Read Online Rocks by M. J. Lawless - Free Book Online

disdain, “until that time, we at Boeckman’s must take full responsibility for it. Perhaps we should replace it in its vault.”
    He nodded curtly at Maarten, who stepped forward, one hand behind his back, the other—gloved fingers cupped—extended towards the rap artist. With a sigh, Papa Dee lowered his fist and dropped the diamond gently into Maarten’s palm.
    Turning away from the other two men, his heart hammering against his ribs, Maarten pulled both hands in front of him and placed one of them inside the box and the other in his case. He tried to stop himself shaking as he lifted the box and began to hurry back to the vault.
    “One moment,” Pieter said imperiously, placing one arm across Maarten’s chest. Without another word he lifted the lid of the box and, seeing the stone in its centre, nodded. As he closed the vault shut once more, Maarten scurried back to his case and quickly locked it it shut.
    “Hey, man,” said Papa Dee. “What’s up? You look as though you just seen a ghost.”
    Maarten could feel the sweat pouring from his forehead. “The… the Wallenstein…” he mumbled. “It always has that effect on me.” His mouth twisted into a rictus of a ghastly grin. “And being so close to you…” he added. “I’m a huge fan of your music.”
    “And I’m a huge fan of your work,” Papa Dee replied warmly. “Man, you are a genius!”
    “We all agree,” Pieter interjected, his tone thoroughly condescending. “And he will be handsomely rewarded—once he returns from that well-deserved vacation.”
    Smiling weakly, barely able to see, Maarten nodded, his whole body trembling. As Pieter led the way to the door, with a panic the nervous jeweller spun around and grabbed for his briefcase.
    “Documents!” he gasped. “Very important. Must complete them before—before going away.”
    As they walked the corridor back to the security guard, who giggled and blushed as Papa Dee complimented her, Maarten followed behind him and Pieter with a sickly grin on his face, briefcase clutched to his chest. He looked for all the world like the weirdest fanboy who had just received an autograph. Fortunately for him, as the singer’s flunkies rejoined them both Papa Dee and Pieter seemed to lose all interest in him.
    He slithered out of sight, sweat making him clammy as he scurried out of the building. Sucking in the air as a man who had just been given freedom, he thought the hammering in his chest really was a sign that it was about to give up, and he dropped his car keys —twice—before he managed to fumble them into the lock.
    And then, when he fell into the seat, the suitcase beside him, it hit him.
    He’d done it.
    He’d done the impossible. Oh, he’d fantasised a hundred times about how he was going to charm his way past the guard, how he’d manage to find a way to bypass the lock… but he’d always been aware that was just so much bullshit. A feeling of exultation rose up inside him. When Karla knew, she’d be his forever!
    Almost immediately, that triumph turned to sickness. He’d done it. He’d only gone and stolen the Wallenstein, and now there was no way he could get it back inside. He started to panic, his breathing coming in short, sharp bursts. “Oh hemel! Oh hemel!” he began to repeat to himself again and again, rocking back and forth in his seat. He’d done it—crossed a line that would ruin him forever.
    His panic was redoubled when it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the stone in his briefcase wasn’t the Wallenstein at all. He’d fumbled blindly as the other two men talked, there had been no chance to check.
    Staring in horror at the black, leather case, his fingers inched towards it slowly. Equally slowly, he lifted it up.
    In the corner of the case lay a large, clear stone, casually thrown about in his rush to get to the car. It shone as brilliantly as he remembered, but that wasn’t enough.
    His fingers were trembling as he moved to the dash of his car,