Diamond Legacy. Monica McCabe

of native Setswana. Midnight black skin and eyes that penetrated your soul, Nik was the one man in a sea of high level officials that Matt trusted. He was also his only link with the International Diamond Security, the folks who currently issued his paycheck.

      “Have a seat,” Matt said.

      Nik handed him a bottle of barely cool beer, which Matt accepted gratefully. April was upon them and summer had officially ended, but the heat lived on.

      “How are you, my friend?” Matt asked with a quick twist to pop the top and indulged in a long drink.

      “The drive from Gaborone jarred my teeth.” Nik scraped a chair out across from Matt and sat. “Where have you been? You missed our last rendezvous. I began to worry.”

      With a glance around the near empty bar, Matt leaned forward and rested his drinking arm on the wooden table. “I’m on to something, Nik,” he said quietly. “Something big.”

      “Again? That last time nearly got me killed.”

      Matt snorted and relaxed back in his chair. “That little bullet could hardly be called life threatening. It probably stung no worse than a bee.”

      Nik’s grimace displayed a row of even white teeth, stark against the darkness of his skin. “I should have known better than to expect sympathy from you.”

      “Try living for weeks in vermin-infested holes to flush out the dregs of humanity,” Matt fired back. “Then talk to me about sympathy.”

      “No thanks. That’s your job. You bring them in. I put them away.”

      “This one won’t be that easy.”

      His friend eyed him with interest. “What have you found?”

      Matt took another long pull from his beer. He and Nik were exactly alike, in a totally opposite kind of way. Both had secrets, both wanted to keep them, and both hated the diamond cartel. Nik preferred to stay behind the scenes. Matt dug in the trenches. Between them, trust was complete.

      This time, though, Matt kept the incriminating details to himself. He needed to dig deeper, and the less Nik knew, the better he’d sleep at night.

      “What is the biggest threat Botswana faces?” Matt asked.

      “Diamond theft.”

      “Think bigger.”

      “Civil war in our neighboring nations.”

      “Bull’s eye.” Matt pointed to his friend with the beer bottle. “Diamonds are a warlord’s best friend. He steals them, sells them, and buys weapons.”

      Nik leaned forward, concern etched over his face. “You sign your death warrant going after someone like that.”

      “I’m not that suicidal.”

      “Good to know,” Nik said.

      A face floated across Matt’s memory, distant but clear, and his jaw hardened. Warlord or not, justice would be served. “I believe I can shut down a pipeline,” he said flatly.

      Nik’s expression sharpened as he carefully set his beer on the table. “Are you talking about blocking weapon shipments?”

      “I am.”

      Interest glittered in his dark eyes. “You tread dangerous waters, my friend.”

      Matt gave a cavalier shrug. “I’m used to it.” It was his friend he worried about. He needed Nik’s help, but curiosity got people in trouble. Matt had more than one scar to prove it.

      Shifting in his chair, Nik crossed muscular arms in front of his leather vest. “I’d like to know what pushes you, Matthew Bennett. Why do you risk your life the way you do?”

      Definitely not open for discussion. “Too long a story.”

      Nik stared hard with that penetrating gaze of his, but the familiar intimidation technique wasn’t going to work; Matt knew the man too well. He offered no other information.

      “As you wish.” Nik accepted defeat. “What do you want from IDS?”

      “Access to Katanga Wildlife Center outside Gaborone. Get me clearance. Better yet, make me an employee, a janitor. That way I can move around without drawing attention.”

      Nik’s gaze swept the room with nonchalance, yet Matt knew he missed no detail. Not in the dilapidated bar and not in the ramifications of the request.

      “And what do you believe you will find?”

      Blood diamonds. The trail led straight to Katanga’s door.

      “Someone at the Center has interesting friends,” Matt replied. “I’m hoping for an introduction.”

      Nik grunted his skepticism. “Whatever it is you are not telling me makes my brain ache. I don’t like it.”

      “I need your trust on this one, Nik.”

      His friend sat in silence, mulling it over. Matt gave him time and lifted his beer, finishing the bottle in one long draw.

      “You worry me, Bennett. Things have a way of blowing up or becoming bullet-ridden when you’re involved.” Nik’s troubled gaze dared him to deny the facts. “I need assurance you’ll take care. Katanga is the pride of Gaborone’s scientific community. They will not take kindly to its destruction.”

      “What sort of lout do you take me for?” Matt scoffed and set the empty on the table. “I like animals. Some are even my best friends.”

      Nik narrowed his eyes.

      “Scout’s honor!” Matt tried to recall the hand salute from the year his straight-laced uncle made him join the boy scouts.

      “I am crazy to even consider it,” Nik said.

      “Don’t beat yourself up. No one can resist me when I’m at my most charming self.”

      His friend snorted. “Give me a couple days to make arrangements. Call on Friday. I’ll have details for you then.”

      Matt grinned. “I knew I could count on you.”

      Nik grabbed his beer and took a long pull, like a man who needed to drown the insanity of his decision. He stared at the half empty bottle and shook his head. “Just do me one favor.”

      “Name it.”

      “Get out of this alive. No one else gives me half as much grief, but Botswana would be a lot worse off without you.”

      Chapter 3

      Miranda shielded her eyes against the glare of Botswana’s late afternoon sun and descended the plane’s rollaway staircase. The last leg of their journey had been the longest—that final hour of airtime between Johannesburg, South Africa, and Gaborone, Botswana.

      Katanga Wildlife Center wanted them here fast, which translated into a rigorous flight schedule with no real breaks. She and Jason snatched what sleep they could, dined on airport fare, and for the past twelve hours, her insides vibrated like the whir of a jet engine.

      “Thirty-six hours across ten time zones and the international date line.” Jason sounded every bit as worn out as she felt. “All in a day’s work, eh?”

      She managed a half-hearted laugh as they trudged across the tarmac. Sweltering heat radiated off the concrete, threatening to sap what little energy she had left. Off in the distance, the heat wavered, warping the brown savanna landscape and defying the onset of cooler autumn temperatures. Then the doors of Khama International Airport whooshed open, luring them inside with the promise of air conditioning.

      They followed the flow of travelers past a short oval of boarding gates to a large open room split between ticket counters on the right and baggage claim on the left. Noisy and chaotic, the place overflowed with activity and little room to squeeze through.

      Jason