“The mines have never played out?”
“Not yet. The Dorsetts have been very shrewd in holding back much of their production in cooperation with the cartel to hold up the price.”
“What about offspring?” asked Pitt.
“Charles and Mary had one boy, Anson. Jess Junior never married.”
“Anson was Arthur’s grandfather?” Pitt asked.
“Yes, he ran the company for over forty years. He was probably the most decent and honest of the lot. Anson was satisfied to run and maintain a profitable little empire. Never driven by greed like his descendants, he gave a great deal of money to charity. Any number of libraries and hospitals throughout Australia and New Zealand were founded by him. When lie died in 1910, he left the company to a son, Henry, and a daughter, Mildred. She died young in a boating accident. She fell overboard during a cruise on the family yacht and was taken by sharks. Rumors circulated that she was murdered by Henry, but no investigations were made. Henry’s money made sure of that. Under Henry, the family launched a reign of greed, jealousy, cruelty and ravenous power that continues to this day.”
“I recall reading an article about him in the Los Angeles Times,” said Pitt. “They compared Sir Henry Dorsett to Sir Ernest Oppenheimer of De Beers.”
“Neither was exactly what you’d call a saint. Oppenheimer climbed over a multitude of obstacles to build an empire that reaches out to every continent and has diversified holdings in automobiles, paper and explosives manufacture, breweries, as well as the mining of gold, uranium, platinum and copper. De Beers’ main strength, however, still lies with diamonds and the cartel that regulates the market from London to New York to Tokyo. Dorsett Consolidated Mining, on the other hand, remained totally committed to diamonds. And except for holdings in a number of colored gemstone mines-rubies in Burma, emeralds in Colombia, sapphires from Ceylon—the family never really diversified into other investments. All profits were plowed back into the corporation.”
“Where did the name De Beers come from?”
“De Beers was the South African farmer who unknowing sold his diamond-laden land for a few thousand dollars to Cecil Rhodes, who excavated a fortune and launched the cartel.”
“Did Henry Dorsett join Oppenheimer and the De Beers cartel?” asked Pitt.
“Although he participated in market price controls, Henry became the only large mine owner to sell independently. While eighty-five percent of the world’s production went through the De Beers-controlled Central Selling Organization to brokers and dealers, Dorsett bypassed the main diamond exchanges in London, Antwerp, Tel Aviv and New York so he could market a limited production of fine stones direct to the public through the House of Dorsett, which now numbers almost five hundred stores.”
“De Beers did not fight him?”
Perlmutter shook his head. “Oppenheimer formed the cartel to ensure a stable market and high prices for diamonds. Sir Ernest did not see Dorsett as a threat so long as the Australian didn’t attempt to dump his supply of stones on the market.”
“Dorsett must have an army of craftsmen to support such an operation.”
“Over a thousand employees in three diamond-cutting facilities, two cleaving workshops and two polishing departments. They also have an entire thirty-story building in Sydney, Australia, that houses a host of artisans who create the House of Dorsett’s distinctive and creative jewelry. While most of the other brokers hire Jews to cut and facet their stones, Dorsett hires mostly Chinese.”
“Henry Dorsett died sometime in the late seventies, didn’t he?”
Perlmutter smiled. “History repeated itself. At the age of sixty-eight, he fell off his yacht while in Monaco and drowned. It was whispered that Arthur got him drunk and shoved him into the bay.”
“What’s the story on Arthur?”
Perlmutter checked his file of papers, then peered over the lenses of his reading glasses. “If the diamond-buying public ever had any inkling of the dirty operations Arthur Dorsett has conducted over the past thirty years, they’d never buy another diamond till the day he dies.”
“Not a nice man, I take it.”
“Some men are two-faced, Arthur is at least five-faced. Born on Gladiator Island in 1941, the only child of Henry and Charlotte Dorsett. He was educated by his mother, never going to school on the mainland until the age of eighteen, when he entered the Colorado School of Mines in Golden, Colorado. He was a big man, towering half a head above his classmates, yet he took no interest in sports, preferring to probe around the old ghost mines that are scattered throughout the Rocky Mountains. After graduation with a degree as a mining engineer, he worked the De Beers diggings in South Africa for five years before returning home and taking over as superintendent of the family mines on the island. During his frequent trips to the Dorsett headquarters building in Sydney, he met and married a lovely young girl, Irene Calvert, who was the daughter of a professor of biology at the university at Melbourne. She gave him three daughters.”
“Maeve, Deirdre and ...”
“Boudicca.”
“Two Celtic goddesses and a legendary British queen.”
“A feminine triad.”
“Maeve and Deirdre are twenty-seven and thirty-one years of age. Boudicca is thirty-eight.”
“Tell me more of their mother,” said Pitt.
“Little to tell. Irene died fifteen years ago, again under mysterious circumstances. It wasn’t until a year after she was buried on Gladiator Island that a Sydney newspaper reporter ferreted out the fact of her death. He ran an obituary on her before Arthur could bribe the managing editor to kill the piece. Otherwise, nobody would have known she was gone.”
“Admiral Sandecker knows something of Arthur Dorsett and says he’s impossible to reach,” said Pitt.
“Very true. He is never seen in public, never socializes, has no friends. His entire life revolves around the business. He even has a secret tunnel for entering and leaving the Sydney headquarters building without being seen. He has cut Gladiator Island off from the outside world completely. To his way of thinking the less known about Dorsett mining operations the better.”
“What about the company? He can’t hide the dealings of a vast business forever.”
“I beg to differ,” said Perlmutter. “A privately owned corporation can get away with murder. Even the governments they operate under have an impossible time trying to probe company assets for tax purposes. Arthur Dorsett may be a reincarnation of Ebenezer Scrooge, but he’s never hesitated to spend big money to buy loyalty. If he thinks it’s beneficial to make a government official an instant millionaire in order to gain leverage and power, Dorsett will go for it.”
“Do his daughters work within the company?”
“Two of them are said to be employed by dear old Dad, the other one...”
“Maeve,” Pitt offered.
“All right, Maeve, cut herself off from the family, put herself through university and came out a marine zoologist. Something of her mother’s father must have come through in her genes.”
“And Deirdre and Boudicca?”
“The gossipmongers claim the two are devils incarnate, and worse than the old man. Deirdre is the Machiavelli of the family, a conniving schemer with larceny in her veins. Boudicca is rumored to be quite ruthless and as cold and hard as ice from the bottom of a glacier. Neither seems to have any interest in men or high living.”