Jade Island

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Guess.”

  “The jewelry, maybe.”

  “Have you worn it in the last few weeks?”

  “No.”

  “Then guess again.”

  She tried to take her arm out of his, only to find herself held in place.

  “I don’t feel like playing Twenty Questions,” Lianne said roughly. “If you’re so worried about that man, all you have to do is walk away from me.”

  “Did you dump a lover recently?”

  Her eyelids flickered as she remembered Lee Chin, now called Tang. But she hadn’t seen him except in passing for two years. In any case, she hadn’t dumped him. She had just declined to continue their affair after he married one of her Tang cousins and took the Tang family name for his own.

  “No,” Lianne said. “No recent lovers, dumped or otherwise.”

  “No outraged admirers?”

  “Not a one.”

  “How about your family? Are they on anyone’s shit list?”

  “Recently?” She shrugged. “No more than usual.”

  “What’s usual?”

  “My mother is Johnny Tang’s mistress,” Lianne said neutrally. “She has been for over thirty years. That puts her high on the Tang shit list, but it’s old news.”

  Kyle loosened his grip on Lianne’s arm slightly. Though his hand still covered hers, his fingertips stroked over the backs of her fingers. He nudged her toward a quiet corner of the atrium, where examples of fine calligraphy were on display. Calligraphy was the Asian version of abstract art; without extensive education and training, most people didn’t appreciate it. That meant an island of privacy in the teeming room.

  “Have you bought or sold any hotly contested jades lately?” Kyle asked quietly. “Pissed off any shady collectors?”

  Lianne shook her head and pretended to concentrate on the calligraphy. “I told you. I don’t know why I’m being followed.”

  He shifted until he could see what was going on behind her. There were swirls of people around most exhibits, plenty of black tuxedos mixed in with the rainbow silks and gleaming gems, and more Caucasians than Asians. The man Lianne had described could be within fifteen feet of them right now.

  He almost certainly was.

  “What about Seng?” Kyle asked.

  “If he has any Caucasian employees, I haven’t met them.”

  “He could hire someone.”

  “It’s not Seng’s style.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Sneaking around. He’s the frontal-attack sort,” Lianne said, her mouth thin.

  “Has he attacked you?” Kyle asked sharply.

  “Not exactly. But he’s made it real clear that I should be delighted to warm his sheets for a night or two.”

  “What happened when you refused?”

  “He barely noticed. All in all, Seng makes a sumo wrestler look like a mountain of subtlety.”

  When Kyle gave a muffled sound of laughter, Lianne looked up from the calligraphy and smiled slightly.

  “No telephone calls, no notes, no presents, no threats?” he persisted.

  “Nothing. Just a prickle at the back of my neck and a shadow sliding away at the corner of my vision.”

  “You should have gone for the great-white-hunter-type escort, not the stuffed elephant.”

  “You don’t have to—” she began.

  “Let’s look at some more jade,” Kyle cut in. “Maybe your mysterious admirer will get careless, trip over my big feet, and break his neck.”

  Startled, Lianne glanced at Kyle. He was smiling, but his eyes weren’t. They were narrowed, measuring the nearby crowd. If she hadn’t met Kyle at her father’s urging, she might have been very wary of him, wondering if she had just stumbled out of the frying pan into the firing line.

  “How about another look at that Neolithic blade?” Kyle suggested.

  Lianne stretched her legs and kept pace with him. She was eager to see the piece again. She kept telling herself that it couldn’t be from the Tang family vault. She must have been wrong the first time.

  Must have, but couldn’t be.

  Doubt and certainty haunted her equally. Her visual memory had never played that kind of trick on her. Her uncanny accuracy was a lot of the reason she had gained a valuable reputation as an expert in all varieties and ages of jade.

  The people milling around the SunCo display were concentrated on the intricate, decorative Han and Six Dynasties pieces, leaving the Neolithic items less well attended. Still hoping that she had been wrong the first time, Lianne inspected the ancient blade.

  It took less than a minute for her to know that she hadn’t been wrong. The picture in her mind and the blade in the case matched too exactly to be anything but one and the same artifact.

  Unsettled and uneasy, Lianne watched while Kyle circled the case several times. The look in his eyes told her that he was completely under the jade’s spell.

  “You aren’t thinking of bidding on it, are you?” she asked finally.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Are you going to bid on it?”

  “I…yes,” Lianne said, sighing. “I really don’t have any choice.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t answer. She simply turned away from the blade and went to stand at another SunCo display. This case featured Neolithic work as well, but it was thousands of years “younger” than the blade that haunted her.

  Kyle watched Lianne, wondering what it was about the fine blade that brought unhappiness, perhaps even fear, to her dark cognac eyes.

  “I thought Warring States jade was your passion,” he said.

  “As a rule.”

  “And this Neolithic blade is the exception that proves the rule?”

  She made a sound that could have meant anything, then looked up at Kyle. “Have you seen this case? It has extraordinary examples of Shang work,” she said carefully, “fully as exceptional as the blade.”

  Reluctantly Kyle shifted his attention away from the blade to the case where Lianne stood. Inside the elegant glass cage, two jade bracelets rested on burgundy velvet.

  “Notice particularly the bracelet on the right,” she said. “At some time in the past, the jade was burned, perhaps in a tomb fire, perhaps later in a collector’s home that was destroyed by war.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Nephrite—Chinese jade—only takes on that chalky, pale beige, ‘chicken bone’ color after it has been burned in fires as hot as one thousand degrees. The heat changes the chemistry of the jade. It becomes opaque, the original color fades to near white, but the carving itself remains as clear and distinct as when it first came from the artisan’s hands. Time and fire have altered the main color, yet left the darker, veinlike patterning of the stone intact. The result is striking.”

  “Enhanced by time.”

  Her smile flashed briefly. “You’re a quick student. Or am I going over things you already know?”

  “Like I said, I’ll tell you if I get bored. What else do you see when you look at the chicken-bone jade bracelet?”

  “In profile, it would be slightly concave rather than straight.”

  Kyle looked more closely, then nodded.

  “Not only is a curved profile more difficult to make than a straight one,” she said, “but the carver was skillful and patient enough to keep the thickness of the bracelet the same no matter the degree of the curve.”

  He bent down, then sat on his heels to view the bracelet from another angle.

  “In the machine age,” Lianne said, “we take that kind of precision for granted. Yet this bracelet is from the Liangzhu culture, perhaps five thousand years old.”

  Kyle heard what she said, and he heard what she wasn’t saying, too. She appreciated the jade bracelet, respected the tradition it sprang from, admired the result, and had no desire to bid on it herself.

  “What makes the Neolithic blade superior to this bracelet?” Kyle asked.

  �
�Nothing.”

  “Yet you’re not going to bid on this bracelet.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s personal, not professional,” Lianne said.

  “In other words, none of my business.”

  “As I said, you’re a quick student.”

  Kyle stood with a swift, fluid power that startled her into stepping backward.

  “You’re quick, period,” Lianne said.

  “Youngest brothers have to be, or they’re chopped meat.”

  She stared for a moment, trying to imagine the tall, rangy man in front of her as a boy. “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Three, all older than me. Two younger sisters.”

  Lianne smiled wistfully. “Five siblings. What fun that must be.”

  “Yeah, a regular six-ring circus.”

  Yet Kyle was smiling despite his dry words. He butted heads with his brothers on a regular basis, his independent and stubborn sisters made him crazy, yet he wouldn’t have traded any of it for peace and quiet. At least not on a permanent basis.

  Once in a while, though, he wanted distance. After the fiasco in Kaliningrad with the stolen amber, he had needed a lot of space to lick his wounds and think about all the stupid things he shouldn’t have done and would never do again if he could help it. When thinking got too painful, he stepped aboard the Tomorrow, cast off, and went fishing, letting the hours and days slide away.

  “Does your family live here?” Lianne asked.

  “Some of them, some of the time. Mostly we’re scattered all over the planet. Comes of running an international import-export business.”

  “Donovan International.”

  “In my case, Donovan Gems and Minerals,” Kyle said. “The four brothers got together and went into business for ourselves. We’re an independent affiliate of Dad’s company.”

  “But still very close to him,” she said.

  “No help for it. The Donovan is as hard to get rid of as cat hair.”

  “The Donovan?”

  “That’s what we call Dad. Among other things.”

  Lianne frowned. “Don’t you get along?”

  “Sure. Usually at the top of our voices. Then Susa—that’s our mother—spreads balm and cracks heads until peace is restored.”

  Lianne tried to imagine what it would be like to be part of a noisy, affectionate family. It was impossible. Her memories of childhood were quiet, almost adult in their tranquility. Her mother had worked very hard to make her home an oasis of peace for her paramour. Not that Lianne had been neglected. She hadn’t. She and her mother were quite close, more like lifelong friends than parent and child.

  Slowly Lianne followed Kyle to another display case. This one held a variety of Western Zhou jade objects. The stone was very fine-textured, almost glassy in its finish. All but one piece featured bird or dragon designs on the translucent green surface. All glowed with the subtle inner light that only fine jade had.

  “It must be wonderful, having a big family like that,” Lianne said.

  “It has its moments.” Kyle’s flashing smile said more than his words. “I think we’ve all prayed to be an only child at one time or another. What do you think of these?”

  Reluctantly she looked away from Kyle’s burnished blond hair and infectious smile to the jades. “If these are any example, I think SunCo has a fine collection of Western Zhou jades. The designs are very cleanly executed. Do you know why that era preferred birds and dragons for its motifs?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I’ve had enough trouble learning the rudiments of Neolithic or ‘cultural’ jades. I haven’t had time to appreciate the rest of the jade eras.”

  “Birds were a symbol of gentleness, and dragons of moderation.”

  His dark blond eyebrows lifted. “Moderation? Dragons?”

  “The Chinese saw dragons differently than the Celts. The Celts saw violence and danger, death and the opportunity for man to test himself against sheer brute strength. The Chinese see dragons as immortal, patient, wise, and infinitely subtle.”

  “Sounds dangerous to me. Especially the subtlety. The Christian devil is immortal, reasonably patient, and as subtle as the ten thousand gradations of sin.”

  “But not moderate?” Lianne asked, smiling slightly.

  “Nope. Are you going to bid on any of these?”

  “At the moment, none of my collectors have a request in for Western Zhou jades.”

  “Who wants the Neolithic blade?”

  “It would be unethical for me to discuss clients with you.”

  “Why?” Kyle asked easily. “I’m a stuffed elephant, not a client or a competitor.”

  “You’re a stuffed elephant with a passion for Neolithic jade,” she retorted.

  “Right now, I’m a relieved stuffed elephant.”

  “Relieved? Why?”

  “When you said your interest in the blade was personal, I was afraid you would be mad if I bid against you and won. But now that I know you have a client in mind…” He smiled and spread his big hands. “Business is business, and may the best bidder win.”

  Caught in a trap of her own making, Lianne gripped the strap of her purse more tightly. If she admitted that she didn’t have a client, Kyle would want to know why she was bidding on a Neolithic blade when her personal passion was supposed to be Warring States jades. If she told him she thought the blade belonged to Wen Zhi Tang, that would open up a floodgate of questions, none of them comfortable or easily answered.

  The longer she thought about the blade, the more it bothered her. An outright sale was the most likely explanation for the blade’s presence in the SunCo display, but Lianne couldn’t believe that a key part of her grandfather’s Neolithic blade collection had been sold without her knowledge. Though nothing had ever been said outright, the care of the Tang family’s extensive jade holdings had gradually passed to her as Wen’s eyes and hands failed him. Yesterday, when she removed the jade pieces she had selected from the vault, the various collections had appeared to be intact.

  Not that she had checked them piece by piece. There was no need, except on the rare occasions when the jades were being loaned for various exhibitions. The Tang jade collection was kept behind thick steel doors and heavy combination locks. Jade was a significant portion of Wen’s personal wealth. More important, the collections were the heart and pride of the Tang family.

  The simplest explanation for the Neolithic blade Lianne had seen tonight was that she had made a mistake in thinking that it was her grandfather’s. In other words, her memory, talent, training, and experience had failed her. Completely.

  It wasn’t a comforting explanation. Nor was it one she could easily accept. The only way to be certain was to get her hands on the blade, take it to the Tang vaults, and see if it had a twin in Wen’s collection. If it didn’t…well, that would lead to more questions, questions whose answers would be as unsettling as the fear she had seen in Johnny Tang’s eyes.

  Kyle noticed Lianne’s growing tension. Her slender fingers were wrapped around her purse strap with enough force to make her knuckles white. He didn’t know why the Neolithic blade meant so much to her, much less why it made her unhappy just to think about it, but he was sure it did.

  Undoubtedly Lianne knew more about the blade than she had told him. Yet. It was just a matter of gaining more of her trust. From what she had said about the Tang family, she was pretty much on her own. Vulnerable.

  Easy prey.

  The realization should have made Kyle feel good, because it made his job easier. You want me to seduce the illegitimate American daughter of a Hong Kong trading family in order to discover whether she’s involved in the sale of cultural treasures stolen from China?

  Yeah. Except for the seduction part. That’s optional.

  Unfortunately, the idea of seduction was appealing more and more to Kyle with every moment he spent inhaling the lilies-and-rain essence of Lianne. All he had to do in order to satisfy his hunger was to get
his conscience to take a brief holiday. Maybe if he reminded himself often enough that she was the one who had begun the game, he wouldn’t feel like a jerk for taking advantage of her.

  “Relax,” Kyle said easily. “I’m sure your client has a ceiling. If the price of the Neolithic blade goes over his limit, he can’t blame you for not buying.”

  “I have to register for the auction. What about you?”

  “Same here. I hadn’t planned on bidding until I saw the blade.”

  Lianne’s mouth tightened into a downward-turning arc, a reflection of the cold certainty that had settled in her stomach. The price she could pay for the Neolithic blade wasn’t nearly as high as the price Kyle Donovan could pay.

  Chapter 6

  During the pause between the second and third sessions of the auction, the auction room remained filled with people, whispers, perfumes, and the slithery whisper of silk dresses against synthetic panty hose. Spectators sat separate from bidders and enjoyed the drama. Inexperienced bidders sat with their catalogs dog-eared, note-ridden, and open to the piece they wanted. The bidding paddles they clutched were cream parchment with bold, stylized numbers on both sides.

  Experienced bidders were more relaxed, or at least appeared to be. Their catalogs were closed, their paddles casually held. They already knew what they would bid on any given piece, and the line they wouldn’t cross between profit and desire to possess. Auction fever was for innocents.

  Whether it was due to charity or the rising international interest in Asian art objects, the bidding had been aggressive. No bargains were walking out of the hotel tonight. A Warring States bronze with gold, silver, and copper inlay had brought one hundred and fifteen thousand dollars. A large, very nice Ming vase had just sold for more than seven hundred thousand dollars.

  A collective sigh went through the crowd when the palm-sized gong sounded, signifying that the bidding on the third session was about to begin. Catalogs rustled and shimmered in the bright light as pages were turned to the first group up for auction. As with the bronzes and porcelains, the bidding was brisk.

  Seated down in front with the rest of the bidders, Lianne became progressively more nervous as piece after piece of jade was presented, bid on, and sold. The single piece of jade that Wen had agreed to part with for charity—a rather ordinary Ch’ing dynasty shoulao, or sculpture of an old man with a walking stick—had been bid up to a surprising seven thousand dollars before the gong sounded. The Shang dynasty bracelets had gone for six thousand dollars. Each. The Warring States buckle she had admired had sold on a preemptive bid of five thousand dollars.