THE $100 MILLION TRUCK STOP JOB

One of the biggest jewelry robberies in U.S. history didn't happen at a museum or in a shop on Rodeo Drive but at a dusty rest area outside L.A. The American West is as wild as ever.

- NICOLE LAPORTE

One Sunday afternoon in March, Jean Malki was stationed at his booth at the International Gem and Jewelry Show in San Mateo, California. Splayed out in front of him was a row of glass cases stuffed with diamond-encrusted Datejust 36 Rolexes, blue topaz rings, and necklaces that looked as if they once belonged to Marie Antoinette. When a woman inquired about a particular gem-stone "Is that a garnet?"-Malki smiled and corrected her. "Red spinel. GIA certified." It was day three of the trade show, and Malki, a burly wholesale jeweler who wears black-framed glasses low on his nose, was a whir of motion. A longtime customer dropped off Korean pastries and requested a custom-made diamond and ruby eternity ring. Her sister wanted to replace an emerald with a ruby in her own diamond ring.

Malki placed a 1.6-carat ruby on the showcase and shook his head.

"You need a bigger one. I'll find you one," he said, and ran off to talk to a dealer a few booths down. Minutes later he returned, victorious.

"I told him you were my cousin," he said with a grin.

Business was good-earlier in the day he had sold a fancy yellow diamond necklace for $38,000-but the crowd in the convention center was noticeably thin. The soaring price of gold, now over $5,000 an ounce, had been turning buyers skittish, and the war in Iran was throwing the economy into even more uncertainty. "It's not like it used to be," Malki said.