The Hot Rock

6

The Akinzi Ambassador to the United Nations was a large stout man named Nkolimi. One rainy October afternoon, Ambassador Nkolimi was sitting in his private dining room in the Akinzi embassy, a narrow townhouse on East 63rd Street in Manhattan, when a member of the staff came in and said, "Ambassador, there is a man outside who wants to see you."

The Ambassador was eating a Sara Lee Cinnamon Nut Coffee Cake at the moment. The whole thing, all by himself, which was one of the reasons he was such a very stout man. It was his midafternoon snack for today. He was drinking with it coffee with cream and sugar. He was enjoying himself hugely, in more than one meaning of the term, and he disliked being interrupted. He said, "What does he want to see me about?"

"He says it concerns the Balabomo Emerald."

The Ambassador frowned. "He's a policeman?"

"I don't think so, Ambassador."

"What do you think he is?"

"A gangster, Ambassador."

The Ambassador lifted an eyebrow. "Really," he said. "Bring him here, this gangster."

"Yes, Ambassador."

The staff member went away, and the Ambassador filled the waiting time and his mouth with Sara Lee Cinnamon Nut Coffee Cake. He was just adding coffee when the staff member returned and said, "I have him here, sir."

The Ambassador waved a hand to have the gangster brought in, and Dortmunder was ushered into his presence. The Ambassador motioned for Dortmunder to sit down across the table, and Dortmunder did so. The Ambassador, still chewing and swallowing, made hand motions suggestive of offering some coffee cake to Dortmunder, but Dortmunder said, "No, thank you." The Ambassador drank some more coffee, swallowed hugely, patted his lips with his napkin, and said, "Ahh. Now. I understand you want to talk about the Balabomo Emerald."

"That's right," Dortmunder said.

"What do you want to say about it?"

"In the first place," Dortmunder said, "this is just between you and me. No police."

"Well, they're looking for it, of course."

"Sure." Dortmunder looked at the staff member, standing alertly near the door, and back at the Ambassador. "I don't like saying things in front of two witnesses, that's all," he said.

The Ambassador smiled and shook his head. "You'll have to chance it, I'm afraid," he said. "I prefer not to be alone with strangers."

Dortmunder thought about it for a few seconds, then said, "All right. A little over four months ago, somebody stole the Balabomo Emerald."

"I know that," said the Ambassador.

"It's very valuable," Dortmunder said.

The Ambassador nodded. "I know that too," he said. "Are you building up to an offer to sell it back to me?"

"Not exactly," said Dortmunder. "Most valuable stones," he said, "have imitations made up by their owners, to put on display here and there. Are there any imitations of the Balabomo Emerald?"

"Several," said the Ambassador. "And I dearly wish one of them had been on display at the Coliseum."

Dortmunder glanced mistrustfully at the staff member, then said, "I'm here to offer a trade."

"A trade?"

"The real emerald for one of the imitations."

The Ambassador waited for Dortmunder to go on, then said with a puzzled smile, "I'm afraid I don't understand. The imitation, and what else?"

"Nothing else," Dortmunder said. "A straight trade, one stone for the other."

"I don't follow that," the Ambassador admitted.

"Oh, and one thing more," Dortmunder said. "You don't make any public announcement that you've got it back until I give you the all-clear. Maybe a year or two, maybe less."

The Ambassador pursed his lips. "It seems to me," he said, "you have a fascinating story to tell."

"Not in front of two witnesses," said Dortmunder.

"Very well," said the Ambassador and turned to his staff member. "Wait out in the hall," he said.

"Yes, Ambassador."

When they were alone, the Ambassador said, "Now."

"Here's what happened," Dortmunder said, and told him the whole story, without names, except for Major Iko's. The Ambassador listened, nodding from time to time, smiling from time to time, tut-tutting from time to time, and when Dortmunder was done he said, "Well. I suspected the Major might have something to do with the theft. All right, he tried to cheat you and you got the emerald back. Now what?"

"Someday," Dortmunder said, "the Major's going to come back with two hundred thousand dollars. It might be next month, next year, I don't know when, but I know it'll happen. He really wants that emerald."

"Talabwo does, yes," the Ambassador said.

"So they'll raise the cash," Dortmunder said. "The last thing the Major shouted after me was that I should hold on to the emerald, he'd come pay me, and I know he will."

"But you don't want to give him the emerald any more, is that it? Because he cheated you."

"Right. What I want to give him now is the business. And I will. That's why I want to work this trade. You get the real emerald, and keep it under wraps for a while. I take the imitation and hold on to it till the Major shows up. Then I sell it to him for two hundred thousand bucks, he takes it home to Africa on the plane, you break the story about having the real emerald back."

The Ambassador gave a rueful smile. "They would not treat the Major well in Talabwo," he said, "if he paid two hundred thousand dollars for a piece of green glass."

"That's what I kind of thought."

Still smiling, the Ambassador shook his head and said, "I must make a memo to myself never to try to cheat you."

Dortmunder said, "Is it a deal?"

"Of course it's a deal," said the Ambassador. "Aside from having the emerald back, aside from anything else at all, it's a deal because I've waited years to give the Major one in the eye. I could tell some stories of my own, you know. Are you sure you won't have some coffee cake?"

"Maybe just a little slice," Dortmunder said.

"And some coffee. I insist." The Ambassador glanced over at the rain-smeared window. "Isn't it a beautiful day," he said.

"Beautiful," said Dortmunder.