating visibly in Lai’s neck.

  “You’re just one surprise after another,” he said to Lai. “How long have you spied for Street against your own family?”

  A shudder went through Erin as she heard Cole’s voice. There was no hatred, no passion, no anger, no emotion of any sort, simply a ruthless patience that owed nothing to civilization or humanity. It was the same for his eyes, icy in their clarity and lack of mercy.

  “I began planning my revenge the moment I was forced to abort your child and marry a man three times my age,” Lai said. Her voice was low, soft, husky, the voice of a woman talking to her lover. “I was the one who approached Jason Street. I was the one who sabotaged the helicopter and the Rover. I was the one who told Jason to have one of Abe’s Aborigines follow you and report the instant that you died. Then Jason and I would fly in and fix the Rover, discover the tragic deaths, and take out new leases in our own names.”

  Slowly Erin’s hand tightened on the heavy gun.

  Lai didn’t even notice. Her attention was fixed on the ice-pale eyes of her former lover. She kept speaking, her voice sweetly musical, as though talking of love rather than vengeance and death.

  “On the day I owned the mine, the family of Chen would count the cost of using me as a pawn,” Lai said. “I am queen, not pawn. And the man by my side would be king.”

  Cole’s strong fingers ran caressingly over Lai’s neck. “Queen of lies.” He glanced over at Erin. Her face was pale, her eyes so dark they look
ed more black than green. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to say I fell in love with your photos before I ever met you.”

  “Love? You?” Erin made an odd sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. “Sweet God, Cole, credit me with enough sense to come in out of the rain.”

  “Yeah, I figured that’s how you’d look at it. Congratulations, honey. You’ve finally learned to be a survivor. Now you’ll have the same problem I had—finding something worth surviving for.”

  Erin looked away, unable to meet the bleakness of Cole’s eyes.

  “I’m going to call Chen Wing and tell him to come and get his ever-loving sister,” Cole said to Erin. “If you don’t like that idea, you’ve got a gun. Use it.”

  Swaying, Erin fought the slow trembling that was taking her body.

  “You saved my life out there,” she said raggedly, lowering the gun. “I kept Lai from killing you. We’re even.”

  Cole’s smile made ice slide down Erin’s spine. “Lai wasn’t going to kill me. She was going to have me sign a marriage certificate—right after she killed you.”

  Lai’s head dipped gracefully as she brushed her chin caressingly across the powerful hand that was still holding her prisoner.

  “If the baby had been male,” Lai said huskily, “I would never have aborted it. But the child was only female and you were in Brazil. It is not too late, beloved. She will not shoot you. Take the gun from her. Together we could rule the diamond tiger.”

  In the stretching silence, the sound of Erin’s broken breathing was far too loud. Cole watched as the gun muzzle shifted to Lai’s head and Erin’s finger tightened on the trigger. He made no move to interfere, simply waited with inhuman patience for whatever Erin decided.

  “You’re better at handling snakes than I am,” Erin said hoarsely, lowering the gun. “Kill her or keep her for a pet, it makes no difference to me.”

  Erin walked out of the room without looking back.

  47

  Los Angeles Several weeks later

  “It was good of you to come here,” Chen Wing said to his guests.

  The man nodded. The woman ignored him.

  Wing closed the door of BlackWing’s Los Angeles office behind Erin and Matthew Windsor. Wing’s dark glance came back to Erin and stayed. She looked different from her photo. Older. More reserved. More controlled. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek chignon. Her clothes were expensive and casual.

  But it was her eyes that had changed the most. There was a cool assessment in them that hadn’t been there before.

  “Please. Sit down,” Wing said.

  He smiled slightly and gestured for Erin and her father to sit at the long conference table. A closed carton sat in the center of the table.

  She eyed the carton, decided it contained computer paper, and concentrated on Chen Wing. In his own way, Wing was as striking as his sister. The same perfection of physical form. The same intelligence. The same shrewd black eyes.

  “How is your sister?” Windsor asked blandly as he sat down.

  “The psychiatrist offers great hope for her eventual recovery,” Wing said. “Until then, of course, she will have to remain medicated and under constant psychiatric observation.”

  “Why?” Erin asked bluntly. “Cole broke her wrist, not her skull.”

  “I’m afraid Lai’s mind was never very strong. We have had to, ah, oversee her daily life before.”

  “Really?” Erin said. “Be sure her overseers have stout chairs and steel-tipped whips.”

  Windsor looked at his watch. “We’re on a rather tight schedule, Wing.”

  “Of course.” Wing looked directly at Erin. “Cole insists that he owns only half of Black Dog Mines, the half you gave him as a finder’s fee.”

  “I gave him half of what I inherited,” Erin said in a cool voice. “Whether I inherited all or half of Black Dog Mines depends on how well you like the signature on the IOU Lai mentioned. Unless you really subscribe to the notion that your sister is crazy.”

  “Cole refuses to press recognition of Abelard Windsor’s gambling debt, although there is no doubt the debt exists,” Wing said carefully. “Cole also refuses to make a deal with DSD for more than the half of Black Dog’s output that BlackWing owns. The members of the diamond cartel are understandably…restless. Half a resource does not constitute a monopoly.”

  She shrugged. “So they’ll make a little less money. So what?”

  Wing looked at Windsor. “Haven’t you told her?”

  “My father doesn’t own one carat of Black Dog’s rough,” she said distinctly. “Talk to me, not him.”

  “If the cartel is broken,” Wing said, “industrial diamonds will be priced beyond the reach of emerging Third World countries such as China.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. If the diamond monopoly is broken, the price should fall.”

  “The price of gem diamonds, yes,” Wing said. “But not the price of bort.”

  “Why?”

  “The cost of cleaning out a diamond pipe is staggering,” Wing said simply. “Bort does not repay the cost of its own mining. For a diamond mine to make any profit, the gem diamonds must be sold at reliable, inflated prices.”

  “Then make industrial diamonds in your labs,” she suggested indifferently.

  Wing looked in silent appeal at Windsor, who sighed and began speaking.

  “It’s not that easy, baby,” Windsor said. “Lab synthesis is coming along, but it still isn’t nearly as cheap as the cartel’s bort. Besides, even if lab diamonds got the job done at a low price, Japan has the best process. No one wants the Japanese to have any more international economic clout than they already have.”

  For a moment she was silent, weighing what had been said. And what had not.

  “What you’re telling me,” she said finally, “is that it would be tough for Third World countries to industrialize without low-priced industrial diamonds.”

  A shuttered look came over Wing’s face. “It would be nearly impossible. Diamonds are far more important in manufacturing than most people realize, especially in the type of manufacturing that is within reasonable reach of emerging economies.” Wing spread his hands in silent appeal. “Isn’t it better to let the luxury diamond trade in First World countries subsidize the cost of mining industrial diamonds for the Second and Third Worlds?”

  “An industrialization the Chen family is in a position to control in China,” Erin pointed out evenly, “a country that has more than a fifth of the world population and a tradition of being central to all Asian power. Whoever controls China will soon control all the Pacific Rim economies except the U.S.A. and Japan. You could, of course, ally yourself with Japan. In that case the U.S. would be driven into even stronger economic alliances with Europe. Even with Japan’s help, you can’t expect to succeed. Correct?”

  Wing nodded slowly, understanding too late that Erin was as bright as Cole had warned him she would be.

  And as hostile.

  “I won’t even discuss the Chen family’s persistent interest in strategic minerals, which are handled through one of ConMin’s many companies,” Erin continued. “Nor will I dwell on the fact that if the cartel goes under, Black Dog Mines’ value goes through the floor, taking with it BlackWing’s half interest in a hugely lucrative chunk of real estate.”

  Wing shot Windsor a look.

  Erin’s father didn’t notice. He was watching his daughter with amused admiration.

  “You’ve done your homework, baby.”

  “As in opening my eyes?” She smiled coolly. “As I said to Cole, I’m a slow learner, but I do learn.”

  “The Chen family is already quite wealthy,” Wing said neutrally. “We don’t depend upon ConMin for that wealth, or upon Black Dog Mines.”

  Erin looked at her father.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Windsor said. “The Chens aren’t bucking Hugo van Luik and DSD just for money. They want power.”

  “How does Nan Faulkner feel about that?” E
rin asked.

  “She’d rather give the Chen family power than sink the diamond cartel. Right now the Soviets need the cartel too much.” Windsor shrugged. “Besides, the cartel is the devil we know, and we’ve spent forty years learning how to get a handle on it. We’ve turned it into a game of checks and balances. At this point no single country’s interests rules. Not even ours.”

  Erin waited. Her father simply watched her. “No advice for me?” she asked. “That’s new.”

  “You’re too busy looking for blood to listen.” Windsor smiled slightly. “Besides, you don’t need my advice. You’ve changed, baby.”

  “Being hunted like an animal does that.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said quickly, smiling. “I’m not complaining about the changes. You can’t own half of Black Dog and be a trusting soul. And you’re not planning on giving up control of your half of the mine, are you?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “Three choices,” Windsor said, yawning. He’d spent too many sleepless nights worrying about Erin’s safety and Nan Faulkner’s mistakes. “One: Hand over control of your half of the mine to someone and walk away. Two: Keep control and grab a piece of the diamond tiger. Three: Kill the tiger by talking Cole into withholding his half of the rough from DSD.”

  She nodded, having reached the same conclusion herself in the middle of the many long nights she’d spent neither awake nor asleep, half dreaming, half remembering, regret and desire and anger clawing her soul. “As I said, I haven’t decided.”

  With a small sound, Wing cleared his throat. “The third choice isn’t a realistic option.”

  “What you’re saying is that dear old Uncle Li won’t let Cole break the cartel.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  The smile Wing gave Erin was as thin as the cutting edge of a knife. “Unfortunately, no one controls Cole Blackburn, not even my very clever uncle. But Cole is far from stupid. He knows it would not take much of a bomb to close off the cave or even to destroy the commercial value of the diamonds with radiation and pass it off as a mining accident.”

 
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