“Technically correct. But if I wanted to own a gallery I’d have bought one. Art isn’t my business. I’d much prefer it if Doug Haig could sell the Chaus, pay off his debt, and go about his business while I go about mine.”
“He can’t, though,” I said. “They’re worth nothing. They’re fakes.”
Lau regarded me steadily. “Mr. Woo said you told Haig you could get them authenticated.”
“Mr. Lau, my … arrangement … with Mr. Haig is predicated on Vassily Imports’ relationship with the other forces I mentioned, and is not as straightforward as it appears. Tiger Holdings would be best served to stay far from the proceedings. In view of the fact that you do have a legitimate investment to protect, however, Vassily Imports is prepared to guarantee that, should Mr. Haig’s debt to you become uncollectible, his assets will simultaneously become a great deal more valuable than they are at the moment.”
“I’m not sure, Ms. Chin, just what you mean by that.”
“She mean, iff you stay beck und vatch from da sidevays—iss dat right Eenglish?”
“Sidelines,” I said.
“Da, de sidelines. Iff you don’t mess us up, Meester Lau, you end up vit golden goose.”
“And if I choose not to permit whatever is about to happen to go forward?”
“Den, my friend,” Bill smiled, clinking his empty glass gently onto the silver tray, “I tink you find yourself vit goose egg.”
22
I called Jack as soon as Bill and I hit the street.
“Life and limb still intact?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” I said. “All we need to do now is find a golden egg for Lionel Lau before he makes fritters out of all of us.”
* * *
When I heard the buzzer at nine-thirty the next morning I didn’t ask who it was, just buzzed to let Jack in. I looked up when my office door opened and, fast, slid my chair closer to my desk, making sure I could reach the panic button. The stranger in the doorway was tall and Asian, but that was about all he shared with Jack Lee.
“Ms. Chin?” The man spoke in nasal, accented tones. “I think you expect me, we have appointment?” Disdain written all over his tanned face, he stood just inside my door in a cheap suit a few years out of date. It fit poorly over his wide shoulders, and his shirt strained over the early stages of beer belly. Polished loafers and showy tie said clueless foreign fop. His hair, combed straight onto his forehead, was Extreme Nerd. Black-framed yellow- tinted glasses rested on his nose, below which drooped a thin Fu Manchu mustache. He held himself tightly, as though stepping into my back-alley office was an action he didn’t think he should be asked to undertake. “Dr. Lin Qiao-xiang,” he announced with impatience. “You want see me, so I understand. Or maybe,” suddenly relaxing the rigid pose, walking in and sprawling onto a chair, “I should send Aramis in?”
“Well,” I managed. “Don’t you look splendid.”
“Do I?” Jack grinned. “If I didn’t know better I’d have thought you didn’t recognize me there for a minute.”
“I must admit you’re quite the apparition. How did you get to be that color, stage makeup?”
“Insta-Tan.”
“That stuff’s bad for you.”
“Line of duty. Like Bill drinking with Shayna.”
“And padding in the jacket? Or you gained twenty pounds overnight?”
“In the jacket and under the shirt. You don’t buy the Daniel Dae Kim shoulders?”
“I’d have to wonder where you were hiding them for the last two days. The real question is, where did you get that terrible suit?”
“At a thrift shop, for occasions like this. Hey, as great as Linus’s Photoshop work is, I thought I ought to look at least something like the real Dr. Lin.”
“You think his mustache is that ridiculous? And he has that bad taste in clothes?”
“I also needed to look not like me.”
“Ah, and chic would have given you away.”
“Don’t you think? I told you, Haig and I have met.”
“Only once, you said.”
“But we’ve been in the same room any number of times, grabbing off the same hors d’oeuvre trays. Haig’s generally too self-absorbed to notice anyone he’s not on the make for, but in case I did something unforgettable I don’t remember I wanted to play it safe. Also, there’s Nick. Be a bummer if that little punk derailed us.” He took off the glasses and handed them to me. “Near the hinge,” he said. I examined the decorative screw holding the earpiece on and found the tiny camera lens in its center.
“How do you—”
“Remotely. From my pocket.” He held up a pen and clicked the top as though he wanted to write something. “You just took a picture of the junk on your desk.”
“Hey, very cool. If the glasses weren’t so ugly I’d get myself a pair.” I handed them back.
“Come on. You can’t tell me any of this is nearly as bad as Bill’s bling and his accent.”
“Can’t I? But as long as it works on Haig. Which, let me remind you, Bill’s bling did.”
Jack grinned at me for another few moments. Then, as though I’d said something unbearably foolish, his smile vanished into a look of arrogant irritation. Jack Lee disappeared. Lin Qiao-xiang stood stiffly and replied, “In that case, we go now, see if can make this work, too.”
