In the Facets…

CHAPTER 1

SAUL

After being couped up for all the time it took to wing across the Atlantic, it felt good to be out and about. My muscles felt good stretched to my full height, and although our flight was long, I wasn’t tired. Actually, if anything, it was the exact opposite because I was pulsing with excitement, and I wasn’t sure that my feet were even touching the ground. I had that wide—eyed—bushy—tailed interest in everything around me. Electricity just bounced from everywhere, and I was ready for every bit of it because I was on hyperalert!

The sun beat down on the sizzling hot summer pavement; it was dangerously hot, but I couldn’t feel it. All I could feel was the incredible excitement cruising through my veins. We were in the most extraordinary city in the world. We were in New York City, and we were here for one reason. I was along to see to it that we got the job done.

We were waiting at the corner for the light to change when I glanced to my right, and on looking down; I saw her beautiful wavy honey—blond hair. She had those soulful eyes too. You know, the kind that suck you in before you even meet. As we stood there waiting next to each other, I could feel the electricity between us. I looked down at those long lashes and winked at her and said, Hey Baby!, but before she could speak, the light changed and she was gone. Man, I had to step my game up; NYC moved faster than any other place in the world. Adjust… adjust… adjust! I told myself, opening my eyes a little wider as though that would make a difference because I wasn’t tired. I didn’t need to do anything more then what I was already doing. I just needed to do it faster.

I’d taken extra time grooming this morning, so I knew I was looking good. The sun glinted off my sleek black body showcasing my tight taunt muscles that rippled whenever I moved. Whether I was running, trotting or standing still, they warned everyone not to mess with me. I could be mean! I could tear them up if I wanted to, and especially—if I needed to. But now, all I could think about was being here and carrying out my mission. Yet, electric excitement jumping up off the NYC concrete was almost more than I could stand. Saul felt it too. I know he did—even if he wasn’t saying anything now. I could see that he was sweating and suffering in this sweltering heat. Despite that, his piercing blue eyes were sharp and alert.

No Saul, I don’t want a drink! I think we should just keep moving. It can’t be much longer now, we’re almost there! I answered. The cane he used to walk with in his left hand started moving once again, and so did I.

Before we left, Saul advised me that this trip was going to be different in that it would be unlike any of our others because death walked with us this time! We might find it lurking around every corner, in every nook and cranny. It walked in front of us and behind us, he explained. I had to be very alert because,  . . . it might often walk with us—right beside us as though it was always there, like a neighbor in disguise. It was not to be trusted, he went on. One false move and we would live to regret it for eternity. We were a team he told me. We’d always been a team, and if we were careful, we’d continue as a team.

I’d never heard Saul speak like that before, so I knew he was serious and somewhat melancholy given these circumstances. It was interesting this time because his interest was piqued, so that he wanted to do the work despite the fact that it would be so dangerous. He sat there in his big comfy chair looking like a big hulking disheveled mountain of a man the way he always did. His right elbow was bent so that his index finger was pointed skyward while the other fingers were slightly bent forming a C toward his face; his thumb was touching his forehead as he talked to me. His long legs were splayed before him. His handsome brow was deeply wrinkled, and his bushy eyebrows were almost knit together in worry as he talked to me that afternoon. He was a big Swede with short, thick light brown hair that was graying at his temples by now. Saul had an enviable widow’s peak in the front, and he tried for everything he was worth to keep a clean, straight part on the left. Unfortunately for him, he tried to manage this great shock of hair by combing it straight back, but it usually escaped to explode around him creating an unkempt look despite his best efforts at grooming. He stood taller than six feet and never complained that his left leg was slightly shorter than the right making him appear a bit gimpy, yet this imperfection got overlooked quickly in his presence largely because he didn’t consider it a handicap, so no one else did either! Saul was a lady—catcher with fair skin, high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes and a quick wit churning behind them. His strong broad shoulders gave him the appearance of a prize—fighter, so no one would guess that he was really a gem—cutter. In fact, he wasn’t just a gem—cutter, he was the best damn gem—cutter in the world—the only one that I would lay down my life for.

Our conversation then, seemed long ago even though it had only been just a few days now. At the time, he tried to explain that the House of Tiffany was hiring him once again. They told him that they needed the best for this cutting, so there was no question but that it had to be Saul. They said that they would pay any amount, but that he had to man the cutter! They had come into possession of a large raw uncut gemstone that was the last of what was a huge vein they had been mining in Mozambique. They advised Saul that the stone was larger than the Jewel of the Nile, and that nearly all who interacted with it had been killed. So far, two including their archeologist and the head of their mining operations in Mozambique were beheaded with their shrunken heads returned to Tiffany’s on one of their own silver platters. Now they expected that unless an archeologist discovers a new vein somewhere else in the world, this raw gem would become the last natural Blue Sapphire ever cut on earth.

They wanted the best! They wanted Saul! They wanted me! They wanted us! Saul felt a deep obligation to be the cutter on this project. He explained that he felt that he owed it to the House of Tiffany’s for the life that they had provided for him, and because they were good people who understood that his word was his bond. He also added that afternoon that he felt obligated to his profession that supported him throughout his life to continue at the top of his craft and make this last cutting before he retired. He felt that they were right to call on him, to call on us! We were their only choice. He would make the facets perfect! He said that by the time he was through, you would be able to see all the way down—deep into the heart of darkness—straight through into the brilliant blue of the bluest of heavens!

He sat there for a silent moment thinking pensively before he quietly concluded in what was nearly a whisper speaking almost as much to himself as he was to me: Yes, I am the right choice for this job. I am the only choice. I will get the job done. I will cut the cleanest facets for them. They are good men my Prince. So, get ready my friend—we leave tomorrow!

I took him at his word and prepared myself to guard our every step. I just wondered why other than the obvious that it meant so much to him? I admit that I never questioned his judgement before, but I was bewildered as to why he was putting us in so much danger this time. What was it about this trip that was worth our lives? I wondered silently because I never questioned his decisions when it came to his craft. I knew that under that great shock of unkempt hair was the sharpest, most alert, gifted and talented mind that ever existed in our business. And I was proud to be on his team—after all, Saul was the most sought after, diamond cutter in the world, and I was his Prince, guarding his every breath, his most faithful friend in the world. I vowed to let nothing happen to him—ever! I’d see to it that we both lived to return home. But if I listened to Saul as he explained it that day, this might be my most challenging experience. I was prepared to die for Saul. I was also prepared to kill for him if I had to! I was ready!

CHAPTER 2

NEW YORK CITY

Suddenly, I stopped dead still in the street and looked directly at Saul. The painting. The painting. Saul, where is it? My dark brows knit in urgency. I don’t see the painting. Had we come all this way without it? He would have nothing to do. We’d have to turn around and go all the way home to get it. Saul, Saul… where is the painting? You can’t do this without it! Where is it? I pleaded. I was referring to the painting of the finished piece of jewelry that all exceptional jewelers have made when they decided to create a new piece of jewelry. First in all the major houses, they have an artist render their idea into a portrait before they decide to create it. If they like what they see, they give it life, if not—it gets dumped. In the end, gem cutters like Saul who are not always at that meeting needed that painting to recreate it. Otherwise, how would they know what is expected of them? Without it, the gem cutter simply goes where the gemstone leads them. Jewelers buy those kinds of gemstones in bulk, but in the major houses, each piece is a creation brought to life first by gem cutter artists who envision the final product before any work has been done to create it in the first place. So, it is recreated by the gem cutter from the picture painted by the artist employed by the house who is following directions and ideas given to them by one or more cutters. If on seeing the picture, it looks like something that is worthy of representing the house; then, it is brought to life by one of the lapidist—gem cutters who specialize in the cutting of that type of gem.

Saul looked at me and broke into a smile before he reached over and affectionately patted my head and said: It’s alright… it’s alright. I have the painting. They turned it into the face of a card for me. See, it’s alright! It’s here in my pocket. He said as he patted his shirt pocket as though he were about to say the Pledge of Allegiance to the American Flag. I brought it. I remembered. I’m old but not senile yet yet my Prince! Let’s go, it’s hot out here! he concluded. His silver wire—rimmed glasses slid a little down his nose in the city heat I noticed as he began moving once again.

Ok, Saul. So you remembered! Boy, I’m relieved! You won this time, I thought as I turned and began walking beside him once again. It is hot out here! Why didn’t they send a limo for you? You are that important, you know. After all, this is such an important occasion that a limo is at least in order. OK, they sent their private jet, but why didn’t they finish the job with their limo? This is beginning to get old. We’ve been walking for blocks now. This is pretty unusual for them to treat you like this, Saul. I think something’s already wrong with this picture, but I don’t know what, yet. Where’s the damned limo? I was getting exasperated—it was hot and my earlier excitement with NYC was waning quickly. I could really use a stretch in that long cool limo right about now, I said.

Suddenly, as if all I had to do was to think about it—it materialized, a long black stretch zoomed up to the curb right beside us. We were both a little jumpy, but this startled us with its sense of urgency and unexpected suddenness—zip, and there it was. We both jumped a little at its arrival. Just as suddenly as it arrived, the door opened, and the young driver jumped out, Mr. Saul… Mr. Saul, I’m sorry, I got hung up in traffic, and I couldn’t get there on time. Didn’t they tell you to wait for me? I been looking all over for you. Mr. Saul, please forgive me. My wife will leave me if you don’t. I can’t lose this job, it’s too important. I got a baby on the way. Please, Mr. Saul…, words tumbled out in one big jumbled run-on sentence all at once as he moved to run back and open the door for us. Mr. Saul, I’m God awful sorry, sir. Welcome to America, Mr. Saul. Welcome to Tiffanys! he finally concluded with a big sweep of his black drivers hat which he swept off his head and held in his right hand as he bowed and all in one motion opened the door to the back of the stretch with his left.

Throughout all of this, I stood between Saul and the Limo ready to pounce if I needed to, but there was something about this kid that made me believe him. Maybe it was his sense of urgency, or it might have been his sincerity—I don’t know, but I looked at Saul and his mouth which was agape at the entire scene, now formed a kindly—if not somewhat tight—lipped smile. We turned and gratefully got in without a word.

Ahhhhhhhhhh, it’s cool in here. At last! Thank God Almighty! I thought. You can’t imagine how hot it can actually get when you have to wear a black coat—admittedly a handsome one, but nevertheless, still a black coat like mine all the time. Like he usually did, Saul thought of me first, and poured a long cool drink of water for me into one of his personally carved Tiffany crystal bowls that had been placed in the stretch for me. I lapped it up like there was no tomorrow before I slid onto one of the couches with my front feet hanging over as I stared at Saul. He finished the rest of the water in the bottle and leaned his head back with his hair forming some sort of a weird hallo about his head, so I laid there just watching him. We’d gotten hotter than we both thought. Now, we zoomed along—speechless in each other’s company, but grateful as all heck to whoever invented air conditioning!

Saul and I made some sort of a small dent in our travels, but we were still a long way from the Diamond District which was uptown because we were just skirting the 42nd Street District where no cars are permitted at this time of day. So, our driver was more—or—less taking us on the long route. I hoped I hadn’t misjudged him. I hoped my instincts were on target. I hoped he really did work for Tiffany’s. If not, Saul and I were in deep trouble.

CHAPTER 3

THE HOUSE OF TIFFANY

We both awoke with a start when the motion of the limo stopped! I immediately sat straight up at attention, and began looking around, taking it in while a sleepy Saul did basically the same thing. We had but a moment before the door opened; my instincts kicked in; I darted out—stopping directly in the doorway and blocking Saul. I had to survey the scene to determine if it was safe for him. There, immediately before me was a huge sign reading, Tiffany’s DD. It was their new store in the relatively newly developed Diamond District which was about midtown on 47th St near the Avenue of the America’s in NYC. This one block actually provided 90% of all the diamonds sold in America; thus, making it the most expensive shopping district in the world. So we’d made it after all, and despite the fact that I fell asleep too. So far, we were safe and sound and in one piece. My instincts were right on about the driver.

I stepped aside, so Saul could exit. He had a folded wad of bills in his hand, but our driver refused, telling us what a privilege it was just to meet him; nevertheless, to chauffer him around NYC. Saul smiled a little bit telling him, Good luck, son! as he moved forward towards the entrance door. Suddenly, it opened before us!

The man at the other end of the hand was part of our welcoming entourage. There standing before us was an array of some of the finest most perfectly tailored French suits to ever grace NY, Paris or London. Scanning upward, above the suits were some very familiar faces and some new ones as well. Among them was Andrew Drummond, President and CEO of the House of Tiffany’s. That’s how important Saul was to them. I was glad to see them show Saul the respect that he richly deserved. Drummond was standing there with his arms folded, but now a smile brightened his face as he extended his hand to Saul adding, Welcome to America my friend, I trust your trip was pleasant, and I see you brought your friend—Prince isn’t it? he said reaching to pat my head; then, thinking better of it, he retracted his hand.

Good choice, I thought. What a condescending low—life, no—good, low—down dirty rotten scoundrel. You know my name, so don’t play games with me buddy. I know you, and I also know how you got your job. Some people never change. I wanted to show him my choppers, but Saul would have gotten upset at my lack of manners, so I decided to cooperate for now. That didn’t change anything, I still didn’t like him! I’d have to watch him very closely because he was a slippery, shady character whose best attribute was his lack of conscience. People were expendable to him. That’s how he crawled over everyone to get to where he was. I watched him slither along before us, and thought to myself,  . . . what a snake!

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and began walking away towards the back of the store. Come on, he urged us, we have to get moving. Saul looked at me. He knew what I thought of Drummond. He smiled at me kindly as if wanting to reassure me that he loved me.

I know that Saul, I responded. I still don’t like him! I don’t care that he can run a major corporation like the House of Tiffany’s. He’s missing some of the most important attributes that make humans endearing. I bet anything that Charles Tiffany, the original founder, is rolling over in his grave knowing that Drummond has taken his place. Charles Tiffany had class! Drummond has a cold heart!

Saul looked at me as if to tell me to get over it and get on with things. There was just way too much at stake now to dwell on my interpretation of personal shortcomings and human deficiencies. Yet, even though I was a Doberman Pincher, I was still a good judge of character, and a man’s word was still his most valuable attribute. I still don’t see how anyone could trust Drummond’s word. Where his handshake should have meant that a solemn promise would always be honored, I don’t know anyone who would rely on Drummond’s handshake.—anyone except for Saul. I don’t know what he saw in him, but he trusted him. And that was Saul just being Saul—the trustworthy soul that he was.

We were all out of the public line of vision now—still in the back of the store when Drummond placed his hand on a nearby ledge which was just big enough to capture his print. Suddenly, part of the wall opened popping forward approximately one inch and sliding to the left, revealing darkly lit steps winding steeply to a much lower level. There was a railing on one side that they all grabbed as we began spiraling downward. Dumoff, Drummond’s Assistant, went first with Drummond himself second; we were further back in the pack. Once we were all in the stairwell, the door closed, and it went dark. I went ahead of Saul on general principal for safety’s’ sake. The staircase was obviously very old. The walls were made of handmade bricks while the concrete stairs were fairly narrow making our passage tricky. It was dark and difficult to see, so I was having trouble securing safe footing. Since I couldn’t turn around, I could only imagine how Saul was doing. I took my time, trying to make sure that I didn’t slip and break a leg or worst. I would be of no good use to Saul if I got hurt. I tried picking my head up as often as I could, but I really needed to concentrate so as not to slip and fall. When I snuck a peek, I could see a light ahead, down at the end of the steps. I don’t like this, Saul, I blurted out, but my warning fell on deaf ears because he was busy negotiating the stairwell himself.

Finally, our small entourage made it to the bottom where we walked out onto a platform. Immediately before us were train tracks extending into a tunnel that led off into darkness going only one way as the other was bricked off into a closure ending at the far left end of our platform. There, waiting for us was a one—car private subway that was owned and operated exclusively by Tiffany’s. It was obvious that this was not for public use. I doubt if anyone in the general public even knew about it.

Double doors in the middle of the car opened on our approach, and we entered. Once we were all seated, the little car sprang into motion moving us forward into the darkness of the tunnel and away from our platform. There was one headlight in the front, but for my money it was a good thing that the driver knew where we were going because it was so dark that you couldn’t see directly in front of you. That’s how dark it was down there. Saul sat on one of the metal seats and held onto one of the poles with one hand while I sat on the floor beside him. It was quite a ride as the little car rocked from side—to—side as it made its way over to the mother flagship—store on