Donovans 02 - Jade Island

being spotted. He wore dark slacks, a dark waterproof jacket, and a fisherman’s knit hat, also dark. Of course, if he got caught, he might have trouble explaining the heavy backpack and the neoprene dive suit under his street clothes, but he didn’t plan on getting caught. Or if he got caught, he wouldn’t stay that way for long. Archer and Jake were a lot better trained than Farmer’s rent-a-cops.
    The temptation to look over his shoulder every few steps and check on Lianne was like an itch Kyle couldn’t scratch. But she was dressed in the same anonymous black as he was. She wouldn’t stand out any more than a shadow.
    The front door of Farmer’s residence was made of fir carved in Haida totemic designs. There was no lock that Kyle could see, no handle. Very shortly, he would find out if he was nearly as clever with electronics as he thought he was.
    Or if Farmer had changed the frequency on his personal electronic “key” in the past nine months.
    Kyle reached into his jacket pocket to check that the key was in place. The slim little transmitter was powered by a Polaroid battery pack, just like the best letter bombs. Only this one didn’t go boom; it quietly, discreetly, opened the compound’s doors for Dick Farmer…or for anybody else who happened to be wearing it.
    When he walked through the open, welcoming front door, Kyle discovered that the little unit also turned on lights, music, and wallpaper, giving him an adrenaline surge so sharp that his hands tingled. He looked around quickly, spotted a manual control panel, and killed the lights. The music continued, Dvorak’s New World Symphony, all crashing notes and urgency. The wallpaper was Broadway at night, traffic patterns shifting and glowing realistically, crowds rushing, everything but horns honking—and the symphony supplied that.
    Lianne hurried through the door. Archer and Jake were right on her heels. The heavy backpacks the men wore made odd, almost musical sounds as their loads shifted.
    “Dial down the music,” Jake muttered.
    “As soon as I find the switch,” Kyle agreed.
    “Screw the music,” Archer said. “The guards can’t hear it. They’re headed toward the runway. Find the shroud.”
    With Kyle in the lead, they went through door after door, carrying with them a cocoon of wallpaper and music doing ghostly transformations. None of the rooms that opened magically at Kyle’s appearance held a Han burial shroud made of precious jade.
    “What kind of ego needs this many bells and whistles?” Jake asked when the eighth door opened and Thus Spake Zarathustra poured from hidden speakers.
    “Somebody with a tin-god complex,” Kyle said, turning off the lights automatically. “But don’t knock it. It’s making our lives easy. One key fits all doors.”
    He started to turn away, then stopped. The room lookedlike a plush college-lecture hall with a semicircle of seats rising steeply away from the podium. Forest-green curtains fell from ceiling to floor, shutting off the small stage.
    Thoughtfully, Kyle pulled out a small pencil-beam flashlight.
    “What are you doing?” Lianne asked.
    “The curtains. Wonder what’s behind them.”
    “You think he’d put something as valuable as the suit in an open classroom? ” Lianne asked.
    “Why not?” Kyle followed a thin beam of light down the central aisle. “As far as Farmer is concerned, this whole compound is a hell of a lot more secure than Wen’s vault.”
    The curtains didn’t spring apart at Kyle’s appearance. He had to search the lectern before he found a series of switches. The first one turned on the podium light. The second was for the microphone. The third opened the curtains.
    Lianne’s breath caught in a wondering sound as the slim beam of Kyle’s flashlight stroked gleaming shades of green from center stage. She ran down the aisle and up the stage stairs, her backpack bumping every step of the way. She hardly noticed the awkward weight. Her whole attention was fixed on the jade shroud that lay like a radiant, articulated suit of armor on top of a steel utility table.
    Kyle was right on Lianne’s heels. As she reached out to the shroud with reverent hands, he took the stage in a long leap that ignored the weight of his backpack.
    “Is it a go?” Archer asked from behind his brother.
    “Yes,” Kyle said, not waiting for Lianne to answer. The look on her face said it all.
    “Then let’s get to work,” Archer said, shucking off his own heavy backpack.