:46 PM

He wakes up bathed in sweat. When he looks at the clock on the bed- side table, he realizes that hes only been asleep for forty minutes. Hes exhausted, frightened, in a state of panic. He had always thought him- self incapable of harming anyone, and yet this morning he has already killed two innocent people. It isnt the first time hes destroyed a world, but, before, he had always had good reasons for doing so.

He dreamed that the girl on the bench near the beach came to see him and instead of condemning him, blessed him. He lay in her lap, weeping and begging her to forgive him, but she seemed not to care about that, and simply stroked his hair and told him not to upset him- self. Olivia, the image of generosity and forgiveness. He wonders now if his love for Ewa is worth what he is doing.

He prefers to believe that it is. The fact that Olivia is on his side, that he met with her on a higher plane closer to the Divine, and that everything has been so much easier than he imagined, all this indicates that there must be a reason behind what is happening.

It hadnt been difficult to evadethevigilanteyesofJavitss friends. He knew that such men, as well as being physically prepared to react rapidly and precisely, were trained to memorize each face, follow every movement, second-guess any danger. They probably knew he was armed, which is why they watched him for a while, but relaxed when they realized he didnt constitute a threat. They might even have thought he was in the same line of work and had gone to the tent to check out the place and see if it was safe for his own boss.

He had no boss. And he was a threat. The moment he went into the tent and decided who would be his next victim, there was no turning back, or only at the risk of losing all self-respect. He saw that the ramp leading into the tent was guarded, but that it was perfectly easy to slip out onto the beach. He left ten minutes after he had arrived, hoping that Javitss friends would notice that he had gone. He then walked round the tent and came back up the ramp reserved for guests at the Hotel Martinez (he had to show his key card) and into the area reserved for the lunch. Walking on sand in ones shoes wasnt the pleasantest thing in the world, and Igor noticed that he was still feeling tired from the flight, from the fear that his plan might prove impossible to achieve, and from the tension he felt after destroying the universe and future generations of that poor young vendor of craftwork. Nevertheless, he had to go on.

Before returning to the tent, he took from his pocket the drinking straw that he had made a point of keeping. He opened the small glass flask he had shown to Olivia. It did not, as he had told her, contain petrol, but something quite insignificant: a needle and a piece of cork. Using a thin metal blade, he made a hole in the cork the same diameter as the straw.

Then he rejoined the party, which, by then, was full of guests strolling around, kissing and embracing, giving little yelps of recognition, clutching cocktails of every possible hue just to have something to do with their hands and to keep a check on their anxi- ety, as they waited for the buffet to open. They could eat then, in moderation, of course, because there were diets and plastic surgery to be considered and suppers at the end of the day, where they would have to eat even though they werent hungry because that was what etiquette required.

Most of the guests were older people, which meant that this was an event for professionals. The age of the guests further favored his plan, since almost all of them would need glasses. Needless to say, no one was wearing them because tired eyes are a sign of age. There, every- one had to dress and behave like people in the prime of life, young at heart and in excellent health, and to pretend that they were indiffer- ent to what was going on around them because they were preoccupied with other things, when the truth was that they couldnt actually see. Their contact lenses meant that they could just about identify a person a few yards away, and, besides, they would find out soon enough who it was they were talking to.

Only two of the guests noticed everything and everyoneJavitss friends. This time, however, they were the ones being observed.

Igor placed the needle inside the straw, and pretended to put it back in his drink.

A group of pretty girls standing near Javitss table appeared to be listening, entranced, to the extraordinary tales told by a Jamaican man. In fact, each girl was plotting how to get rid of her rivals and carry the man off to bed because Jamaicans have such a reputation as studs.

Igor moved closer to Javits, took the straw from the glass, and blew through it, projecting the needle inside in the direction of his victim. He stayed only long enough to see Javits put his hand to his back. Then he left and went straight back to the hotel to try and get some sleep.

Curare, originally used by South American Indians for hunting with darts, can also be found in European hospitals because, under controlled conditions, it can be used to paralyze certain muscles, thus facilitating the surgeons work. A fatal doselike that on the point of the needle he had shot into Javitss backcould kill a bird in just two minutes. Boar, on the other hand, take fifteen minutes to die, and large mammalsa man, for exampletwenty.

As soon as it gets into the bloodstream, the nervous fibers of the body relax, then stop functioning altogether, causing gradual asphyxia. The strangest thingor the worst, some might sayis that the victim remains conscious throughout, but cannot move in order to ask for help nor stop the slow process of paralysis overtaking his body.

If someone cuts his finger on a poisoned dart or arrow during a hunting expedition in the jungle, the Indians know exactly what to do. They use mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and an herbal antidote that they always carry with them because such accidents are commonplace. In cities, the paramedics can do nothing because they think theyre dealing with a heart attack.

Igor did not look back as he walked to the hotel. He knew that just then one of the two friends would be frantically searching out the perpetrator, while the other would be ringing for an ambulance, which would arrive quickly enough, but the crew would have little idea what was going on. They would be wearing colorful uniforms and high-vis- ibility jackets, and carrying a defibrillatorto apply a series of shocks to the heartand a portable electrocardiogram. In the case of curare, the heart seems to be the last muscle affected and continues beating even after brain death has occurred.

The paramedics would notice nothing strange about his heartbeat, and so would put him on a drip, assuming he was suffering from some form of heat stroke or food poisoning, although they would still take all the usual measures, even applying an oxygen mask. By then, the twenty minutes would be up, and although the body might still be alive, it would now be in a vegetative state.

Yes, he had planned everything. He had used his pri- vate plane so that he could enter France with an unregistered gun and with the various poisons he had obtained via his connections with the Chechen mafia working in Moscow. Each step, each move had been carefully studied and rehearsed, as if he were planning a business meet- ing. He had made a list of victims in his head. Apart from the one he had met and talked to, the others were all to be of different classes, ages, and nationalities. He had spent months analyzing the lives of serial killers, using a computer program that was very popular with terrorists and which left no record of any searches you made. He had taken all the necessary steps to escape unnoticed once he had carried out his mission.

He is sweating. No, its not remorseperhaps Ewa really does de- serve such a sacrificebut the thought of the possible futility of the project. He needed the woman he most loved to know he was capable of doing anything for her, including destroying universes, but was it really worth it? Or is it sometimes necessary to accept fate and allow things to develop in their own way and simply wait for people to come to their senses in their own time?

Hes tired. He cant think straight anymore and, who knows, per- haps martyrdom was better than murder, surrendering himself and thus making a greater sacrifice, offering up his own life for love. Jesus was the best example of that. When his enemies saw Jesus defeated and hung upon a cross, they thought it was all over. They felt proud of what they, the victors, had done, convinced that they had put paid to the problem once and for all.

Igor is confused. His intention was to destroy universes, not re- linquish his freedom out of love. In his dream, the girl with the dark eyebrows had resembled Notre Dame de PiŽtat; the mother with her son in her arms, at once proud and long-suffering.

He goes into the bathroom, puts his head under the shower, and turns on the cold water. Perhaps its lack of sleep, being in a strange place, in a different time zone, or the fact that he was actually doing the thing he had planned to do, but never thought he would. He remem- bers the promise he made before the relics of St. Mary Magdalene in Moscow. But is what hes doing right? He needs a sign.

Sacrifice. Yes, he should have thought of that, but perhaps he needed the experience of destroying those two worlds this morning to be able to see more clearly what is going on. The redemption of love through total surrender. His body will be handed over to the executioners who judge only ones gestures and who forget about the intentions and rea- sons that lie behind any act that society considers insane. Jesus (who understands that love merits any amount of sacrifice) will receive his spirit, and Ewa will have his soul. She will know what he was capable of: surrender, self-immolation, and all for the sake of one person. He wont be condemned to death because the guillotine was abolished in France decades ago, but he might spend many years in prison. Ewa will repent of her sins. Shell come to see him, bring him food, theyll have time to talk, reflect, love, and even though their bodies do not touch, their souls will be closer than ever. Even if they have to wait years before they can live in the house he intends to build on the shores of Lake Baikal, that period of waiting will purify and bless them.

Yes, sacrifice. He turns off the shower, looks at his face in the mirror for a moment, and sees not himself, but the Lamb prepared to be slaugh- tered once again. He puts on the same clothes he was wearing this morn- ing, goes out into the street, heads for the place where the little street vendor used to sit, and goes up to the first policeman he meets.

I killed the girl who used to work here.

The policeman looks at him and sees a well-dressed man with di- sheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes.

The one who used to sell craftwork? Igor nods. The policeman doesnt take much notice of him. He greets a couple who are walking by, laden with shopping. You should get a maid! If youll pay her wages, retorts the woman, smiling. You just cant get the staff these days! Oh, come on, money cant be the reason. You have a different dia-

mond on your finger every week. Igor cannot understand whats going on. He has just confessed to a murder. Did you hear what I said? Look, its very hot. Go and lie down for a bit. Cannes has a lot to offer its visitors. But what about the girl? Did you know her? Id never seen her before in my life. She was here this morning.

I...

. . . you saw the ambulance arrive and someone being taken away and concluded shed been murdered. I dont know where youre from, sir, I dont know if youve got children yourself, but just watch out for drugs. People say theyre not as bad as all that, but look what happened to that poor girl.

And the policeman moves away without waiting for a response.

Should Igor have insisted, given more details? Then would the po- liceman have taken him seriously? But, of course, its impossible to kill someone in broad daylight and on the main street in Cannes. He had even been ready to own up to the other world he had destroyed at a party packed with people.

But the representative of law and order and good manners hadnt wanted to listen to him. What kind of world was he living in? Would he have to take the gun out of his pocket and start firing in all direc- tions for them to believe him? Would he have to behave like a barbar- ian who kills for no reason before they would finally listen to him?

Igor watches the policeman cross the road and go into a snack bar. He decides to wait for a while, just in case he should change his mind, get further information from the police station and come back and ask him for more details of the crime.

However, hes pretty certain that wont happen. He remembers the policemans remark to the woman about the diamond on her finger. Did he perhaps know where it came from? Of course not; if he did, he would have taken her straight to the police station and charged her with handling criminal property.

As far as the woman was concerned, the diamond had magically ap- peared in some high-class shop, havingas the shop assistants always saidfirst been cut by Dutch or Belgian jewelers. It would be classi- fied according to cut, color, clarity, and carat weight. The price could vary from a few hundred euros to something most mere mortals would consider truly outrageous.

A diamond, or brilliant to give it its other name, is, as everyone knows, just a piece of coal that has been worked on by heat and time. Since it contains no organic matter, it is impossible to know how long it takes for its structure to change, although geologists estimate some- thing between three hundred million and a billion years. Diamonds generally form ninety miles below the Earths crust and gradually rise to the surface, where they can be mined.

Diamond is the hardest and most resistant of natural materials, and it takes a diamond to cut another diamond. The particles produced by this process are used in machines made for polishing and cutting. The real importance of diamonds lies in their use as jewels. A diamond is the supreme manifestation of human vanity.

A few decades ago, in a world that seemed about to return to more practical things and greater social equality, diamonds began to disap- pear from the market. Then the largest mining company in the world, with its headquarters in South Africa, decided to commission one of the best advertising agencies in the world. Superclass met with Superclass, research was carried out, and the result was a three-word phrase:

Diamonds are forever.

Problem solved. Jewelers took up the slogan, and the industry began to flourish again. If diamonds are forever, what better way to express ones love, which, in theory at least, should also be eternal? What better way of distinguishing the Superclass from the other bil- lions of inhabitants who make up the bottom half of the pyramid? The demand for the stones increased and prices started to rise. In a matter of a few years, that same South African company, which had, up until then, set the rules for the international market, found itself surrounded by corpses.

Igor knows what hes talking about. When he helped form an army to get involved in a tribal conflict in Africa, it had proved an extremely difficult task. Not that he regrets it because, although few people knew about the project, he managed to save many lives. He had mentioned it once in passing to Ewa over some now-forgotten supper, but had de- cided to say no more. When he performed a charitable act, he preferred his right hand not to know what his left hand was doing. Diamonds had helped him save many lives, although that fact will never appear in his biography.

The policeman who takes no notice when a criminal confesses to a crime, but praises the jewel on the finger of a woman carrying bags packed with toilet paper and cleaning materials, is simply not fit for the job. He doesnt know that this pointless industry creates about fifty billion dollars a year, employs a vast army of miners, transporters, private security companies, diamond factories, insurance companies, wholesalers, and luxury boutiques. He doesnt realize that it begins in the mud and has to cross whole rivers of blood before it reaches a shop window.

The mud is where the miner spends his life looking for the stone that will eventually bring him the fortune he so desires. He finds sev- eral and sells each stone for an average of twenty dollars, a stone that will end up costing the consumer ten thousand dollars. But hes happy enough because, where he lives, people earn less than fifty dollars a year, and five stones are enough for him to enjoy a short but happy life, working as he does in the worst possible conditions.

The stones are bought by unidentified buyers and immedi- ately passed on to irregular armies in Liberia, in the Congo, and in Angola. In those countries, a man, surrounded by guards armed to the teeth, is designated to go to an airstrip where planes can land illegally. A plane duly lands, a man in a suit gets out, usually accompanied by another man in shirtsleeves, carrying a small suitcase. There is a per- functory exchange of greetings. The man with the bodyguards hands over a few small packages; perhaps for superstitious reasons, the pack- ages are always made from old tights.

The man in shirtsleeves takes a special jewelers eyeglass from his pocket, puts it to his left eye, and begins to check each piece, one by one. After about an hour and a half, he has a good idea of what hes dealing with; he then takes a small precision electronic weighing bal- ance from his case and empties the contents of the packages onto the scale. He makes a few calculations on a sheet of paper. The material is placed in the suitcase along with the balance; the man in the suit signals to the armed guards, and five or six of them board the plane. They start to unload large crates, which they pile up beside the airstrip until the plane leaves again. The whole operation takes most of the day. The large crates are opened. They contain precision rifles, anti- personnel mines, and bullets that explode on impact, releasing dozens of small, deadly metal balls. The arms are handed out to mercenaries and soldiers, and soon the country finds itself facing another ruthless coup dŽtat. Whole tribes are murdered, childrens legs or arms are blown off by cluster bombs, women are raped. Meanwhile, a long way awayusually in Antwerp or in Amsterdamearnest men are work- ing with love and dedication, painstakingly cutting the stones, exhila- rated by their own skill, hypnotized by the flashes of light that begin to emerge from each new facet of that piece of coal whose structure was transformed by time. Diamond cutting diamond.

On the one hand, women screaming in despair beneath a smoke- shrouded sky. On the other, beautiful old buildings seen through the windows of well-lit rooms.

In 2002, the United Nations adopted a resolution, the Kimberley Process, that tried to trace the origin of diamonds and forbade jewelers from buying any that came from war zones. For some time, the re- spectable European diamond cutters went back to buying stones from the South African monopoly. However, ways were found of making a diamond official, and the resolution became a mere sham that al- lowed politicians to claim that they were doing something to put an end to blood diamonds, as these became known.

Five years ago, Igor had swapped diamonds for arms and created a small group intended to put an end to a bloody conflict in the north of Liberia, and he had succeededonly the murderers were killed. Peace returned to the small villages, and the diamonds were sold to jewelers in America, with no awkward questions asked.

When society doesnt act to stop crime, men have the right to do whatever they think correct.

Something similar had happened a few minutes ago on that beach. As soon as both murders were discovered, someone would turn to the public and say what they always said:

Were doing our best to identify the murderer.

So be it. Once again, ever-generous destiny had shown the way ahead. Sacrifice wasnt enough. Besides, when he thought about it, Ewa would have found his absence unbearable, with no one to talk to during the long nights and endless days while she awaited his release. She would weep whenever she thought of him in his cold cell, staring at the blank prison walls. And when the time finally came for them to go and live in the house on the shores of Lake Baikal, they might be too old to experience all the adventures they had planned together.

The policeman comes out of the snack bar and joins him on the pavement.

Are you still here, sir? Are you lost? Do you need help? No, thank you. Like I said, go and have a rest. The sun can be very dangerous at this time of day. He goes back to the hotel and takes a shower. He asks the recep-

tionist to wake him at four, that way he should be rested enough to recover the necessary clarity of mind not to go doing any more such foolish things. He had very nearly ruined his whole plan.

He phones the concierge and reserves a table on the hotel terrace for when he wakes up; hed like to drink some tea there undisturbed. Then he lies down, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come.

What does it matter where diamonds are from, as long as they shine?

In this world, only love deserves absolutely everything. Nothing else makes sense.

As he has many times before in his life, Igor feels a sense of total freedom. The confusion in his head is slowly disappearing and lucidity is returning.

He had placed his fate in Jesus hands, and Jesus had decided that he should continue with his mission.

He falls asleep without any feeling of guilt whatsoever.