Mike and his sidekick chuckled, perhaps amused by the childlike rebuke. Louis didn’t see the funny side. He leaned across the table, speaking slowly and quietly. “You’re scared of me.”
At that moment, staring into his dark eyes, I realised that he wanted me to be. It was a persona he worked hard to maintain, and it made me wonder how he’d react if I challenged it.
“I’m not,” I replied strongly. “I think we could be friends – on some level.”
“I’m delighted to hear that.”
My skin began to crawl. Clearly, the inch of friendliness I’d shown him had already been stretched a mile.
“I’m not going to sleep with you, Louis.” My flat tone belied the revulsion I felt. “You’ll have to find another use for me.”
The ability to read between the lines is a talent that not everyone possesses. Fortunately, Louis Osei was talented. With a click of his fingers and a few foreign words, he dismissed his men from the table.
I glanced back at Mitchell, more relieved than ever that he was too far away to hear the conversation. The brief smile I gave was designed to reassure him, but all I got in return was a worried frown.
I couldn’t dwell. I’d piqued Tweedledum’s interest, and now I had to hold it.
“What makes you think I have a use for you?” asked Louis.
“I think you have a use for everybody you deal with.” I motioned toward his hired heavies with a stiff upward nod. “Those men aren’t your friends,” I accused. “They work for you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you looking for a job too, Shiloh?”
“No,” I replied. “The one I’ve got will do for now.”
He knew I worked at the mine. Hopefully that made me valuable to him.
“So why are you here then?” He picked up his beer and tilted it toward me. “Drinking with me for free.”
“I like useful people too,” I casually replied. “You might be useful.”
He brought his beer to his lips with a smirk. “What do you want?”
Apart from the opportunity to nail him, I could think of only one other thing. If anyone could get it, Louis could. “An exhaust for a 1991 jeep.”
Clearly it wasn’t a request he was expecting. After a long moment of silence, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “You’re prepared to be indebted to me for a car part?”
“No.” I frowned. “I’m more than willing to pay for it.”
Louis’ face changed as his smile slipped away. “Car parts come cheap, but you’re in Kaimte now, Shiloh.” The menacing low tone was back with a vengeance. “Favours are very costly.”
I looked him dead in the eye, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of having my heart in my throat. “I’m prepared to return the favour, Louis.”
The carrot I was dangling was both foolish and dangerous. I had no idea what he had in mind, but I couldn’t deny that I’d made serious headway that night. The best I could hope for was that he’d exploit my position at the mine and ask me to do something crooked. The worst didn’t bear thinking about.
With another click of his fingers, Louis summoned his men. As soon as they appeared, he set his beer down and rose to his feet. “I’ll be in touch,” he said with a predatory smile. “I hope you’re a woman of your word.”
I replied with a stiff nod, absolutely convinced that Mimi was right. Kaimte was rife with devils.
MacGyver
MITCHELL
The girl who couldn’t start a fire had inadvertently become an arsonist. Befriending Louis was a dumb move, and after everything I’d told her about him Shiloh had no excuse for stupidity. It wasn’t my place to reprimand her so I kept my mouth shut, refusing to let it rate a mention.
It didn’t take long for me to realise that it probably wasn’t the best plan. By closing time, the silent lecture I’d been holding back all night was starting to cause me pain.
All I wanted to do was get home, but as it turned out, that was a tall order. Somehow, I’d managed to lock my keys in the car.
Shiloh rattled the handle. “I didn’t even know you could lock it.” She sounded remarkably upbeat for someone who had to be at work in less than five hours.
I wasn’t feeling upbeat. I was frustrated, and more than willing to do some damage with the rock I picked up off the ground.
Shiloh was less than impressed. “That’s your solution?” she asked. “Just smash out the window?”
“Unless you have a spare key or a coat hanger in your pocket, I can’t think of another way.”
She emphatically shook her head. “Nope. No lock pick set either,” she joked.
I drew my hand back ready to strike the glass.
“Mitchell, wait!” Shiloh yelled at the last moment. “You’ll undo all my good work.” She didn’t pause long enough for me to ponder what that meant. “We need to get that exhaust fixed,” she explained. “I asked Louis to track down the part. If you bust out that window, we’ll have another problem to fix.”
“We don’t need to fix anything.” I tossed the heavy rock aside. “My jeep works perfectly well.” And even if it didn’t, I’d sooner choke to death on exhaust fumes than have Louis Osei supply the part needed to repair it.
“I was trying to help you.” I could barely see her in the night light, but I didn’t need the visual to know she was as pissed off as I was. “It wasn’t easy asking that jerk for a favour.”
I applaud bravery, but Shiloh hadn’t picked her moment well. Dealing with Louis was a fool’s errand. “I hope it was worth it,” I told her. “He practically owns you now.”
She took a step closer to me, giving me a perfect view of her gorgeous angry face. “I made it very clear that –”
I cut her short. “God, you’re so naïve,” I complained. “I don’t want to have to look after you all the time, but you make it a full time job.”
“I never asked you to babysit me,” she snapped. “I’m not some delicate little kid.”
I dropped my head and muttered at the ground, “More like a defiant little kid.”
“Excuse me?” The rise in her voice dulled none of her rage. Things were getting serious. Her hands were on her hips.
“I told you more than once to stay away from Louis.” I spoke quietly, acutely aware that I sounded like a jealous rock ape. “But you didn’t listen.” I turned around and picked up another rock.
“Put that down!”
“What’s your problem, lady?” I snapped, dropping it with a thud. “I’ll smash the window, and then you can ask your mate Louis to order us a new one. Win-bloody-win.”
There comes a point during a bout of bad behaviour when you realise you’ve gone too far to back down. I was there – in all my juvenile, hissy-fitting glory. I’d twisted the sweet gesture of organising a long overdue car repair into the heinous crime of crossing enemy lines. Shiloh had done nothing wrong. Even Louis had clean hands at this point. Very uncharacteristically, I was the one creating drama.
The best I could hope for was an opportunity to apologise later, but at that moment it didn’t seem likely. Shiloh wasn’t in a forgiving mood. She threw out her arms, calling me a slew of names that I completely deserved.
“Finished?” I asked when she paused for breath.
“No,” she growled. “You’re an arsehole.”
I foolishly grinned. “You said that already.”
“Well you are.” She pointed at my feet. “Give me your shoelace.”
Perhaps she was planning to hang me with it. If so, I probably deserved it. Maybe that’s why I took off my sneaker without question. She snatched it from me. “Sometimes you have to think outside the box,” she said, unthreading the lace. “As opposed to smashing your way through it.”
Guided by the light of my phone, she expertly tied a slipknot in the centre of the lace. “Shine your phone through the window,” she ordered. “I need some light.”
Curious to see where thinking outside t
he box would take us, I did as I was told. My angry compatriot went to work, sliding the lace through the corner of the door and pulling back and forth as if she was flossing the window. Just a few seconds later, she’d worked the loop of the knot over the lock. In a show of pure MacGyver-like genius, she yanked the knot tight, pulled it upward and unlocked the door.
“How does a nice girl like you know a trick like that?” I asked, astonished.
Shiloh opened the car door. “I know a lot of tricks, Mitchell,” she replied, returning my shoelace. “You just need to shut up and let me do my thing once in a while.”
Subtle Offers
SHILOH
I felt like I was juggling a million balls in the air. Taking a step back and letting a few drop to the ground would’ve been the sensible solution, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
From a professional standpoint, the ball I needed to drop was Mitchell. The mere mention of Louis sent surfer boy into a rage, and the chewing-broken-glass look didn’t suit him.
Under different circumstances I would’ve respected his feelings and steered clear, but as things stood I needed Louis. Despite Mitchell’s protests, I had no choice but to continue shaking the tree to see what fell out.
***
For the first time ever, Glen didn’t keep me waiting the next morning. When I got to the top of the hill he was sitting in his parked car. It was the first hint that changes were on the way. The second came when he gruffly informed me that I’d be working with him from now on, and that wasn’t the only adjustment to the programme. The mine operated twenty-four hours a day, and we’d been relegated to nightshift. I didn’t know whether management had changed the roster or if Mike had pulled strings, but it didn’t matter either way. I was finally where I needed to be – smack bang in the middle of the lion’s den.
After weeks of doing his best to keep me at a distance, Glen was understandably miffed. Sticking to the script, I pretended to be less than pleased too. “Night shift?” I asked sourly. “That sucks.”
“The pay is better,” he muttered.
“They don’t pay me enough to work all night.” I dragged my seatbelt across my body and clicked it into place. “Nicking a few diamonds at the end of each shift might make it worthwhile, though.”
The glint of mischief in his eyes as he glanced at me was unmistakable. “You’d do that?” he asked.
I shrugged. “If I thought I could get away with it.”
Glen didn’t utter another word for the rest of the journey, which was perfect.
The time for standing meekly in the background was over, and I could hardly believe how simple it had been to turn things around. By tweaking the persona of Shiloh Jenson, I’d given him pause for thought. A few well-placed comments was all it took to make Louis and Glen believe that I was corruptible. I’d made silent and subtle offers to both of them. All I could do now was wait and see who took me up on it first.
***
Shadowing Glen as he went about his working day afforded me the opportunity to check out the highly secretive sorting room. As head of security, it was his job to keep an eye on the grading process.
Tweedledee had no choice but to let me tag along, which I did with the enthusiasm of an excited puppy. “I’ve never been in there before,” I beamed, following him along the narrow corridor.
Glen swiped his access card through the slot on the door. “You’re still not going in. You can watch from the viewing room.”
He’d been marginally pleasant until that point, but the shift in mood didn’t bother me. I thought back to my short stint at Jorge Creek’s Australian mine. Even then, I’d considered the diamond building to be a strange place. It had the depressing atmosphere of a morgue. It was clinical, quiet and no one seemed to speak. I used to think it was because of the serious nature of the business, but I was now considering another possibility. Maybe the locals were right. Perhaps diamond mining was the evil work of the devil.
After passing through two more security points, we finally made it to our destination. As instructed, I stayed on the admin side of the plexiglass. Glen swiped his card for the umpteenth time, waited for the beep that signalled the release of the door, and headed into the sorting room.
For a long moment I studied the every move of the two jewellers working inside. Both seemed unfazed by the changing of the guard. The outgoing security officer didn’t say a word as he exited, and there was no greeting for Tweedledee. They simply kept working, sifting through piles of ugly cloudy stones with oversized tweezers.
Despite the high tech room, the grading process was relatively simple. The initial segregation was done by machine. The gems were weighed, sized and separated according to quality. They were also logged, which is how Jorge Creek first became aware that their precious gems were going walkabout. It was up to the jewellers to double-check the results and keep the machinery operating properly, and it was up to Glen to make sure they didn’t pocket any rocks while doing it.
My eyes darted in every direction, taking note of the multitude of surveillance cameras that were in plain sight. They were there to keep an eye on everybody – including the security staff – and the feeling of being watched was inescapable.
For hours, I tried channelling my inner crook, trying to figure out how someone would get diamonds out of that room. Concealing them wouldn’t have been a problem. Realistically, two or three diamonds the size of match heads could potentially be worth thousands. Swiping them while under the scrutiny of other employees and security cameras was the impossible part. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with a plausible scenario.
I forced my mind to slow down, reminding myself that for now it didn’t matter. Moving forward was a slow process, but at least I was moving.
***
The first opportunity Glen had to ditch me came at lunchtime. I wasn’t invited to sit with him, and as I sat down at a vacant table in the staff dining hall I realised I was relieved to escape him for a while. Even as we ate he was eying me from across the room, perhaps wondering if I’d make good on my earlier threat of stealing a few rocks.
I didn’t have to avoid the uncomfortable glances for long. After just a few minutes, Reyo sat down opposite me.
“Good day to you, Shiloh.” His wide grin was infectious. “Are you enjoying your meal?”
I looked down at the plate of curried rice in front of me. “It’s great, thank you.” Even if it wasn’t, it would still beat whatever Mitchell and I could manage to rustle up for dinner. It was the best meal of the day by default. “Are you going to join me?”
“No, I just wanted to give you something.” He reached into the plastic bag he was holding on his lap. “Do you like music?”
I’d given up being surprised by Reyo’s random choices of conversation. Just a few days earlier he’d cornered me in the Site Services office to talk about cold and flu medicine. “All you need is sweet tea,” he’d insisted. “Next time you are poorly, drink more sweet tea.”
I spent the rest of that day wondering whether I’d somehow incited the advice by looking bedraggled, but when we spoke again and his chosen topic was monkeys and space travel, I refused to take it personally.
“I do like music,” I confirmed.
With a broad white smile, Reyo set a Discman down on the table.
A strange squeak of delight escaped me. I couldn’t help it. The last time I’d seen one I was barely a teenager. I pressed the button and checked out the CD inside. “The Backstreet Boys?”
“It’s wonderful,” he insisted quite seriously. “I want you to listen to it.”
That wasn’t going to happen for a few reasons. First, it was the Backstreet Boys. Second, I knew Reyo well enough to know that there would probably be some sort of pop quiz to follow.
“Thanks, but it’s not really my style of music.” I closed the lid and slid it toward him. “I appreciate the offer though.”
Reyo pushed it straight back. “Take it, Shiloh.” His tone was deadl
y serious. “You might learn something.”
Either Reyo had a thing for boy bands or he was trying to covertly pass me information. On the off chance it was the latter I picked up the ancient Discman and thanked him. “I’ll listen to it later,” I promised.
His trademark smile swept his face. In an instant, the conversation was light again. “Tomorrow you must try the maafe,” he instructed, pointing to my plate. “It’s made with tomatoes and peanuts and meat.”
Of all the thoughts I had at that moment, none of them were food related. I managed a stiff nod in reply.
Still smiling, Reyo pushed his chair back. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Shiloh,” he said.
That was going to be easier said than done. I had another six hours of work left, and I was in the unenviable position of having my one-track mind focused on the Backstreet Boys.
Tom Tom Cookies
MITCHELL
Nothing compares to the feeling of knowing you’ve wrecked something good. The only reasonable conclusion Shiloh could draw after my ridiculous rant the previous night was that I was a controlling hothead, and I was ninety-nine percent sure we were over because of it.
I spent a long day trying to figure out a plan for making amends, and the minute she walked through the door that night, I launched into a bumbling apology. I started by assuring her that I wasn’t a controlling jerk, and ended two minutes later by reiterating that I still wasn’t a controlling jerk.
It hardly dazzled her. Shiloh flopped down on the beanbag, concentrating more on unlacing her boots than on my heartfelt ramble. I’d been silent for almost a minute before she finally looked at me. “I know Louis is a cretin, Mitchell.” Her voice sounded flat and tired. “I don’t need you playing the part of protective big brother to keep me away from him.”
Her choice of words was horrifying. If that’s how she regarded me, we’d stumbled way off track. “Is that how you see me?”
Her heavy boots thudded on the floor as she kicked them off. “No,” she replied. “You’re far more important than that.”