Sold To The Sheikh Bidder

Khizar stood and paced across the plush carpet, from the large sleek desk to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows along the far side of the room. He looked down over the city, wondering if somewhere out there was a person who had the information he sought.

At thirty, Khizar was a well-respected businessman, the CEO of one of the world’s finest jewelry companies. He had everything he could possible ask for, and maybe that was why he wanted this one thing it seemed he couldn’t have.

There was a diamond of great beauty and value—some said the most perfect diamond in the world. Bill Bauer had found that diamond in his mine, and the gem had become something of a legend, partly because Bill refused to part with it.

Khizar wanted the diamond for the same reason Bill had never sold it—the man who owned it would never be poor.

Not that Khizar ever needed to worry about being poor. His uncle was the Sheikh of Nudushan; Khizar was royalty in his own right, in addition to being one of the wealthiest men in the world. He owned the best penthouse in Nudushan’s capital city, a luxury yacht, a private jet, and multiple cars. He could go anywhere and buy anything.

His parents didn’t understand his quest for this diamond. Khizar ran several diamond mines himself. His company bought and sold precious stones and jewelry, and Khizar had a priceless personal collection of gemstones.

He ran a hand through his black, wavy hair. Whatever else he owned, this one diamond was important. The sheer prestige of owning the Bauer Diamond would ensure his company’s success for many years to come.

Khizar and Bill had talked into the night many a time over expensive whiskey, and the way Bill had described the diamond had captured Khizar’s imagination. Bauer would never tell Khizar the location of the diamond, and the Sheikh had liked the old man too much to pressure him.

He’d hoped that buying Bauer’s mine would shake loose the secret of the diamond’s location, but when Bill died, that information died with him.

Khizar had been prepared to go through with the purchase of the mine after Bill’s death. He’d had his lawyer draw up papers and an offer, and had visited the mine in person to complete the deal. Khizar was surprised to learn that most of the mine’s employees had been let go. The foreman, Bill’s right-hand man, had walked him through the mine. Khizar learned that the once-rich gem veins were now stripped, more or less worthless.

The gem wasn’t listed as part of the old man’s will; there was no reference to it at all, not as a gemstone and not as jewelry.

Khizar was certain Bill had never had the diamond set into jewelry—he’d insisted on keeping it in its purest, though polished, form. But he’d checked anyway, in case Bill had been trying to hide it by turning the diamond into a set piece.

The Sheikh returned to his desk and picked up the phone, where his secretary answered immediately. He arranged for his company’s in-house investigator to look into Bill’s life to see if, perhaps, there were any clues left to find.

A week and five dead-ends later, Khizar was half-convinced that the diamond didn’t actually exist. Bill’s stories must have been just that: stories.

He’d chased down an old miner in Australia, who’d claimed to have been Bill Bauer’s business partner for a few years back in the day, who said he knew where Bauer had stashed the gemstone. The guy told tall tales in a bar in a small town outside Sydney, trading wild stories for a round of beer. There was no truth whatsoever to his words, which Khizar had figured out about ten minutes into their conversation.

Khizar had trawled through the records of Bill’s biggest sales, trying to determine if he’d hidden the diamond in a larger commission. He had talked to Bill’s foreman several times, as well as some of his longest-serving employees.

The men who had worked Bauer’s mine insisted that Bill still had the diamond, but Khizar talked with others in the industry who weren’t certain that the diamond was even real.

He was having dinner at the best restaurant in town—seated, of course, at the best table in the dining room—when his investigator called and asked to meet with him. As he waited for the man to arrive, he nodded at an acquaintance at the bar, and smiled at two lovely ladies who were watching him closely.

If he weren’t so involved with the search for the diamond, he would have found their interest appealing. He might have even asked them to accompany him to a party later that evening. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a party on his schedule. If someone wasn’t throwing one, he’d have put one together himself. No one turned down his invitations, even at the last minute.

His investigator arrived, a nondescript man in a dark suit, able to blend in wherever he was needed.