Chapter 14 sack of coconut
A dark-skinned man with disheveled hair eases his way through customs at Heathrow Airport, carrying a small suitcase and a burlap bag clearly marked "COCONUT".Both carry-on items were checked in Madagascar, so they were exempted from re-checking by airport guards.The inspector glanced at the suitcase, touched a few coconuts through the burlap bag, and waved him to leave.After all, this man came from a land full of coconut trees.Knowing that no one would come to pick him up, the man with disheveled hair hurried through the crowd of waiting relatives and friends, toward the line of waiting taxis at the dock outside the door.The driver opened the door and came out to help him with the suitcase. When the man opened the rear door to get in the car, his body seemed to twitch and he fell forward.A large amount of blood suddenly oozes from the middle of his back.
The sack of coconuts fell on the sidewalk next to the taxi.This sack of coconuts will call Jeffrey Land back to his old job.
Rand had been to the American embassy in Grosvenor Square before, but this was his first meeting with Ralph Coyle.Coyle works for the U.S. Fish and Game Service, which is part of law enforcement.After exchanging pleasantries, Rand said, "You know, I've retired."
Coyle, a bald, overweight man with thick eyes, must be retiring himself. "Mr. Rand, you were recommended by a high-ranking government official. You are the most suitable person to investigate. You are paid on a daily basis, and all expenses are reimbursed. I know that you did a good job in intelligence work during the Cold War. Recently In the past few years, he has made great contributions to some African affairs."
Rand laughed and said, "I don't know much about Africa."
Ralph Coyle flipped through a report in front of him on his desk. "It is said that in 1971 you met your future wife while on mission in Egypt. And you were there again in 1972, 1974, 1994, and 1996. In 1993 you were on a ship in the Red Sea, and in 1994 you were there again. Contributed prominently to the small island incident off the east coast of Africa."
Rand smiled slightly.It doesn't make sense for him to investigate his own anger. "I'm sure you missed some of my trips to Egypt. My wife was born in Cairo and we go back often."
Coyle folded his hands on that report, which meant that the information was useless. "I'm particularly interested in the islands of East Africa because of their connection to Madagascar. I was there recently on my way back from South Africa. The flora and fauna on that island are fantastic. It's a thousand miles long and has been around since France declared it in 1960 Self-sufficient since independence. There are more Malay-Indonesians on the island than Africans and Arabs.”
Rand shrugged. "What does that have to do with me?"
Coyle showed him the passport photo of a dark-skinned man with disheveled hair.He closed his eyes and said: "This is Telga Torreira. He was killed at Heathrow two days ago."
"Killed? How did you die?"
"Shooting. London Police Headquarters thinks it was a suppressed weapon concealed in a long strip. At least no one heard or saw it when it happened. He was holding this when he first got into the taxi." He reached for the table. He took out a burlap bag with "COCONUT" written on it.
Rand felt from the outside, then opened the bag and reached in.He cried out in pain, surprised that something alive had pinched his finger. "What the hell..."
"Sorry," said the American, "I should have warned you first." He turned the bag over and dumped a dozen medium-sized turtles on the table. "We washed them and fed them. I put them back in the bag just to show you how they slipped in through customs."
"Sea turtles?" Rand looked at them in surprise, pinching his bitten finger.
"These are radiated ridged turtles, to be precise. Very rare. Adult females sell for $10,000 apiece on the black market. Someone smuggled these turtles from Madagascar via London to Florida. The man who was killed was in Heath Luo airport to change planes, so they are on my desk now, and they can’t go anywhere. Once the animals smuggled into the United States are seized, they will be sent to me,” he smiled softly. It's fun to have it delivered to me in a bag of coconuts."
"You want me to investigate this animal smuggling case?" Rand asked suspiciously.
"Smuggling, and murder. Even if it's not Madagascar, you know the east coast of Africa. Besides, you've spent your life in intelligence."
"There must be Americans..."
"Americans going to that area would raise too much suspicion. That's why we turned to the British government. Mr. Rand, this is a ten-billion-dollar case."
"what do you want me to do?"
Pointing to the turtles, he said, "Find out where they came from, whoever was behind the smuggling and who murdered Torreira. That way we can at least cut off Madagascar."
Rand thus arrived in Antananarivo, also called Tana.The central capital is home to more than 1.5 million people who suffer from tropical heat every day.The city sprawls among a dozen red-earth hills, and the sloping roofs of local dwellings and French colonial buildings allude to the abundance of monsoon rains.It's late spring and it's not too hot yet.
Why he took the case of the US Fish and Game Bureau, Rand had a hard time explaining to Leila, his wife who had been married for more than 20 years.She is still teaching at the University of Reading, with a few weeks until the end of term.At least the trip to Madagascar would take away his mounting boredom.
Someone once said that Tana City has a kind of dusty beauty.This was indeed the case, but Rand soon discovered that the dust in the air was actually smoke, wafted from the burning woods and grasslands in the distance.The road is full of wagons pulled by zebu, a type of cattle commonly used by Indians to carry heavy loads, similar in appearance to cattle.He passed a man with a live chicken slung over his shoulder, no doubt for today's dinner.That's when he realized it was impossible to call home from here.
During the long journey by plane, Rand read the government report Coyle gave him, which introduced the unique wildlife on the island.Only Madagascar's lemurs live in the wild.There are three-foot-long chameleons and many other unique reptiles, including the rare radiated tortoise.The free-market democratic policies that replaced the communist dictatorship here in 1993 are still flawed.Smugglers have found that smuggling exotic animals is one of the few reliable businesses, and a relatively safe one.Customs officials usually closely monitor the smuggling of cocaine while ignoring the smuggling of cockatoo eggs in the Americas and Madagascar radiated tortoises.Even if the smugglers are arrested or sentenced, the most important thing is not to go to jail.
Rand has an address for Torreira's home near downtown.He took a taxi there and found a square two-story building with a doorway leading to an inner courtyard.It was one of the nicer houses in the town, and he was surprised that the gate was unlocked.He asked the taxi to wait outside and went in.The first thing he saw in the yard was a huge tree with a bright green lizard sprinting towards him along its branches.He backed away alertly, when he heard a few chuckles coming from somewhere behind him.
"Relax. Max won't hurt you," a woman reassured him.
For a while, he couldn't find the source of the sound.Suddenly, a little red from the upstairs balcony caught his attention, and he found a young blonde coming down the iron stairs on the second floor.She was wearing a long home dress, and as she approached he saw that she was barefoot. "My name is Adelaide Torreira, and you are..."
"Rand, I'm British."
"I can see that," she said with a smile.She had a British Colonial accent, and it took him a moment to figure out exactly where she belonged.
"And you're Australian."
"Yes, Mr. Rand."
"Adelaide is the name of the city."
"Exactly," she approached him, who was about his height even without shoes, "what's the matter? Did you bring back my husband's ashes?"
"I'm sorry, no. I think his death must have hit you hard."
"Nothing. I'm surprised he died at the London airport and not at the brothel in Thane."
Rand looked uncomfortably at the lizard that was hanging from the branch above his head. "Can we go inside and talk?"
"It's too hot in the house. Come to the shade, where there are tables and chairs."
He followed her across the yard to a small green iron table with four matching chairs.The lizard did not follow.Adelaide picked up a small bell on the table and shook it.A local servant came over and asked what she and Rand would like to drink.
"Best served cold," he said.
"The water here is not drinkable, but I have Tuskers from the street."
He used to drink this African beer. "That will do."
"Two Tuskers," she said to the servant, who left quietly.
"You live here alone?" Rand asked.
"I lived alone while my husband was away. I don't think he'll ever come back now," she added, thinking, "but I have many friends. Sometimes they spend the night here. Janey, my servant, is at There is a room on the ground floor."
"I want to talk to you about Torreira's business." At this moment the servant returned with two glasses and two bottles of Tusker beer.
"Animal trading."
"yes."
She sighed and poured herself a beer, "I came here from Australia three years ago to be a teacher. Torreira was actually the first person I met on this island. I know he does export business, But I didn't know it was animal trafficking until we got married. But it didn't look like anything." Her light blue eyes met Rand's for the first time.
"Smuggling and selling rare animals is big business these days. The turtles your husband took away can be sold for $10,000 each as adults."
"So worth it?"
"Lady Toriella, I need to know where he got them."
She tilted her head slightly, as if thinking about how to answer the question.Finally she said: "Some people say that the jungles of Madagascar are full of exotic and rare animals. But because of the population growth, more and more jungles are burned, just like the Amazon rainforest. Telga told me that if they are not caught and exported , and they die."
"I guess there's some truth to that," Rand agreed, "but the fact is that animal trafficking is illegal and many people profit from it. Did your husband capture the animals himself?"
"No, no!" she found the idea amused. "He bought it from a broker, a guy named Fryer in the ice cream shop. It used to sell ice cream there, but now it sells whiskey and women."
"Do you know this Fryer? Can you show me him?"
She hesitated for a moment and said, "I can, but what good will it do me?"
"You can help me find the murderer of your husband."
A smile slowly formed on her lips, "Yes, I'll take you to meet him. Let's go for a walk after drinking. The ice cream shop is half a mile down the road."
Rand sent the taxi away to go for a walk with her.She was still shoeless, and it was only then that he realized that the red housecoat was a very common local dress. "Aren't your feet dirty?" He asked as he watched the sand gradually cover her red toenails.
"I don't like wearing shoes. My feet sweat in this climate."
This ice cream parlor is no longer open for kids.Although it was still afternoon, a few men were in the store, and a few others were sitting at the table playing gambling games with matchsticks.They appeared to be Malaysian, but Rand wasn't sure either.A few prostitutes sat aside, no one noticed.
Adelaide spoke softly to a man in the store, who looked Rand up and down.He was better dressed than the others, with epaulettes on his shirt, probably a captain.But his thin body and sallow complexion hinted at some illness he had suffered recently.He strolled over and sat down with them at a table. "This is Captain Fryer," she introduced, "This is Mr. Rand."
Fryer smiled and shook Rand's hand, showing a gold tooth. "Are you interested in animals?"
"Now, it's the radiation turtle."
"That's rare, and each one is different."
"Mrs. Torrilla's husband was killed trying to smuggle them into Heathrow."
"I'm sorry. It doesn't happen often, it's not a violent business."
"What do you sell?" Rand asked.
"Reptiles. Snakes and turtles. They survive long journeys without food and water, so they are the best. Birds and monkeys are more difficult. Only one in ten birds survive."
"Won't the customs check?"
Fryer raised his hand to greet him, "Another glass of rum. What are you drinking?" Rand and Adelaide both ordered Tusker beer. "We use speedboats to get the animals out when the wind blows. There is no coast guard in Madagascar."
"But Telga departs from here and is going to connect in London to Orlando, Florida."
Captain Furrell shrugged and said, "That means he bribed the people at the airport. It's not uncommon. The safest thing to do these days is to ship the animals east to Reunion, or South Africa. They're there. Providing false certificates proving that the animals were bred in captivity so that the transport of these animals is legal."
"Do you have a ship to transport these animals?" Rand asked.
Fryer squinted at him and said with a smile, "I can help you find one."
Adelaide began to tense. "He's an investigator, Fryer, not a buyer."
"I'm learning the business," Rand said, "which is easier to smuggle, a snake or a turtle, for example."
"Snake," Fleur replied immediately, "it can fit into any shape of hole and stay in it. If you're looking for a boa constrictor, I can introduce you to some brothers."
"I wonder where the turtles come from."
"There's a place, Tulear on the southwest coast. Find a woman named Kim. She's a turtle trader."
As Rand and Adelaide left the ice cream parlor, he asked her if she was still living here after her husband died.She replied: "Of course, where else can I go?"
"What's in here for you?"
"I like animals," she said with a shrug.
The propellers of the planes from the capital to Tulear are so small that it looks like the planes are flying over the treetops.During the two-hour journey, he saw most of the country.The plane flew over burning grass and at one point directly through clouds of evaporating jungle waters.Tulear airport is smaller than that of Thane.As soon as he stepped out of the cabin, he felt a cool breeze, which relieved the heat he had suffered in the capital.
It's a poor town with a sense of hopelessness.Fishermen on the seaside tried their best to salvage, and the tropical wind stirred up sand and dust in the air.Even so, there is still a hotel by the sea for tourists to rest, and Rand asked for a room there.The first time he asked a man for gold selling turtles, the man spat on the ground and walked away.He asked another teenage boy and gave him the money before asking, and this time he had better luck. "Kim, Kim," answered the boy, laughing, snatching the folded bill. "She lives with the Turtle. At the end of the street, in a cottage with a tin roof."
Rand walked quickly to the other side of the street, carefully avoiding the young men who stood on the side of the road and stared at him from time to time.He didn't want to be here after dark.There was only one hut with a tin roof, and he knocked on the rickety door.After a while, a local woman came out and said, "I want to buy sea turtles."
"Come in," she replied in French.Rand's French is not bad.He was surprised to hear French here, until he remembered that the island had once belonged to France.
"Are you Jin?"
"Yes, I'll take you to see the turtles."
She was thin but pretty, with black hair and eyes.Her age is hard to guess, maybe thirty or fifty.He followed her into the tin-roofed hut, and she showed him a pen two or three feet deep filled with radiated turtles.There were at least two dozen of these turtles, and if this woman was on the other side of the world in Florida, it would be a fortune.Rand reached for their shells, marveling at their white and brown jumbled black lines, but couldn't find any alike.
"How much?" he asked.
She said a price, which was about one pound in British pounds in local Malagasy dollars.There is a huge difference from the price at the final destination-10,000 US dollars. "It's the price of food for locals. It's triple the price for someone like you."
Even three quid is a bargain. "Do you know a man named Telga Torreira who is your buyer?"
"He always comes by boat and buys a lot of turtles at a time. But I haven't seen him for weeks."
"He's dead," Rand told him, "killed in London."
"A dangerous city."
Rand looked outside the door, where some youths were wandering. "This place is not very safe."
"They're protecting me," she replied simply.
"Where do these turtles come from? I'm looking for their source."
"Up the coast. The locals catch them and bring them to me in canoes."
"When will it be delivered next time?"
Kim shrugged and said, "Maybe today. But they won't believe you. Your clothes are so new, they'll think you're the police."
"I need to change into jungle clothes," Rand explained. "I'm at the hotel for everything else."
"Why stay in a hotel? You can sleep on the beach and watch the stars."
"My old bones need a bed," he told her. "I'll come after dark."
"Probably after ten o'clock," she said, taking some francs from him.
The town is very different after nightfall, and the sound of the Indian sitar can be heard in the distance.Groups of people surrounded by bonfires by the sea, Rand couldn't understand, he could only guess that they were performing some kind of ritual.On the sea in the distance, the soaring cannon streaked across the sky and fell into the sea.He proceeded carefully, guarding against any danger.Once he brushed shoulders with a man in a white suit holding a rolled up umbrella, looking completely out of place.But he later realized he wasn't well dressed either.
The woman named Jin was already waiting for him. "They're coming tonight, soon," she told him.Holding a large woven basket in his hand, as if he was going shopping.
"how do you know."
"Didn't you see that cannon a few minutes ago? That's the signal from Crete. His canoe will be here soon."
Together they walked to the water's edge and watched the waves break on the sand.He loves watching this, it reminds him of his childhood.When he was a child, he went to the Brighton seaside, where there were only pebbles waiting to be washed by the waves for 10,000 years and then turned into sand.
Before Rand could react, the canoe was already approaching them.A shirtless young Malaysian jumped out and dragged the boat ashore. "Only nine tonight, Kim," he said in French, "and they're busy mating."
She opened the sacks and shone a small beam of light on them.Rand saw the radiation on the turtle's body, which was as different as fingerprints. "I want it." She replied quickly.
Crete walked to Rand: "You already have a buyer?"
"Maybe." She lifted a whole marsupial turtle on the sand and gave him a few Malagasy francs from her pocket.
"More next time," he said, pushing the canoe into the sea.The whole process only took a few minutes.
Kim shook his head in disgust. "He always gives me seventy or eighty. He must have sold it to someone else on the beach over there."
Rand thought of the man in white. "Is it the rainy season?"
"It won't rain until next month," she told him.
"Have you seen a stranger lately? A man in a white suit holding an umbrella?"
"There are always a lot of tourists here."
He took a bag full of rad turtles from her, being careful not to poke his fingers into it. "I might buy these turtles in a moment, but I'm going to go to the beach side first. If Crete is going to dock first, where will it be?"
"Probably Anker Bay, two miles north."
"Can I walk along the beach?"
"At night?"
"Now."
She shrugged. "It's safer than in the jungle. There's a small village there, and the people are friendly." He suspected she was mocking him.
Helping her take the turtle back to the hut, he went back to the beach and walked to the other side of the coast.The stars here were different from the ones he had seen in London, brighter and more numerous without the blinding city lights.In some places the beach narrows and jungles appear.But the journey was very easy and pleasant, and a full moon illuminated him.Finally, seeing more campfires ahead, he knew he had reached the village of Anker Bay.Then he saw the man in white again.
He turned as Rand approached, raising his folded umbrella, so to speak, slowly.Rand threw himself on the sand beside him, but not fast enough.A silent bullet grazed his head and he lost consciousness.
It was already morning when he woke up, and by the morning light he could see that the early fishermen were already picking up the little octopuses hanging on the reef.Curled up on the sand next to him, a lizard that he had seen before was staring at his face.
"Come back to life? Mr. Rand." A voice asked.He turned slightly to see Adelaide Torreira standing barefoot in a short beach jacket.She lowered her arms and Max climbed onto her shoulders, swishing his long tail from side to side.
"What's wrong with me?" He could already speak.He hurt a little on the side of his head, but other than that he was fine.
"Someone shot you. Luckily the bullet only grazed your head. I cleaned the wound with palm oil."
"It's the man in the white suit. Where is he?"
"I don't know, he thought you were dead."
"He was the murderer of your husband."
She closed her eyes, and after a while she opened them and asked, "How do you know?"
"London Police Headquarters suspect that Torreira was killed by a sound suppressing weapon concealed in a long object, because there were no witnesses and no one heard it. It is not the rainy season and this man is holding a stacked umbrella. Of course it was very inappropriate and I threw myself on the sand when I saw him pointing it at me. You know him, don't you?"
"Yes, I know him."
Rand tried to sit up, which made the wound on his head hurt.For a brief moment he saw a double image, as if the lizard's head was on Adelaide's body. "Anyway, what are you doing here? What's that lizard doing on your shoulder?"
"Marx is a day gecko in Madagascar, very rare. Most of the other geckos are nocturnal. As for why I'm here, I'm doing my husband's work."
"You bought the turtle from Crete last night."
"Is there something wrong?"
"A woman named Kim was waiting to buy those turtles in Anker Bay."
Adelaide said grimly, "Who is she? She once cheated a whole ship of turtles from Telga."
"Where is the man in white now?"
"Stop calling him that! His name is Sidney Mullian. He's South African."
"Why did he kill your husband?"
"He had no reason to kill him." She said, turning to touch Max's head.
"But he's here to help you smuggle turtles."
"Just this time, there is still a deal on Telga's contract."
"What kind of character is Mulian?"
"Ask him yourself, and he'll come back to me soon."
"Come back here? Why?" Rand immediately became alert.
"He has something to attend to. Then we'll leave together, with sixty-five radiated turtles in my pocket."
"You're going to take them through customs? So many bags of coconuts?" He stood up unsteadily, looking around.If Sidney Mullian is ever coming back, he wants to be ready this time.
"I'll take them there," she replied.
Rand heard the sound of a speedboat approaching in the distance.Adelaide doesn't smile anymore. "You gotta hide. I don't want anyone getting shot again."
"Is it him?"
"Maybe." She put the gecko on the ground and helped Rand move it into the jungle.
"If you take these turtles away, what will he do when he comes back?"
"I don't know," she said, looking distraught, "he's going to do something to the turtle."
"Tricking?"
The speedboat was already in sight and heading straight for the beach.Rand backed away quickly, hiding behind a tree.He could see Mulian sitting on the edge of the boat, turning off the engine, and slowly stopping the boat with a small wave.Adelaide Torreira ran to him.This South African was walking out of the shallow water, clutching his umbrella, looking a little goofy.
She was talking to him, perhaps trying to divert his questioning of Rand with a topic.But as they got closer, he heard Mulian ask, "Where's the body?"
"I dragged him into the jungle," she replied.
He looked at the sand, then grabbed her arm and asked, "Honestly! There's no sign of dragging on the sand."
"I……"
"He's still alive, isn't he?"
Her suppressed emotions seemed about to explode, "Damn it, Sidney, why did you kill Telga?"
"It's none of your business." He dropped his umbrella and shook his fist at her.
Reason told Rand that he should hide deep in the jungle, but now he had to consider the safety of the woman.He jumped out of hiding and yelled, "Here I am!"
Rand pounced on Mulian before he could get the umbrella, knocking him over and wrestling in the sand.He counterattacked once, and Rand knew that he was no match for the young man.The South African was pressing Rand, with his hands on Rand's throat, when there was a slight sound behind him.Rand recognized the sound of a suppressed gun, and the man let go.
"I have to shoot," Adelaide said, clutching the smoking gun.
Mulian had fallen down, struggling to breathe.Rand approached him and said, "You're dying, tell me who's behind this."
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.He patted the breast pocket of his white coat and murmured something.Rand listened carefully. "Diamonds and coconuts." Mu Lian swallowed her breath after speaking.
"Did I kill him?" Adelaide asked.
"Yes, but you also saved my life." He reached into the dead man's breast pocket and pulled out a folded envelope, tied with a ribbon. "Do you know what this is?" he asked her.
"What is it?"
Rand tore open a corner of the envelope and poured the contents into the palm of his hand. "The number of diamonds is not small, at least fifty."
She nodded, "It's from South Africa, I should have thought of it earlier."
"He said diamonds and coconuts before he died. But how did he smuggle these diamonds?"
"With the turtles," she said, "Telga told me that he was force-feeding the turtles with something like a tube. We never knew exactly what he was doing."
"Smuggling diamonds in turtles. It's the first time I've heard of it," Rand said, "but I still don't know why he killed your husband."
"What should I do?" Adelaide asked, as if addressing herself rather than Rand.
"I suggest you leave the carcass here, release these turtles and go home. I'll settle this in England." He picked up the umbrella she had thrown away.
"That's the end? And then?"
"That's it for you, I have something to deal with."
He suddenly understood the meaning of Mulian's words before she died.
Ralph Coyle saw Rand, like a nineteenth-century explorer who had found the source of the Nile. "I read your report, Rand, and it was brilliant. Now that Mulian is dead, it looks like the smuggling case can be closed. I know it's just one case, but it's an important one."
"What about the umbrella gun?"
The bald man nodded: "The ballistic experts said that it was the weapon that killed Telga Torila, just as you speculated. Everyone was surprised by the smuggling of diamonds." He smiled, "Your report said that Mulian was in your He was accidentally shot while scrambling for weapons."
"almost."
"Did he say why Torreira was killed at Heathrow?"
"No, but I think I know the answer," Rand said. "Some of the evidence was in front of me in the first place, and I didn't see it."
"What is it?" Coyle asked.
"If Torreira took the turtle to Florida through Heathrow, why did he go through customs? Why did he go out and get a taxi?"
"Maybe he has a few hours to connect."
"Even if there was, why go through customs twice and risk twice here and in Florida? He can stay in the terminal so his suitcase and a sack of coconuts can be loaded straight on to the plane to Florida. Fact He didn't want to go to Florida at all. He was going to find a buyer in London himself. Mullian must have been watching this at Heathrow, and when he saw what he was going to do, he shot Torreira."
Coyle moved uneasily at the table. "What would he get if he killed him? Coconuts—those turtles—he wouldn't get, let alone hidden diamonds."
"I asked myself the same question. He might have acted instinctively, without weighing the consequences. But he didn't look like that at all. That's another possibility. He might have known that killing Torreira would not only No loss, but he held onto his cargo. He knew that this sack of smuggled turtles, if found by the police, would end up on the table of his accomplices, you, Mr. Coyle."
"Ridiculous!" said the bald man angrily. "Rand, what do you want?"
"Find the truth. You hired me, you remember. I guess you needed to do some investigation to close the case, but you never thought I'd find so much. You told me yourself that animals smuggled into the United States are sent to Here you go. If you can't keep them for yourself, you can also transport them through South Africa. I remember you telling me you were in South Africa recently."
He looked at Rand angrily: "Unfortunately Sidney Mulian is dead, no one can prove your inference."
"He told me before he died," Rand said gently.
"What did you say?"
"He said 'diamonds and coconuts'. At first I didn't understand what that meant, but then I remembered you said embassy staff thought it was funny to hand you a bag of coconuts. That's your name, Coyle Sir. The fiber of the coconut husk used for tying or bedding is called Coyle. Coconut by Mulian means your name Sidney Coyle, that's what he said before he died."
The American finally snickered: "Oh, I'd love to see people laugh at that in court."
"Really? I don't think it's going to go to trial. I've sent the report listing your suspicions to your superiors. I think it's time for you to get out of the rare animal and diamond business."
Ralph Coyle stood up. "I don't think we have anything to talk about. Have a nice day, Mr. Rand."
"Have a nice day," Rand said with a smile. "I'll give you the bill."
Notes:
Notes: