THE RUSSIAN PINK

“All diamonds are blood diamonds,” begins the tale. “It’s just a question of whose blood.” The 1,512-carat pink rock is barely off a Congo riverbed when the killing begins. Worth hundreds of millions of dollars, the “savage, unconquerable” stone eventually ends up adorning the neck of Honey Li, the wife of billionaire and U.S. presidential contender Harry Nash. Alas, “the man who tries to master this…will never know peace.” Meanwhile, protagonist Alex Turner is a Treasury agent working for Special Audits on illegal gem trading by Russian organized crime. He gets help from Slav Lily, an independent diamond trader/thief simultaneously “working for the bad guys, the good guys, and herself.” She believes in God the Father Almighty, Jesus Christ, and her fully-loaded slimline subcompact Glock. In fact, all the characters are well drawn: “Honey oozed from the car as if she had been squeezed from a tube, lithe and smooth as paste.” A police commissioner who sounds suspiciously like Bill Bratton has “street smarts so sharp you could shave with them.” “Chuck was seduced by his own imagination, a fertile garden that he’d never learned to weed.” And the narrative is chock-full of memorable lines: “It’s true that she wore a Kevlar vest, but, fatally, not a Kevlar hat.” Ouch! Bad guys home in on Turner’s daughter and ex-wife as a way of stopping him, which naturally pisses him off—but will he be able to protect his family? Early on in the story, the Russian mob’s brutality becomes crystal clear, with the torture and murder of a woman in Brighton Beach. The author writes with skill, wit, and evident knowledge about the diamond industry—who knew there were such things as diamond pipes?

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