Flawless Page #5

Kendrick Ashtoncroft,

aging ruler of everything

that daylight touches.

And you plan to obtain

the codes how?

That's where you come in,

Miss Quinn.

Until recently, this was

supposed to be a solo operation.

A year ago, quite by accident,

I discovered that Sir Milton kept

the codes concealed in his desk.

Then some months back,

they were gone.

Night after night,

I searched the office,

but they never turned up.

Why'd you wait?

Why not do it while

you had the chance?

Oh, I've asked myself that

question a thousand times.

I told you, I'm...

I'm not courageous.

But my hesitating

will be your gain.

Will it?

And what will

that require?

Here, proof of conviction.

You are on the, uh,

guest list, are you?

It's business.

I'm expected.

We're entertaining

the Russians.

You suspect he keeps

the codes at home?

On Saturday, go to his study

and look under the center

drawer in his desk.

This is ridiculous.

Say I did find the codes

and you were able to slip in

and out of the vault undetected.

How would you get the

diamonds out of the building?

How much will it hold?

How much would

you like it to hold?

What's the price of revenge?

Difficult, eh?

Would a million pound do?

Each?

I should think so.

They wouldn't even

notice that much.

Well, by then...

I'll be retired and

you'll have been let go.

Why should I trust you?

The same reason

I have to trust you.

We have the same objective.

Oh, you make it all

sound so easy.

Is that a yes?

No, it isn't.

Be sure to wear

something nice.

Good evening, sir.

Come on in.

The Russians here?

To pressurized carbon.

Here here!

Now that's

a sight worth seeing.

Sir Clifton Sinclair, our

very own insurance man,

making a rare trip down from

his ivory tower at King's Row.

No doubt losing sleep over our

somewhat top heavy inventory.

Oh, I don't think Sinclair's

the type to lose sleep.

It's rather unnerving

to consider a man

with that history as London

diamond's greatest guarantor.

Ooh, you didn't know.

He was mixed up in all

those insurance scandals

before the national

health service.

Of course, he's

completely innocent,

or he was never prosecuted.

Otherwise, we wouldn't

do business together.

Allow me to present

Vladimir Dmitriev,

head of the Soviet

Diamond Authority.

Mr. Chanson,

my second in command.

How do you do?

And miss

Laura Quinn,

one of our

brightest gems.

Ballet, vodka, diamonds,

the three things closest

to the Russian soul.

And which do you prefer?

Diamonds, of course.

I'll drink to that.

My lord!

And what would you have

done had I said ballet?

I would ask you to dance.

Of course, I have

ulterior motives.

And, um, what makes

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