Donovans 02 - Jade Island

Kyle asked.
    “Does it matter?”
    “Yes.”
    Archer smiled slightly. He and his brother were more alike than either one of them had realized until recently. “Illegal arms. The Chinese are making a bundle exporting munitions that are outdated by our standards, yet plenty high-tech by Second or Third World standards.”
    “Ah, civilization. Ain’t it grand.”
    “It beats whatever is in second place. That’s why Uncle is negotiating instead of shooting. Since it’s China we’re negotiating with, we’ve heard a hundred degrees of yes and none of no; but not a damn thing has been signed, sealed, or delivered in the way of promising to shut down the export of high-tech munitions.”
    “What does China want?”
    “My contact didn’t say. Obviously it’s more than we’re willing to give them so far. If this Jade Emperor shit hits the fan, we’re going to end up looking as bad as we smell. Uncle will have to give up a lot more to China than is good for the long term, in order to get what we must have in the short term—less weapons in the hands of ambitious tyrants.”
    “Hand me the milk,” Kyle said. He couldn’t go back to bed and he sure as hell needed something extra to kick his butt into gear. Not to mention his mind.
    He grabbed the milk carton from Archer and didn’t stop pouring until the coffee in his cup was the color of the Mississippi in flood. He drank hard and fast, then waited for the caffeine to hit his brain cells.
    “Okay,” Kyle said. “So Uncle thinks the Tangs swiped the tomb goods and sold them to Farmer.”
    “That’s one theory.”
    “What are the others?”
    “SunCo is the second favorite.”
    “They’re based in mainland China. If they did it, their government would be all over them like a cat covering shit.”
    “Probably. Depends on who SunCo is allied with in the mainland government. They have more factions than we have names to give them. Anyway, until further notice, the Tang Consortium is the favorite bad guy.”
    Kyle drank the last of his coffee, ran his hands over his bristly cheeks, and looked up at Archer with clear, hazel-green eyes.
    “Since the Turnover,” Kyle said, “the Tang Consortium has been pretty well shut out of Hong Kong and the mainland. The Tangs need a strong U.S. ally. They don’t get any stronger than Dick Farmer.”
    “Yeah. If it weren’t for the arms negotiations, Uncle would let China, Farmer, and the Tangs slug it out. And we wouldn’t be voting for the American. Farmer doesn’t have too many friends in high places.”
    “You’re speaking of the man most likely to start his own party and get elected President.”
    “It would mean a step down in power for Farmer. A big step. When the President wants to hold an international meeting, it takes protocol experts months to plan. When Farmer wants to hold the same meeting, everyone comes to Farmer Island and no one bitches about who has precedence.”
    “Yeah. I love that trick he plays with the lapel pins and the house computer. When you smuggled yours out after that last conference Donovan International attended, it took me months to reverse-engineer the chip and build one that would make the computer think whoever wore it was God.”
    “So you say. It’s never been tested.”
    Kyle shrugged. He had done it, he knew it, and that was all that mattered to him. “Can you get a full description of the tomb contents? Otherwise we won’t know what to look for.”
    “For openers, there’s a jade burial suit. Intact.”
    Kyle was too surprised to say anything. When he wasn’t surprised anymore, he still didn’t know what to say. Absently he picked up the Baroque flute and blew a series of notes that were piercing yet sweet, random yet musical. Then he set the wooden flute aside and turned to his brother.
    “Jade burial suits are extremely rare,” Kyle said. “Nearly all that have been discovered are still in China. The very few that have gone overseas are in the hands of national institutions, not individuals.”
    Archer waited.
    “What else was in the tomb?” Kyle asked.
    “The usual stuff—jewelry, scepters, sculptures, dishes, screens.”
    “‘The usual stuff,’” Kyle muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll need better descriptions than that. Size, color, age, that sort of thing.”
    “I’ll try, but my contact was unofficial.”
    “Unofficial. Uh-huh. Do you really believe that?”
    “Most of the real work is done that way. Off the record.”
    Subtly Kyle