Farmer switched all of his attention to the computer screens. The talking heads of public television knew less about the trade situation than he did. For one thing, they hadn’t even mentioned China’s brisk international arms trade. But even setting that aside, the brutal, overriding truth was that China’s economy was based on exports of everything from guns to teething rings. Unless China climbed down off its ridiculous high horse, trade barriers would go up and the flood of Chinese exports to America’s rich markets would squeeze down to a trickle.
When that happened, international bank loans made to China would be in jeopardy of default, because there would be no export profits to make payments on the loans. The West would lose some profit margin if China defaulted. China would lose a hell of a lot more.
Defaulting on international loans would set off a chain of consequences. Foremost among them would be China printing more money to cover its debts, money that had no true value to back it up. Inflation would quickly follow. Unless good money came in from somewhere else—not likely, if China was defaulting on international loans—inflation would get out of hand until Chinese money wasn’t worth the match to burn it.
People would riot in the streets because a week’s wages couldn’t buy a cup of rice. Severe repression would be the order of the day. If that didn’t get the job done, there would be a military coup, order would be restored, and a new state would be reborn within the burned-out shell of the old.
It had happened before. It would happen again. It was the way of the world.
Since Farmer didn’t have anything on mainland China worth protecting, he didn’t care about the value of Chinese currency or the cost of a bowl of rice. If he had been established in China, as he hoped to be in a decade, he would have fought with every bit of leverage and lies at his command to defuse the growing crisis, as China’s other trading partners were no doubt doing, including the United States.
Farmer wasn’t one of those partners. About all he had at risk was an overpriced jade suit. Whatever happened in China wouldn’t particularly affect his lucrative South American markets, or his Russian ones. But in eight years—sixteen at most—those markets would be saturated.
He needed another low-tech, high-density population to sell electronics to, a country where the industrial revolution had taken place, but not the computer revolution. Africa, India, and China were the obvious choices. Africa didn’t have the money to boot up for the twenty-first century. Even if Africa could get the loans, its future population density was problematic. Too many African states had denied or ignored AIDS for too long.
India had the population, and the money, to buy computers, but Farmer hadn’t been strong enough to lock up that market when it emerged. Farmer Enterprises was struggling along on a 14.4 percent market share in India. It was bigger than anyone else’s, but not nearly big enough to overpower the shifting coalition of international businesses that kept undercutting his prices.
China beckoned like a sweet, unspoiled dream. In China, Farmer’s challenge had been to find a good, competitive edge over the rest of the international business wolves. He had tried the usual bribes, the usual kickbacks, and had got the usual results. Good, but not good enough.
To his surprise, the Jade Emperor’s burial suit was becoming the very edge he had been searching for. All that remained was for China to bow to the inevitable and open up negotiations with him. If the government chose to be stiff-necked about it, Farmer would shift priorities and concentrate on how he could profit in China’s coming economic ruin. Beginning now.
The day that had started before dawn had just become longer.
“Coffee, Mary Margaret. Black and strong.”
“Cindi, you have the local angle on this crisis,” the news anchor said.
Reluctantly Lianne turned away from Susa’s paintings and faced the television set. Its screen was big enough for the travelogues that Susa enjoyed, but not big enough to dominate the airy room.
“Thanks, Carl.” Wearing a tasteful burgundy suit, cream silk blouse, motionless hair, and a colorful scarf that lifted in the wind, Cindi turned toward the camera. Thanks to the deceptive miracle of digital TV, she appeared to be standing on I-5 overlooking the vast Boeing/McDonnell Douglas complex. “The atmosphere is tense here today at the Boeing plant. Workers who had been certain of employment from Chinese aircraft contracts are now grim, fearing layoffs or worse. Unless the trade situation is resolved, these men and women will be out of work before their kids are out of school for the summer. Back to you, Carl.”
“Thanks, Cindi. Next, an update on the protest over the Nude Taco, the cafe that brought see-through dining to our Northwest cuisine.”
Lianne punched a button on the remote, shutting off the TV. No matter how edgy she was, waiting to open her own negotiations with the U.S. government, there were some things she wouldn’t waste time on. Afternoon “news” was one of them.
“No nude tacos?” Kyle asked from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. Kyle was across the room, leaning against the doorway, watching her with eyes that measured and desired.
“I’m into nude hot dogs,” she said.
“You’re in luck. I’ve got this—”
The front door opened. The teasing expression vanished from Kyle’s face as a young, startlingly beautiful Chinese woman preceded Archer into the room.
Kyle had seen the woman before, at the Tang’s post-auction party. She had been wearing less clothes and more hair then. Not that the tailored charcoal suit and red silk blouse made her look like a dog. Far from it.
With narrowed eyes, Lianne measured the young woman, wondering at the transformation from party bimbo to sleek, self-confident business person.
“Good behavior, boys and girls,” Kyle said. “I do believe Uncle has just arrived.”
The woman gave Kyle a look from glorious, polished jet eyes. “Bingo. This would have been a whole lot easier if you had used the telephone number I put in your pocket.”
“My plate was full,” he said dryly.
“April Joy, meet Lianne Blakely and my brother Kyle,” Archer said.
“We’ve met,” April said.
“April Joy?” Kyle’s mouth turned up at one corner. “The name fit you better when you were wearing your hair down past the crack in your ass, and not much else.”
Smiling, April walked closer to Kyle, giving that extra little swing and jiggle of hips and breasts that was guaranteed to bring a man’s heart rate up. “How’s your plate now, handsome?”
“Knock it off,” Archer said impatiently to April before Kyle could answer. “You tried that approach already on him. It didn’t work.”
“Should I try it on you?” April asked, turning to Archer.
He smiled slowly, thinly. “Depends on how much time you have to waste.”
“Forget it. I’ve read your file. You keep your cock in your pants like a regular priest.” April looked at Lianne and spoke in rapid Cantonese. “Do not trust these men, sister. They will use you and forget you.”
“Number Four Donovan Son saved my life,” Lianne said in the same language. “It is his to do with as he pleases.”
“You are American, not Chinese.”
“Not in this.”
“Shit,” April said in heartfelt English. She turned to the men. “Give me a reason I shouldn’t have the three of you locked up for obstructing a federal investigation.”
“This is America, not China,” Kyle said. “You need evidence to lock people up.”
“Wrong,” April said. “All you need is a pliant federal judge.”
“If you had one that pliant, you wouldn’t be here,” Archer pointed out. “Any more gambits you’re supposed to try before we get down to business?”
“Are you going to offer me coffee or are you going to be a prick?” she asked Archer.
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“You’re going to be a prick. This is my lucky day all the way to the wall.” April
looked at Lianne again. “Wash the stardust and sex out of your eyes and think. The government can help you more than the Donovans. We’re the ones who put that triad assassin on a plane and sent him back to China.”
“The government locked me up,” Lianne said. “The Donovans set me free.”
“You could have walked anytime you decided to roll over on your Chinese connection. That was all we wanted.”
“That was the problem. I didn’t have a ‘Chinese connection.’ I still don’t.”
“Bullshit. You couldn’t have gotten something like that jade shroud out of China without mainland contacts. Lots of them. We want them. Then we can confiscate the damned thing under the Cultural Antiquities Act, send it back where it belongs, and get on with the much more important business of Westernizing China.”
“Good luck,” Kyle muttered.
“Amen,” Archer agreed. “More likely we’ll be sinecized.”
“Is that a word?” Kyle asked.
“Stand-up comics,” April said scathingly. “Jesus. Keep it for the stage, slick. We’ve got serious business to do here.”
“Are you slick?” Kyle asked Archer. “Or am I?”
“Must be you,” Archer said. “I’m more an ass-kicker myself.”
“If I had brought the suit into the U.S.,” Lianne said before April could explode, “you’re right, I would have needed a lot of help. But I didn’t bring in the shroud. I don’t have any mainland connections. Period.”
“Believe her,” Archer said. “I do.”
April’s anger faded as she looked right at him, running scenarios in her head, changing attacks in mid-stride because the attack she had been using wasn’t any good.
“All right,” she said, deciding. “Say I believe Lianne is innocent. Then what?”
“Then you get out of our face and let us clean up this mess.”
“How will you do that?” April said quickly.
“Don’t tell her,” Kyle said, just as fast. “There’s a leak somewhere on her side.”
She turned on him, all acting gone. Nothing remained but a cold, polished agent who knew more than one way to kill. “Explain that.”
“I couldn’t figure out why the Feds were dragging their feet after Lianne put up bail,” Kyle said. “The bureaucrat in charge did everything but make forms by hand.”
“So civil service is a bitch,” April said. “So what?”
“So someone called about Lianne making bail. Then someone else sent a triad hit man to her apartment.”
“You’re reaching,” April said, turning back to Archer. “Okay. What’s the deal?”
“I’ll get back to you on that, too.”
“You really believe our security is compromised?” April asked scornfully.
“It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
Small, elegant fists shot up to rest on April’s waist. The result was to outline her body very nicely, but for once she wasn’t thinking of that.
“Okay, boys and girl,” she said. “Listen up. Some really big elephants are at play. Right now, you’re the grass underfoot, soon to be ground into mud. If the idea doesn’t appeal to you, grab hold of Uncle Sam and climb up for the ride. You’ll be a lot safer.”
“What about Farmer?” Kyle demanded. “He bought the suit. Surely he can give you a lead.”
“He says he got the suit from Taiwan.”
“Then why are you leaning on Lianne?” Kyle asked.
April didn’t answer.
Archer did. “Two reasons, I imagine. The first would be that our assets in Taiwan say that the jade shroud didn’t come from there, but Taiwan is more than happy to twist the Chinese tiger’s tail by saying it did and forcing the U.S. to choose sides. Uncle, of course, would rather not play that game.”
“And the second reason?” Lianne asked.
“You’re easier game than Dick Farmer. He has wires into enough Congressmen to light up Washington, D.C.” Archer turned back to April. “Right, Ms. Joy?”
“Right or wrong, it’s not my problem. It’s yours.” She watched Kyle with clear black eyes. “Last chance, handsome. I promise I’ll be gentle with you.”
Kyle gave April a genuine smile and shook his head.
She spoke to Lianne in rapid Cantonese. “No matter how strong and beautiful the tiger, it is always safer to walk than to ride.”
“No doubt,” Lianne said in English. “But I have to say, the ride is incredible.”
“Yeah,” April said, flicking Kyle a glance, “I’ll just bet it is.” She faced Archer. “Someone is going down for that jade shroud. We’d rather have the whole pipeline from here to China so this kind of thing won’t happen again real soon. But if all we can get now is a small fish, we’ll fry it crisp and pretend it’s the whole damn feast. I’m sure you understand.”
Archer nodded. He understood. It was what he would have done, once.
“Three days, slick,” April said, looking from one Donovan brother to the other. “Then Farmer’s museum opens and we start frying sweet little Lianne.”
Maybe it was the artificial light outside Anna Blakely’s condominium. Maybe it was the glittering jewelry and designer clothes she wore. At first glance, Kyle thought that Lianne didn’t take after her blond, deliberately expensive mother very much. Then he took another, better, look and decided that the biological link was there in the tilt of her smile, the chin lifted to take on the world, the singing female allure of her walk, and the graceful length of her fingers as she reached for her daughter. They hugged as though it had been months rather than three days since they had last seen each other.
After repeated assurances that Lianne was all right, Anna pulled back and gave her daughter a long look.
“You should have called right away, baby,” she said, her voice husky. “When Johnny told me, I went crazy.”
“I left word at your hotel. When you didn’t call back…” Lianne’s voice died. The silence from her mother had been harder to bear than Wen’s belief that she was a crook.
“The Tangs need a new travel agent,” Anna said, her mouth turning down. “There was a mix-up in the reservations. We had to change hotels. If Johnny hadn’t thought to check with the original hotel for messages, we’d still be in Tahiti and you’d still be here alone.”
“Let them come in,” Johnny said, walking up behind Anna. “We can talk more safely inside.”
Lianne stiffened and stepped away from her mother. She hadn’t expected Johnny Tang to be here. She hadn’t wanted him to be. She was afraid that he, like Wen, believed she was a thief.
“Inside,” Johnny repeated, drawing Anna into the room.
Kyle shot him a look, but the older man was too busy staring past the women to the street to notice. Kyle had the distinct feeling that Johnny was worried.
We can talk more safely inside.
Maybe someone in the Tang family had told Johnny that his backdoor daughter was attracting the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of people. Or maybe Johnny hadn’t had to be told. Maybe he had known all along.
And maybe he had known about the attack, too.
Cold rage shot through Kyle. He didn’t like to think that Johnny had known in advance that Lianne was going to be arrested, so he packed up his mistress and took off for Tahiti, leaving Lianne to face the cops alone. The possibility that Johnny also might have known in advance about the attacker was enough to make Kyle killing mad.
Using a gentleness that was at odds with his thoughts, Kyle put his arm around Lianne’s shoulders and urged her inside. Johnny and Anna were clear across the room, talking in low voices near the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area.
Even when the door shut behind him and automatic locks clicked into place, Kyle kept his arm around Lianne. She gave him a look that was surprise and something more, relief and yearning and wariness. She leaned against him for just a moment, then straightened instantly as though stung. When she would have stepped away from him entirely, his finger
s tightened. His free hand came up under her stubborn chin and he kissed her very gently on the mouth.
“This is one you don’t have to do alone,” he said simply.
“Part of the stuffed-elephant escort service?” Lianne asked coolly, but her lips trembled.
“I met you because Archer asked me to,” Kyle said. “I made love to you because I wanted you. I still do, and it has nothing to do with anything except us.”
Lianne was too surprised to say anything. The hunger in Kyle’s eyes was as real as his kiss had been tender. She was caught between the two, afraid to trust either, needing so much to believe in both. She told herself she would be a fool to believe in Kyle now, when she knew he was bound to his family just as Johnny was bound to his.
Then she was leaning into Kyle’s arm and her own arm was stealing around his waist. No matter what had come before or what came after, she would take what he was offering to her now. She desperately needed it.
This is one you don’t have to do alone.
When the ungiving leather and steel of Kyle’s shoulder holster registered on Lianne’s senses, she simply tightened her grip on him. Whatever happened tomorrow or the day after, she had to get through this day, this evening, the next hour. That came first. Everything else came last.
“Tea?” Anna asked, looking from Kyle to Lianne with a mother’s sad, hopeful eyes.
“Sure,” Kyle said. “Oolong, if you have it.”
Anna smiled approvingly. “Lianne’s favorite. Of course I have it. Johnny?”
“Brandy,” he said. “I had enough Chinese tea on the flight back to last me a lifetime.”
“Tea is good for you,” Anna said, looking at the dark circles under his eyes and the brackets of fatigue on either side of his full mouth. For once, her lover showed every one of his years.
“Brandy is better.” Johnny sat down on one of the low couches, leaned back against the silk cushion, closed his eyes, and said, “What the hell is going on, Lianne?”
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