Insurance workers, Rhyme guessed, didn’t generally exude this level of enthusiasm. But he was beginning to think the diamond industry was a bit different from others, more passionate, more obsessed.
“Now, about Jatin Patel. Nearly all diamond cutters in the world nowadays use computers for ninety percent of their work. Certainly the mass-produced stones for the lower-end consumer market — they’re all plotted, cut and polished automatically. That’s true too of many, if not most, top-end diamonds. But Mr. Patel? He did everything himself, by hand. His diamonds are the best you’ll ever find. His death is a huge loss. In terms of art, it’s as if Picasso or Renoir had been killed. Now, sir—”
“‘Lincoln’ is fine. Really.”
“Yes, Lincoln. Of course. Now, Mr. Croft has formally put my company on notice of the loss of the Grace-Cabot rough. Under the policy, if the stones are not recovered within thirty days, we will pay the insured value, nearly five million dollars. My company obviously would prefer to recover the gems within that thirty-day period. And I hope we shall. But if not and the claim is paid we would become subrogated. You are aware of that concept?”
Mel Cooper offered, “I got hit by a runaway grocery cart when I was fifteen. Major stitches and a broken ankle.” His eyes remained on the computer screen. “Insurance company paid and then they sued the grocery store. They stepped into my shoes.”
This digression grated and Rhyme glared. No one seemed to notice.
“Exactly. And I’m sorry for your trouble.” Ackroyd seemed genuinely sympathetic.
“It was a while ago.”
“Under subrogation, after we pay the claim, Milbank, my company, would continue to try to recover the stolen goods, to sell them. Reimburse ourselves with the proceeds. So, clearly you and my company have a mutual interest in finding the diamonds. And, personally...” He was now speaking with a touch of anger. “...I would like to see the thief put away forever. Diamond heists have a gentlemanly quality. Violence of any sort is very rare. It’s not playing fair. And murder? Unimaginable. So I’ll help in any way I can. I’m at your service. And to that end I’ve found one thing that may be helpful.”
A notebook appeared from his inside jacket pocket and his fingers, tipped with closely trimmed nails, flipped through it. “As soon as Mr. Croft called my boss and I was assigned the case I started making calls. A dealer who’s helped me out in the past, fellow in Amsterdam, said he had a call from a man in New York a few hours ago, offering some rough to sell. He said about fifteen carats total, which was about the Grace-Cabot weight. The dealer demurred — he wasn’t in a position to spend that much money — but he took the number anyway, possibly for the future. Here it is.”
“Mel?” Rhyme asked.
The tech jotted it down from the notebook Ackroyd displayed and made a phone call. He had a conversation with their specialist at the Computer Crimes Unit. Then Cooper was on hold for a moment. After another discussion he disconnected. “Whoever called your friend in Amsterdam used a burner phone with a New York mobile exchange that’s not active now. Could be destroyed or the batteries could be run down. They’ll keep it on the alert list if it goes live.”
No probable cause for a warrant, Rhyme reflected. But if it was Unsub 47’s phone and he eventually turned it on they could possibly triangulate and pay him a visit.
“Good. Appreciate that,” Sellitto said. “We were also wondering where the thief might try to fence the diamonds here. I was talking to some detectives and FBI agents who run stolen-jewelry cases — but most of them’re low-end and finished pieces. They don’t know anyone who could move five million worth of uncut diamonds.”
Ackroyd said, “No, that’s quite the specialized market. I don’t know if Mr. Croft mentioned it but the thief took the rough because it would be much harder to trace. No serial number, as there would be on finished stones.”
“Yes,” Rhyme said. “He told us that.”
“Word has spread already about the theft, of course. Everyone in the business is aware of it. I have calls out to contacts here and overseas to let me know if anyone wants to sell the rough... or is looking for an underground cutter.”
Rhyme said, “Croft said that was what he was most afraid of.”
Ackroyd gave a reserved smile. “Mr. Croft... he is our client, of course, but I think even he would admit he gets a touch too attached to his products. You see, he’s part of the old school of diamond production. There’s a new trend called ‘branded’ diamonds, often cut with extra facets and in non-traditional sizes and depths. The manufacturers often do this to charge consumers more than the diamond is actually worth, claiming that the buyer is getting something unique — a special brand. But that’s spurious. The problem is that many of those companies don’t take into account the qualities that make diamonds great. Grace-Cabot would never do that. The rough they sent to Patel for cutting, well, those were going to be exceptional stones when finished. And, if they’re cut underground, they’ll end up in department stores and high street jewelers.”
“These connections of yours?” Sachs asked. “Who are they?”
“Oh, diamantaires, brokers, mining executives, jewelry retailers, precious metal and gemstone dealers, transport and security companies, investment companies too — diamonds, like gold, are hedge commodities. I don’t want to give the impression they’re all a wealth of information, though. Anyone in the trade tends to be distrustful of outsiders. As an insurer, I’ve worked hard to get one foot in the door, so to speak. I’ve made some headway over the years but even for me it’s an uphill battle, getting people to cooperate.”
Rhyme recalled what Ron Pulaski had told him about the difficulties in finding merchants to aid in the search for the elusive VL. “We’re finding a lot of resistance to talking to our canvassing officers.”
Ackroyd added, “And accentuating that natural reclusiveness, there’s the violence. I think people are simply afraid.”
Box cutters will do that.
“Well, it’s a pity the Amsterdam connection hit a roadblock. But the suspect may turn on his phone once again. We can hope. Now, I’ll keep making inquiries and will let you know what I find.”
“If you would, sure,” Sellitto said. “Thanks.”
Ackroyd took his coat from the rack where Thom had hung it and donned the garment. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. I must say at Milbank I have a pretty solid record of recovering the loot for my clients.” Another of his soft laughs. “Just occurred to me. ‘Loot’ comes from a Hindi word, lut. For ‘pillaged goods.’ And poor Jatin Patel — that was his ethnicity. Indian. Bit ironic, wouldn’t you say? Well then, I’ll keep in touch. Good evening.”
“And?” Rhyme asked.
“Might be helpful,” Ron Pulaski said. “He’s the real deal.”
Rhyme sighed at the expression. “Specifics would be good.”
It had been an hour since Edward Ackroyd had left. Ron Pulaski had returned from his futile canvassing in the Diamond District, seeking leads to the witnesses S and VL and, of course, to Unsub 47 himself. Other officers were continuing the search.
Pulaski, briefed about the insurance investigator, had been given the task of checking him out. He’d gone online and verified that Ackroyd’s company, Milbank Assurance, based in London, had offices in New York, San Francisco, Paris and Hong Kong. He’d also asked Fred Dellray, an FBI agent they sometimes worked with, to check with Scotland Yard. Yes, Edward Ackroyd had indeed made a name for himself as a detective in the burglary division before retiring from the force to join Milbank. Pulaski couldn’t verify that the company did insure Grace-Cabot — insurance coverage generally wasn’t public information — but Milbank advertised that its specialty was covering precious metal and gem companies, including mining operations.