Betrayal

Chapter 32

Jet sat staring at the briefcase for several minutes and then carefully repacked everything. She checked the time and moved to her backpack to retrieve one of the six cell phones she’d bought that afternoon. After carefully slotting the battery in place, she powered it on and walked back to the desk, then searched in her purse for a card she’d scrawled some numbers on earlier in the day at an internet cafe.

Half an hour later, she had confirmed her first charter — a Global XRS out of Hong Kong that would fly her to Zurich, non-stop, at fifty thousand feet — close to Mach 1 — for the bargain price of a hundred and seventy grand. For that, the company would also supply catered food and get a visa for her. They explained that it was a deal because they had to fly the plane in from Hong Kong, which was over a thousand miles away, at an internal cost of roughly ten grand an hour.

She confirmed that she’d be ready to go that night, and after some calculations, they told her that she could depart Bangkok by eleven p.m..

Jet spent the rest of the evening in the hotel room, unwilling to go out anywhere and leave the briefcase, or take it with her and risk being robbed — even though it was hard to imagine anyone doing so successfully. She called the plane company back and told the concierge she wanted a late dinner ready upon takeoff, and he assured her that they would happily prepare anything she wanted. She punched the phone off, then lay on the bed and thought about Matt and the strange rush she’d felt when they’d kissed — a rush that confused her, especially so soon after David’s death. She’d kissed Rob as part of their cover and had felt nothing, even though he was a handsome man. But Matt, for some reason, had triggered something that warranted more consideration.

Her thoughts shifted to Lawan — a brutalized child who now had a second lease on life. It would be rough on her living in the wilds with Matt, but not nearly as hard as being forced into prostitution while she should still have been playing with teddy bears. Jet swallowed the rage that boiled to the surface whenever she thought about it. There was no point in getting angry. But it brought back so many of her own unpleasant memories, of her foster father when she had been that age…

The trip to the airport was predictably tardy, with traffic still heavy even at night due to the dense layout of Bangkok coupled with a conspicuous lack of urban planning. As she watched the suicidal motorcycle drivers dart past them, Jet wondered what the morose cabbie would have thought if he’d known he was driving sixty-three million dollars and change around. She smiled inwardly. The world was an odd place, made more so now that she was carrying a king’s ransom in her briefcase.

The airport experience was lavish, with two armed guards accompanying the executive from the charter company due to the large amount of cash involved, and two stewardesses waiting to attend to her every need. After a few minutes of counting money and shaking hands, she was speeding down the runway, en route to a frigid country almost six thousand miles away.

Zurich customs turned out to be a non-issue, her passport and arrival on a private jet ensuring that the ever-discreet Swiss waved her through without a glance, and once she was finished with the formality, she approached the taxi line. The driver nodded in approval when she told him to take her to the Widder hotel, right in the center of everything and only a long block from the river. She had been in Zurich once before on an assignment. As she watched the streets glide by, she was reminded of how antiseptically clean everything seemed — the streets, the buildings, the cars and people — especially after Bangkok, which was a kind of controlled chaos. Switzerland oozed civilized order.

The drizzly, cold dawn had barely broken, but when she got to the hotel, the staff leapt to attend to her in spite of the early hour. The suite was fifteen hundred dollars a night, with every amenity she could have wanted. She unpacked the briefcase and secured the fifty million dollar package in the room safe, then retired to the bathroom and savored a long hot soak in the bath — her first in months.

The diamond buyers weren’t expecting a call until nine a.m. at the earliest, so she went downstairs and imbibed a pot of steaming dark roast coffee in the restaurant as she read the newspaper, which was thoughtfully provided in six different languages by the front desk.

The weather was forecasted to be in the forties all day, so she had a clothing problem — no coat. She’d seen nothing suitable during her shopping in Bangkok, so she’d had to content herself with a navy blue knockoff Ralph Lauren sweater that was far too light for any real cold. She asked the concierge at the front desk about nearby shops, but they apologetically informed her that the stores wouldn’t open until ten, at the earliest.

Jet waited in her room, pacing in front of the window, until nine thirty, when she called the buyers. After a brief back and forth, they agreed to meet at one of Zurich’s largest private banks at eleven and warned her to allow several hours for the verification process.

She exited onto the boulevard in front of the hotel and followed the concierge’s directions, arriving at an upscale women’s apparel store that exuded prohibitive pricing. The shopkeeper was just opening, and after browsing the selection while the hawkish woman looked on, she paid three times more than she would have anywhere else in the world for a heavy wool Italian coat. Jet checked her watch as the woman counted out her change and then made for the bank, stopping across the street at a bakery to watch the foot traffic going into the building while she waited for her appointment time.

When she entered, she was directed to a private suite with two armed security guards flanking the door. After exchanging polite introductions with the buyers, she placed the briefcase on the table, flipped the latch, and withdrew the package containing the diamonds. The two men carefully inventoried each stone, noting color, clarity, cut and carats, grading each with the precision of a locally-manufactured watch. The entire process took an hour, at which point the haggling began. Twenty minutes later, she walked out of the bank, nine million seven hundred thousand dollars richer, having made a concession in the interests of getting the deal done. The buyers hadn’t batted an eye when the banker stamped the transfer agreement, instantaneously moving the money to her bank a block away — one of the operational accounts she’d set up years earlier, requiring only the account number and a passcode to access from anywhere in the world.

Once in the branch, she confirmed the balance and withdrew a hundred thousand dollars in cash. The bank vice president confirmed the amount and returned ten minutes later with two packages of new hundred dollar bills, which she counted and then slipped into her briefcase.

Logistical necessities concluded, she returned to the hotel and had lunch, and then used one of the hotel computers to locate several jet charter companies. The second one she contacted had a Gulfstream G-550 that could be ready for her within twenty-four hours at a cost of a hundred and ten thousand dollars. She booked it, and the company volunteered that it would be delighted to handle the visa she would require for up to a thirty-day stay. Ordinarily it would require a full business day, but the company had strong relationships with the people at the embassy and could arrange everything, if she would be kind enough to stop in as soon as she could. She got the bank information and committed to doing a transfer within the hour, and then made her way back to her bank and signed the order.

Jet now had over nine and a half million in her account, as well as a card that would allow her to access another two million. Three million in loose stones. And of course, fifty million for Arthur. Good old Arthur. There was something primal inside of her that couldn’t wait for their reunion.

The following day, after a two-hour workout at the hotel gym and a one-hour run, she packed and prepared to meet her plane after lunch. Takeoff was smooth, and she settled into the jet’s plush swivel chair as the plane whispered into the sky, ready for seven hours of travel before she landed in Washington in the late afternoon, local time.