Donovans 02 - Jade Island

could be sold, other ways to raise cash.
    Cold washed through her, a chill that grew with her certainty that the extraordinary blade Kyle now owned had been stolen from Wen Zhi Tang.
    “Thank you,” the auctioneer said. “Before we move on to the final lot of the evening, Precious and Important Gems of the Pacific Rim, we have a special treat for you. Mr. Richard Farmer, whose white jade Sung bowl many of you admired in the atrium, has graciously agreed to preview some of the magnificent—quite literally imperial —artifacts he will be featuring in his soon-to-open Museum of Asian Jade. Indeed, after seeing just a few pieces of this extraordinary collection, I am tempted to crown Mr. Farmer the new Jade Emperor. Please welcome Richard Farmer, international businessman, humanitarian, philanthropist, and jade connoisseur of the highest level!”
    Kyle’s eyes narrowed at the words Jade Emperor. Heglanced sideways at Lianne to see how she was taking the announcement. She didn’t seem to have heard. Her skin was pale and her eyes were closed. He bent down so that he could speak in her ear, above the sound of applause.
    “Lianne? Are you all right?”
    She jerked, nodded, and opened her eyes, trying to pretend interest in what was happening around her.
    The audience was beating its hands together with real enthusiasm. If it wasn’t for Richard Farmer Enterprises Inc., the auction wouldn’t have been held tonight and the charity wouldn’t have benefited.
    Though it was common knowledge that Farmer’s philanthropy was as self-serving as his business interests, no one complained. There were too many businesses that didn’t bother with philanthropy at all. The fact that Farmer was on his way to owning a considerable chunk of the free world and controlling a lot more through foreign licensing arrangements simply made people more grateful for his streak of charity, however lean it might be.
    The lights dimmed dramatically, then came up again to reveal Dick Farmer striding toward the podium, which the auctioneer had abandoned. The curtains had been drawn across the small stage. Farmer’s black tuxedo showed vividly against the heavy, lipstick-red velvet of the curtains. He was a man of medium height, unassuming looks, and supreme confidence.
    “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Farmer said, picking up the cordless microphone from the podium and going back to center stage like a rock singer or a televangelist. “I’m delighted and overwhelmed to be among such generous patrons of the arts, especially the Asian arts.”
    Kyle shifted in his uncomfortable seat and wished he had known this was coming. He could have left before all the self-congratulations began. Usually that sort of babble was reserved for the end of a charity event, or the beginning, sometimes both. Pitches at intermission were left for public TV.
    If he hadn’t been interested in seeing Farmer’s jades, Kyle would have stood up and left. And if Farmer blathered on for more than three minutes, Kyle would leave anyway. The Museum of Asian Jade would open in another week; he could see all of Farmer’s artifacts then without having to listen to a canned lecture.
    “Before I show my jades, I’d like to give those of you who are into painting and ceramics a brief overview of jade’s importance in China.”
    Kyle managed not to groan out loud. Barely.
    “As with all precious and semi-precious stones throughout history, jade was believed to have special, even spiritual, properties,” Farmer said. “From the very earliest beginning of Chinese civilization, jade was the embodiment of various virtues we like to think of as Christian: loyalty, modesty, wisdom, justice, integrity, and, of course, charity.”
    The audience murmured appreciatively.
    The sound Kyle made was guttural disgust. The closest Farmer came to any of the virtues listed was when he formed the words in his mouth. Farmer was a businessman first, last, and always. He had an unwavering, uncanny instinct for entering international markets at the moment when they were just emerging. He came in when he could buy land and workers for a handful of pennies. When he got out, he sold for a bucketful of diamonds. Governments bitched about the trade-off, but they lined up anyway to lure Farmer into business deals. He created value where nothing had existed before.
    Kyle admired the man’s marketing genius and jugular instinct. He didn’t admire Farmer’s efforts to represent himself as an