He negotiated the unmarked through a series of turns until he found the diamond center—a twenty-story monolith of granite near Sixth and Hill. Luck was with him and he found street parking. He eased the Plymouth curbside and shut off the motor, checking his notes before he went inside. Satisfied, he got out and walked through the center’s doors.

The lobby, like the exterior, was fashioned from the same gray granite and presented as hard as a steel vault. The reception area was fronted by a mountainside of stone which held the building’s directory. On either side were banks of elevators. Decker knew the unit number and pushed the button for the Otis special. The elevator soon opened and out came an array of foreign speech and Chasidic dress. His eyes followed the black robes of the ultra-Orthodox Jews and he almost missed the elevator.

He knew there were lots of Orthodox Jews in the diamond business. He also knew there were lots of secular Israelis like Yalom in the business as well. He wondered how they got along.

Then he wondered if there were other people besides Jews in the business at all.

He got off on the thirteenth floor, walked down a carpeted hall until he got to 1306. The door sign said YALOM AND GOLD, INC. The doorframe held a small, metal-cased mezuzah.

This mezuzah was on the outside doorframe. Yalom knew the difference.

Decker peered down the foyer. Lots of mezuzahs. And lots of closed-circuit cameras. He rang the buzzer to 1306. An accented female voice asked who was there. He answered and was allowed to pass through the portal.

Yalom and Gold, Inc., wasn’t much for decorating. The reception area was basically a carpeted sally port—a passageway from the outside to the inner sanctum. A young, pretty receptionist sat behind a glass cage. She had a coffee-colored complexion set into drawn curtains of shiny, ebony hair. Brown eyes looked him over. Decker smiled and took out his identification.

“One minute,” she said, speaking through a voice amplifier. She picked up the phone. Her lips moved but Decker couldn’t hear what she said. Holding the receiver up to her ear, she said, “May I see your identification again, please?”

Decker took out his shield and accompanying card. The woman looked it over carefully. “Mr. Gold will be right with you.” She turned off her mike and went back to work.

No chitchat with this one. Decker looked around, feeling as if he were about to enter prison. Two more closed-circuit cameras were placed in the upper corners. He thought about waving, then nixed the idea. With no place to sit, he stood in place and rocked on his feet.