"The man on that tape," said Q, "is Tom Shine, American diamond importer. He's one of the rising stars in the industry."

"Must he do his own commercials?" Bonf cried.

"Pay attention, 007." Q showed a slide. "Most gem-quality diamonds come from Africa and Russia. The market is controlled by the Dutch-based DeBeers cartel. On the supply side, they exploit low-paid mine workers; on the demand side, they market diamonds as investments, or tokens of undying love. In between, they restrict supplies to inflate prices.

"Your weapons are this universal remote and this stun-gas pager. Call this number to release the gas. Take these pills for immunity. This is an evil industry, Bonf. Break up that cartel."

Fourteen hours later, Bonf's jet touched down in Johannesburg. At a Paul Simon concert, he danced with a ravishing dark-skinned girl; after dinner, they made love. When he awoke, she was gone; a snake slithered toward him. "Another snake again?" Bonf said, killing it.

Pretending to own a chain of Chicago jewelry stores, Bonf entered the bidding room, where DeBeers matched buyers with goods. Tom Shine gave a small speech, then invited the group to see his new mine in Lesotho. A chartered bus waited outside, engine running.

Inside the mine, Shine herded them into a large grotto. Armed guards appeared, blocking the exits. Shine handed everyone a cellular phone. "The dynamics of the market have changed," he announced. "To participate in future purchases will require a Personal Sales License, distributed by the Shine company. We will expand your markets to new lands. In return, you will contribute 15 percent of your gross income, as well as a license fee of 125 million dollars. Does anyone decline this offer?"

One dealer stood up; Shine shot him. "Anyone else?" No one stood. "Then call your bankers."

Bonf took two tablets and called his pager. In seconds everyone was out cold but Bonf… and Tom Shine. "Nice try, Bonf," Shine said, pointing a gun at him. "I've always been immune to stun gas. Now come this way."

"You're in a gutter business, Shine," said Bonf. "Paying indigenous workers pennies a day to tear up the earth. Convincing people to empty their bank accounts to buy shiny bits of rock. Setting up a cartel system to keep the prices high."

They reached a dead end, where a large drilling truck had just bitten into some new ore. "You'll die here, the others will wake up, and we'll be back where we started," said Shine.

Bonf, using his remote, started up the driller. "I'll bet two month's pay that doesn't happen." The truck leapt forward and the drill bits chewed Shine into small bloody shreds.

Back in London, Q exuberantly showed Bonf the Financial Times headline: Diamond Prices Fall 90%. "Excellent job, 007."