“Hey, what’s up, Lydia? Jack, I’m surpised to see you back here. Frank said you didn’t like this show.” Eddie To, lithe and small, wore round black-framed glasses and a diamond stud in his ear. He had no more of a Chinese accent than Jack did. Or me.
“Hate it,” Jack said. “Especially the dancing fish. I thought you ought to know, though, that Baxter/Haig is planning to poach your artists once their prices rise.”
“Why, Jack. I’m touched by your concern, but not to worry. Doug Haig puts the moves on all our artists just to keep in practice. Mostly it’s caca. Even that big giant diva Jon-Jon Jie’s been running around lately telling people how much Haig loves him.”
“Jie? I don’t know him.”
“Yes, you saw his show. Last winter. Don’t deny it. ‘Extra/ordinary.’”
“Wait. Blades, arrows? Animal skins? That’s him? He’s from Texas.”
“So? They have divas in Texas.”
“Haig’s taking on Chinese-Americans?”
“Not. That’s the point. Haig will string him along and then break his heart. Frank and I are keeping out of it, we’re hoping it might make a man of him.”
“Haig?”
“As if. Anyway,” Eddie To said slyly, “I’m not sure the time is ripe for dear Doug to try something new. Not that I’m one to take joy in another’s misfortune—”
“You’re not?”
“All right, I am.” He lowered his voice, though we were alone in the room. “If you listen, you can hear the walls murmuring that Doug Haig is deep in doo-doo. His backers, who helped him buy Brad Baxter out? The walls say they’re getting antsy. The art market’s not gushing cash as fast as they thought it would and they’re tired of waiting. Or maybe they’re just tired of Doug Haig pawing all their women. Haig’s already discreetly had a fire sale of some older work he’s had around. I guarantee you the chance of him stepping outside his comfort zone to start showing Chinese-Americans right now is exactly less than shit.” Eddie raised his voice to a normal level and spread his arms to the work in his gallery. “Now, these fine fellows are from China, so technically they’re Doug Haig’s natural prey. But utilizing our super-secret weapon, Frank discovered them, so we’re counting on a little Chinese loyalty.”
“What’s your super-secret weapon?”
“Jack. If I tell you it won’t be a secret. Oh, all right, since you insist. You remember when Frank was in Beijing two years ago for the China Contemporary conference? He struck up a warm friendship with the head of the Art History Department at the Central University in Hohhot. So warm, in fact, I had to wonder if my domestic bliss was threatened.” He gave a little sigh.
Jack asked, “Where’s Hohhot?”
“Inner Mongolia,” I said. When they both looked at me, I added, “Hey, I’m not just a pretty face.”
“Whatever positions Frank offered Dr. Lin,” Eddie To went on, “the only one he agreed to, as told to me, was to be our exclusive consultant in the field of bleeding-edge Chinese art. Dr. Lin Qiao-xiang. And doesn’t Doug Haig wish he knew. Q.X. is the only reason we find artists Doug the Slug hasn’t gotten to yet. We have to keep him secret or he’d be stolen in a heartbeat.”
“How secret can you keep him, if he’s an expert in Haig’s field?”
“Please. Haig doesn’t have a field. He has a market. He doesn’t speak Chinese and Lord knows he doesn’t go to conferences. He’s above all that. So maybe we can remain a step ahead long enough to get established and stay out of the poorhouse. Possibly even to be able to afford some of the artists Q.X. has found us who, by the time we get to them, are beyond our means. Though as I said, with the gentlemen in this show we’re counting on gratitude and a Chinese sense of duty.”
Jack said, “I think you can count on their prices not rising.”
“Oh, Jack, you’re such a stiff. Hey, Frank named the spotted robot after you.”
“Really? If that’s a bribe he’d be better off naming them after critics.”
“Don’t be absurd. You’re a tastemaker.” Eddie cocked his head. “Odd for a stiff, hmm? Anyway, he did name a few after critics. The one that keeps crashing into that post, like it can’t see it? That’s Gross, from
I watched a red box drive itself into a blue post, back up, and do it again. “Why is the spotted one Jack?”
“Its job is to tail the striped one.”
Sure enough, wherever the striped red box went, the spotted box zoomed after a few moments later. “They all have jobs?”
Eddie To went to the desk and brought over three stapled sheets. “Artists’ statements. English on one side, Chinese on the other.”
“The Chinese makes more sense,” Jack said. “Especially if you don’t read Chinese. Listen, Eddie, love chatting with you but we’re here on a case.”
“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you working. I’ve had to watch the robot to get any sense of what you do.”
“Here’s your chance. I want to ask you something.”
“Well, isn’t this exciting? Frank will be jealous. How can I help?”
“You’ve heard the rumors that there are new Chau Chuns floating around?”
“Of course. Who hasn’t?”
