Sheikh Khizar Jamshidi read through the file laying on his desk one more time, tapping his long fingers on the paper. Bill Bauer had kept meticulous records about his mine and his business, but the one piece of information Khizar wanted was nowhere to be found.

Khizar had been finalizing the paperwork to buy the famous Bauer mine when Bill died suddenly. Though, Khizar thought, Bill had been 87 years old, so maybe it wasn’t so unexpected. His death had put a stop to the purchase, at least until Bill’s estate was settled.

Khizar’s lawyer had been able to get a copy of Bauer’s will, and after reading through it, Khizar had come to two conclusions: Bauer’s mine had been stripped of anything of value, and Bill himself had very little in the way of possessions.

Most of Bauer’s fortune was going to charitable organizations, which Khizar supposed was a good thing. The man certainly had enough money to do good. And, in all their conversations, Bill had never mentioned any relatives, so it wasn’t like there was family to fight over the fortune.

Bill had also left money to his employees, enough to give each of them a healthy severance package as the mine closed down. What worldly goods he had were designated to be auctioned off or donated.

Khizar stood and paced across the plush carpet, from the large sleek desk to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows along the far side of the room. He looked down over the city, wondering if somewhere out there was a person who had the information he sought.

At thirty, Khizar was a well-respected businessman, the CEO of one of the world’s finest jewelry companies. He had everything he could possible ask for, and maybe that was why he wanted this one thing it seemed he couldn’t have.

There was a diamond of great beauty and value—some said the most perfect diamond in the world. Bill Bauer had found that diamond in his mine, and the gem had become something of a legend, partly because Bill refused to part with it.

Khizar wanted the diamond for the same reason Bill had never sold it—the man who owned it would never be poor.

Not that Khizar ever needed to worry about being poor. His uncle was the Sheikh of Nudushan; Khizar was royalty in his own right, in addition to being one of the wealthiest men in the world. He owned the best penthouse in Nudushan’s capital city, a luxury yacht, a private jet, and multiple cars. He could go anywhere and buy anything.

His parents didn’t understand his quest for this diamond. Khizar ran several diamond mines himself. His company bought and sold precious stones and jewelry, and Khizar had a priceless personal collection of gemstones.

He ran a hand through his black, wavy hair. Whatever else he owned, this one diamond was important. The sheer prestige of owning the Bauer Diamond would ensure his company’s success for many years to come.

Khizar and Bill had talked into the night many a time over expensive whiskey, and the way Bill had described the diamond had captured Khizar’s imagination. Bauer would never tell Khizar the location of the diamond, and the Sheikh had liked the old man too much to pressure him.

He’d hoped that buying Bauer’s mine would shake loose the secret of the diamond’s location, but when Bill died, that information died with him.

Khizar had been prepared to go through with the purchase of the mine after Bill’s death. He’d had his lawyer draw up papers and an offer, and had visited the mine in person to complete the deal. Khizar was surprised to learn that most of the mine’s employees had been let go. The foreman, Bill’s right-hand man, had walked him through the mine. Khizar learned that the once-rich gem veins were now stripped, more or less worthless.

The gem wasn’t listed as part of the old man’s will; there was no reference to it at all, not as a gemstone and not as jewelry.

Khizar was certain Bill had never had the diamond set into jewelry—he’d insisted on keeping it in its purest, though polished, form. But he’d checked anyway, in case Bill had been trying to hide it by turning the diamond into a set piece.

The Sheikh returned to his desk and picked up the phone, where his secretary answered immediately. He arranged for his company’s in-house investigator to look into Bill’s life to see if, perhaps, there were any clues left to find.

* * *

A week and five dead-ends later, Khizar was half-convinced that the diamond didn’t actually exist. Bill’s stories must have been just that: stories.

He’d chased down an old miner in Australia, who’d claimed to have been Bill Bauer’s business partner for a few years back in the day, who said he knew where Bauer had stashed the gemstone. The guy told tall tales in a bar in a small town outside Sydney, trading wild stories for a round of beer. There was no truth whatsoever to his words, which Khizar had figured out about ten minutes into their conversation.

Khizar had trawled through the records of Bill’s biggest sales, trying to determine if he’d hidden the diamond in a larger commission. He had talked to Bill’s foreman several times, as well as some of his longest-serving employees.

The men who had worked Bauer’s mine insisted that Bill still had the diamond, but Khizar talked with others in the industry who weren’t certain that the diamond was even real.

He was having dinner at the best restaurant in town—seated, of course, at the best table in the dining room—when his investigator called and asked to meet with him. As he waited for the man to arrive, he nodded at an acquaintance at the bar, and smiled at two lovely ladies who were watching him closely.

If he weren’t so involved with the search for the diamond, he would have found their interest appealing. He might have even asked them to accompany him to a party later that evening. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a party on his schedule. If someone wasn’t throwing one, he’d have put one together himself. No one turned down his invitations, even at the last minute.

His investigator arrived, a nondescript man in a dark suit, able to blend in wherever he was needed.

“Sheikh Jamshidi.” The man nodded at Khizar as he slid into the booth and laid a folder on the dark wood table.

“James, what do you have for me?”

“Bauer was estranged from his family. He apparently hadn’t had any contact with them in decades.”

Khizar nodded. “He mentioned his brother, Jack, a few times, and how they didn’t talk; their parents died when they were quite young. His brother died several years back, shortly after I met Bill.” Khizar thought. “I believe Jack had a child, as well.”

“Correct. Jack and his wife had one son, Robert. Robert married and had a daughter.”

Khizar thought, putting the pieces together. “That would make the daughter Bill’s great-niece. He never mentioned her.”

James pulled a photo out of the folder. It showed a man and woman standing together, his arm wrapped around her as she held a girl. The girl’s arms were wrapped around the woman’s neck and her head rested against the woman’s shoulder.

James tapped the man’s image. “This is Robert.” He tapped the woman’s face. “His wife, Jennifer. And their daughter, Jacqueline.”

James pulled another photo out of the folder, this one showing the aftermath of a terrible car accident.

“I’m not sure Bauer ever knew about the girl. Robert and Jennifer died in a wreck shortly after that picture was taken. There’s nothing I can find that indicates Bauer went to the funeral or ever had contact with the girl. She was in and out of foster homes for about a year, then adopted. She’s 26 now.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She owns a small bakery there. I’m getting more details on her now.”

“Thank you, James. Deliver the information to me tomorrow at the airport; I’m flying to Milwaukee first thing.”

James nodded once, and silently left his boss to ponder what he’d learned.

* * *

True to his word, James had put together a folder with more information on Jacqueline Bauer and was waiting when Khizar stepped out of his car at the airport. The driver carried his bags onto the private jet while Khizar received the folder, which included personal and professional details about the young woman, along with James’ analysis.

Khizar bounded up the stairs and onto the jet, which was painted with the royal-purple logo of Jamshidi & Company. The pilot greeted Khizar as the door was closed behind him.

“We’re ready for takeoff, sir.”

The Sheikh nodded. “Thank you. Let’s go.”

He settled into a deep leather chair, laying the folder on the mahogany table in front of him, and waved one hand at the hovering steward, who brought him a cup of steaming hot tea.

The plane accelerated down the runway and then glided smoothly into the air. Khizar drank his tea and read through the information James had found, impressed at the level of detail contained within.

As James had mentioned the night before, Jacqueline Bauer owned a small bakery in Milwaukee. The store was in a part of downtown that was seeing a resurgence in business, but more business in the area hadn’t seemed to help Bauer’s bakery.

The landlord had raised the rent on the building four times over the last five years, and the stores on either side of the bakery had seen high turnover. Studying the financial data, Khizar wondered if the landlord was trying to push Jacqueline out by making it more expensive for her to stay there.

Khizar pulled out his computer and opened the thin case. He typed a few search terms into the web browser and read through the results. Jacqueline’s business had received good reviews—though, in his opinion, not enough of them to make much of an impact. The bakery didn’t show up in any local newspapers or magazines; it hadn’t been written up or had any local press cover it.

He studied pictures of the bakery online. The store was tiny, but bright and cheery. The blue and yellow décor wasn’t understated, but it wasn’t garish, either. It looked like the small front space had four or five tables where patrons could eat, and a counter running across the room topped a case filled with cupcakes, small pies, pastries and cookies.

Khizar read through the menu, and wondered how Jacqueline was getting by charging those prices. No wonder her store wasn’t turning a profit.

If Jacqueline had the diamond, she might be thinking about selling it. The money would give her more than a comfortable life, and if she wanted to continue running a bakery, it would give her the freedom to move to a better store, or even buy a building of her own. She could expand and not have to worry about financing ever again. Or turning a profit, for that matter.

If the diamond was in her possession, which was a long shot, Khizar was sure he could convince her to sell it to him. But if she didn’t have it, maybe there was something in her family history that would give him a clue to where it might be.

He looked again at the file James had given him and noted that Jacqueline’s social media handles were listed. Khizar found her accounts and read through the posts. Her pictures were a combination of her business, a few that looked like a small group of friends, and several from charity events.

Khizar traced the events and organizations mentioned in the photos’ captions and confirmed that Jacqueline was active in a few local charities. She supported a local organization that placed foster kids in homes, as well as some other charities that worked to end homelessness in the city.

There were pictures from a banquet held the year before at which Jacqueline had been honored with a Volunteer of the Year award. She smiled brightly at the camera, one arm looped around the waist of an older woman, each of them with a hand holding the plaque engraved with Jacqueline’s name.

He also found a few pictures of her with the family that had adopted her, all of them at a picnic for the city’s adoption agency. Jacqueline was surrounded by kids in several of the pictures, and it was clear that she was happy and having fun.

The Sheikh studied one of the photos more closely. Eyes the color of a rich sapphire stared back at him, framed by impossibly long, dark lashes. Long, auburn hair with just a bit of wave to it fell over one shoulder, and full lips curved up in a smile as she laughed at whoever was taking the picture.

There was nothing of Bill Bauer in her face, but Khizar was certain that her laugh was all her great-uncle.

Khizar decided he liked her. Yes, she was beautiful, but she also appeared kind and happy, even though life had dealt her a bad hand. Jacqueline looked like the type of person that would go out of her way to help anyone in need, and he could admire that about her.

It didn’t hurt that a willingness to be helpful would aid him on his quest to find and acquire the Bauer Diamond. Especially if he shared her interests.

Khizar looked back through the list of organizations and picked three. From her pictures and social media posts, they seemed to be Jacqueline’s favorites. Through ‘common interests’, he could win his way into her good graces and get to know her better. Once he had her trust, he could ask her more about her family, and then find out if she knew anything about the diamond.

Khizar put the papers carefully back in the file and pushed it across the table, strategizing. It would take some time and careful maneuvering. He would have to convince Jacqueline that he was interested in her life, but given that she was an attractive woman, he wouldn’t find that task burdensome.

He appreciated that she was a businesswoman, even if she obviously needed some help there, and that she engaged in charitable giving. Khizar could work with those qualities, and show her that he was the kind of man she could open up to.

The Sheikh nodded to himself. He would get the diamond, whatever it took, but he could be generous and help Bill Bauer’s great-niece in the process. If the old man was looking down on him from somewhere, surely he would be pleased enough to send a little luck Khizar’s way.

His plan was a little unorthodox, but in the end, it would be worth it.