Jade Island

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Archer tilted his head as though thinking it over, studied the cold salt water beyond his brother’s cabin in the San Juan Islands, and finally nodded. “Yeah, that’s about it. Except for the seduction part. That’s optional.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Fine. So seduce her.”

  “This is a joke.”

  “I wish.”

  Kyle waited, but his brother wasn’t feeling talkative. Kyle was afraid he knew why. Archer hated involving family in any of the gray areas of his past. Uncle Sam was definitely one of those areas. But the U.S. government, like the past, never really went away.

  “What’s going on?” Kyle asked finally, shifting in his chair. “And don’t give me any bullshit about hands across the water and international cooperation.”

  Archer glanced at his brother. Sunlight glinted in Kyle’s tarnished blond hair and made his hazel eyes look more gold than green, but even sunlight couldn’t brighten the dark rim around the iris. Nor could light take away the lines and shadows of experience, experience Archer would rather have spared his youngest brother.

  “Would you believe business?” Archer asked neutrally.

  “Monkey business, yeah.”

  Archer’s smile was fast but real, like the anger narrowing his gray-green eyes.

  Kyle simply waited. This time he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence.

  Archer got out of his chair. He was tall, rangy, quick, a darker echo of his younger brother. Silently Archer prowled the cabin’s homey main room, touching things at random: a computer that bristled with Kyle’s Rube Goldberg additions, books on everything from international banking to five thousand years of Chinese jade, a Baroque flute, a small vase with a branch of rosemary in it, a letter opener that could slice to the bone, and a fishing lure that looked like a tiny hula skirt. Beneath the slithery, glittery skirt was a hook so sharp it would stick to rock. It certainly wanted to stick to flesh.

  “You’ve changed,” Archer said, smiling as he carefully set aside the lure. “Before that amber fiasco last year, you couldn’t outwait me if your life depended on it.”

  “Does it?”

  Archer’s smile vanished. “Not as far as I know.”

  “Which brings up an interesting question,” Kyle said. “What do you know?”

  “Enough to worry. Not enough to do anything useful about it.”

  “Welcome to the human race.”

  For a moment longer, Archer stood near the window. He watched the windswept fir forest and the salt water beyond, where currents more powerful than rivers coiled beneath the peaceful surface of Rosario Strait.

  “I don’t know any more hard facts than I already told you,” Archer said finally. “There have been rumors of a spectacular find, a Ming emperor’s tomb. The emperor was a jade connoisseur. He creamed seven thousand years of Chinese jade and took it to his grave.”

  “Where was the find? Who made it? When? Does China—”

  “I’ve told you most of what I know,” Archer interrupted.

  “Tell me the rest.”

  “My contact believes that Dick Farmer bought every important jade artifact in the tomb.”

  Kyle whistled. “Must have cost a lot.”

  “Close to forty million, one way or another.”

  “Even for a guy who’s worth three billion—”

  “Five, at last count.”

  “—that’s a lot of money,” Kyle finished.

  “Money can be replaced. All it takes is a printing press, and God knows Uncle has one,” Archer said bluntly. “But the contents of the Jade Emperor’s Tomb can’t be replaced. The Chinese are having an international hissy fit.”

  “No surprise. What are they doing to get Uncle’s attention?”

  “Not much.” Archer’s tone was as sardonic as his smile. “The Chinese just threatened to break off all relations with the U.S. if the Jade Emperor’s treasure turns up on our soil.”

  Kyle’s blond eyebrows shot up. “They are pissed. Will it turn up?”

  “Worst-case scenario?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “It’s already here.”

  “Where?”

  “My contact didn’t know or didn’t say,” Archer said. “Same difference, as far as the Donovans are concerned.”

  “Farmer isn’t stupid,” Kyle said slowly, “but he isn’t the kind of guy to hide his glory under a bushel basket. He wants to be recognized as a big man in cultural circles, a true connoisseur as well as merely wealthy. If he has a coup the size of the Jade Emperor’s Tomb, he’ll strut it.”

  “That’s what Uncle is afraid of. At this moment we have some very quiet, extremely delicate negotiations going on with mainland China.”

  “Trade, dope, immigration, or illegal arms?” Kyle asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  Archer smiled slightly. He and his brother were more alike than either one of them had realized until recently. “Illegal arms. The Chinese are making a bundle exporting munitions that are outdated by our standards, yet plenty high-tech by Second or Third World standards.”

  “Ah, civilization. Ain’t it grand.”

  “It beats whatever is in second place. That’s why Uncle is negotiating instead of shooting. Since it’s China we’re negotiating with, we’ve heard a hundred degrees of yes and none of no; but not a damn thing has been signed, sealed, or delivered in the way of promising to shut down the export of high-tech munitions.”

  “What does China want?”

  “My contact didn’t say. Obviously it’s more than we’re willing to give them so far. If this Jade Emperor shit hits the fan, we’re going to end up looking as bad as we smell. Uncle will have to give up a lot more to China than is good for the long term, in order to get what we must have in the short term—less weapons in the hands of ambitious tyrants.”

  “Hand me the milk,” Kyle said. He couldn’t go back to bed and he sure as hell needed something extra to kick his butt into gear. Not to mention his mind.

  He grabbed the milk carton from Archer and didn’t stop pouring until the coffee in his cup was the color of the Mississippi in flood. He drank hard and fast, then waited for the caffeine to hit his brain cells.

  “Okay,” Kyle said. “So Uncle thinks the Tangs swiped the tomb goods and sold them to Farmer.”

  “That’s one theory.”

  “What are the others?”

  “SunCo is the second favorite.”

  “They’re based in mainland China. If they did it, their government would be all over them like a cat covering shit.”

  “Probably. Depends on who SunCo is allied with in the mainland government. They have more factions than we have names to give them. Anyway, until further notice, the Tang Consortium is the favorite bad guy.”

  Kyle drank the last of his coffee, ran his hands over his bristly cheeks, and looked up at Archer with clear, hazel-green eyes.

  “Since the Turnover,” Kyle said, “the Tang Consortium has been pretty well shut out of Hong Kong and the mainland. The Tangs need a strong U.S. ally. They don’t get any stronger than Dick Farmer.”

  “Yeah. If it weren’t for the arms negotiations, Uncle would let China, Farmer, and the Tangs slug it out. And we wouldn’t be voting for the American. Farmer doesn’t have too many friends in high places.”

  “You’re speaking of the man most likely to start his own party and get elected President.”

  “It would mean a step down in power for Farmer. A big step. When the President wants to hold an international meeting, it takes protocol experts months to plan. When Farmer wants to hold the same meeting, everyone comes to Farmer Island and no one bitches about who has precedence.”

  “Yeah. I love that trick he plays with the lapel pins and the house computer. When you smuggled yours out after that last conference Donovan International attended, it took me months to reverse-engineer the chip and build one that would make the computer think whoever wor
e it was God.”

  “So you say. It’s never been tested.”

  Kyle shrugged. He had done it, he knew it, and that was all that mattered to him. “Can you get a full description of the tomb contents? Otherwise we won’t know what to look for.”

  “For openers, there’s a jade burial suit. Intact.”

  Kyle was too surprised to say anything. When he wasn’t surprised anymore, he still didn’t know what to say. Absently he picked up the Baroque flute and blew a series of notes that were piercing yet sweet, random yet musical. Then he set the wooden flute aside and turned to his brother.

  “Jade burial suits are extremely rare,” Kyle said. “Nearly all that have been discovered are still in China. The very few that have gone overseas are in the hands of national institutions, not individuals.”

  Archer waited.

  “What else was in the tomb?” Kyle asked.

  “The usual stuff—jewelry, scepters, sculptures, dishes, screens.”

  “‘The usual stuff,’” Kyle muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll need better descriptions than that. Size, color, age, that sort of thing.”

  “I’ll try, but my contact was unofficial.”

  “Unofficial. Uh-huh. Do you really believe that?”

  “Most of the real work is done that way. Off the record.”

  Subtly Kyle flexed his left shoulder, trying to work out the ache. The wound had long since healed, but the shock wave from an off-the-record bullet had done unhappy things to the nearby cartilage. When it came to predicting rain, he had a better average than the expensive weather guessers on TV.

  “So this unofficial contact calls you,” Kyle said, “and says that there are rumors of the type of cultural theft that will make diplomats reach for tranquilizers while governments beat the drum of nationalism and everybody with any sense heads for cover.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did he come to you?”

  “He didn’t say, beyond the obvious.”

  “Which is?”

  “Donovan International is in the right position and I know how the game is played.”

  “With real bullets,” Kyle muttered.

  “No. With real permits, passports, and other kinds of official paper. If we tell Uncle to bugger off, life becomes a lot trickier for Donovan International. It’s hard to run an import-export business without the cooperation of the U.S. bureaucracy. Farmer can do it. We can’t.”

  “And we owe Uncle one, don’t we?” Kyle asked quietly. “For cleaning up my mess on Jade Island.”

  Archer shrugged, but the tight line of his mouth said a lot.

  “Mother,” Kyle said, disgusted. He had been afraid of that. “I tried to keep the family out of it.”

  “So did I.”

  Kyle flexed both hands, trying to work off the tension he felt every time he realized how close he had come to dying—and taking his sister Honor with him. “Let’s go over it again, just to make sure I don’t fuck this one up, too.”

  Turning suddenly, Archer looked straight at the big blond man who had once been his little brother and would always be his youngest brother. “What happened on Jade Island wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yeah, right,” Kyle said, disgusted. “I’m surprised you trust me with this.”

  “That’s crap. The only one lacking trust around here is you, in yourself.”

  “Did your contact ask for me by name?” Kyle asked, changing the subject.

  “No. But you’re the one Lianne Blakely has been watching for the past two weeks.”

  Kyle’s odd, gold-green eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  “The illegitimate daughter of—”

  “Not that,” Kyle interrupted. “The rest of it.”

  “Simple. She was looking at you and you were so busy looking at cold jade that you never noticed a warm woman trying to catch your eye.”

  “Jade isn’t cold and I’ve never met a woman of any temperature who wouldn’t crawl over my bleeding body to get to you.”

  Archer bit off the kind of comment that would spiral down into a sibling argument. He had never understood why everyone thought he was such a lady-killer. As far as he was concerned, Kyle was the best-looking of the Donovan brothers, with Justin and Lawe very close behind.

  “Not this lady,” Archer said. “Lianne was looking at you. That’s one of the reasons I agreed to ask for your help in penetrating the Tang Consortium.”

  “Penetrating, huh? First the woman, then the whole damn clan. You’ve got an overblown idea of my libido, not to mention my stamina.”

  Archer made a growling sound that was a combination of exasperation and humor.

  “In any case,” Kyle continued, “if the lady was looking at me rather than you, we can be sure of one thing.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a setup.”

  Archer blinked. “I’m having trouble following you.”

  “Take it one word at a time. In the last two weeks, you and I have gone to three jade previews together.”

  “Five.”

  “Two were so lousy they don’t count. If Lianne saw past you to me, then it’s because the Tang Consortium figures I’m an easier nut to crack.”

  “You don’t think it’s possible that Lianne prefers blonds?”

  Kyle shrugged. “Anything is possible, but the last time a woman passed up a tall-dark-and-handsome type for me, I nearly got killed before I figured out exactly what kind of screwing was going on. That kind of lesson sticks with a man.”

  For a moment Archer didn’t know what to say. Kyle was so certain that the only thing women wanted him for was to use him and lose him. Before last year, Kyle wouldn’t have reacted like that.

  At times Archer missed the old Kyle, the one who laughed easily, the golden boy bathed by a perpetual sun. But Archer never would have asked that golden boy to do anything more serious than match wines with meals.

  “Maybe it’s a setup,” Archer agreed. “And maybe there’s a different game entirely. That’s up to you to find out. If you want to.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Archer shrugged. “I’ll put off my trip to the South Seas and take a run at the Tangs myself.”

  “What about Justin? He’s blond. Kind of.”

  “Justin and Lawe are ass-deep in their own alligators, trying to get a line on a new emerald strike in Brazil. Besides, they’re too young.”

  “They’re older than I am,” Kyle pointed out.

  “Not since Kaliningrad.”

  Kyle smiled. It wasn’t an open, sunny kind of smile. It was like Archer’s, more teeth than comfort.

  “I’m in,” Kyle said. “When and where does the game begin?”

  “Tonight. Seattle. Wear a tux.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “You will.”

  Chapter 2

  Lianne sat in her mother’s elegant Kirkland condominium and watched Lake Washington’s gray surface being teased by cat’s-paws of wind. Never quite still, never predictable in its movements, the lake licked slyly at the neat lawns and sidewalks that crowded its urban shores. In balcony planters and along streets, tree branches were just beginning to shimmer with the kind of green that was more hope than an actual announcement of spring’s return. The bravest of the daffodils were already in bloom, lifting their cheerful faces to the cloud-buried sun.

  “Do you want green, jasmine, or oolong?” Anna Blakely called from the open kitchen.

  “Oolong, please, Mom. It’s going to be a marathon tonight. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

  And all the courage, Lianne acknowledged silently. If Kyle Donovan was at the charity auction/ball tonight, she had to pick him up. Or try to. It would have been much easier if she wasn’t attracted to him. But she was. Very. He made every female nerve ending in her body wake up and yowl.

  Since she had never been attracted to a man like that before in her life, especially a big blond Anglo, she was afraid she would be all thumbs and blushes in
his presence. That was why she had put off approaching him, and put it off, and put it off. She really didn’t want to embarrass herself.

  Now she had run out of time.

  If she failed to pick him up, then she failed, Lianne told herself briskly. Her father would just have to chalk up one more disappointment from his bastard daughter. She didn’t have the kind of recklessness or innate female confidence to approach a good-looking stranger with the idea of getting acquainted for business purposes, much less for sexual ones.

  But Lianne was definitely the kind to repay a favor or keep a promise. Engineering a meeting with Kyle Donovan did both.

  Her stomach hitched at the thought. She told herself that, despite what her father believed, Kyle wouldn’t be at the ball tonight. He had no patience for that kind of arts-and-culture crush, and no need to siphon money from society’s cream.

  Lucky him.

  Lianne wished there had been time for her to go to the gym and work out her nerves on a mat or with a partner. Nothing settled her mind and body like the intricate demands of karate—part ballet, part meditation, always compelling.

  “Nervous?” her mother asked from the kitchen.

  Lianne barely prevented herself from jumping up and pacing the room. “Of course I’m nervous. I chose every single piece of the Jade Trader display myself. Wen Zhi Tang never gave me that much responsibility before.”

  “Wen’s eyes are going. Besides, the crafty old bastard wanted goods that would appeal to Americans as well as to overseas Chinese.”

  “And his bastard granddaughter is as close as he can come to American taste, is that it?”

  The sound of a teaspoon hitting the polished granite countertop made Lianne wince, but she didn’t apologize for her bluntness. She had spent too many years pretending that she was the daughter of a widow, while knowing full well that Johnny Tang was her father, Wen was her grandfather, and since Anna had never been married, she could hardly be widowed.

  Lianne was tired of the legitimacy charade, just as she was tired of watching her mother being treated like an unwelcome stranger by the Tang family. As far as Lianne was concerned, bastards were made, not born.