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Camille Blackwell, an undercover FBI agent, poses as a jewelry purchaser in an international diamond trading company in hopes of identifying the domestic players in a vicious rebel group suspected of trafficking conflict diamonds.

Excerpt

“Life is precious dear, don’t you think.” He said in a chilled tone that caused her blood to turn ice cold through her veins. She clutched the phone to her ear, contemplating the next step to take. He was across the seas, nearly a day away by flight. What could he possibly do?

Harm her family, her mind answered the frightening question left hanging as she refocused on his successful attempt to scare her into submission.

“Yes, I know life is precious. However, I strongly doubt whether you do” she said. Ashanta Kenani was a proud woman but pride would not solve her dilemma. She sat on the edge of her bed, shoulders back with mock courage. Her mind could not process this scene fast enough to register the threat lying behind his words.

His light-hearted laughter could have fooled someone else but not her, not anymore. She pulled the phone from her ear as if it were poisonous.

“Call it what you may, I promise you this, cross me and someone will die,” he said.

The following silence caused her more concern than his threat.

“But,” he continued, sarcastically, “I doubt you will take my words seriously, with you being in the states and all. So let me send a message that translates well in any language. Would you hold dear, someone wants to speak with you?”

Ashanta sprang to her feet and began to pace the floor. Who could it be? The passing seconds felt like hours. What did she get herself into? How would she get out of it? And how many people where going to pay for her stupidity?

The muffled voices on the other end of the line caused her to lean closer into the phone, as if it would help her recognize his surprise guest. It helped. What she heard caused her eyes to burn as her determination melted into pure fear. Then hatred.

“Don’t…don’t”

Ashanta had a death crip on the phone as she recognized her mother’s cries. Her frail voice cried in the distance surrounded by the commotion of wrestling.  The phone dropped.

“Momma?” Ashanta screamed into the receiver hoping her ears were failing her. What was he doing with her mother?

“Hello?” A strained voice seeped through the line.

“Momma?! What are you doing there?”

“Shani, Shani, I’m scared.”

“Shut up! Either do as I say or your you’ll lose more than your finger. Now, pick-up the phone and tell your daughter hello for us all.”

“Don’t I promise?” Ashanti wanted to show him that she would comply with his wishes. “I promise I will do whatever you want just leave my mother alone. Please…please don’t do this.”

Amidst the commotion, she could hear him laughing. The laughter was not one of mutual amusement but of the devil-playing cat and mouse games. And unfortunately she was the mouse, trapped.

The sound of metal sliced through the air. Ashanta held the phone as tears streamed down her face.

“What was that? Answer me damn it. Momma?” Ashanta screamed for her mother, for him, for anyone.

The line went dead.

Ashanta let the tears fall. Who would pay? She heard the question ringing in her mind as she stared blankly at the receiver. She took several deep breathes attempting to slow her racing heart. The answer was clear, her family would pay the price for her ambition. He would harm her mother, her father, and even her young sisters if it served his purpose. She now knew her naivety and determination made way for her sealing a deal with the devil.

“Talib, you son of a bitch, this is not over…”

Copyright 2010 JaNese Dixon. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.