Jade Island (30 page)

“Okay,” she called to him. “I’m done. Let’s get a mile high real quick.”

Walker pulled her into the plane with a strength that startled her.

“A mile high, huh?” he said. “They might go for it. Anything else I should know?”

“I had to pee.”

“I figured that out. There’s a tarp over the backpacks. Go decorate it. And don’t fasten that jacket. Nothing like some bare tits to muddle a man’s mind. Bare ass is even better.”

“Some things are better left to the imagination,” Lianne retorted as she scrambled by him.

Walker smiled. “Not that thing. It halves the male IQ in nothing flat.”

“Hey!” Murray yelled, slapping the Aztec’s wing with his palm. “What the hell is going on? I saw people out here!”

“You just saw me helping my little sugar girl take a pee,” Walker drawled. “You know how it is with women. Can’t pee in a beer bottle like men.”

“Huh?” Murray said.

“Sugar girl, show your sweet little face.”

“Baby,” Lianne said, putting her best whine into it, “I’m cold. When are you going to get this piece of crud a mile high so we can fuck?”

Walker grinned at Murray like a proud parent. “That’s my sweet thing. Wouldn’t say shit if her mouth was full of it.”

Murray leaned in past Walker and aimed his flashlight into the back of the plane. He saw a mostly naked girl
stretched out on what looked like a hastily made bed. Every time he started to think of a question, she breathed, her breasts shifted, and he was sure there was some bare pussy hanging out of the bottom of her jacket.

When the guard shifted the flashlight to get a better look, Walker moved, blocking the view.

“Mind moving that Jeep, buddy?” Walker asked easily. “I sure don’t want to keep the little lady waiting. She might get out of the mood.”

Reluctantly Murray pushed away from the plane and signaled for Steve to move the Jeep out of the way. Two minutes later the Aztec leaped off the runway and flew off into the rain-washed night. The Jeep followed.

Kyle watched from the dense shadows at the edge of the rocky bluff, straining up toward the plane as though he wished he, too, could fly.

“Relax,” Archer said. “Walker will take care of her. He’s as good as they get.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

After a final long look, Kyle eased his way down the bluff into the cove. Archer and Jake already had the Zodiac uncovered and were carrying it to the water. Kyle hurried after them.

As soon as they were aboard, Jake revved up the engine, Archer fixed a spotlight to a pole, and they took off toward Jade Island, no longer caring if anyone noticed them.

The first thing they saw when they crossed the passage between the two islands and circled around Jade Island’s south side was the
Tomorrow
’s white hull. The second thing they saw was the matte-black Boston Whaler anchored nearby, the kind Navy SEALs used when they went out to play.

“Guess the boys couldn’t wait to claim their rebreathers,” Kyle said.

“Guess not.” Archer smiled thinly.

Cabin lights aboard the
Tomorrow
came on. April Joy opened the door and went to stand at the stern. Two very large black silhouettes joined her.

“Good thing you’re not a trusting sort anymore,” Jake told Kyle. “I’d hate to be sitting on backpacks full of jade right now.”

“You wouldn’t be sitting on them for long,” Archer said sardonically. “I’ve got a feeling those boys are here to do some heavy lifting.”

“Hello, the
Tomorrow,
” Kyle called out.

“Keep your hands in sight while you come alongside,” April called back.

Jake tucked the Zodiac neatly along the
Tomorrow’s
hull. Kyle and Archer sat with their hands on their knees.

“Now I know you guys think you’re hot shit,” April said calmly, “but my SEALs are better. They’d be happy to prove it if I give—” The words stopped abruptly as she realized that there were only three people in the Zodiac. “Where’s Lianne Blakely?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle said. It was the exact truth.

“Get out of the Zodiac,” April ordered. “One at a time. You first, Archer. Then your brother. Then Jake.”

As soon as the Zodiac was empty, two SEALs stepped down into it with the utter familiarity of men who spend their lives on small boats of various kinds. They began sorting through the stuff in the boat. It took them less than a minute to get to the bottom line.

“Four rebreathers, a cut-up dive suit, fuel tank, empty duffel bag. That’s it, sir.”

“Turn the boat over,” April ordered.

It took some effort, but the SEALs managed to flip the Zodiac. The bottom was as clean as the sea.

Fists on her hips, April stalked up to Archer. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” he asked.

“Don’t get cute with me or I’ll have your ass for a doormat. Where is the damned jade suit?”

Kyle came over and stood beside Archer. So did Jake. The SEALs closed in swiftly but kept their hands off.

“The last jade suit I saw was in Dick Farmer’s com
pound,” Kyle said casually. “You’ll get to see it tomorrow. Ten o’clock, I believe?”

April turned and looked at Kyle with eyes that were like black ice. “If you’ve fucked this up, slick, you’re going to have a long, unhappy life.”

“I
’d just as soon not see this island ever again,” Lianne muttered as the
Tomorrow
nosed up to Farmer’s dock. “Or the guards. What if they recognize me? We were here just last night.” She shivered, cold from the memory.

Kyle smiled rather grimly. “Don’t worry. From what Walker told me, the bastards never looked at your face.” Walker had mentioned some other things, too, like how much he admired Lianne’s guts and quick mind…as well as her more traditional assets. Kyle hadn’t liked hearing about any of it. He wasn’t happy that Lianne had put herself at risk.

“Looks like Ms. Joy is already here,” Lianne said, spotting the petite woman at the end of the dock. A man in a rumpled dark suit and large, black-rimmed glasses stood next to April. A cigarette smoldered between the middle and ring fingers of his right hand.

“That must be the Chinese jade expert with her,” Kyle said.

“Is Farmer here yet?”

“If that was his plane we saw landing a few minutes ago, he should be in the classroom before we are. Of course, we don’t know where we’re going, do we?”

“Of course not.”

Lianne straightened her jacket and repositioned the shoulder strap of her small red purse. It matched her shoes
and picked up the scarlet trim of her black silk jacket. Slender black pants completed the outfit. Looking at her, no one would believe she was running on a few hours of sleep.

“All right, let’s get it over with,” she said. “I won’t be able to draw a deep breath until this is settled and the suit is locked up in Vancouver again.”

Kyle followed Lianne up the dock. He was dressed more casually than she was—jeans, olive-green turtleneck sweater, dark sport coat, and boat shoes. He looked more tired than she did. He had refused Faith’s deft touch with cosmetics.

Farmer’s personal assistant hurried down from the compound, waved the guard back to his post, and made introductions all around. With the speed of a good executive secretary, Mary Margaret herded them through the playful wind to Farmer’s residence, escorted them to the “theater room,” and turned them over to her boss with another flourish of introductions.

April and Sun Ming conferred in rapid Chinese at every break in the conversation.

“They say anything interesting yet?” Kyle asked Lianne under his breath.

“No. They’re still at the fulsome-wishes-for-mutual-happiness stage. They won’t talk business until they see the shroud.”

“Thank you for taking the time to come to my island,” Farmer said, pitching his voice to carry through the room. “Please, come forward.” Smiling, he beckoned them down toward the stage.

Behind Farmer, the forest-green curtains were tightly closed, exactly the way Kyle had left them. He watched Farmer intently. The multibillionaire looked the same as he always did. Confident, even princely in his assurance. If Farmer suspected anything was wrong, he was hiding it magnificently.

A chill prickled along Kyle’s spine. He wondered what
he would see when the curtain went up, if Farmer had somehow pulled off his own switch.

“I know you’re as pressed for time as I am,” Farmer said, “so I won’t bore you with details from my own jade appraiser. If you wish, Mary Margaret will give you a copy of the detailed appraisal on your way out.” He reached into the podium and flipped a switch. “Please, look as much as you like. I have an international conference call in four minutes. If you have any questions, I’ll answer them to the best of my ability when I return.”

The curtains whisked apart as Farmer spoke. He glanced at the stage, frowned, and went to a panel at the side of the stage. He fiddled with the lighting.

“Odd,” he said. “The color still looks off. Yellowish.”

Kyle glanced at the burial suit. “Some jade has a yellow cast to it.”

So did most serpentine, but that wasn’t something Kyle should point out. He was here as Lianne’s assistant, not as an appraiser.

April and Sun Ming descended on the suit. Lianne was right beside them. Impatiently, Kyle listened to cascades of Chinese.

“English, please,” he said to Lianne. “I can’t help you in Chinese.”

“Sorry,” Lianne said without looking away from the suit. “The suit is serpentine, not jade. But that isn’t what makes it…dubious.”

The room’s acoustics were very good. Though Farmer was halfway up the aisle, he stopped and spun toward the stage at Lianne’s words.

“What really worries me is that the threads aren’t spun from pure gold,” she said. She flicked her fingertips at the dull threads that held the hundreds and hundreds of small stone plaques together. Time and weather wouldn’t hurt gold, but they were hell on little threads of bronze.

“Are you sure?” Kyle asked.

“As sure as I can be without metallurgical tests,” Lianne said. “Gold doesn’t discolor, doesn’t tarnish, doesn’t corrode. It’s immortal, like the dead princes and emperors wished to be. But some of these threads are darkened by corrosion. Look here, where the thread has broken.”

Kyle started for the stage.

So did Farmer.

“Sir,” Mary Margaret said, “your call.”

“Reschedule it.”

“But—yes, sir.”

“Again,” Lianne continued, ignoring Farmer’s rush to the stage, “I would have to examine this more closely, but it appears that threads of copper or some metal were mixed in with the gold. Perhaps it’s simply an inferior alloy, such as ten carat gold, or even eight. Which raises questions about the validity of the suit as a whole. Gold was rare in China, but not so rare that the imperial family had to skimp on its burial goods.”

“I agree,” April said. She twirled a twist of metal thread between her fingers, then dropped it on top of the stone suit. “If this is a modern fraud, whoever made it would be concerned about the quantity of pure gold required to sew the plaques together, not to mention the trim itself. The cost of gold would be considerable, particularly in China, where gold isn’t common.”

Lianne took a small, high-powered magnifying glass from her purse and bent over the stone shroud. She studied several plaques closely, paying special attention to the holes that had been drilled so that metal thread could bind the pieces of serpentine together.

“Machine-made,” she said, “not handmade. Every hole is the same size and the same distance from its neighbor. Machine-polished, too. The marks are quite clear.”

For the first time, Lianne looked at April. “I’ll bet this shroud isn’t old enough to vote. What do you think?”

“I agree.” April turned to Sun and spoke rapidly. The jade expert answered just as rapidly.

Farmer didn’t say a word, but if the red on his cheekbones was any indication, he wasn’t a happy man.

“What are they saying?” Kyle asked Lianne.

“Sun Ming is reluctant to give up the idea of a genuine Han artifact,” she said calmly, “but he will, no matter how much his government enjoys yanking Uncle Sam’s chain. The visual evidence is compelling: the suit is fraudulent. With lab tests, it will be overwhelming.” She glanced away from the shroud and appeared to notice Farmer for the first time. “This is very difficult, Mr. Farmer. Nothing is harder than telling a collector that some particularly prized item is, um, less than it seems.”

Farmer stared at Lianne as if she had just farted. Then he turned back to watch the argument between April and Sun. Even not understanding a single word of Chinese, he knew that the jade expert was going to give up before Sun did.

With a hissing oath, Farmer turned and strode out of the theater. He didn’t bother to say good-bye to his guests.

Wen sat in the Tang vault, arthritic hands resting on the carved jade dragon that crowned his walking stick. In his lap lay the magnificent Neolithic blade that Kyle had bought at auction and returned to its rightful owner, Wen Zhi Tang.

Even Wen’s carefully tailored gray suit couldn’t conceal the increasing frailty of his body. Next to him, within reach of his gnarled hands, the jade suit gleamed in shades of immortal green. Pure gold stitched through the shroud like sunlight. Wen couldn’t see the colors, nor could his fingers discern the nuances of hand-polished jade. Yet the presence of the imperial burial suit comforted him, reminding him that the best of humanity transcended the worst.

Lianne watched Wen with concern darkening her eyes. Kyle and Archer watched him with impassive faces. The past several days had been eventful for the
family of Tang. The painful unraveling of the jade shroud’s odyssey showed in the strain and weariness on Joe Tang’s face.

“First Son, is everyone here?” Wen asked in Chinese. His voice was a quiet rustling, like wind through dry grass.

“Johnny stands at your left,” Joe said.

As Lianne translated in a low voice for the Donovans, Kyle flicked a glance over the thinning white hair and fretful face of Number One Son. The handmade suit Joe wore was the same color as his father’s. The son’s frame was almost as slight, almost as stooped.

“Daniel is at your right,” Joe continued. “I am in front of you. Lianne is behind me. Donald Donovan’s First and Fourth Sons are also behind me.”

“Harry?” Wen asked.

“He is in Shanghai,” Joe said after a brief hesitation. “He has not responded to my messages.”

Though Wen said not one word, his face seemed to age even more. A whispering sigh rattled his chest. He ran one hand over the jade shroud as though measuring it for size.

“Speak to your younger brother,” Wen ordered.

Reluctantly Joe turned to Johnny. “I have brought shame and dishonor on my family and on my ancestors,” he said, his voice strained.

Johnny’s eyes widened. Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“I…” Joe’s voice faded. He cleared his throat. “I have gambled too much.”

Johnny looked perplexed. “You have always gambled too much. Wen has always scolded. The sun continued to rise and set in its usual way.”

“Our father refused to give me more money,” Joe said slowly. “I knew I could make it all back, all the wealth I had lost and more, much more. Just one race. One horse whose jockey also needed money. The Red
Phoenix triad had it all arranged. I just needed funds to make a bet.”

Kyle and Archer glanced at each other. Though Lianne was translating for the Donovans, she looked only at her grandfather. His face was impassive, but his eyes were as ancient and bleak as betrayal.

“Han Seng offered a way out of my dilemma,” Joe said softly. “I would trade fine Tang jade for inferior pieces from Seng’s collection. Not only would I pay off my old debts that way, I would have enough money left over to wager on future races where the Red Phoenix knew who would lose before the race was run. When I made enough money, I would be able to buy back the Tang jades. No one would ever know….”

Johnny looked at his father. Wen looked neither right nor left nor even ahead. His eyes were blind, his hands crippled, his body brittle with age and betrayal.

“It did not happen that way,” Joe continued, his voice barely a whisper. “The money that I won, I bet again, and I lost again. More Tang jades left the vault, replaced by Seng’s less virtuous pieces.”

“When did you decide to set up Lianne?” Kyle asked.

Lianne translated, her face as impassive as Wen’s and her eyes as bleak.

Johnny flinched. Joe didn’t. He had already shamed himself in front of his father and his ancestors. He had no pride left, simply a need to redeem himself however he could.

“I did not think of it,” Joe said simply. “Harry did. Somehow he discovered my trading with Han Seng.”

“Somehow?” Archer repeated coolly. “I’ll tell you how. Harry, Han Seng, and the Red Phoenix triad are in bed together. That’s why I advised my father against any partnership ventures between Donovan International and the Tang Consortium or SunCo.”

Lianne’s translation brought Wen’s head around toward Archer. The old man squinted as though he could actually
see. Quick, choppy words poured out. Lianne didn’t translate until Archer prodded her.

“Wen dislikes America’s narrow view of the triads,” she summarized.

“Really?” Archer said dryly. “Ask him why he has refused many Red Phoenix overtures for a closer partnership. To be precise, their scheme to launder drug money through Tang overseas financial institutions.”

Lianne’s eyes widened. “Is that true?”

“Ask him,” Kyle said.

After she did, Wen positioned his head so that he might be looking at either Donovan. He spoke quietly. “Some triad business is inevitable. Some is avoidable. As long as I lead the family of Tang, the drug entanglement will be avoided.”

“Good idea,” Kyle said. Then he measured Joe with cold eyes. “So Harry caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. What happened next?”

Joe barely waited for Lianne to finish translating before he answered. “Harry started taking control of the trades. He made certain not only that Lianne was the go-between, but that no pieces of jade would be removed from the vault unless she had been there recently.”

Joe gave Lianne a look that was strained, resentful, and apologetic at once. “I did as he wished. Then I did…more. The tips Han Seng gave me did not always work. Soon I was more in debt to him than ever. I doubled my bets and then I redoubled them. I was desperate to stop the flow of jade out of the Tang vault. Yet the more I wagered, the more deeply in debt I became.”

Kyle watched slow tears well from Joe’s dark eyes and down his lined cheeks. In a distant way Kyle felt sorry for the man; a gambling addict, easy prey for Harry and Han Seng. Yet Kyle’s sympathy was inhibited by a simple fact: Joe had set up his niece to take the blame for his own thefts, and to go to jail in his place.

No tears, no apologies, no excuses about addiction could change that.

“Who planned the Jade Emperor charade?” Kyle asked coolly.

Joe sighed. “Han Seng.”

“Figures,” Kyle muttered.

“It was a way to explain the appearance on the market of such remarkable jades,” Joe said sadly. “Seng sold many of the pieces. He kept only the erotica.”

“I’ll bet he made more on the deals than you did,” Kyle said.

“I was not in a position to argue price. But yes, I never quite covered my losses.”