“VerHauten must have a local listing somewhere near the diamond center.”

Decker tried LA information. Nothing for VerHauten. He tried three other directories, the results equally frustrating. Then he tried New York City for a listing in Manhattan.

Zip.

He slammed down the phone. “What’s going on here! A multibillion-dollar company and I can’t find a fucking listing for them.”

“They probably have some weird subsidiary name.”

Decker rubbed his face. “Now what?”

Marge shrugged helplessly. “Anything new on the Yalom boys?”

“They’re still checking out terminals. Thank God for computers. Without them, the task would be unthinkable. You want to call up some airports ourselves?”

“No, I’m still curious about VerHauten,” Marge said. “Why don’t we go back down to the diamond center and grab ourselves a random dealer. Someone over there has got to know something about VerHauten.”

Decker thought a moment, then started the motor, pointing the unmarked for downtown LA.

Unsure how to start, Decker took out his shield and flashed it to the first Chasid he saw. The man was five ten, his face hidden behind a thick pelt of beard and side-curls. He wore the requisite uniform-black suit, white shirt, and black hat. His tzitzit-prayer fringes-were peeking out from under his shirt. He fingered them vigorously as he eyed the gold badge.

Decker said, “Excuse me, I’m looking for the offices of VerHauten Corporation. I was told they are located around here, but I can’t seem to find them in any building directory.”

The religious man was confused. “VerHauten corporate headquarters is in South Africa.”

“How about their local subsidiary offices?” Marge said.

Again, the man squinted. “They don’t have any offices here.”

“Maybe they’re not listed under the name VerHauten. Some sort of satellite office, perhaps.”

The Chasid shrugged. “Nothing I’m aware of.” He turned and spoke to another of his ilk, the two men dressed identically. “Eli, do you know if VerHauten has a local office here?”

“In LA?” Eli shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

A thirtysomething blond man in a black suit and tie interjected himself into the conversation. “You’re looking for VerHauten?”

“Yes,” Marge answered.

“The actual corporation?”

“Try South Africa,” another businessman shouted out.

Decker noticed they were attracting a crowd. The blond man stuck out his hand and said, “Ronnie Guttenberg. Why don’t you come up to my office?”

Decker eyed Marge, then said thanks. Guttenberg led them into the express elevator that took them up thirty-five flights in fifteen seconds. They got out and went with Guttenburg into a small office, not unlike Yalom’s place. The layout was almost identical-an anteroom, a hallway, then the office. Guttenburg’s lair was furnished in warm woods and oiled leather, but it wasn’t overdone. He pointed to two plush chairs and Decker and Marge sat. Guttenburg took a seat behind his desk.

“You’re the police?”

Marge and Decker nodded.

“Can you tell me anything about Arik Yalom’s murder?”

Decker took out a notebook. “Why are you asking me about Yalom’s murder?”

“Because you’re the police and I’m scared. I knew Arik only slightly. But that’s not the point.” Guttenburg tightened his jaw. “Diamonds are risky business. Every time you hear about something like this, it scares the wits out of you. And his wife, too. Did Yalom have children?”

“Yes, he did,” Decker said. “They’re missing.”

“Missing?” Guttenburg frowned. “You mean someone kidnapped them?”

Marge said, “We’re not sure.”

Guttenburg said, “Why are you asking about VerHauten?”

Marge said, “Because we can’t find a listing in the phone book.”

“That’s because they have no U.S. offices. They’re considered a monopoly, and as such, they’re not allowed to do business in the United States. We have antitrust laws here.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

Marge took out her notebook and raised her eyebrows. “You’re telling us they don’t do business with the United States?”

“No, I’m telling you they can’t set up shop here. But they do plenty of business in the United States. We’d all be out on our asses if VerHauten didn’t exist.”

Guttenburg folded his hands and placed them on his desk.

“It’s Sherman Anti-Trust Act technicalities. It’s stupid and inefficient. The upshot is American cutters and sellers are forced to shell out money in travel to get our stones overseas.”

“From Antwerp?” Decker took out his notepad.

“Personally, I go to Tel Aviv to buy my stones. But VerHauten deals with Antwerp. VerHauten is Antwerp.”

Guttenburg smiled.

“I exaggerate, but only a little. VerHauten may be barred from our soil, but they still control us lock, stock, and barrel.”

“Why do you go to Tel Aviv?” Marge asked.

“I’m not big enough to warrant a box from VerHauten directly, so Antwerp isn’t really suited to my needs.”

“A box?” Marge asked.

“The big guys-the real, real big guys-get their stones directly from the South African mines, the diamond pipes. The giants send in their orders, and twice a year they get their boxes of diamonds from VerHauten directly. The company tries hard to satisfy their customers, but even the big players are forced to buy stones they really don’t want.”

“Forced to buy stones?” Marge looked up from her notes. “What do you mean?”

“You either take all-no questions asked-or you get none, meaning you’re relegated back to the secondary market.”

Decker said, “The boxes are nonnegotiable?”

“Precisely. The only questions you can ask concern things like grading-quality, color, things like that. Even so, VerHauten has the final decision. In this business, they are God.”

“What constitutes being a really, really big guy?” Marge asked.

“How about Sir Maxwell Ogdenbaum.”

Maxwell Ogdenbaum. For fifty years his name had been associated with the jewels of kings and sultans. Glitter and glitz. Decker remembered reading about a tiara designed for some sultan’s wife. The price tag was about the cost of Hawaii.

“Yep, Sir Max is definitely a big player,” Guttenburg said. “If you’re approved, by appointment only. Getting a box from VerHauten is like getting a seat on the stock market. You’ve got to earn it and be big enough to afford it. Which leaves ninety-nine point nine percent of small players out of the first string. However, second-string players like me are vast and many.”

Decker said, “So a company like VerHauten wouldn’t even bother working directly with men like you or Arik Yalom.”

“You’re getting the picture.”

“Yet Arik used to travel to Antwerp.”

“That would make sense. There’s a huge secondary market over there. For my needs, Tel Aviv is better.”

“Mr. Guttenburg, what would it indicate to you, if a man like Arik Yalom had an ongoing correspondence with a vice president from VerHauten?”

Guttenburg paused. “What do you mean by ongoing correspondence?”

“Have you ever heard of a woman named Kate Milligan?”

“Everyone knows who Kate Milligan is. She was director of marketing and sales for VerHauten…used to work out of Belgium.” Guttenburg brushed sandy hair out of his milky-blue eyes. “She corresponded with Arik?”

“That would be unusual?” Decker asked.

“Very.”

Again, the room fell silent.

Guttenburg said, “This is all very interesting.”

Decker said, “Tell me about it.”

“Kate Milligan is a dynamo-a highly esteemed international lawyer. That’s how she originally came to VerHauten. But she was so sharp, they moved her into marketing and sales. Anyway, she passed the American bar here and in New York some time ago. Then suddenly, about a year ago, she opened up her own firm-a multinational law corporation. Its LA branch is just down the street.”