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a meeting room and shook hands with John Sprague. The two men had become friends over the years and the handshake was followed by a brief hug.
       As John lifted his briefcase onto the table and Carter sat down, John gave him a knowing look and smiled. He reached into his briefcase and removed a jeweller’s eye-glass, a 10x loupe, and a pair of long tweezers, both of which he put on the table in front of Carter. Then he pulled out a piece of soft black velvet cloth and spread it out on the table. Finally, he reached into his briefcase again and extracted a pouch made of similar black velvet material. He loosened the cord of the pouch and emptied the contents, about twenty sparkling gem quality diamonds, onto the black cloth.
       Carter picked up one of the diamonds with the tweezers and examined it with the loupe. As he turned the diamond over, examining it carefully, John spoke.
       “They’re all synthetic,” he said,  “but incredibly good quality, the best I’ve ever seen.”
       “It was bound to happen sooner or later,” replied Carter, not taking his eye from the loupe.
       John’s response came in a resigned tone. “I know. We’ve always known it was just a matter of time. The fact that someone is making gem quality synthetics of this size and clarity isn’t the problem. It’s what they’re doing with them that concerns us.”
       Carter replaced the diamond on the cloth. Then he put down the tweezers and the loupe and leaned back in his chair.
       “OK, John, I’ll take the assignment,” he said, looking John in the eye as he spoke. “We can’t have all the world’s lovebirds thinking they’re buying something that’s been in the ground since… since forever, when what they’re actually getting is something that was made in a factory last week!” Carter managed a faint smile before his expression turned more serious. “This case is of particular interest to me,” he said, “because the mine in Guinea where the diamonds appear to have come from, is owned by Philippe Lacoste.” Carter paused, waiting for a response from John.
       “Yeah, and…” prompted John obligingly, a blank look on his face as he waited for Carter to continue.
       “Well, the thing is, I know Philippe Lacoste. At least, I have met him. A long time ago, when I was at university in England, I had a girlfriend, a fellow student. She was his daughter and, hard though it might be to believe, he didn’t like me.” Carter smiled as John looked at him wondering where this information was leading. “But that’s a story for another day. Where I’m getting to is that Monsieur Lacoste lives in the South of France, so that’s probably where I should start my investigation, assuming you still want me on the case?”
       “Definitely,” said John, nodding emphatically.
       “Well, I’m due to fly to Europe next week anyway…” said Carter, smiling as he anticipated what he would say next, “…for the UK launch of my last literary masterpiece.”
       John returned the smile. “Of course,” he said and patted Carter on the shoulder, “I’d forgotten about that.”
       “So, if it’s OK with you, I’ll get onto this straight after that.”
       John nodded his agreement to Carter’s proposal. “That’s settled then,” he said. “And you can have Conrad to help you as usual. I’ll have him join you in England.”
       With that, John rose from the table and held out his hand. “Carter,” he said, “Until we meet again.”
       The two men shook hands before Carter turned and headed for the door as John gathered up the synthetic diamonds and returned them to his briefcase.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 2
     
     
     
    Rob’s funeral was a quiet affair. Behind the hearse carrying the coffin, the black Rolls Royce in which Nicole and Eloise were travelling drove the few miles from the church to the cemetery.
       Eloise sat stony faced, staring straight ahead and