Ghost Hero

He poured himself a cup and joined us, looking particularly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“We were just telling Mr. Jerrold about the new Chaus,” I said.

“The new Chaus!” Jack took a quick sip of coffee. “Hey, this is pretty good. You must have made it.”

“No, Bill did.”

“Oh. Well, it’s good anyway. The new Chaus. I have a couple of things to say about them, myself. They’re new.” He sat back, beaming.

“Yes,” I said. “We know that part.”

“No, you don’t. You mean unknown. I mean new.” He jumped up and went to his desk, where he switched the computer on and rotated the monitor so we could all see. “These photos from the spy camera aren’t great but they’re good enough.” On the screen, with a couple of mouse clicks, he called up the three paintings Dr. Yang had brought to the gallery. He added close-up details from each, and tiled everything on a single screen. “These paintings”—he tapped the screen with the back of his hand—“are new.” He sat back down. “You said in the cab I was quiet. I was thinking. What I was thinking was, if Dr. Yang brought those paintings with him when he left China, I really am Lin from Hohhot.”

“Who’s Dr. Yang? Does he have these? Who’s Lin?” My client was confused.

I ignored him. “What do you mean, Jack? We know he had three. Anna said so.”

“Who’s Anna?”

“He might.” Jack ignored Jerrold, too. “But not those three. You saw them.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“They sure are. Chau never painted like that.”

“I thought all his paintings are supposed to be beautiful.”

“They are. But they don’t look like that. They don’t have that pared-away quality, like the painter knows exactly what matters and what doesn’t. Or that sense that he knows what he wanted to do and he did it and he doesn’t give a damn if you like it.” Jack grinned. “But they would have. In Chau’s mature period. If he’d lived.”

“What are you saying? You think these are fakes, too? Just better fakes?”

“No.” He clearly wanted to keep the suspense going, make us keep asking, but he also clearly couldn’t wait to tell. “This very issue was part of the full and frank exchange of views I had not an hour ago with Dr. Yang. They’re not fakes and they’re not old. They’re Chaus. From his mature period. Painted within the last year. Chau’s alive.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop, if anything as messy as a loose pin were to be found in Jack’s office. Then we all recovered at once.

“Jack—”

“Jack—”

“Mr. Lee!” My client was the guy with the loudest voice. “The Ghost Hero? He’s alive?”

“Dr. Yang admitted it. He’s an old friend of Chau’s. Smuggled out of China around the same time, as it turns out, and by the same smuggler.”

“What?” I said. “No. That story—you were there—”

“He said the story was true. But the man who died was someone else.”

I sat openmouthed. Meanwhile Jerrold, with impressive diplomatic cool, said, “Where is he?”

“Chau? I can’t tell you.”

“Mr. Lee, you—”

“No, I mean I really can’t. Dr. Yang absolutely drew the line at that. I’m assured, though, that he’s been an American citizen for many years, under a shiny new name, living a shiny new life. Painting only in private, never showing. He was more than happy to give his old bud Dr. Yang those three paintings, though, to help him out of a hole. Like everyone else, he’d heard all the rumors about new Chaus, and he felt responsible for Dr. Yang’s troubles.”

“What troubles?”

“Trouble’s all fixed, don’t worry about it,” Jack said, though worried wasn’t how Jerrold looked.

“Whatever that means,” Jerrold said, “this guy’s a fugitive from a friendly foreign power and I want to know where to find him.”

“You won’t find him. You could ask Dr. Yang, but,” Jack surveyed Jerrold, “I guarantee you wouldn’t last a minute.”

“I’d like to try.”

“Oh, Mr. Jerrold!” I broke in. “Really, what good would it do? Are you thinking that turning Chau over to the Chinese government would help your chances for promotion? If it’s true he’s a U.S. citizen, the Chinese government can’t touch him.”

“It is true,” Jack affirmed. “Dr. Yang’s one, too. Very efficient smuggler.”

“We could agree to extradite them.” Jerrold wasn’t giving up.

“For Tiananmen crimes?” Jack was enjoying himself. “Just wait until that hits the news. You’re with the government, Jerrold, so maybe you don’t know this, but we’re supposed to be the good guys. The Chinese government, during Tiananmen, they were the bad guys. Friendly foreign power, feh.”