Tennant: ... You can only taste this in Paris. Its name will never appear on any menu.
Tennant: Dark red, like the blood of a sinner.
Tennant: From the first taste, you'd never imagine it's made from grapes alone.
Tennant: It has a dryness that parches the throat until you start to crave its warmth again. Like a hungry vampire, you'll never be sated, always seeking another sip.
Tennant: Then you're hooked, my dear. Each day onwards is spent waiting in anticipation for the next "Bloody Sunset."
Adelita: ...
Adelita takes a sip and lets slip a rare smile.
Adelita: My, my. This truly is an extraordinary vintage. You may just be sincere after all, Brette.
Tennant: Words like that are sweet pleasure to my ears.
Adelita and "Brette" share the rare "Bloody Sunset" as time slips away with the faint ticking of the corner clock.
At nine forty-two, Adelita has only a single swallow left.
Adelita: As a matter of pride, I always reward a good turn.
Tennant: Hearing that, I can't help but look forward to a gift from you.
Adelita: What I'll give you is a possibility, just as you gave me the "Bloody Sunset."
Adelita reaches into her jellyfish-shaped handbag and produces a small box bedazzled with jewels, its delicate silver inlay hinting at great value.
Meanwhile, the arms dealer, looking worn, arrives back at the bar.
Fleming: As you can see, I've returned with time to spare.
Fleming: What's that you're drinking?
Adelita: "Bloody Sunset." Brette recommended it to me. I promise, once you taste it, you'll never forget it.
Fleming: If you say so, I'll give it a try.
Adelita drains the last drop from her glass.
Tennant: A pity, Mr. Longen. Adelita just had the final one.
Adelita: That's right. The last "Bloody Sunset" in this establishment, this city, maybe the country.
Fleming: I don't appreciate being toyed with, Adelita.
Fleming waves the subject aside, annoyed.
Fleming: Drelome was drunk out of his mind. I couldn't get a word in edgewise.
Fleming: I hope at least you kept my guest entertained, Madame Cosette.
Tennant: Naturally, and I must say your timing is impeccable. Adelita was just about to show me a little surprise.
Fleming: A surprise? Well, go on; I could use something to pick me up.
Adelita: Of course. Come closer.
The two lean in as Adelita flicks open the tiny bronze latch.
With a crisp click, the box reveals a velvet cushion—empty where a jewel should rest.
Fleming: There's nothing inside.
Adelita: To gain anything, one must first pay a price. The first and unchanging rule of commerce.
Fleming: Price?
Adelita: This box is the life's work of a South African pure-blooded arcanist. I call it the "Box from the South."
Adelita: All you have to do is put a diamond on the velvet cushion, then turn the hidden mechanism inside the lid, following the instructions—
Adelita: Eight hours later, when you reopen it, you'll find another identical diamond beside it.
Tennant: ...
Tennant: Whatever do you make of that, Mr. Longen?
Fleming: Hah.
A wry laugh escapes him.
Fleming: It's quite the story, I'll say that for sure.
Fleming: But I've got to figure that if this thing were really spitting out diamonds, then every crook from L.A. to Sicily would be after you.
Fleming: The kind of thing you don't carry around if you know what's good for you.
Tennant: Every treasure has its first discoverer, Mr. Longen.
Tennant: When Marshall found gold at Sutter's Mill, only a handful of locals knew of his find—at first.
Fleming: ...
The minute hand passes forty-five, but none of them mention the time.
The "Box from the South" lies open in Adelita's palm, awaiting the presence of a diamond.
The arms dealer studies it, caught between doubt and desire.
Fleming: ... In my experience, anything tied to arcanum is the furthest thing from trustworthy.
Tennant: The way I see it, there's a simple way to test our charming lady's claim.
Fleming: What? You want to put a diamond inside and then lock it away for eight hours?
Tennant: I can't see a reason why not. Though, perhaps a stipulation is due.
Tennant: If the box does not yield another diamond. Then, Ms. Adelita will pay us its value in compensation.
Fleming: That's still a big risk. Who's going to look after it? I'm not really keen on watching a box all night.
Adelita: I'm certain we can find a safe somewhere here. So, why don't we lock it inside there?
Adelita: Allow me to set the combination, and you may hold the key. That way neither of us can touch it until our next meeting.
Tennant: That works. I can vouch for the owner.
Fleming: I'm game, but ...
He feels as though he's about to make a serious gamble, but then again ... what if this is another "Sutter's Mill"?
Adelita: It's a game in your favor, Fleming. One way or another, you gain.
Adelita: I'll even arrange the collateral—money equal to the value of two diamonds.
Adelita: If the box works, you keep the diamond and return my money.
Tennant: And even if Adelita disappears, you still have the collateral.
Tennant: Seems like a game worth playing to me.
Tennant stands between them, playing the part of a less than impartial judge.
Fleming: Even if I wanted to play, where would I get a diamond at this hour?
Tennant: My dear Fleming, you seem to have forgotten our conversation; allow me—
A pea-sized crystal glimmers in Tennant's hand, as if conjured from thin air.
A round-cut diamond, brilliant and flawless, flashing dazzling light across its 58 facets.
After letting it shine, Tennant closes it back into her hand.
Tennant: Mined from Panna, India. One and a half carats. Near-colorless. Internally flawless. Excellent cut.
Fleming: What are the odds of that?
Tennant: The odds of a jewel dealer having a jewel on her person? My dear Mr. Longen, I shouldn't imagine it would surprise you.
Tennant: I just so happen to always have a few samples on hand for clients.
The logic of the statement puts Fleming at ease.
Fleming: Okay. I'm in. But what's this thing worth?
Tennant: At market price, I would suggest twenty thousand francs. So, two would make forty thousand.
Tennant: Would that be agreeable to both of you?
The arms dealer lowers his head, mind racing.
Fleming: So, if I've got this right. Out of the gate, I'm up twenty thousand. Enough to cover my expenses.
Fleming: And if this thing's a phony, I walk away with forty thousand?
Fleming: ... For that matter, if this diamond of yours disappears, that's your problem as far as I can see.
The sharp-nosed merchant smells opportunity. His eyes gleam.
Fleming: Sounds like a deal.
Tennant sets the diamond on the velvet, and Adelita snaps the lid shut.
The clock strikes ten.
Tennant: Come, Mr. Longen. Let's ask the manager for a safe.
