Abala’s eyes went wide with indignant anger. His troopers tightened their cordon. A gun was pressed against Juan’s back.

Unperturbed by the sudden show of aggression, Max let his expression go neutral and then allowed a smile to creep across his face. “Three point five two. This, gentlemen, is a real diamond.”

Colonel Abala slowly lowered himself into his seat and fingers that had been ounces away from squeezing triggers were relaxed. Juan could have killed Hanley for playing his role a little too well.

Max tested eight more random stones and each time the results were the same.

“I have held up my end of the bargain,” Abala said. “A quarter pound of diamonds for the weapons.”

While Hanley tested more stones, Linc led Abala to the open container, signaling to a crewman on the freighter to lower it to the quay. The wooden piers holding up the jetty creaked under the weight. Five rebel soldiers went with them. By the glare of a flashlight, Abala and his men grabbed ten AK-47s from different racks and about a hundred rounds of ammunition, using a machete to cut open the wax-coated paper blocks of bullets.

Making sure he stood close by Abala in case the troops tried something, Linc watched as the men laboriously loaded the shiny brass cartridges into the AK’s distinctive banana magazines. Juan, who was wearing a lightweight flak jacket under his bulky sweatshirt, stuck to Max for the very same reason. Each assault rifle was fired ten times, two three-round bursts and four single shots aimed carefully at a target stapled to the side of the disused warehouse. The gunfire echoed across the broad reach of the river and sent dozens of birds winging into the night. A soldier ran to the warehouse to inspect the damage, shouting an encouragement. Abala grunted at Linc, “Good. Very good.”

Back at the table Hanley carried on his inspection, setting the empty sack on the scale and noting its weight in his notebook. Then, under the watchful eye of one of Abala’s officers, he used a long-handled spoon to coax the rough stones back into the bag. Once he had them all, he weighed the bag again. On the calculator he subtracted the bag’s weight from the total. He looked over his shoulder at Cabrillo and whispered, “We are eight carats short.”

Depending on the stones, those eight carats could translate into tens of thousands of dollars. Juan shrugged. “I’ll just be happy to get out of here alive. Let it go.” Cabrillo called over to Linc, who was going over one of the RPGs with Abala and a rebel who had the professional look of a sergeant, “Captain Lincoln, the port authorities won’t hold our berth in Boma. We should get going.”

Linc turned to him. “Of course, Mr. Cabrillo. Thank you.” He looked back to Abala. “I wish I had more weapons to offer you, Colonel, but coming across this shipment was a surprise to me and my crew.”