There was a brief silence as everyone in the room turned to face Sandecker, including Ames, who was sitting at a desk thirty-two hundred kilometers to the west. Abstractedly, Sandecker toyed with an unlit cigar. What most did not know was that his mind wasn't on the possible destruction of Gladiator Island.
His mind was saddened and angered at the same time over the abandonment of his best friends in a raging sea by Arthur Dorsett. In the end, hate won out over any humane consideration.
He stared at the image of Sanford Ames. "Compute your calculations, Doc, for aiming the reflector at Gladiator Island. If we don't stop Dorsett Consolidated, and stop them in the shortest time possible, no one else will."
Arthur Dorsett's private elevator in the jewelry trade center rose noiselessly. The only evidence of ascent was the progression of blinking floor levels over the doors. When the car eased to a gentle stop at the penthouse suite, Gabe Strouser stepped out into an entryway that led to the open courtyard where Dorsett stood waiting to greet him.
Strouser did not relish his meeting with the diamond maverick. They had known each other since they were children. The close association between the Strousers and the Dorsetts had lasted well over a century, until Arthur cut off any future dealings with Strouser & Sons. The break was not amicable.
Dorsett coldly ordered his attorneys to inform Gabe Strouser that his family's services were no longer required. The axe fell, not with a personal confrontation but over the telephone. It was an insult that badly stung Strouser, and he never forgave Dorsett.
To save his family's venerable old firm, Strouser had switched his allegiance to the cartel in South Africa, eventually moving his company headquarters from Sydney to New York. In time he rose to become a respected director of the board. Because the cartel was barred from doing business in the United States due to national antitrust laws, they operated behind the coattails of the respected diamond merchants of Strouser & Sons, who acted as their American arm.
He would not be here now i
f the other board directors had not panicked at the rumors of Dorsett Consolidated Mining's threat to bury the market in an avalanche of stones at sharply discounted prices.
They had to act decisively and fast if they were to avert a disaster. A deeply scrupulous man, Strouser was the only cartel member the board of directors could trust to persuade Dorsett not to shatter the established price levels of the market.
Arthur Dorsett stepped forward and shook Strouser's hand vigorously. "It's been a long time, Gabe, too long.
"Thank you for seeing me, Arthur." Strouser's tone was patronizing, but with an indelible tinge of aversion. "As I recall, your attorneys ordered me never to contact you again."
Dorsett shrugged indifferently. "Water under the bridge. Let's forget it happened and talk old times over lunch." He motioned to a table, set under an arbor shielded by bulletproof glass, with a magnificent view of Sydney's harbor.
The complete opposite of the crude, earthy mining tycoon, Strouser was a strikingly attractive man in his early sixties. With a thick head of well-groomed silver hair, a narrow face with high cheekbones and finely shaped nose that would be the envy of most Hollywood movie actors, he was trim and athletically built with evenly tanned skin, several centimeters shorter than the hulking Dorsett, he had dazzling white teeth and a friendly mouth. He gazed at Dorsett through the blue-green eyes of a cat ready to spring away from the attack of a neighbor's dog.
His suit was beautifully cut of the finest wool, conservative but with a few subtle touches that made him look fashionably up-to-date. The tie was expensive silk, the shoes custom-made Italian and polished just short of a mirror shine. His cuff links, contrary to what people expected, were not diamonds but made from opals.
He was mildly surprised at the friendly reception. Dorsett seemed to be playing a character in a bad play. Strouser had expected an uncomfortable confrontation. He certainly had not anticipated being indulged. He no sooner sat down than Dorsett motioned to a waiter, who lifted a bottle of champagne from a sterling-silver ice bucket and poured Strouser's glass. He noted with some amusement that Dorsett simply drank from a bottle of Castlemaine beer.
"When the cartel's high muck-a-mucks said they were sending a representative to Australia for talks,"
said Dorsett, "it never occurred to me they would send you."
"Because of our former long-standing association, the directors thought I could read your mind. So they asked me to inquire about a rumor circulating within the trade that you are about to sell stones cheaply in an effort to corner the market. Not industrial-grade diamonds, mind you, but quality gem stones."
"Where did you hear that?"
"You head an empire of thousands, Arthur. Leaks from disgruntled employees are a way of life."
"I'll have my security people launch an investigation. I don't cotton to traitors, not on my payroll."
"If what we hear has substance, the diamond market is facing a profound crisis," explained Strouser.
"My mission is to make you a substantial offer to keep your stones out of circulation."
"There is no scarcity of diamonds, Gabe, there never was. You know you can't buy me. A dozen cartels couldn't keep my stones out of circulation."
"You've been foolish for operating outside the Central Selling Organization, Arthur. You've lost millions by not cooperating."
"A long-term investment is about to pay enormous dividends," Dorsett said irrefutably.
"Then it's true?" Strouser asked casually. "You've been stockpiling for the day when you could turn a fast profit."
Dorsett looked at him and smiled, showing his yellowed teeth. "Of course it's true. All except for the part about a fast profit."
"I'll give you credit, Arthur, you're candid."