Gemscentric

A gem novel about blue sapphires.

“From the pavilion depth of the blue sapphires we learn of the intrigue, trust, and eternal mystery confronting the reader as Julian Robov explores the characters hidden under the “fingerprints” of this venture into Southeast Asia.”

Margaret Magnussen
Author “Namaste—Chronicle of a Peace Corps Volunteer”


“So you think the gem business is glamorous? You’ll think twice after reading Gemscentric!, this second novel by Julian Robov. It’s a thrilling tale with a multi-colored cast of characters lighting up the gem world. Page after page takes you on a journey through a maze of twists and turns of the plot, uncovering the hidden passion and greed in the world of gemstones.”

Barbara Lipatapanlop

Written by Julian Robov


One

Bangkok, 1998

The day was hot and quiet at the border town of Bo Rai, as Rudy J. Smith was being dropped off at one of the back streets of Bo Rai ruby market to be picked up by a close friend. The days spent at one of the unnamed mines in Pailin, where he had been kidnapped and held by Khmer Rouge soldiers had been an unforgettable and unforgivable experience.
In fact, for five years and seven days, a ransom of a million dollars had been demanded in order to release him from Khmer Rouge captivity. As the prospectors poured in from around the world hoping to strike up deals, there were internal conflicts among several factions as to who should control the productive gem mines.
In fact, he was the lone American in the Khmer Rouge territory. Politics; too, played a significant role in changing sides when problems arose.
He was back in Thailand, and obviously broke. An adventurous New Yorker, he specialized in top quality blue sapphires of big sizes, 10carats and above, feeding the hungry blue sapphire markets around the world. His connections deep inside the jungles of Cambodia, and the excellent rapport he enjoyed with Iang Sery, the de facto finance boss of the former Khmer Rouge leadership gave him access to the richest mines in Pailin, and most importantly of all—that FIRST LOOK. Pol Pot had already died.
As the international pressure intensified to bring his remaining faction to justice, a certain few within the leadership took their own course tilting the fluid relationship. Rudy had to live with the chaos and mistrust. Iang Sery defected to the government side when he felt the time was right. The disgruntled faction wanted money and knowing the amount of years Rudy had done business, a million dollars seemed to be an attractive option. He would be dead by now if the money hadn’t been arranged.
He paused. Pathetic. At first he had to camp with the Thai miners who had bluffed their captors by not paying their share. They would have been killed, but for obvious reasons keeping them alive seemed more sensible so that they could make more money.
THE RANSOM GAME:Some gem miners were steady and honest, while others refined themselves in that strong pursuit of becoming qualified cheats. The daily routine by the captors kept changing to avoid detection by other factions. Waking up at five thirty was difficult. Breakfast was restricted to rice and vegetables, and occasionally lizards, birds, snakes, rats and scorpions. Lunch was the same. Dinner at nine was also the same. And, there were no weekend’s off. Unexploded land mines sharpened his awareness and instincts.
ENTER THE INTELLIGENT BUFFALOES: He kept watching them all the time. The animals had God-given instincts to sense the mines. They became his constant source of solace. Keeping track of the days and years became extremely difficult, as his contact with the outside world was shut off. His captors were in constant communication with his close friend, James Hughes, a confidant of Khieu Sampan, the spokesperson for the Pol Pot faction. Having nothing to do all day drove him crazy. At times he had been allowed to talk to other captives or stare at the mute buffaloes. The yearning to get back to his regular business in Switzerland, New York, Singapore and Hong Kong drove him nuts.
He cried a lot. There was a full moon beaming like a giant moonstone displaying schiller, cotton-puff clouds moving across it at a snails pace. At some point, the mosquitoes would wake him up—then he loved singing.

Life’s but a walking shadow—a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.

He learned one thing. THE ART OF PATIENCE: He glanced countless times down the dilapidated road in Bo Rai. James was taking more time. Perhaps, the traffic, he thought. Then, he saw the Land Rover coming. Rudy rushed to the back street and waved frantically as it approached the meeting place. The Land Rover stopped in front of him. James couldn’t believe his eyes. They embraced quickly. It was natural.
“Jeez, look at you. You never looked like this before.” James stroked his hand across Rudy’s face. He cried. They both cried. It was spontaneous.
Rudy was weak and tired. The captors had delivered him at one of the back streets with a backpack. They gave him a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt with a U.N emblem as a memento of sorts.
In fact, Rudy had friends in Bo Rai and Chantaburi. But, James was the best. He knew every in and out of Rudy’s business and the Khmer contacts. Without him, he would have been dead meat a long time ago.
They were driving through Trat, James briefing him about the market and its latest developments.
“How do you feel buddy?” James asked.
“Feel much better now that I’m still alive. That’s great. I need a good sleep,” Rudy replied.
They were approaching Chantaburi, and fifteen minutes later, the Land Rover was drawing up outside The K. P. Grand hotel. The presence of hundreds of gem dealers meant the market was active.