Diamonds Can Be Deadly Read Free

advised calmly.
    The warning lingered in Jordan’s mind as she met with Mackenzie Blair and her electronic wizards. As always, Mac had come armed with a full bag of tricks.
    â€œThis is the latest in sniffers. We’ve souped it up a little for you.”
    Her eyes gleaming, the former naval officer palmed what looked like a compact, handheld CD player. It was a CD player, Jordan discovered when Mac grinned and depressed a button.
    â€œYou can listen to Travis Tritt while you search for listening devices, hidden cameras or electronic sensors. In receive mode, this little baby will pick up and interpret any and all electronic vibrations. In send mode, it could fuzz those signals temporarily or put them out of operation on a permanent basis.”
    After a few bars of “Too Far To Turn Around,” Mac set aside the sniffer and briefed Jordan on an array of other equipment that included a thermal suit designed to contain body heat, thus defeating infrared sensors and night-vision goggles. She saved a pair of slender gold hoop earrings for last. One of the earrings was just what it looked like—a decorative piece of jewelry. The other was Jordan’s primary means of communication while in the field.
    â€œJust thumb the slight indentation at the back of the hoop,” Mackenzie instructed. “You’ll be able to receive and send clear voice-stream signals off a secure satellite. We’ll monitor for transmissions around the clock.”
    Nodding, Jordan traded her diamond studs for the lightweight gold hoops. She was testing the astonishing clarity of the transmissions when word came that Lightning wanted to see her and Claire.
    Mackenzie decided to accompany the two operatives downstairs to her husband’s office. A specially shielded elevator zipped the three women to the first floor. The titanium doors wouldn’t open unless the Special Envoy’s executive assistant activated a silent release.
    Trim, silver-haired Elizabeth Wells manned the ornate Louis XV executive assistant’s desk. She’d worked for several of OMEGA’s directors including Adam Ridgeway, his wife, Maggie Sinclair, and now Maggie’s handpicked successor, Nick Jensen. Her cheerful efficiency was matched only by her skill with the .9mm Sig Sauer concealed in a special compartment in her desk drawer.
    Jordan greeted the grandmotherly assistant with a smile. “Hi, Elizabeth. What’s up?”
    â€œI don’t know, dear. Lightning just said he wanted to see you. Let me tell him the three of you are here.”
    Mackenzie winked at the two operatives. “That’s Elizabeth’s polite way of saying not even the Special Envoy’s loving wife gets access to his office without clearance.”
    Her wicked grin said that restriction extended only to his office.
    Once Elizabeth had cleared them, the three women entered the inner sanctum. It was furnished to suit the Special Envoy’s exalted status. An acre or so of polished mahogany served as a conference table. His double pedestal desk was wide and long enough to serve as a landing pad for the spaceshuttle. Tall, wingback leather chairs stood in a window alcove, grouped around an antique map chest containing priceless charts Nick had collected over the years.
    Rounding his desk, Lightning shared a quick smile with his wife. “Do you have Diamond all rigged out?”
    â€œRight up to her ears.”
    â€œI’m good to go,” Jordan confirmed, flicking back her hair to display the gold hoops. “Or I will be, once I work up designs for a whole new line of glasses, fire off a proposal and arrange an appointment to discuss the line with Greene in person.”
    â€œYes, well, we’ve run into a slight complication.” Nick smoothed a hand down his Italian-silk tie. “I had our folks run another screen of all guests and employees at Bartholomew Greene’s Tranquility Institute. Seems he recently hired a new