all our vultures have, because if we ever find anything significant, then I’ll decide what goes where.”
Hulan searched the faces of the Chinese men for a raised eyebrow or an unconscious flinch when Ma called her “Inspector” but saw only bland indifference.
“You should see the gifts they bring me thinking they can curry favor!” Ma went on. “A roast pig. A bottle of VSOP cognac. A carton of cigarettes.”
“Bribes?” Hulan asked.
“Of course,” Ma answered cheerfully.
Hulan followed up with “And you accept them?”
“Someone has to take them.”
Were things so corrupt down here?
“But enough of this. Let me introduce you to the rest,” Ma said. “To your left, Inspector, is our favorite little hothead, Lily Sinclair.”
The phrasing was demeaning, and Lily reddened. She looked to be about thirty. Although her blond hair was short, the cut was expensive. She wore a gold ring on her right hand, a diamond bracelet, and a gold chain around her neck. Her outfit superficially looked like everyone else’s—shorts, T-shirt, and work boots—except she’d probably purchased hers at a Hong Kong boutique. Again, everything simple and very expensive.
“Lily’s from London but works at Cosgrove’s in Hong Kong,” Ma continued. “Do you know Cosgrove’s?”
“It’s an auction house,” Hulan replied. She felt David’s thigh resting alongside her own. He put his hand under the table and gently squeezed the flesh just above her knee. The warmth of his hand penetrated through her clothes.
“I wouldn’t expect an inspector from the Ministry of Public Security to know about the international art market,” Ma commented, “but you aren’t the usual, are you, Inspector?” He didn’t wait for an answer but went on a bit longer about Cosgrove’s and how it had made its reputation almost two hundred years ago by selling works that were a cut above the more commercial objets d’art that were part of the China trade.
Dr. Ma now circled back to his earlier confession. “Inspector, things aren’t as bad as I make them sound,” he confided. “If I accept the gifts, then I have some control over what happens on my site. Those bribes have gone a long way in boosting morale in the camp. How many day workers get to experience the Red Prince life by drinking a shot of brandy? I think our method—though dishonest on the surface—keeps everyone more honest down deep.”
“Honest?” Stuart asked, his voice high and mocking. “Who at this table is here for honest reasons? Certainly not Miss Sinclair.”
“Oh, Stuart, are we going to do this again?” Lily asked dolefully.
Ma sighed theatrically, then explained to David and Hulan. “Every day and at every meal these two have the same conversation—”
“That’s because she’s trying to get her hands on your artifacts so she can sell them at Cosgrove’s.” Stuart’s accusation was lighthearted, teasing.
“You know perfectly well that I could never get an artifact out of the country even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” Lily admonished, clearly taking Stuart seriously. “I for one don’t plan on ever spending a night, let alone an hour, in a Chinese prison. I’m just here to increase my knowledge of Asian art.”
Stuart and a few of the others laughed. He leaned forward across the table and asked, “Then how do you explain the sale of the zun last spring at Cosgrove’s?”
“That was perfectly legitimate and you know it!” Lily’s cheeks flushed pink, and she held her back straight.
Stuart glanced over at David and grinned. “She’s cute when she’s upset.”
“What’s a zun ?” David asked.
“A ritual wine container,” Lily answered huffily.
The others at the table laughed again. They enjoyed razzing Lily, and apparently she took the bait every time.
Annabel Quinby explained: “It so happens, Mr. Stark, that last summer we found a very beautiful bronze zun, but it disappeared before measurements or photographs
Hulan searched the faces of the Chinese men for a raised eyebrow or an unconscious flinch when Ma called her “Inspector” but saw only bland indifference.
“You should see the gifts they bring me thinking they can curry favor!” Ma went on. “A roast pig. A bottle of VSOP cognac. A carton of cigarettes.”
“Bribes?” Hulan asked.
“Of course,” Ma answered cheerfully.
Hulan followed up with “And you accept them?”
“Someone has to take them.”
Were things so corrupt down here?
“But enough of this. Let me introduce you to the rest,” Ma said. “To your left, Inspector, is our favorite little hothead, Lily Sinclair.”
The phrasing was demeaning, and Lily reddened. She looked to be about thirty. Although her blond hair was short, the cut was expensive. She wore a gold ring on her right hand, a diamond bracelet, and a gold chain around her neck. Her outfit superficially looked like everyone else’s—shorts, T-shirt, and work boots—except she’d probably purchased hers at a Hong Kong boutique. Again, everything simple and very expensive.
“Lily’s from London but works at Cosgrove’s in Hong Kong,” Ma continued. “Do you know Cosgrove’s?”
“It’s an auction house,” Hulan replied. She felt David’s thigh resting alongside her own. He put his hand under the table and gently squeezed the flesh just above her knee. The warmth of his hand penetrated through her clothes.
“I wouldn’t expect an inspector from the Ministry of Public Security to know about the international art market,” Ma commented, “but you aren’t the usual, are you, Inspector?” He didn’t wait for an answer but went on a bit longer about Cosgrove’s and how it had made its reputation almost two hundred years ago by selling works that were a cut above the more commercial objets d’art that were part of the China trade.
Dr. Ma now circled back to his earlier confession. “Inspector, things aren’t as bad as I make them sound,” he confided. “If I accept the gifts, then I have some control over what happens on my site. Those bribes have gone a long way in boosting morale in the camp. How many day workers get to experience the Red Prince life by drinking a shot of brandy? I think our method—though dishonest on the surface—keeps everyone more honest down deep.”
“Honest?” Stuart asked, his voice high and mocking. “Who at this table is here for honest reasons? Certainly not Miss Sinclair.”
“Oh, Stuart, are we going to do this again?” Lily asked dolefully.
Ma sighed theatrically, then explained to David and Hulan. “Every day and at every meal these two have the same conversation—”
“That’s because she’s trying to get her hands on your artifacts so she can sell them at Cosgrove’s.” Stuart’s accusation was lighthearted, teasing.
“You know perfectly well that I could never get an artifact out of the country even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” Lily admonished, clearly taking Stuart seriously. “I for one don’t plan on ever spending a night, let alone an hour, in a Chinese prison. I’m just here to increase my knowledge of Asian art.”
Stuart and a few of the others laughed. He leaned forward across the table and asked, “Then how do you explain the sale of the zun last spring at Cosgrove’s?”
“That was perfectly legitimate and you know it!” Lily’s cheeks flushed pink, and she held her back straight.
Stuart glanced over at David and grinned. “She’s cute when she’s upset.”
“What’s a zun ?” David asked.
“A ritual wine container,” Lily answered huffily.
The others at the table laughed again. They enjoyed razzing Lily, and apparently she took the bait every time.
Annabel Quinby explained: “It so happens, Mr. Stark, that last summer we found a very beautiful bronze zun, but it disappeared before measurements or photographs
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