The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 65
Larson eyed first the damage done to Chris's face and then George suspiciously. "You aren't under any kind of duress, are you?" he asked.
Chris was stunned. "Of course not." He bristled at the man's appraisal of his companion. "George is my attorney---but more than that... he's like a father to me," he said firmly. Then, as if to emphasize his point, he signed the affidavit in broad, heavy strokes. "There, all signed." He handed the sheet of paper to Larson, who was looking a little sheepish.
"Your father left very specific, explicit instructions. We pride ourselves on honoring our commitments to our clients. You understand?"
Chris's indignation faded slightly, and he smiled in apology. "It's been a rough couple of days. I'm sorry."
"You should have someone look at that eye. It's bad," Larson said gently.
Chris smiled. "Thank you. I will."
Larson led them inside the vault and down a row of safety deposit boxes. "Here it is, 629." He fumbled with a ring of keys and looked at Chris expectantly. "Key?"
George handed Chris a key, which he inserted into the top slot as Larson inserted his into the bottom. This all seemed a bit ceremonious and melodramatic to Chris, but he just played along, eager to have this done with and be safely ensconced in George's Whidbey cottage.
Larson slid the box out of its niche in the wall and departed the vault, leaving Chris, George, and Brianna to open it in privacy.
Chris gave George a hesitant look before opening the lid. The older man smiled encouragingly and indicated he should proceed.
Slowly, carefully, he slid the lid of the safety deposit box back to reveal a large, opaque, reddish lump of stone within. It sat primly upon a velvet drawstring pouch. For a long while, he stared at it in confusion.
This didn't look like a diamond to him. It looked like... well... it looked like a lump of rock.
"This is the Heart of the Jungle?" Chris asked incredulously. "This is the cause of the unrelenting hell I've been through? You've got to be kidding me."
George was agog. The precious stone was enormous. He knew from the letters describing it that David James had given it over to a series of experts for inspection. Spectrographic and X-ray analysis confirmed it was the most massive red diamond ever discovered---easily overtaking the Moussaieff Red, the record-holder, by more than five times its carat weight. Beneath the opaque chalky cortex, the gemstone was pure and unvarnished. Not a single striation marred its flawless crystalline structure. Properly faceted, it would be worth a staggering sum.
He gaped at the stone in undisguised avarice, imagining how it would look without the milky chalk obscuring its cranberry-colored depths.
When Chris turned his eyes away from the diamond, George quickly masked his expression. He cleared his throat. "Well, shall we take it and be off?" he asked, pretending nonchalance.
Chris shrugged, retrieved the diamond, dropped it into the velvet bag it sat upon, and tugged the drawstring closure tight.
As they strode out of the vault, Brianna reminded them petulantly that she was hungry.
"We'll get you something to eat on the ferry to Whidbey, baby,"
Chris promised, tweaking her cheek and favoring her with a kiss.
"Are we going on the big boat, Papa George?" she asked, her hunger forgotten.
"Yes, darling," George replied absently. His mind was on the gemstone that was going to make him rich beyond his wildest imaginings.
As they made the journey to Whidbey Island, George could barely contain his elation. Until he'd seen it with his own eyes, the Heart of the Jungle had seemed something of a myth to him. After all the years of coveting, plotting, and scheming, dreaming of the fortune it would bring him, it was finally, at long last, within his grasp.
Knowing that he was so very close emboldened him. There was one last messy task to perform before the diamond was his.
Christian James had to die.
FRANK was livid as he shouted invective into his cell phone. They had landed and bid goodbye and thanks to John Abel moments ago, and he had immediately contacted the Seattle field office to let them know he was on the ground.
"What do you mean he's disappeared?" he shouted, his face red with rage.
Jason's stomach clenched into a tight knot.
"You didn't think to watch the back exit?" Frank asked disbelievingly. He listened for a few moments and finally, with a menacing growl, said, "Find out where he's gone. I don't care if you have to hire a fucking psychic. I want his twenty and I want it now."
He jabbed a finger into the phone and cursed.
Jason clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before speaking.
"What now?"
Frank paced. "Slipped out the back. Disappeared."
"He must suspect he's being surveilled."
Frank chewed at his bottom lip. "Possibly. Maybe he's always like this."
Jason eyed him curiously. Frank was holding something back.
"What?"
"He used a credit card to book a couple of chartered flights out of Weed, California. The team is working on it now, but I'm willing to bet Chris and Brianna James were on one of those planes."
"And Brunner on the other," Jason breathed, stricken. "Frank, Chris has no idea that George is behind all of this. I told you, he'll run right into his arms."
"I know, kid. Those credit card transactions happened five hours ago. About the time we were trying to get out of Vegas. They've probably already landed."
"His first step will be to secure the diamond. We have to assume he needs Chris for that. So he won't hurt him until he has his hands on it. Banks don't usually open until nine." Jason looked at his watch. "That's ten minutes from now."
He took off at a run, waving for a taxi as he went. Frank was right on his heels. "Want to tell me where we're