and slammed it down on the arm of the sofa. ‘The bastards,’ she said, voice guttural with rage. ‘The filthy bastards.’
Flavia put a calming hand on her knee. ‘Brett, there’s nothing you can do about it.’
With no change in her voice, Brett turned to her. ‘It’s not your career that’s over, Flavia. People will come and hear you sing no matter what you do, but they’ve just destroyed the last ten years of my life.’ She stopped for a moment and then added, voice softer, ‘And all of Matsuko’s.’
When Flavia tried to object, she continued, ‘It’s over. Once the Chinese find out about this, they’ll never let me go back. I’m responsible for those pieces. Matsuko brought the papers back from Beijing with her, and I signed them when I got back to Xian. I verified that they were all there, in the same condition as when they left the country. I should have been there, should have checked them all, but I let her go instead because I was in New York with you, listening to you sing. And it’s cost me my career.’
Brunetti looked at Flavia, saw the flush that had come into her face at the sound of Brett’s growing anger. He saw the graceful line her shoulder and arm made as she sat turned towards Brett, studied the curve of her neck and jaw. Perhaps she was worth a career.
‘The Chinese don’t have to find out about it,’ he said.
‘What?’ both of them asked.
‘Did you tell your friends who did the tests what the samples were?’ he asked Brett.
‘No, I didn’t. Why?’
‘Then we seem to be the only people who know about it. Of course, unless you told anyone in China.’
She shook her head from side to side. ‘No, I told no one. Only Semenzato.’
Flavia interrupted here and said, ‘And I doubt we have to worry he told anyone, aside from the person he sold them to.’
‘But I have to tell them,’ Brett insisted.
Instead of looking at her, Flavia and Brunetti glanced across the table at each other, understanding instantly what could be done, and it was only with the exercise of great force of will that each of them resisted the impulse to mutter, ‘Americans.’
Flavia decided to explain things to her. ‘So long as the Chinese don’t know, then nothing has happened to your career.’
To Brett, it was as if Flavia hadn’t spoken. ‘They can’t keep those pieces on display. They’re fakes.’
‘Brett,’ Flavia asked, ‘how long have they been back in China?’
‘Almost three years.’
‘And no one has noticed they aren’t genuine?’
‘No,’ Brett conceded.
Brunetti picked it up here. ‘Then it’s not likely that anyone will. Besides, the substitution could have happened any time during the last four years, couldn’t it?’
‘But we know it didn’t,’ Brett insisted.
‘That’s just it,
‘That doesn’t make any difference,’ Brett said, her voice once more rising towards anger. ‘Besides, sooner or later, someone is going to realize they’re fake.’
‘And the later it is,’ Flavia explained with a broad smile, ‘the less likely it is that anyone will link you to it.’ She paused to let this sink in, then added, ‘Unless, of course, you want to toss away ten years’ work.’
For a long time, Brett didn’t say anything, just sat while the others watched her consider what had been said. Brunetti studied her face, feeling that he could read the play of emotion and idea. When she was about to speak, he suddenly said, ‘Of course, if we find out who killed Semenzato it’s likely that we’ll get the original vases back.’ He had no way of knowing if this was true, but he had seen Brett’s face and knew she had been about to refuse the idea of remaining silent.
‘But they’d still have to get back to China, and that’s impossible.’
‘Hardly,’ Flavia interrupted and laughed outright. Realizing that Brunetti would be more receptive, she turned to him to explain. ‘The master classes.’
Brett’s response was instant. ‘But you said no, you turned them down.’
‘That was last month. What’s the good of my being a prima donna if I can’t change my mind? You told me yourself that they’d give me royal treatment if I accepted. They’d hardly go through my bags when I got to the Beijing airport, not with the Minister of Culture there to meet me. I’m a diva, so they’ll be expecting me to travel with eleven suitcases. I’d hate to disappoint them.’
‘And what if they open your bags?’ Brett asked, but there was no fear in her voice.
Flavia’s response was immediate, ‘If memory serves, one of our cabinet ministers was caught with drugs at some airport in Africa, and nothing came of it. Certainly, in China, a diva ought to be far more important than a cabinet minister. Besides, it’s your reputation we’re worrying about, not mine.’
‘Be serious, Flavia,’ Brett said.
‘I am serious. There is absolutely no chance that they’d search my luggage, at least not when I’m going in. You’ve told me they’ve never searched yours, and you’ve been going in and out of China for years.’
‘There’s always the chance, Flavia,’ Brett said, but it was audible to Brunetti that she didn’t believe it.
‘There’s more of a chance, from what you’ve told me about their ideas of maintenance, that my plane will
