Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

goods.”
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem. I’ll take lunch off the price of whatever I buy. If I buy.”
    Laughing, Teddy followed Archer through the living room into the condo’s large, lemon-yellow kitchen. A view of Seattle’s muscular waterfront filled the corner windows of the room. Out in Elliot Bay, huge container ships from all over the Pacific Rim waited at anchor for their turn to be unloaded by cranes that crouched like immense orange insects along the docks. Ferries churned among the mammoth commercial ships, leaving white wakes. Herded by a brisk southeast wind, low clouds trailed veils of rain over the dark gray water.
    “Nice view,” Teddy said. “But don’t you get tired of the rain?”
    “Think of it as a moat protecting the city.”
    Teddy blinked, opened his mouth, and closed it again. Then he shook his head and laughed.
    Archer waited until Teddy was wedged into the breakfast alcove with a beer in one hand and a thick cheese sandwich in the other before he angled the conversation back to the pearl dealer’s recent travels.
    Because somewhere along the way, Teddy had found one of Len’s black beauties.
    “Did Sam Chang have any special pearls to sell?” Archer asked.
    Teddy made a muffled sound, swallowed, and said, “That son of a bitch. Owns two thirds of the Tahitian pearl farms and acts like he’s selling off his first son at every harvest. Prices the goods like it, too.”
    “Golden Rule,” Archer said, popping the cap off one of the local microbrews. “He has the gold, he makes the rules.”
    “Japan is going to bust his ass. He’s crowding their sales monopoly too hard. Great cheese—what is it?”
    “Gorgonzola with pesto. What about the smaller pearl farmers?”
    Eyebrows raised, Teddy looked at the sandwich. “Nothing’s changed. They still line up like milk cows.”
    “Surprising. Aussies are even more contrary than Americans.”
    “Oh, there are some holdouts,” Teddy said, waving the ragged remnant of his sandwich. “But they’re being squeezed down to the bone by the consortium. Their shelling licenses are being cut, they’re not given the results of the latest government research until long after their competitors have it, their pearls end up in the doggy lots at the auctions. That sort of thing.”
    “Who’s their leader?” Archer asked, though he knew very well. Just as he knew more than Teddy did about who was doing what and with which and to whom in the international pearl trade. But a man who stopped asking questions never learned anything new.
    “Len McGarry,” Teddy said, downing the last bite of his sandwich. “I gotta tell you, that is one mean bastard. Whatever put him in that wheelchair might have cut off his balls, but it didn’t soften him up one bit.”
    For an instant Archer saw again the terrible image of Len covered in blood, broken, lying utterly motionless in the aisle of the small plane. The memory was one that could still awaken Archer from a deep sleep, covered in sweat and hearing whimpers of pain echoing in the silence. Some of the sounds were his own.
    “Rumor is that he’s sitting on at least five years worth of the best pearls,” Teddy said. “His own, some other farms, and maybe a few of the Tahitian farmers on the sly.”
    Archer had heard about that, too. He believed at least part of it. For the past five years, Pearl Cove’s balance sheets had been sinking like a stone in still water. Either the oysters had stopped producing pearls reliably or Len was holding out. As half owner, Archer should have cared. He didn’t. Whatever Len squeezed out of the ruins of his dreams was fine with his silent partner. Money was the least of Archer’s problems with his half brother.
    “You always hear rumors about under-the-table alliances among pearl farmers,” Archer said.
    “Sometimes they’re true.”
    “Sometimes.” He opened Teddy’s case and gave the contents a quick, comprehensive glance. No more Pearl Cove gems. But he wouldn’t let Teddy go away empty-handed. The Hawaiian was too good a source of gossip. Even outright misinformation—intelligently processed—could be as revealing as a sworn version of the truth.
    In any event, Archer planned on buying that black rainbow pearl. He just didn’t plan on making Teddy rich in the process.
    “You’ve been busy,” Archer said.
    The interest in his voice was a balm to Teddy’s pearl-trading soul. He smiled and leaned forward over the table. “So, what do you see