Excerpt of Shell Game by Jeff Buick

In the tunnels below Venice--

Water dripped from between the ancient bricks that formed the wall, pooling on the stone floor. Lichen and slime covered some of the rocks and the footing was treacherous. The solitary lighting was provided by the small electric torches the two men carried and shadows danced on the walls as they moved through the labyrinth of tunnels under the Palazzo Ducale.

"Christ, you weren't kidding about how wet this would be," one of the men said, adjusting his wire-rim glasses and sweeping his blond hair back from his eyes. His English was laced with a thick European accent. "Good idea to wear rubber-soled shoes."

His name was Hans Adler, a diamond merchant from the Antwerp office of DeBeers. While his left hand groped at the damp wall, his right hand tightly clutched a small black case. Inside were two hundred and thirty-six stones worth in excess of twenty-three million American dollars. Untraceable diamonds. Stolen diamonds.

"Venice is fifty feet above us," the second man said. "What did you expect?"

Alexandro Custain was Moroccan, from Rabat. He was the instigator, the brains behind the multi-million dollar theft. At six feet he was considerably taller than Adler, and had thick dark hair to the top of his ears with penetrating gray eyes. There was little body fat on his frame, the results of a good diet and a strict workout regimen. Adler was Custain's inside man, the key to the theft who had betrayed his position of trust with the diamond cartel and absconded with the stones. Reciprocally, Custain had given Adler everything he needed to steal from the company -- including an intricate plan that had gone off without a hitch, the up-front finances and an escape route and a new identity.

"Quiet," Custain whispered. "Listen."

Both men stopped moving. Noises drifted through the darkened tunnels behind them. Scratching sounds accompanied by muffled voices. Someone was following them and closing the gap quickly. The voices became clearer -- they were speaking Italian.

"Police?" Adler asked, panic edging into his words.

Custain nodded. "Probably. Let's go. We still have the advantage. I've mapped out the tunnel system. If we hurry, we may lose them after a few more turns."

Custain took the lead, moving with certainty through the narrow passage. Three times they reached forks and each time the Moroccan moved into one of the new tunnels with no hesitation. Adler followed close behind, his light barely illuminating the walls and floor. Beyond the yellow haze was absolute blackness.

"We're directly below the doge's chambers," Custain said, slowing for a second and turning so Adler could see his face. "They elected him for life, you know."

"Who?" Adler asked, confused.

"The doge. Whoever held the position had incredible power in Renaissance Italy." He stopped completely and held up his hand. "Can you hear anything?"

Silence descended on the short section of lit tunnel, then the sound of voices drifted through the darkness. Terror replaced panic on Adler's face and sweat coursed down his forehead into his eyes. He wiped it away. He sucked the cold, humid air into his lungs, struggling to catch his breath.

"This isn't working," Custain said. "We need to split up."

The terror intensified in the Belgian's eyes. "No way," he said between gasps. "I don't want to be down here alone."

Custain spun and grabbed the man by his shoulders. Their faces were inches apart. "We're not going to lose them this way," he said, his voice a hiss in the close quarters. "There's another fork coming up in about a hundred yards. I'll take the left passage, which continues underground for almost a mile before surfacing. I'll leave some marks on the stones so whoever's following us takes that tunnel. The one you'll take runs into an old stone staircase in about three hundred and fifty yards. It leads to the surface."

"Who takes the diamonds?" Adler asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"You do. Whoever's behind us is going to follow me. If I'm caught and I have the diamonds, we lose them."

"I'm not sure," Adler said hesitantly. "It's very dark -- very dangerous down here."

"Come. Let's get to the fork in the path. I'll show you the maps I made of the tunnels. You can make your decision then."

"Yes, of course."

They moved at a quick pace for a couple of minutes, then Custain slowed. "There's a natural well ahead in the center of the path. You must be very careful when you cross it."

The Belgian didn't answer, but Custain could hear his labored breathing. They reached the hole in the floor, which stretched from one side of the tunnel to the other with a tiny lip on one edge. Custain handed Adler his light, then straddled the well by leaning his body at forty-five degrees with his hands against the rock wall on one side of the tunnel and inching his feet along the razor-thin edge on the other side. It took him the better part of thirty seconds to sidle across. He dropped to his knees and took a couple of deep breaths.

"This is the worst of it, Hans," he said. "You have to do exactly as I did in order to cross."

"You said this was not difficult," Adler whispered, the voices again closing the distance on them from behind.

"It's not," Custain said, holding out his arms. "You just have to concentrate. Now throw me the lights -- mine first, then yours. Then the diamonds. Be very careful. We cannot afford to break one of the lights."

Adler inched toward the edge of the black hole and held the light down to its gaping mouth. Nothing. He could see no water, no rocks, just darkness. It could easily be bottomless. It may as well be bottomless. If he slipped over the edge, he was finished. He steadied his hand, then tossed the first light across to his partner. Custain caught it and set it on the ground beside him. Adler repeated the action and Custain caught the second light.

"I'm going to back up a bit," Custain said, leaving the lamps on the ground next to the hole. "That way if you're a little short with your toss, we won't lose the diamonds."

Adler nodded, his lips parched and his throat dry. He gripped the black satchel tightly, then arced it across the chasm. Custain caught it and set it next to the wall. He shuffled ahead on his knees and picked up the lights.

"Okay, come on across," he said. "Like I did. Hands on one wall, your feet on the other edge."

Adler leaned across and placed his hands on the far wall. Then he positioned his left foot on the sliver of rock and slid it forward. A pebble slipped over the edge and fell into the hole. "Oh, my God," he said. "I can't do this."

"Yes, Hans," Custain said. "You can. You must." His eyes implored the man to keep moving forward. "You rerouted a fortune in diamonds from Antwerp to a fictional buyer in Venice. Then you stole the diamonds from under the noses of the cartel's best security personnel. You're almost there, Hans. Rich and free. All you need to do is get across this hole."

The Belgian slid his foot forward another few inches, then repositioned his hands on the wall. He was hovering over empty space. Inch by inch, he shuffled his feet along the outcrop of rock. His hand slipped slightly on a patch of slime and he grabbed at the rock with his other hand. The stone he gripped was dry and he caught his balance. He took two deep breaths, then continued. A few seconds later he was safely across.

Custain slapped him on the shoulder. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Adler managed a titter of a laugh. "No. Not so bad. Everything is fine."

Custain handed the Belgian his light and the diamonds. "Let's keep moving. The fork in the tunnel is not far ahead."

It took less than a minute to reach the point where the tunnel split into two. Custain set his light on the stone floor and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. His unfolded it and smoothed it against the wall. A series of meandering lines were drawn in ink on the brown paper. Custain pointed at a spot on the map.

"Here is the well we just crossed," he said. He shifted his finger ahead slightly. "And this is the fork we're at. This line is the passage to the right. Here is the base of the stairs. They're quite a steep climb, but nothing even close to as dangerous as what you just crossed. Try to count your steps as you go. By three-fifty to four hundred you should be at the stairs."

"Are there any forks in the tunnel?"

"Tiny passages, but it's obvious which one to follow." Custain glanced down at the small black case dangling from Adler's grasp. "For God's sake, don't lose that."

Adler opened the clasp with shaking hands. The light reflected back off the piles of diamonds neatly tucked into square compartments built into the base of the satchel. He closed the lid and carefully locked it.

"Where shall we meet?"

Custain thought for a moment, then said, "Campo Dei Mori. It's a small square in Cannaregio. Do you know where it is?"

Adler nodded with vigor. "Yes. It's close to the church of the Madonna dell'Orto."

"Tomorrow. At noon."

"Noon," Adler said, sucking in a deep breath of humid air.

"You'll be fine," Custain said. "Finding your way to the surface is easy along this tunnel. Just make sure you don't disappear with the diamonds."

"Of course not," Adler said indignantly. "You can trust me."

"I know," Custain said.

They shook hands and Hans Adler turned and moved into the narrow passageway leading to the right. The light from his electric torch diminished as he rounded a corner, then was gone. Custain ignored the tunnel that split off to the left and retreated back down the passage they had just traveled. After a minute of easy walking he reached the edge of the gaping hole in the path. Custain cocked his head slightly, listening as the sound of voices grew increasingly closer. He turned off his light, plunging the tunnel into total darkness. Water dripped from a crack between two stones and he moved a few feet to a drier spot. His footing was unsure on the rocks and he almost fell. He grabbed wildly at the wall and his fingers caught an outcrop of rock a split second from losing his balance.

The voices were close now and his eyes, adjusting to the absence of light, picked up the first rays of a lamp. His right hand gripped the pistol in his shoulder holster. A man's form rounded the corner and Custain could see the gun in his hand. The figure slowed as he approached the well. Custain flipped on his light with his left hand, his right still resting on the pistol. The man coming toward him jerked sharply at the sudden illumination. His gun arced up, then stopped.

"Jesus Christ," he said. "You scared the shit out of me."

"You can turn that off now, Eric," Custain said, motioning to the iPod connected to a single Bose speaker clipped to the man's belt. He released his grip on the gun.

The man touched the stop button and the voices speaking Italian died instantly. He tucked his gun into his waistband. "Where is Adler?"

Custain laughed. "Exactly where he should be. Heading into the most convoluted and treacherous part of the tunnel system." He glanced at his watch. "There should be about ten minutes of battery left in his light."

"With the diamonds?" Eric asked.

Custain smiled. There was no warmth to the action and his eyes were ice. "Sure. With the diamonds." He reached down within a foot of where he had set the bag containing the diamonds and pulled an identical black bag from a crack in the rocks. He opened it and a thousand tiny beams of multi-colored light reflected back from the diamonds in the case. "Unfortunately for him, I think the ones he has are high-quality fakes."

"He never suspected you switched the bags?" Eric asked.

Custain shrugged, carefully working his way back across the open well. "Maybe. He looked in the bag. I don't know if he was suspicious. I talked about the palace and gave him a quick history lesson on the doge. That seemed to distract him. Then when we came to the last fork, I gave him the easy tunnel and let him keep the diamonds. In the end, I think he trusted me."

"Bit of a mistake, that was."

"Huge," Custain said. He started back down the tunnel to where they had entered from the dungeons under the Palazzo Ducale two hours earlier. "What do you think he'll die of? Starvation? Hypothermia? Falling in one of the pits?"

"He won't last long enough to starve. Maybe hypothermia, if he stays in one place after his light fails. But I'd guess that he ends up falling into one of those nasty holes. That whole section of tunnels is filled with natural wells and once his light fails he won't be able to see two inches in front of his face. He won't last five hours."

Custain nodded. "I think you're right." They walked for a minute, then Custain said, "I'm tired of being Moroccan. The next job I'm either English or American. Alexandro Custain is officially dead."

"You're too good at this stuff," Eric said, falling in behind the mastermind of the con. "If conning people was a legit business, you could be a brand name."

"Brand. I like that. What's a good first name?" He scratched his head thoughtfully. "Edward. Edward Brand. That's the name I'll use for our next job. It actually fits in quite nicely with what we'll be doing."

"Where is the next one?"

Brand smiled. "San Francisco, Eric. San Francisco. And it's a good one."

"Better than twenty-three million in DeBeers diamonds?"

There was a sparkle in Brand's eyes. It was a sparkle that was more dangerous than mischievous. "Much better."

* * *

Find out how much better--

--pick up a copy of Shell Game, by Jeff Buick.

It starts with Edward Brand in San Francisco. And the story goes from there.

But no matter what you think -- no matter how sure you are of what's happening--

--there's always one move you don't see.

Shell Game

Available April 3, 2007

jeff-buick.com