War Diamonds

The setting African sun painted the sky in shades of amber and crimson, casting long shadows across the mining compound's razor-wire perimeter. Marcus Diamante stood at his office window, rolling a rough diamond between his fingers like a worry stone. The stone caught the dying light, its unpolished surface promising brilliance beneath the cloudy exterior.

Twenty years ago, he'd been just another prospector with dreams of striking it rich in Sierra Leone's diamond fields. Now, he was the owner of Diamante-Cradle Mining Corporation, one of the largest diamond operations in West Africa. Success had come at a price, though – one that kept him awake most nights.

A knock at his door interrupted his brooding. "Enter," he called out, pocketing the stone.

James Chen, his head of security, stepped inside. The ex-military man's usual composed demeanor was notably absent. "Sir, we have a situation at Site B. The local miners... they found something."

Marcus felt his jaw tighten. Site B was their newest operation, pushed through with generous "donations" to local officials. The indigenous communities had protested, but money spoke louder than their concerns. "What kind of something?"

"It's better if you see for yourself," James replied, his face grim.

The drive to Site B took thirty minutes along dusty roads lined with baobab trees. The mining pit came into view – a massive wound in the earth, carved deeper each day by hundreds of workers. Floodlights had been set up around one section, their harsh glare creating islands of light in the gathering darkness.

As Marcus approached the crowd of workers, they parted silently. In the center of their circle, partially exposed from the red soil, was what appeared to be a stone wall. But the precision of its construction and the strange symbols etched into its surface suggested this was no ordinary ruins.

"How deep?" Marcus asked, kneeling to examine the markings.

"Thirty meters," James answered. "The imaging suggests it's part of a larger structure, possibly a chamber of some kind."

One of the local workers, an elderly man named Abuu, stepped forward. "This is sacred ground, Mr. Diamante. Our ancestors spoke of a temple here, where powerful spirits were sealed away. We should not disturb it."

Marcus stood, brushing dirt from his knees. He'd built his empire by following his instincts, and right now, they were screaming at him to listen to the old man. But the latest geological surveys had shown this area was rich with diamonds – possibly the richest deposit they'd found yet.

"Double the wages for anyone willing to work through the night," he announced. "I want whatever's down there exposed by morning."

The workers exchanged worried glances. Several made signs to ward off evil.

"Sir," James said quietly, "maybe we should consult with archaeologists first. If this is a historical site—"

"And risk the government shutting us down?" Marcus cut him off. "No. We proceed as planned." He turned to address the workers again. "Well? Who's staying?"

Slowly, hands began to raise. Poverty was a powerful motivator, stronger than superstition. As the workers began to organize into shifts, Marcus caught Abuu's disappointed gaze.

"You're making a mistake," the old man said softly. "Some treasures come with too high a price."

Marcus watched as the floodlights buzzed to life, chasing away the last remnants of dusk. He'd heard similar warnings before, from similar men, in similar places. He'd ignored them all and built an empire. Whatever lay beneath the red soil of Site B, it would become part of that empire too.

But as he turned to leave, the rough diamond in his pocket seemed heavier than before, like a stone tied to a drowning man's ankle.