Wu went to a long, coffin-sized packing case. He picked up a pry-bar and began to work on the tightly nailed lid. After a moment it became apparent that his strength wasn't quite sufficient to the task.
"Allow me," said Catlin, taking the bar from Wu with a feral smile.
The Chinese looked up, startled. Catlin ignored him. With quick, controlled motions he jammed the leading edge of the bar between lid and case and levered down sharply. Nails pulled free with high, shrieking sounds, for the wood was green. Catlin sensed Wu watching him with assessing eyes, measuring the power of the male who had corrupted Lindsay. Whatever conclusions Wu reached about Catlin didn't show in Wu's opaque black eyes or in the narrow, erect body.
Catlin levered up the last row of nails and carefully removed the lid. Nails glittered in the hard light like warped steel fangs. He propped the lid against the wall, nails inward. Even as he positioned the lid, he felt disappointment replace his initial rush of excitement. The box wasn't from Xi'an. The packing material was twentieth-century Styrofoam chips, not the tangled mounds of vegetable fiber that the PRC still used.
"Does the honorable Mr. Hsiang do a lot of business with Taiwan?" asked Catlin. His words were for Lindsay, but his eyes watched Wu.
The Chinese nodded once, very slightly, and answered before Lindsay could. "The most esteemed and honorable government-in-exile understands the needs of the overseas Chinese to share in the cultural history of their lost land."
It was the first time that day that Wu had deigned to speak English. His voice was papery, wispy, yet oddly sharp.
Catlin smiled crookedly. He knew that as General Chiang had retreated across the face of China, freighter after freighter had been loaded full of China's art and shipped to the island of Taiwan. There Chiang had made his last, ambivalently triumphant, stand. The generalissimo had vainly resisted the tide of communism that had wiped out thousands of years of Chinese political tradition in much the same way as Emperor Qin's revolutionary ideas had remade China's government long, long ago. Like the feudal nobles of Qin's time caught in their beleaguered cities, the exiled Chinese Nationalists of the present sat on their fortified island and tried to deny that their tune had passed. Even worse, they tried to deny that their future consisted of bare survival dependent on the generosity of the U.S. an ally who looked covetously toward the far more massive, lucrative markets of mainland China.
"It's not surprising that you're renowned for the quality of your bronzes," said Catlin, inclining his head toward Wu in a brief nod. "It's well known that the generalissimo had excellent taste in national treasure."
Wu's head came up fractionally, proudly. "It is most kind of you to hint that this miserable self is connected to such lofty personages as the courageous and honorable leaders of the true China. However, such dazzling connections are far beyond my mundane possibilities. The unworthy objects that fill my store come from people like myself, who have found that the world of yesterday is not the world of today, and who burn much incense in the hope of a better world tomorrow."
"Exiles," summarized Catlin.
"Just so." Wu's voice was soft, almost hissing, hinting at barely restrained anger.
Lindsay made a small movement, silent protest against the currents of hostility flowing between the two men.
Wu turned away and removed a bronze from the long case. Catlin watched in silence, his only movement that of his hand smoothing Lindsay's bright hair. The motion was unconscious, an attempt to both soothe and silence her, to protect her as much as possible both from Wu's disappointment in her and his ire at Catlin.
Uneasily Lindsay glanced aside at the powerful man standing so close to her. She wondered why he was needling Wu so openly. She couldn't ask Catlin what he was doing, though. Wu was too close. She couldn't even plead with Catlin to walk more gently around the proud old man. Then she felt the sudden tightening of Catlin's hand on the back of her neck as the first bronze was revealed. She turned, and discovery pulsed softly through her body.
The mirror was exquisite, in superb condition. Its burnished bronze face was the exact color of Lindsay's hair. The surrounding rim was worked in geometric designs that sinuously suggested dragons with glowing eyes and long, deadly tails. The patina on the mirror's rim had been allowed to develop into a textured blue-green that made a sensual contrast to the polished face of the mirror itself.
Wu braced one edge of the mirror on the table and deftly reversed the oval bronze. The reverse side of the mirror was gracefully worked in the dragon motif, with inlays of copper, silver, gold and malachite. The metal inlays were intact. Both the silver and the copper were untarnished, yet showed the mellow surface that only came with age and long, loving care. The malachite inlays had a few gaps. The imperfections reassured rather than distressed Lindsay, for she had a well-developed suspicion of artifacts in flawless condition. Given the care that Chinese families lavished on their ancestral treasures, such perfection might be possible; however, it wasn't very probable.
Catlin looked away from the mirror long enough to catch Lindsay's eye. She nodded. Though Wu's expression didn't change, Catlin knew that he had caught the silent communication that assured Catlin the bronze was genuine.
"May I?" Catlin asked, reaching for the heavy mirror.
Wu relinquished it and went to a nearby cupboard. He removed a thick towel, shook it out and laid it on the table. He glanced toward Catlin. After another long look at the polished face of the mirror, Catlin lifted the bronze and very gently laid it facedown on the towel. With the changed angle of the lighting, inlays leaped to life like streamers of colored fire licking over the ancient metal. The workmanship was breathtaking, the design utterly balanced and the result fit to grace the chambers of Emperor Qin himself.
"Nice piece," said Catlin.
Neither his tone nor his face gave away what he thought of the bronze. He glanced from the mirror to the box in a hint that Wu would have to have been dead to have missed. Lindsay hoped that her own poker face was intact, but doubted it. She had no doubt that the mirror was a treasure and was sure that Wu knew it, too.
"Is the mirror sold?" Lindsay asked.
She knew that Wu had standing orders with various overseas bronze dealers. The mirror could easily be the result of a long search for one of his many special customers. She hoped that was not the case. The mirror would be a splendid addition to the museum's collection. It would also be priced just this side of outright extortion. She hoped that L. Stephen had meant it when he had turned her loose to build the museum's bronzes into the most extensive and excellent collection in the United States.
"This is not held in the name of any of my clients," said Wu. "It is but one of many excellent pieces to be surrendered to the market as the true China's fortunes are eclipsed by the rise of the mainland gangsters."
The sudden spareness of Wu's English told Catlin that the old exile was displeased by the prospect of America's deepening alliance with the People's Republic. Catlin didn't blame Wu. Taiwan was small. China was vast. Politics was the art of the possible. It was no longer possible for America to deny the massive reality of the People's Republic. That didn't make the process of adjustment any more pleasant for aging refugees like Wu, who prayed daily that they would live long enough to be buried in a China free of communism.
Catlin wondered if Wu realized that the new government of China was trying very hard to lure its skilled, English-speaking, refugee businessmen back home. Unfortunately, many of those very same businessmen were pragmatic enough to distrust the shifting ideological enthusiasms of China's government.
Silently Wu unwrapped and put on the table five more bronzes. All had various types of inlay. All were well preserved. All were of museum quality. Lindsay watched incredulously as piece after piece was unveiled. Usually such truly fine bronzes came onto the market only rarely. She wondered what disaster had struck a collector in Taiwan that so many magnificent pieces should appear all at once on the market. Wh
en word of this went out, every collector of any stature at all would descend on Wu's shop and demand a chance to bid.
She herself wanted to bid on at least four of the bronzes for the Museum of the Asias.
The eighth and ninth bronzes set off tiny warnings along Lindsay's nerve endings. There was something subtly wrong with them. She couldn't have put her instinctive response into words, but she knew that the vessels were far more modern than the others lined up on the long table.
Catlin had been watching Lindsay closely. He knew instantly that she hadn't liked the eighth and ninth bronzes. He wondered if Wu had noticed, too. Or did he already know that the bronzes were false? Had the shrewd dealer simply slipped some dross among the gold in hopes that the deception would pass unnoticed? It was an old ploy in the antiquities trade, and it was still used because it still worked.
"Are these on consignment?" Catlin asked casually, flicking three of the bronzes with his fingertip. Two of the three he indicated were the ones Lindsay had subtly rejected.
"No."
To Lindsay, the bare word was like a red flag thrown among the previous Mandarin effusions. If those two bronzes turned out to be false, it would be Wu who suffered, not the former owner, for Wu had bought the bronzes rather than simply accepting a brokerage fee for selling them. Miserably she wished that she had been born with any other talent than that of discerning genuine from false. She didn't want to have to be the one to tell Wu that he had spent thousands and thousands of dollars on two bronzes that weren't worth anything but a small curiosity value as part of a scholarly exhibit on frauds.
"If you will excuse me," murmured Wu, "my unworthy presence is required elsewhere for a short time. Please stay and bask in the reflected glory of China's ancestral greatness. If any of these honorable and humble vessels pleases your discriminating eye, I will be most grateful to discuss a possible transference into your keeping."
Catlin lifted his hand indifferently, letting Lindsay take care of the polite protestations of unworthiness and gratitude. As the door shut behind Wu, Catlin's arm snaked out and pulled Lindsay very tightly to his body. His lips nuzzled hers, making speech impossible. When he was certain that he had her attention, he nibbled his way to her ear.
"Wired for sound."
The words were barely audible, but Lindsay caught their meaning very quickly. She eased her fingers into Catlin's hair and rubbed her cheek against his.
"Here?" she murmured, smiling slowly, acting as though he had just whispered a deliriously provocative invitation in her ear, "I don't think so, darling."
"Trust me," he shot back, his arms tightening around her warningly.
Her eyes were very dark as they searched his. "All right," she whispered.
Catlin went very still for an instant before he released Lindsay. "In that case, honey cat, I'll wait," He turned toward the bronzes but all he saw for a moment was the soft invitation of Lindsay's parted lips. Blood beat hotly, pouring through his body in primal rhythms of hunger and sensuality. When he spoke again his voice was rough with restraint. "I want this," he said, indicating the mirror. "And these."
Unhappily, Lindsay looked at the two pieces resting beneath Catlin's light touch. The eighth and ninth bronzes. The frauds.
"The mirror is superb," she said softly. "Have you considered this one?" she asked, passing over the bronzes until she came to the food dish that had caught her eye. "It's "
"No," Catlin said savagely, interrupting her. "The three I pointed out." His eyes narrowed. "What's the matter? Don't you like these two?"
Lindsay closed her eyes. "No," she said, her voice thin. "I'm afraid they're not what they seem."
Catlin turned and studied the suspect bronzes for a long time. "I see." His laugh was soft, but there was no humor in it. "So your old mentor got stung. Badly."
With puzzled eyes Lindsay watched Catlin, She didn't know what was going on, but she sensed very clearly that Catlin was playing to a hidden audience or thought he was.
"I'm afraid so."
"No problem," Catlin said, shrugging. "If they're fake, they're so good that I'll bet only three people know the forger, you and me. With your reputation, all you have to do is say that those bronzes are kosher. Presto. Two kosher bronzes. If the forger ever finds out, he sure as hell won't complain."
"Are you suggesting that "
Impatiently, Catlin cut across Lindsay's instinctive protest. "I want those two bronzes. They fit a gap in my collection I thought would never get filled. If I buy them, my whole collection damn near doubles in value. Besides, everyone makes mistakes. Even you. So just give these beauties the benefit of the doubt and put your stamp of approval on them."
"No," Lindsay said tightly. "Anything else you want but not that. I won't lie about the bronzes. Don't you see? I can't! Bronzes are my life! Don't ask me to " Her voice broke as she searched his cheerless eyes, "Catlin?"
With a very male smile, Catlin pulled Lindsay against the length of his body. "I'm your life now, honey cat." He kissed her almost roughly before he buried his lips in her hair. "Don't give in," he breathed. As he lifted his head he said clearly, "And I want those bronzes."
"Then buy them yourself," Lindsay retorted, her voice strained by conflicting currents of confusion, anger and relief.
"No. If you buy them for me, everyone will know that they're genuine."
"Catlin, I won't do it. Not even for you. And if you cared at all for me you wouldn't ask me to compromise myself that way!"
Lindsay's low, shaking words traveled to every comer of the room. Catlin let the silence gather for several moments before he swore explosively and rocked her in his arms.
"Hell, honey, don't get upset. I was just trying to improve my collection and do Wu a favor at the same time. You know he's going to take a bath on those two pieces."
Numbly Lindsay nodded. "I know. But it's got to be that way," she said. "And I've got to be the one to tell him. He would be mortified if anyone else knew that he had inadvertently sold fraudulent bronzes to his longtime customers. Maybe maybe Wu will be able to recoup at least part of the money from the man who sold him the bronzes in the first place."
"Not likely," Catlin said succinctly. "Caveat emptor."
"Yes." The word came out as an unhappy sigh.
Catlin looked covetously at the eighth and ninth bronzes again. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice harsh.
"I won't lie about "
"I know, I know," he interrupted. "What I meant was are you sure that they're fake?"
"As sure as I can be without a lab test."
"You want to spend a little more time looking at them?"
Lindsay shrugged and went to the two bronzes. As she picked them up in turn, Catlin noted her tiny signs of distaste, the almost invisible tightening of her lips as though it were all she could do not to snarl at the three-dimensional lies. She didn't handle them carelessly, but there was none of the reverent, almost caressing quality in her touch that Catlin had first noticed through a one-way mirror in Washington.
"They're quite well made," she said grudgingly.
"Like the dragon last night?"
She gave him a startled look. "Yes and no. That is, the actual bronze craftsmanship is excellent in both cases, but the dragon was an original, a unique work of art. I'll bet that these are copies of originals hidden away in someone's very private collection."
Catlin grunted. "Wonder how many of them have gone out to the market before these two?"
With a frown Lindsay picked up the second suspect bronze. She didn't like to think of Wu being used as a conduit for all-but-undetectable frauds. He was a very proud man. He would lose much face if it were known that he had been so thoroughly fooled.
"I don't know," she said softly. "I'll have to tell him not to buy from this particular source anymore."
Catlin started to say something, then decided against it as the door opened again. One of Wu's assistants came
into the room and with many bows and apologies asked for Lindsay to accompany him to the rooms of Mrs. Hsiang. Lindsay listened, answered quickly and turned to Catlin.
"He says that Aunt Tian is ill and would like to see me before we leave. Since she's in bed, I would have to visit her alone," Lindsay added.
"You know I don't like being away from you," said Catlin. It was the truth. He didn't like the idea of Lindsay being beyond the reach of his physical protection.
"This is different," she said firmly. When she saw that he was going to object, she added, "Catlin, this woman practically raised me when I came to San Francisco. It would be unforgivable not to see her if she requests it."
Catlin suspected that it was Wu who wanted Lindsay alone, not his wife. But there was no way to point that out at the moment, so Catlin shrugged and gave in.
"If you're gone more than ten minutes, I'm going hunting for you," he said, his voice teasing and his eyes as hard as amber crystal. "Understand me?"
Memories of the brief, vicious fight in the elevator swept over Lindsay. She swallowed suddenly. "Yes," she said in a husky voice. "I understand. I won't be long, darling."
Catlin pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss. "Don't let me down," he whispered urgently. Then he added very clearly as he released her, "Ten minutes and counting."
Even as the door shut behind Lindsay, she glanced at her watch. She had no doubt that Catlin had meant every word. She followed the silent assistant to private quarters that took up the third and fourth story of Wu's building. The assistant opened a door for her, bowed, and gestured her into a room. The door closed behind her with an almost soundless click.
There was no one in the room but Wu. Before Lindsay could speak her surprise, he pointed toward a chair.
Tell Me No Lies Page 27
