The Scratch on the Ming Vase by Caroline Stellings

shook her head.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, dear? Why do you care if he came from Hawaii?”
    Fenwick interrupted.
    â€œI’m sorry, Madam,” he said. “But there’s another call. This time it is…well, it’s urgent. It seems there’s a problem downtown.”
    â€œThere is?” she said, getting up from her chair. “What kind of a problem?”
    â€œI don’t know, Ma’am. They didn’t divulge that information to me.”
    â€œOh, all right. I’ll take it.” Mrs. Haddon went to her study.
    Nicki handed her plates to the maid and headed out onto the terrace. She watched clouds form in the sky. The Don River Valley was at its greenest at this point in the summer, especially before a thunderstorm when the colors of the forest stood out brilliantly against the dark gray background.
    Nicki was deep in thought when the sound of the television through the screen door grabbed her attention.
    The six o’clock news was under way, and the first story was the arrest of Quon. She ran inside and turned up the volume.
    The RCMP have made an arrest as a result of a prolonged investigation into technological espionage activities involving several countries.
    Quon’s photo flashed on the screen.
    More arrests are expected.
    Nicki clicked off the television and returned to the terrace.
    Fenwick followed her out. “Do you know something about the arrest?” he asked.
    Mrs. Haddon slid back the glass doors and joined them outside.
    â€œNicole, that was the concierge at the hotel.”
    By the expression on her face, Nicki and Fenwick knew something was up. Something big.
    â€œIt’s Trent Newman,” she said. “He’s disappeared.”
    Everything rushed into Nicki’s head at once.
    The vase.
    T’ai’s uncle.
    Hawaii.
    Newman’s friend Kimo, the cop.
    â€œOf course,” she said under her breath.
    â€œOf course?” Fenwick raised an eyebrow.
    â€œMother,” said Nicki, “you were right when you said that something was bothering me.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œI really should have stayed in Honolulu. I need to get back for an important…uh, competition…tomorrow afternoon. Do you think you could get the pilot to file a flight plan for me tonight? I know it’s last minute, but this would mean the world to me.”

Chapter Twenty

    Nicki looked out across the blue Pacific. The flight above the island of Oahu, and the glorious birds-eye view it provided of Pearl Harbor and Diamond Head volcano, was always an exhilarating moment—especially as the plane descended over the pineapple fields and headed out onto the offshore runway, built on a coral reef.
    This time was different. Nicki couldn’t concentrate on anything, knowing what was about to unfold.
    â€œI’ve got to go, Mother,” said Nicki, “we’re about to land. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a jerk about the private jet. I’d be nowhere without it.” She paused. “Or you.”
    She clicked off her phone.
    The moment she landed, she thanked the pilot and took off to find a cab.
    â€œGet me downtown as fast as you can,” she told the driver. “Not the Nimitz Highway, I don’t want the scenic route.” She looked at her watch: it was still on Toronto time. “Take the H-1.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œWhat time is it?” she asked him.
    â€œNine twenty.”
    â€œGood,” said Nicki, adjusting her watch back six hours. “The morning rush is past. We can do it in half an hour.”
    â€œSounds like you’ve been to Honolulu before,” said the driver, pulling the cab out of the terminal. He looked at her in his rearview mirror. “Don’t I know you?”
    â€œI don’t think so. Listen, I’ve got to get to Beretania Street—to police headquarters.”
    â€œOkay. Fasten your seatbelt!”
    The driver got her there