Outback Diamonds (Lust, Money & Murder #16)

By Mike Wells

In the novel Outback Diamonds, the sixteenth electrifying installment of Mike Wells' "Unputdownable" Lust, Money & Murder series, US Secret Service Agent Elaine Brogan finds herself reluctantly pulled back into the orbit of her nemesis, Giorgio Cattoretti. It starts when a desperate couple, Gareth Martin and Heather Bancroft, show up unannounced at the American Consulate in Marseilles and plead for Elaine's help. They believe that only the notorious Giorgio “The Cat” Cattoretti, who previously owned their diamond-cutting factory, can help them deal with their dishonest Croatian partners.

Elaine is skeptical of their claims about a counterfeit diamond operation involving a high-tech scheme to turn cheap brown diamonds into valuable pink ones. But her expertise in counterfeit paper documents is put to the test as she dives deeper into the investigation, discovering that the fake pink diamonds in question may have been sold even to the U.S. Department of Defense. With her reputation and the stakes higher than ever, Elaine must navigate a web of international deceit, all the while harboring a deep fear that she might get tangled up with the devious Giorgio Cattoretti again.

Joining forces with series favorites Luna Faye, Nick LaGrange, and Dmitry, Elaine travels to the remote mining town of Coober Pedy, Australia, where she must infiltrate the shady Outback Gem Hub and shut down the operation, as well as protect it from Cattoretti. The heat is on as Elaine battles both the harsh Outback environment and treacherous criminals who will stop at nothing to protect their illegal counterfeiting scheme.

"Outback Diamonds" delivers the trademark suspense, intricate plotting, and beloved characters that have made the Lust, Money & Murder series a global sensation. Don’t miss this latest high-stakes adventure where every twist could mean life or death, and trust is the most valuable gem of all.
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Note to Readers: For the first 15 books in the series, the stories were told in trilogies (Book 1-3, Book 4-6, etc.). This book, #16, contains a complete, full-length story – you won't need to read two more books to see how it all turns out. All future Lust, Money & Murder books will follow this new format. Rest assured, the basic characters and storytelling style you know and love will remain unchanged. You can continue to enjoy the same thrilling, "unputdownable" experience without waiting for the next installment to resolve the plot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Wells
• Release date: Jun 28, 2024

Mike Wells

Mike Wells is an American bestselling author of more than thirty "unputdownable" thriller and suspense novels, including Lust, Money & Murder and Passion, Power & Sin. He is also known for his young adult books, such as The Mysterious Disappearance of Kurt Kramer, The Wrong Side of the Tracks, and Wild Child, which are used by English teachers in high schools and colleges worldwide. Formerly a screenwriter, Wells has a fast-paced, cinematic writing style. His work is often compared to that of the late Sidney Sheldon, with strong and inspiring female heroes, tightly-written scenes, engaging action/dialogue, and numerous plot twists. He currently lives in Europe and has taught in the Creative Writing program at the University of Oxford.

Book preview

1

Marseilles, France

The American Consulate

A gent Brogan? the voice on the desk intercom said.

Elaine was absorbed in her work, peering through her loupe at the microprinting on Benjamin Franklin’s jacket collar on the $100 note in front of her. She was thinking: This microprinting flaw is the same one I found in the batch of notes from Warsaw…and she peered up at the huge marker board in front of her. It might have been the work of a deranged conspiracy theorist—there were hundreds of US $100 bills scattered over it, in clusters, with lines connecting some.

She traced her finger along one line to the three bills that had recently surfaced in Poland.

Agent Brogan? the voice on the intercom repeated. Are you there?

Yes, yes I’m here, she said distractedly, finally glancing over at her desk phone.

This is Daniel out at the front gate. There are a couple of visitors who want to see you.

Elaine became aware of her office surroundings and felt panicky—had she forgotten an appointment?

She glanced at her watch and checked her calendar. The entire morning was completely blank.

Agent Brogan? Daniel said again.

Sorry, Elaine said. Who are these visitors?

They won’t say.

What do you mean, they won’t say?

It’s a man and a woman. All they’ll tell me is that they need to talk to you, that it’s urgent and confidential. The man has an Australian passport. The woman has an American one. They look like sales reps to me.

Sales reps, Elaine thought, bristling. Showing up at an American Consulate with no appointment, probably to pitch some new counterfeiting analysis product they were peddling. This happened every now and then.

Please tell them they know better than to just show up like this with no appointment. Ask them to email me through the consulate website.

Yes ma’am.

Two hours later, Elaine emerged from the consulate’s main entrance and onto the street, heading out to lunch. She had long-forgotten about the two visitors. Even though this was Southern France, today it felt like the Brazilian jungle. She silently cursed the oppressive weather. A freak ten-day-long heat wave, in November, of all months, had brought the consulate air conditioning system to its knees. The humid, ninety-five degree air felt like a sauna. Her navy business suit didn’t help matters, even though it was made of a light, summer fabric.

Along the sidewalk, there must have been fifty sweaty, miserable-looking people queued up, waiting to be admitted to the super-secure US Government Consulate. Typically, the crowd was composed mostly of American tourists who’d lost their passports or, more likely, had them stolen on the French Riviera.

Elaine planned to have a pleasant, relaxing, cool meal in a cafe she frequented that was three blocks away.

As she stepped onto the sidewalk of Rue Paradis, she reached up to touch her right earlobe. Damn it, she had forgotten to take off her earrings…

They were the pair of diamond studs given to her by Giorgio Cattoretti. Two perfect pink stones from the mine they had uncovered in Sudan. Nick, of course, resented the gift, so Elaine only wore them at the office and kept them locked in her top desk drawer.

The reason she liked them had nothing to do with Cattoretti. The earrings were small and subtly elegant—they looked fabulous on her and she always received compliments on them. Elaine had never had the earrings assessed so she didn’t know exactly how much they were worth, but she guessed in the five figures. The area around the consulate wasn’t the safest part of town.

She dreaded going through all the consulate security rigmarole again to take the earrings back to the office. It was broad daylight now—surely it was safe to wear them out for a quick lunch.

Elaine continued walking on the baking hot sidewalk. After a couple of minutes she reached the shelter of the cafe, and she rushed in the door in anticipation of the cool air, but it felt even hotter than it did outside.

Air conditioner out, the woman at the bar told Elaine, fanning herself with a menu.

Wonderful, Elaine thought.

She turned around to leave and nearly bumped into a man who had just come in the door. His forearm was in a cast.

Sorry, she muttered, and stepped around him.

Back out on the scorching sidewalk, Elaine glanced in both directions, then decided to grab a meal at a Chinese takeaway and have lunch in her office. At least the temperature was tolerable there.

She hadn’t taken more than a few steps down the sidewalk when she experienced an inexplicable twinge of anxiety.

Something about the man with the cast on his arm…

Elaine slowed, then stopped and glanced into a clothing shop window display. Through the reflection, she peered down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the cafe.

The man was two stores down. He had also stopped to look into a window display…

Alarm bells went off in Elaine’s mind.

She casually turned and continued walking towards the consulate, moving a little faster, her heartbeat quickening.

Elaine casually slipped her fingers inside her suit jacket to make sure her Sig Sauer service pistol was there, in its shoulder holster, and then let her hand drop back to her side.

There was a gap in the traffic on the street. She turned and cut diagonally across to the other side.

After walking at a quickened pace for about thirty seconds and stopped again, feigning interest in another window display, this time that of a women’s shoe store.

She checked the reflection again. It had been a while since she had used the espionage ‘tradecraft’ that she had learned so long ago at the Secret Service Training Academy. The man with the cast had just crossed over to her side of the street.

Was he a decoy? That was a common trick, to use a tail who stood out to distract from another tail who was plain-looking and unnoticeable.

Elaine stole a glance up and down the street, but saw no one else that looked like a possible tail.

She turned and continued towards the consulate, her heart racing now. She was still a block away and walked even faster, sweat running down her back. She stole a glance in another store window as she passed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the man with the cast was still behind her, closing the distance between them.

Elaine subtly reached inside her jacket, gripped her pistol, and clicked off the safety.

Then, she abruptly cut left into a narrow alleyway, taking only three steps before turning around. Staying close to the wall, Elaine raised the pistol and gripped it with both hands.

The man came around the corner, fast.

He stopped short when he saw the gun pointed at him.

Back off! Elaine snapped, her voice a whiplash.

Woah! The man raised both hands in the air, wide-eyed. Take it easy…we-we just wanted to⁠—

Why are you following me? She demanded.

Before the man could answer, a well-dressed red headed woman came around the corner just as fast as he had, and skidded to a stop beside him in her high heels.

She thrust both hands into the air, too. Please don’t shoot! she cried.

The two of them were together.

Why are you following me? Elaine barked.

Um…we came to see y-you at the consulate a couple of hours ago, the man stammered. We just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.

We’re not criminals, the redhead added breathlessly. Wearing a perfectly-fitting summer business suit, the woman was tall and well built, with a large bust. Her mane of curly red hair was pinned up, probably due to the heat. She held an expensive-looking briefcase at her side.

Elaine looked the man over. He was dressed more casually, in a short-sleeved sport shirt and light slacks. His right forearm was in a cast from the wrist to the elbow. He was handsome, with a chiseled, masculine face and piercing blue eyes. His cheeks were sunburned.

The redhead’s face took on a strained, pleading expression. We’re about to lose everything we have, Ms. Brogan. You’re the only one who can help us. She glanced at the pistol. Can you please put your gun away?

Now a couple of elderly women who were slowly passing by the alley entrance had seen them, and the pistol in Elaine’s hand. They hustled away, out of sight, looking terrified.

Elaine lowered the weapon to her side, but still felt a little uneasy. What do you mean, I’m the only one who can help you?

Our problem involves counterfeiting, the redhead explained. Will you please just give us five minutes of your time? That’s all we ask. We could go somewhere and have coffee…

Please? the woman said, sounding desperate.

Elaine reluctantly holstered the pistol. It was clear they were well-educated civilians, but with zero experience at tailing people.

Let’s just go back to the consulate, Elaine said. It’s more comfortable there.

2

Afew minutes later, Elaine had taken the couple through the consulate’s airtight security check. Both of them had been issued visitor’s passes, and Elaine was leading them through the consulate offices.

Their names were Heather Bancroft and Gareth Martin.

Heather, an American, and Gareth, an Australian, were husband and wife. They had both given her their business cards.

When they reached Elaine’s section, she searched for a vacant conference room they could meet in, but the consulate was unusually busy today, and none were available.

Elaine decided she had no choice but to take them to her office. Technically, they both needed Top Secret security clearances just to step through her door, but she was fairly sure there was nothing sensitive in sight.

When they entered, she had to clear a cardboard box full of files from one of her two guest chairs so that they could sit down.

Gareth looked a bit awkward as he settled into the chair and tried to rest his broken arm in a comfortable position.

As Elaine seated herself behind her desk, she noticed the two of them gawking at the huge, banknote-covered marker boards on the walls. Along her worktable were dozens of plastic bottles containing special chemicals she used for banknote paper analysis.

The two visitors exchanged a glance that Elaine could not read.

So what is this about? Elaine said, folding her hands on her desk. While she was annoyed by their intrusion, she had to admit she was curious.

Heather took a deep breath, her breasts heaving, and looked evenly at Elaine, as if she was about to make some dramatic statement.

We want you to put us in touch with Giorgio Cattoretti.

It was as if a live grenade had been dropped in Elaine’s lap. The name Giorgio Cattoretti was the last thing she had expected to hear.

Elaine’s first impulse was to play dumb and say Who? But if the two had been able to find out she was a counterfeiting expert, they probably knew that she had arrested The Cat on more than one occasion.

What is your interest in Giorgio Cattoretti? Elaine said, calmly, trying to remain composed.

We own some mines in Australia, Gareth explained. Opal and diamond mines. We recently bought into a gemstone-cutting factory in Europe so we could save money on import duties to sell them in the European Union.

Elaine quickly put two and two together. She guessed that they were the new owners of the diamond cutting facility that Giorgio Cattoretti had set up and later arranged to be robbed. "Does this company happen to be located in Croatia?

Yes, Gareth said. Fontanella Gemstones.

Elaine recalled the time she had visited Cattoretti there to ask him for some information to help with a case.

The Croatians are bleeding us dry! Heather blurted, her blue eyes flashing anger. Our so-called board of directors consists of a bunch of corrupt government ministers, and they’re siphoning away more and more of the profits through fabricated taxes, expensive permits and random fees. It’s killing us!

This was no surprise. It was almost word for word what Cattoretti had told her had happened to him when he owned the Croatia-based factory. Clearly, these two were getting the same treatment he’d gotten.

I’m sorry to hear that, Elaine said, folding her hands on her desk, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Yes there is, Heather said, annoyed. You can put us in touch with Cattoretti.

Elaine was amazed by the woman’s naïveté. Cattoretti is in hiding—he has an Interpol Red Notice out on him. Nobody knows his whereabouts.

Heather eyed her doubtfully, but Elaine ignored this.

Heather said, The Cat knows these lowlife ministers much better than we do, knows how to handle them. He managed to untangle himself.

Yes he did, Elaine said. He arranged a military-style attack and robbed his own facility to try to get the insurance money.’ Elaine raised an eyebrow. Is that what you had in mind?"

Of course not, Heather said quickly.

Elaine was becoming annoyed. She glanced at Gareth and then back at Heather. Did you two really come here expecting me to put you in touch with a dangerous international criminal wanted for multiple murders in half a dozen countries? You look like intelligent, educated people. Surely you know better.

Gareth sighed and glanced at his wife. I told you, he muttered.

Heather said, But they’re involved in counterfeiting. She motioned to Gareth. Show her the certificates…

Gareth hesitated, then reluctantly reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a stack of papers, and handed them to his wife.

Counterfeit diamond certificates, Heather announced, unfolding them and holding them up for Elaine to see. Our Croatian partners are taking the brown diamonds we supply from our Australian mine, secretly coloring them pink, and selling them as genuine pink diamonds. It all happens off the books. They don’t know that we found out about it.

Heather set the diamond certificates on Elaine’s desk.

I don’t want to see those, Elaine said, and pushed them back into Heather’s hands.

But—

I’m sorry for your troubles, I really am. I have nothing to do with this kind of crime. Elaine started to rise from her desk to end the meeting.

But you’re a counterfeiting expert, Heather said, looking panicky, and these are counterfeit documents.

"I’m a currency counterfeiting expert, Elaine said, motioning to the wall covered with $100 bills. She glanced back at Gareth and Heather. On top of that, this alleged crime you’re talking about isn’t taking place on American soil. You shouldn’t be talking to US law enforcement in the first place. I advise you to contact the police in Croatia."

"But our board members are the police—they control the entire law enforcement system in that country, the courts—everything! Looking desperate, Heather said, You haven’t heard the worst of it, Ms. Brogan. These Croatian crooks are selling the fake pink diamonds to some very important organizations—prestigious jewelry houses, global distributors, and even some governments. If they’re caught, we could go to jail, too, as part-owners of the company."

Gareth nodded.

When they thought Gareth had become curious about what they were up to, look what they did to him! She motioned to the cast on her husband’s arm. Tell her, Gareth.

Heather…

Tell her!

With a sigh, he looked at Elaine. About a week ago, after I was online, checking out one of the guys they hired, a guy who I think is cutting the fake pinks, I was attacked. I was out rabbit hunting in the early morning, and this huge, bearded bloke came at me out of nowhere and smacked the hell out of me with a crowbar. It was dawn, barely light outside. I didn’t get a look at his face. But he said, ‘Back off!’ when he hit me, and he had a Croatian accent.

Did you report it to the police? Elaine asked.

Of course I did, but they just chalked it up to a random mugging. He shrugged. Blamed it on some drifter. There’s a lot of riffraff around where we live–it’s a small mining town. The thug snatched my wallet when I hit the ground and nicked the cash to make it look like a robbery.

Elaine said, The Croatians sent someone all the way to Australia just to break your arm?

No, they have plenty of Croatians working for them in Australia. They set up a small export facility near our diamond mines to ‘help’ us with the shipments. That’s where they color the pinks. Gareth leaned forward, staring at Elaine’s earrings. His gaze shifted back and forth, from the left one to the right one.

Aren’t those pinks you’re wearing? he asked.

Elaine’s whole body tensed. Why hadn’t she taken them off before she went to lunch?

They’re not real diamonds, Elaine said dismissively.

Gareth leaned even closer, squinting at them. They sure look real to me.

Elaine abruptly stood up. "This meeting is over. I strongly suggest you contact the appropriate authorities about this matter, in the appropriate countries. You need to solve this through legal means."

3

Elaine was so shaken up by the unexpected intrusion she had trouble concentrating on her work. A couple from Australia who wanted her to refer them to Giorgio Cattoretti! Unbelievable.

She finally decided to leave the office early, at four o’clock. The consulate was still so busy that nobody, including her line manager, noticed.

As soon as she started her SUV engine and got the air conditioner going, she hooked up her sat-phone to her hands-free set. When she was out in the clear on the highway, she called Luna Faye.

Elaine ended up relating the entire conversation she’d had with the two unwelcome visitors, almost word for word. She had started to feel guilty about what she’d done.

Luna said, You did the right thing, baby-doll. They have no business asking you to connect them with a criminal, let alone just barging in on you like that.

I know, but I still feel bad about it, Luna. They seemed like very nice, honest, hardworking people. They’re desperate, with their backs against the wall.

That’s not your problem. They got mixed up with corrupt business partners and now they’re in a hopeless mess.

I turned a cold shoulder to them, didn’t lift a finger to help them. You know I’m not like that.

"In this case, you have to be like that, Elaine. Even if you had the legal power to help—which you don’t—you have to stay committed to your decision to keep away from Cattoretti. At least, that’s my advice, if you want to stay married to Nick. Luna paused. Anyway, if your relationship with Cattoretti wasn’t an issue, would you really try to put them in touch with the man?"

No, of course I wouldn’t.

Damn right you wouldn’t. That would be like leading two innocent lambs to the slaughter.

I’m not so sure about that. This Heather woman is no innocent little lamb, let me tell you.

What do you mean?

She thinks I know where Cattoretti is right now. Or she suspects I know. She made that very clear.

"Do you know where?"

That’s not the point, Luna.

Exactly. Heather can’t be sure of anything, so that’s the end of it.

She struck me as very stubborn and aggressive, Luna. Willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. And headstrong, too, like you don’t know what she might do next. She made me nervous, honestly.

Luna chuckled. Sounds like a good friend of mine.

Oh? Who?

The line was silent for a few seconds before Elaine understood. Ha! I’m not like that at all.

Luna chuckled. Oh, no, not you, Elaine Brogan.

"I’m not," Elaine insisted.

"Look, there’s another angle here—have you forgotten that Giorgio Cattoretti is also an informant of ours? We don’t even give informants’ names to our bosses, let alone make strangers off the street. You did the right thing, baby doll. My advice is to put it behind you and move on."

You’re right, Luna. Elaine paused. How’s Mika? Gosh, I’m so rude—I should have asked that first thing.

Ah, Mika’s fine. Mika was Luna’s eight-month-old baby girl, named after one of Luna’s Native American relatives. Walter’s mom is still here. She extended her visit, which is fine with me. She’s eating up being a grandma and showing Mika off all over Lyon, rolling her granddaughter around in a fancy new stroller she bought. Takes a big load off me and Walter.

Elaine laughed. That’s great, Luna.

4

By Monday of the following week, the guilt Elaine felt about giving the gemstone business couple the brush off had faded, but not completely.

Just after she settled into her daily routine at her consulate office, she received a surprise phone call from her boss, Martin Valdez, at the Secret Service office at Interpol Headquarters in Lyon.

After the usual small talk, he said, I need you to fly up here ASAP, Brogan. I have something important to chat about.

Okay, sir…

You need to hustle—I need you here by three o’clock. I have to leave at four to go to a conference in Germany.

I’ll be there, sir.

As she hung up the phone, she thought, What have I done now?

Elaine drove straight to the Marseilles airport and bought a ticket on the next Lyon flight—there was one almost every hour.

Her plane touched down just after one pm. Elaine had no trouble arriving at the Interpol Headquarters well in advance of her meeting. Before then, she hoped to have a chat with Luna, but Luna was out to lunch.

At two-fifty five, Elaine was standing outside Valdez’ office.

Forty minutes later, she was sitting in a chair across from his door. There had been no sign of either Valdez or his PA and no messages from him on her phone. Typical Valdez. The Secret Service Director of European Operations was nowhere to be found.

Finally, the man showed up at ten minutes till four, looking harried.

Sorry about that, Brogan, he said. They shook hands and then Valdez unlocked his door. Was dragged into another late meeting—it would have been rude to leave.

When Elaine stepped into his office, she noticed a large suitcase and a carry-on parked next to the door.

Have a seat, he said, as he settled down behind his desk. His head swiveled around like an owl’s as he scanned his cluttered desktop. Where is that damn file…? He finally picked up a folder that had been behind him, on his credenza, and handed it to her. I’d like you to have a look at these and tell me whether or not they’re counterfeit.

When Elaine opened the folder, she expected to find a small stack of US $100 bills, or maybe 500 euro notes.

Instead, she found herself staring at a small stack of regular-sized papers.

DIAMOND CERTIFICATE, the top one said.

Elaine was stunned. The meeting with Heather and Gareth came rushing back to her.

Is something wrong? Valdez said, noting her expression.

Uh, no. She looked up at her boss, her mind racing. I don’t know anything about diamond certificates.

But you’ve had experience with diamonds… Valdez raised an eyebrow. He rarely mentioned the smuggling operation run by his predecessor, and Elaine’s exposure of it, probably because that was how his current job had opened up for him. Valdez didn’t like feeling beholden to an underling.

I’ve had experience with physical diamonds, yes, but not with these paper certificates. She flipped through the documents—there were five of them.

Elaine’s mind was racing. She was almost sure these were the same certificates that Heather Bancroft and her husband had tried to get her to look at.

Valdez’s PA appeared at the door. Sir? We probably better head to the airport.

Valdez waved him away, annoyed. We’ll make it.

To Elaine, he said, You didn’t know anything about fake passports, either, and you picked that up fast enough. Valdez motioned to the file. From what I understand, the security features on diamond certificates are all pretty much the same technology—holograms, microprinting, and so on.

"That’s true. Sir, uh, may I