Donovans 02 - Jade Island

what was in the small, hidden room beyond the door, her mouth dropped. While Wen berated Joe for drunken clumsiness, Lianne stared, unnoticed, atthe type of jade treasures she had only dreamed of seeing if she was ever permitted inside mainland China’s state collections.
    But of all the things Lianne saw in that first, unguarded instant, it was the jade shroud that was engraved on her mind. Until that moment, she hadn’t known that any such treasure existed in private hands.
    Then Joe had noticed her. He had shouted at her to get out, but Wen intervened. He went to her, saw both her shock and her reverence as she stared at the suit…and he smiled to see his love of jade and history shining in her eyes. He dismissed Joe, swore her to secrecy, and spent some of the most pleasant hours of his long life showing her the soul of the Tang treasures.
    Lianne had kept her vow and the secret of the priceless jade shroud. She had seen it only once since then, when Wen had been flushed with illness or rage and demanded to be left alone with her in the vault. He showed her how to open the concealed door, then stood in silence with his hands on the suit as though drawing strength from the immortal properties of jade. An hour later they left the vault.
    Neither of them had spoken of the jade suit then. Or ever. Until today.
    “Did you hear me, girl?” Wen demanded. “Is his sacred jade suit superior to mine?”
    Lianne’s heart squeezed into her throat. She didn’t want to lie to her grandfather, but the truth was unspeakable. “I could not examine it closely,” she said finally.
    “Why have the gods cursed me with a useless female?” Wen growled. “If I had been at the auction…”
    His voice died. If he had been at the auction, he would have seen nothing. It had been months since he could see even a hand in front of his face.
    “But,” Lianne forced herself to say, “if you would let me examine your suit now, I could give you an opinion as to which suit is better.”
    “Not today. Daniel is here.”
    She bit back a protest. Arguing with Wen simply made him more determined to get his way. “Yes, Uncle. But soon?”
    Wen grunted. “Hurry with the locks. My feet are tired.”
    Lianne walked around a priceless screen made of lacy jade plaques set in small, densely carved mahogany frames. The screen separated the vault wing from the rest of the house. Grumbling, Wen waited while Lianne went to work on the combination that allowed the big, fireproof steel door to swing open.
    Some of the jade objects inside were on display to be touched, admired, loved. Much more jade was held within steel drawers and cabinets. And in one very special, very small steel room, there was a coffin-sized pedestal supporting the Tangs’ most extraordinary treasure—an intact jade burial suit from the Han dynasty. The tiny room was opened rarely and spoken about even less. Only the First Son’s First Son knew of the suit’s existence, and so the secret had been passed from generation to generation.
    Once it had been Wen’s pride and pleasure to have sole access to the Tang treasure room. When Joe turned thirty, Wen had given the combinations to him with much ceremony. Joe had looked around the jade vault without real interest. Patiently he listened to Wen’s fervent lecture on the social, political, philosophical, religious, and monetary importance of the Stone of Heaven. Then Joe went back to his racehorses and his study of the history and practice of the ancient art of calligraphy.
    Lianne had turned out to be a much more satisfactory acolyte at the Stone of Heaven’s altar. Sixteen years ago, when Wen had decreed that the Tang Consortium headquarters be moved from Vancouver to Hong Kong, the Tang patriarch discovered that Johnny’s backdoor daughter had an instinctive, rare, and deep understanding of jade. Wen had seen nothing like Lianne’s innate skill since his grandmother, who had been the force behind his grandfather’s and father’s wide renown as jade connoisseurs.
    When Wen finally despaired of training a son in thelove and lore of jade, and it was too late to mold his own daughters in that role, he began Lianne’s schooling. She would never be a Tang, but that didn’t mean her gift for jade appreciation had to go to waste.
    Then Daniel had matured. Though he lacked Lianne’s experienced eye and uncanny instinct for jade, he had other, very important qualities: he was a Tang, he was a male, and he was fascinated