Jade Tiger (13 page)

Ian laughed. "Most people don't put stuff like that up on the Internet."

Shan grinned and shrugged. She understood the value of computers and the Web, but Lydia the tech goddess took care of all that for the school. "Well, I had to ask," she said.

"Ashton calls the island Shangri-La, according to my parents, but I can't find it on any of the maps," continued Ian. "It's not one of the main two-hundred and thirty-five islands around Hong Kong." Several browser windows were open on the computer monitor, all containing different images of China.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the buildings are all subterranean," Shan said. "The government probably thinks the island is uninhabited." The Jade Circle sanctuary had been mostly underground, too. With the advent of planes and satellite photography, keeping a secret had become a lot harder.

"That makes sense," Ian said. "It also means that if we get into trouble while we're there, there's no getting help from the authorities or calling for reinforcements. Of course, that's generally the idea with the black market antiquities trade."

Neither one of them mentioned Ian's parents, who were invited to this event every year and had yet to inform Interpol. It was hard to picture Janet Dashell as a criminal, but the treasures in Dashell Manor hadn't been cheap--or even expensive--knock-offs. They were the real deal. Everyone drew their line in the sand in a different place, Shan thought. She doubted the Dashells would consider killing someone for any of their artifacts, yet the idea had certainly been occupying Shan's mind lately.

"So even if we find the snake and the dragon," Shan said, "we don't have a good way to get off the island."

Ian shook his head. "Nope. My parents said that boats arrive Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but that no one can leave until Sunday."

"The main auction is Saturday night?"

"Yep."

"Well, we've got to either lay low until Sunday and hope to sneak the statues onto a boat," Shan said, "or blow the whole place to smithereens and cling to the debris until someone finds us."

"I vote for the former," Ian said.

"Then it's unanimous."

Ian continued to research while Shan and Lydia called all The Way of the River's students and told them that classes were canceled for at least another two weeks. Shan had briefly thought about letting Xia teach during that time, but she didn't want to put Xia and Lydia in a situation so rife with danger.

Xia and Ian had settled into the two guest rooms upstairs. For once, the school felt full of life. Shan had to wait to use one of the two bathrooms in the morning, and was forever finding crumbs on the countertops from Buckley's incessant snacking. Lydia laughed often. And, although Xia said very little, she spent most of her time in the main room practicing. Shan joined her as much as she could, pleased that her ribs barely ached at all, even when she back flipped or performed a spinning kick.

The downside of a full house was the lack of privacy. Shan and Ian were forever being interrupted by Lydia or Buckley, and occasionally even by Xia. When Shan dropped to sleep at night, she wanted do it with Ian. But their relationship felt like a secret. Without any sort of verbal agreement, they never touched in front of the others. They flirted, but their innuendos had taken on a new flavor. Nothing they said or hinted at could be shrugged off as idle humor. Every word held a promise, and the anticipation building in Shan's body felt like it was going to reach up and strangle her.

It was Buckley who drove them to the airport on Monday night for their two a.m. flight to Hong Kong.

"Stay out of sight for a while longer," Shan said to Buckley. "One-eye is probably working for Victor Ashton, and Ashton has plenty of money to hire more goons."

"Hey, I don't intend to leave the house, if you know what I mean." Buckley looked away from the road long enough to wink at Shan.

"Yeah," Ian said wearily, "we know what you mean." He still looked tired. Shan wondered if he'd just spent as many sleepless nights as she had.

"Listen, about Xia--"

"Don't worry about that," Buckley said. "I've got a plan for getting those two girls to bond." He grinned, and Shan felt her stomach twist.

"Would anyone but you call it a good plan?" Ian asked.

"No, you'd call it brilliant," said Buckley. "You'll see."

"Okay, now I'm definitely worried," Shan said,
and not just about the volatile situation at The Way of the River
, she added silently.

Shan had wanted to bring weapons--any weapons--to the island, but with airport security at LAX tighter than ever, she'd have to just make do with what she could find at Ashton's underground lair. And, even without weapons, they were bringing way too much luggage. Outfits for breakfast, outfits for afternoon tea, for fancy dinners and for late-night, black-tie soirees. Bathing suits--two!--and clothes for sleeping and lounging in their room.

Their room. Singular. As in one.

Of course the Dashells, married for almost forty years, had RSVP'd for one room. And, technically speaking, it would certainly be easier for Shan to keep an eye on Ian if things got rough.

It was limiting herself to just an eye that was the problem. Shan suspected that her hands and lips and other body parts would also want to be involved.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask something," Buckley said. He pulled the car onto the 105 and merged into the flow of traffic. "What happens if all five of the jade animals are brought together, anyway?"

Ian turned to look at Shan, clearly interested in her answer. He hadn't pressed her for any information regarding the animals, and, although she'd talked about them with him, she'd always hedged that particular question. As she was going to do now.

"Nothing, if the Circle is respected," Shan said carefully. "At the sanctuary where I grew up, we meditated on the animals and learned how to use their energy to focus our own."

Buckley shrugged. "That doesn't sound so bad."

No, Shan thought, because we were taught to treat the animals with deference, and new students were always monitored around the Circle for the first few years. But other stories were told and warnings passed from one woman to the next.

"It is possible," Shan said slowly, "that a person could try to harness all the power of the animals at once."

"And?" said Buckley.

"And he or she'd be extremely powerful," Shan said. "Speed, strength, flexibility, balance, endurance, intelligence, unpredictability..."

"And?" said Ian.

Shan frowned at him.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "it's the archaeologist talking here."

She sighed, and said, "I know. You guys deserve to know more than I've told you. But it's complicated, and every person interacts with the animals differently, as you saw with Etienne Fortier." Shan stared at the cars whizzing by them on the highway. "With all the animals at your disposal," she continued, "you can actually see chi, the energy that flows through everything in the universe. In addition to being a kick-ass fighter, you can tell truth from lie, love from hate--"

"Wait, wait," said Buckley. "Let's go back to this chi stuff. I'm a European-flavored archaeologist, remember?"

"Have you seen
Star Wars
?" Shan asked.

"Duh."

"Well, chi is just like the Force," Shan said, "only it's not trademarked." Buckley laughed, as had most of her students when she used that line on them. "If you add in the idea of yin and yang--that everything exists in a balance of opposites--you have the Light and Dark sides of the Force."

"Wow," said Ian, "that's surprisingly applicable."

"George Lucas knows his world cultures," Shan said. "At least for the first three movies."

With a fifteen-hour flight time and another fifteen-hour time difference, they arrived in Hong Kong on Wednesday morning around eight. Once upon a time, Shan had been a Chinese-American martial artist with long, straight black hair. Now, however, she masqueraded as a perky blonde American named Shawna. The ruse might not last, but Shan had her father's eyes in shape and color, and if it made One-eye think twice about attacking her, then it was well worth the effort.

A man in the airport held up a sign saying "Shangri-La." Shan and Ian joined another couple standing beside him. Peter and Gail Chatsworth "of the Toronto Chatsworths" were in their late fifties and clearly excited about the auction. Ian chatted amiably with them as Shan sank into her thoughts. She hadn't been back to China since she had fled the Jade Circle massacre with her father. In her mind, China had always been her home. But now, after spending so many years in America, it was difficult to picture herself ever moving back, even to the glorious beauty of the Hunan Province where the Jade Circle had once stood.

The feeling intensified as their guide drove them to the harbor and led them onto a private yacht. Hong Kong, with its gleaming steel and overcrowded streets, thrummed with life. Boats and barges clustered in the water, home to the rich and the poor and the practically destitute. Asian faces watched her, on the arm of her American, as she climbed aboard
The Dragon Swift
and stood at the bow.

Tainted, Xia had called it. Shan wanted to think of it as belonging to two worlds instead of one. But here, in her blonde wig, Xia's explanation seemed far more apt.

Ian continued to chat with the other guests as Hong Kong shrank behind them. Three hours later, they found themselves standing on a shaded beach of the island Ashton called Shangri-La.

Shangri-La...

Pretentious? Yes. Accurate? Possibly.

A mountain rose up from the center of the island, a mountain covered in lush greens of every shade imaginable. The smell of the ocean, the breeze that blew Shan's blonde curls around her face and whipped the hem of her dress. The sound of the trees creaking as they swayed, their branches so densely interwoven that they bobbed together like a crowd of dancers.

"Beautiful," Ian breathed, and Shan could only nod her head in agreement.

A man dressed in a simple suit of dark linen led them through the trees along a pebbly path. There were only five guests on this trip: Shan and Ian, the Chatsworths, and an older Korean gentleman. Servants followed, carrying their innumerable suitcases. They walked for almost a mile along the path before reaching the entrance to Ashton's fortress.

Two giant fu temple dogs of red lacquer sat atop two stone pillars at least ten feet in diameter. The male dog had its inside paw atop a sphere representing the world, faithfully guarding his owner's possessions and success. The female dog trapped a baby fu dog under her inside paw, protecting her owner's home and family. Together, the dogs guarded against evil and anyone who would bring harm into the house.

Light spilled off the dogs' curly manes and tails, glinting off their bulbous lacquered eyes. Shan shivered. She wished that she could walk around them instead of between their celestial gaze, but she couldn't, not without raising suspicion.

Between the dogs, set into the base of the mountain, were a pair of gold-covered doors inlaid with two dragons, one Eastern and one Western. The perfect symbols for a person caught between worlds, just like Shan.

These were doors to Victor Ashton's underground fortress, his Shangri-La.

The man leading their party walked forward and rang a gong hidden behind the left fu dog pillar. Its low, brassy tones filled the forest with an eerie calm. A few moments later, the gold-encrusted doors swung open.

They filed inside without a word. No one, including Shan, wanted to disturb the silence as they walked down a sloped passage into the belly of the mountain. Sconces hung at regular intervals on the wall, lit with electricity instead of candles. So Ashton had his own generator, Shan thought. Not surprising. It gave him even more control over his guests, especially since a cell phone would never work this far from civilization and this far underground.

After a few minutes, the hallway turned and opened into a vast chamber that soared fifty feet high and felt like the inside of a huge pagoda. Reds, blacks, golds, and flickering firelight covered the walls in intricate Chinese patterns. A gorgeous gilt dragon curled in the center of the square room, its body glistening with water that spilled from a hole far above in the room's ceiling.

Shan struggled to breathe. The room's beauty bit into her chest, and she turned in place, inviting the sensation as she tried to burn the vision into her mind from every angle. Beside her, Ian looked similarly awed as his gaze swept to the fountain, the ceiling, the walls, and back down to the fountain again. Shan swallowed and shook her head. She felt as if they had walked back in time with each step down that long corridor. It was almost too much.

"Please wait," their guide said. "The Director will be with you shortly."

Shan pulled her gaze down from the ceiling and remembered where she was.

"We're in for quite a ride," Ian whispered. He extended his elbow, and Shan slipped her arm in his, letting her hand rest softly on the sleeve of his shirt. The touch of his body seemed to ground her, help her find her balance again.

"Hope you don't get motion sick," she grinned.

"Archaeologists are immune to such trifles," he countered. "It's all in the brochure."

Just then, a door opened from the right side of room, and a woman walked out. Trim, blonde, and probably mid-thirties, she wore a skirted black suit and walked with the confidence of a professional.

"Ashton likes his employees as beautiful as his artifacts, it seems," Shan whispered to Ian. He didn't answer. Shan looked at him and saw his eyes wide, his mouth twisting into a smile.

"Rachel?" he said.

The woman grinned, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. "Ian!"

Shan pulled her arm away from Ian just as the woman joined them and planted a lingering kiss on Ian's cheek.

"Ian Dashell," the woman said, smiling, "did we ever actually break up?"

Ian pulled himself away from the woman. "Rachel Sexton, this is my friend, Shawna Westin. Shawna, this is Rachel."

"It's a pleasure," said Rachel, extending her hand.

Shan shook it. "It certainly is, Ms. Sexton," Shan said. "Ian speaks of you often."

This seemed to surprise Ian slightly, but Shan just smiled. Well, he had mentioned her back at his house in New York. Of course, he'd been mostly unconscious at the time.

"Is that so?" Rachel said, turning back to Ian. "I didn't know you were still carrying a torch, Dash. How flattering!" Ian shot Shan a dark look, but she just smiled and blinked her eyelashes. "Oh, but the guest registry listed Mr. and Mrs. Dashell. I had assumed that was your parents, Dash, or are you and Shawna more than just friends?"

Oh, great
, thought Shan. Rachel was as direct as she was beautiful. They had planned on masquerading as a married couple, but as Rachel knew Ian--and apparently quite well--the story might be harder to maintain.

"We're, uh, engaged," Ian said.

Rachel's gaze went immediately to Shan's left hand, and the notable absence of a ring.

"Recently engaged," Ian added. "The ring is getting appraised."

Rachel nodded, seemingly appeased. "Well, let me just get Mr. Chiang over here to take care of these other guests, and I'll give you two a private tour." She put her hand on Ian's arm.

"We'd love a private tour," said Ian, emphasizing the "we" part a little too obviously, in Shan's opinion, though she appreciated the thought. "I can't wait to get a better look at this place. And to figure out how you landed this gig. Right place at the right time?"

"Hell, no!" Rachel said. "I fought tooth and nail for this job. Private investors are the best thing that ever happened to our field. Just wait until you see this place! You'll be kissing that university of yours good-bye and signing on for lifetime tour."

"I'm feeling a bit tired after the trip," Shan said, "I think I'll take a nap. You two go ahead."

"Well, I guess you're not an archaeologist," Rachel said, smiling. "Dash and I were always energized by long trips. Remember our first trip to Tenochtitlán? We checked in at the site, then went out drinking with the dig crew until dawn. What was the name of that dive where we ended up?"

"El Gato Gris," Ian laughed. "Worst tequila in the world."

"Not that you could tell after the first shot," Rachel said.

"But at least I didn't start dancing on the table and telling the bartender he looked
guapo
."

"Actually, I think you did," Rachel countered.

Ian winced. "Oh, yeah. That
was
me."

The two of them laughed. Shan smiled and tried to ignore the sudden pang of...what? Jealousy? Yes, Rachel Sexton was beautiful and smart, and could apparently speak Spanish and hold her liquor... But Shan didn't actually feel threatened by her. At the Jade Circle, girls and women saw each other as sisters, not rivals. If Ian chose to pursue a relationship of some sort with Rachel Sexton, then that would be Ian's choice.

Of course, Shan hoped things didn't progress that way. True, she and Ian had never discussed their growing relationship. They'd never mentioned commitment, exclusivity, or the future. But, all the same, if she found Ian making out with his ex, there wouldn't be a future for them. Shan didn't share her men, even if the tiger would allow such a thing.

So the pang, Shan guessed, was more for a shared past that she was no part of. Shan wanted to see Ian get drunk and silly and dance on tables. She wanted to see him digging pits and studying artifacts and doing whatever else archaeologists do. Rachel Sexton had seen him do these things.

And for that she could be jealous.

Rachel used a walkie-talkie to summon Mr. Chiang, an older Chinese gentleman in a sharp black suit. Ian looked at Shan, a question in his eyes. He said, "Have a good nap, sweetie."

Shan grinned. "I will, darling. You two enjoy your shop talk." She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the mouth--more quickly than she wanted, but just the right amount for a fiancé, she guessed. Despite its speed, the kiss held enough power to tickle Shan's spine. Later, she thought. Later, she would kiss him as herself instead of Shawna.

"I'll bring him back in one piece, I promise," Rachel said. Then she took his arm and whisked him away toward a distant hallway.

Mr. Chiang led Shan and the other guests to their rooms. Shan and Ian had landed the Horse Suite in the Zodiac wing. Fitting, Shan thought, since she suspected that Ian had been born in the year of the horse. With his nobility and penchant for travel, it was almost a sure thing.

Fortunately, the room's theme never veered into tacky. A huge king-sized bed almost covered in pillows of gold and red silk sat on a platform at one end of the suite. A desk with a laptop and phone occupied the main part of the suite, along with a comfy sofa, table, and two wide over-stuffed chairs. The walls were lined with paintings of horses. Many were Chinese, their stark black lines evoking power and grace and the illusion of movement, but other styles were represented as well.

The real show stopper in the room, however, was the hot tub. Tucked into the back corner of the suite, it looked more like a natural hot spring than a tub. Water poured out of a crack in the ceiling and trickled down the rock-faced walls and into the pool. A gentle mist clung to the water, giving the alcove an almost magical aura.

Shan could barely resist the urge to rip off her clothes and dive in. On second thought, screw the clothes. They'd dry soon enough.

But, in the end, her willpower won.

Shan pulled herself away from the grotto and read through the paperwork on the desk. The only event listed for Wednesday was the welcome dinner at six. As it was now almost five, she'd only have a few minutes to snoop around before heading to the big event. Shan leafed through pages describing Thursday's martial arts and research presentations until she found a map.

Shan whistled. The place was even bigger than she'd thought, with four full guest wings and many sections marked "private." The auction items weren't scheduled to be unveiled until Friday, but Shan wanted to find the animals as soon as possible. If she found them today, they might be able to stow away on one of the ships delivering passengers.

Someone knocked on the door. Shan answered, and one of Ashton's servants came in with their bags. Perfect timing. Shan tipped the man, switched into a quieter pair of shoes, and headed off to explore.

The fortress, for all its size, buzzed with activity. Shan passed dozens of servants, guests, and other official-looking people as she walked through the hallways toward the "private" area closest to the auction display room. With all the activity, she only had to wait a few minutes before she had the opportunity to slip behind the thick red curtain covering the passageway.

The ubiquitous wall sconces were only dimly lit, casting just enough of a glow for Shan to see where she was walking. It seemed to be a portrait gallery. Picture after picture hung in elaborate frames along both walls. Shan walked softly down the hallway, looking for security devices or anything unusual about the paintings. The floor seemed devoid of dust, meaning the area was obviously used or at least cleaned regularly.

Shan passed one portrait that, even in the darkness, seemed familiar. She stepped closer and squinted, wishing she had brought a flashlight.

It was Bruce Lee.

Shan smiled. She moved on and saw scientists, historians, and other martial artists, all of which were labeled in both Chinese and English. The hallway ended in a large, arched alcove containing just two paintings.

The first, labeled "Malcolm Ashton," depicted a Caucasian man in his sixties wearing a very British suit. There was a hardness to his eyes, as well... It amazed Shan that the artist had managed to capture such a look.

So this, then, was Victor Ashton's father.

Shan turned to examine the other picture and felt her heart skip a beat. The Chinese woman had been painted in her twenties and wore a beautiful blue cheongsam embroidered with flowers.

Victor Ashton's mother had been a member of the Jade Circle.

Shan studied the face again. She had known Li Jiang as a quiet woman in her fifties, polite and careful with her words. Jiang had never mentioned any sons, though Shan had certainly never asked. Li Jiang had been one of the first to fall when the sanctuary was attacked.

"Can I help you with something?"

Shan gasped and spun around. She almost brought her hands up into a fighting pose, but pulled herself back at the last second. Shawna Westin was no fighter.

"No, I..."

It was Victor Ashton.

Shan wouldn't have been able to recognize him before seeing the portraits, but his parentage was present in every crease in his face. Like Shan, he had Western eyes in shape and color, only his were a bright, startling blue. He wore his dark hair long and straight, though it had started to gray in streaks. And his clothes... The blue silk of his shirt clung to his torso, revealing more muscles than most men approaching their fifties could boast. And the blue--it shone the same color as his eyes, even in the almost-darkness of the alcove. The best of East and West, Shan decided, and with a presence that riled the chi in her body, from head to toe.

"I'm sorry," Shan continued, "but I was trying to find the bathroom." She smiled again and tilted her head in a show of calculated embarrassment.

Ashton smiled, his teeth predictably perfect.

"Well, then you are quite lost, Miss...?"

"Westin, Shawna Westin." Shan held out a hand, and Victor took it in his. At his touch, Shan winced. His energy lapped against her flesh in waves. He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to her flesh. Shan shivered. Even if she hadn't seen the portraits, she could recognize power.

"You are quite beautiful, Miss Westin," Ashton said, "even though you are in a part of my home clearly marked private on your map."

Was it a compliment or a threat?

"You're right, Mr. Ashton, I'm not looking for the bathroom." Shan tilted her head and looked up at him through her lashes. "You caught me. I was hoping to steal a glimpse of the items up for auction. There's a piece of porcelain--"

"Ah, the early Yongzheng jar?"

Shan smiled. This felt like a test. "No, a Qing Dynasty vase. But if all you have is Yongzheng..." She let her voice trail off with feigned disappointment.

"I assure you, Miss Westin, we have enough Qing pieces to fill your private warehouse."

"Now you've really whetted my appetite for a sneak peek," Shan said.

"I can't let you see the pieces, my dear, but I
can
do something about that appetite." He held out his arm, and Shan took it. Chi raced through her body, faster than blood, as they touched again. The tiger was awake and pacing. Not that Shan blamed it. Victor Ashton had more power and charisma in one finger than most men carried in their entire bodies.

She smiled. Fortunately, Ian was not "most men."

The banquet hall was over-the-top extravagant, just as Shan had expected. Too many people, too much gold plating, and almost more exotic spices than her nose could handle.

Of course, it didn't help that she entered the room on the arm of Victor Ashton himself. Or that, across the great room, Rachel Sexton was still firmly attached to Ian's arm. And laughing. At least Ashton had given Shan a chance to change into a slinky, sequined dress--the white one Lydia had so thoughtfully labeled "Big Dinner, Day 1." Ian had changed too--into a timeless tux that accentuated his tall, lean body. Shan itched to trace its tailored lines with her fingers.

Ashton maneuvered Shan slowly through the room, pausing only to shake hands or return an abbreviated bow. His presence was the signal for everyone to find their seats at the great U-shaped table.

"You'll sit next to me," Victor said in a low voice. "Please," he added, probably as an afterthought.

Shan nodded her acquiescence. She was both repelled and attracted by Victor Ashton, but there was no way she was going to pass up a chance to learn more about him...and his interest in the jade animals.

As they reached the top of the table, Rachel and Ian joined them. Ian sent Shan a small smile. She returned it and raised him a wink.

"Miss Westin," Rachel said, "I see you've had a chance to meet Victor. Victor, may I present Professor Ian Dashell, Miss Westin's fiancé?"

Ashton raised an eyebrow at Shan. She smiled and raised an eyebrow right back.

"It is a pleasure, Professor," Victor said. "I hope that you shall join us for dinner. I'm sure Ms. Sexton can find a seat for you next to her. As you and Miss Westin are engaged, I'm sure you can manage to sit apart for the space of one small dinner?"

It wasn't a question; it was a challenge. Victor Ashton had every intention of testing her commitment to Ian, and he meant to start right away.

"Of course we can eat separately, Mr. Ashton," Shan purred. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. But what they don't say is that it also makes the sex grow hotter." Shan nibbled on the tip of her index finger and smiled. Victor's eyes narrowed, but his gaze stayed on her mouth.

Ian, it seemed, was having trouble breathing. Rachel tried to offer him a glass of water, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Shall we eat?" Victor said to Shan. "I'm getting hungry."

"And I'm ravished," she said.

"Ravishing is more apt."

She let her eyes slip half closed, but kept her gaze on Ashton. He pulled out her chair, and she sat languidly, letting the tiger guide her movements. With energy roiling through her body and sparking off Ashton's, Shan wouldn't be surprised to see every man in the room looking at her. And every woman looking at Ashton.

Shan, however, had to struggle to keep her eyes on him. Her gaze kept straying toward Ian in his tux. Ian with his mussed brown hair. Ian, her anchor, her crane, her balance. She and Ashton were both predators, and when predators tangled, only one survived.