--- EMERALD RICH IN RORAIMA ----
contd....

-- 2 --


“Not according to the microscopic evidence, Mr Burl, the formation lattices are too
diffuse for a man-made stone. Besides, that gemstone was hydraulically formed.
Even I could pronounce it a ‘natural’.”
Like a tatty little five-point diamond in a gallery setting I waited for the final
stroke of the hammer and punch that would fence me in. This man had covered all
the territory, in pursuit of his dirty job; any further denial would have insulted
his intelligence, and even dung-worms have their pride.
“I see by your expression that you’re more open to a little cooperation?”
“Who said that I was going to cooperate? As I understand it, you just want me to
give you a story.”
“The public will expect a bit more from Christopher Burl. C’mon, now, you know
that I can make things very awkward. I know I should feel ashamed but I’m not.
I dont live on printing junk: I’m a lover of the truth and I’m willing to make
things work for both of us.”
Oh yes? How?”
“By naming names, whether by good or ill - For instance, just how valuable do you
think that mine in Roraima would be if I gave the world its location? These bandido
types are very handy with a machete and a claimants head.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I’d dare anything for a scoop like this, Mr Burl.”
“Yes, I believe you would! I believe that your granny’d be kentucky-fried if Colonel
Saunders did a line in reptile-meat!”
I wanted to make him blanch-up and take a swing at me just for the pleasure of
clocking his beak, but this wha’sname simply smiled.
“Alright, then, now you’re going to tell me what I get if I cooperate, aren’t you.”
“A discrete and honorable story and my silence where it counts - enough?”
“No, I want a lot more. In the past you creeps’ve paid-out millions for an exclusive.
and this is the catch of your little life! I want that million or I’ll give my own
press-conference.”
“And risk your claim of being rifled, Mr Burl!?”
“I’ll survive. I’ll still have the worlds finest emerald - you, yourself have said it,”
For the first time since the commencement of this interview I had the opportunity
to smile. Without his nasty Louisiana grin this sulphur-gator, opposite looked like
a sad proboscis-monkey contemplating his wibbly-wobbly nose.
Would his ‘Tribune’ pay the price of his fame: I almost wished they wouldn’t.
“Am I expected to believe that you need this money?” smirked this see-through cynic.
“I’m not about to sell a single one of those stones un-cut. I made that kind of
mistake before. I’ll need an underwriter.”
“But you aren’t poor.”
“I surely aint.”



--Sterl