Silent Run

wearing anything but what I have on." Riley pulled up the zipper on his black leather jacket, feeling like the only sane person in the middle of a freak show.
    "What about this?" she asked, handing him a baseball cap.
    "Why did you bring that? It's not an antique."
    "It was signed by Willie Mays. It says so right there."
    Riley checked out the signature scrawled across the bill of the cap. He hadn't seen the cap in a very long time, but he distinctly remembered writing on it. "Uh, Grandma, I hate to tell you this, but I'm Willie Mays. I was planning to sell that hat to Jimmy O'Hurley, but somebody tipped him off."
    She frowned. "You were a very bad boy, Riley."
    "I tried."
    The busty redhead standing in front of them turned her head at his comment, giving him a long, sexy look. "I like bad boys," she said with a purr that matched her cat's eyes.
    The old man standing next to her tapped his cane impatiently on the ground. "What did you say, Lucy?" he asked, adjusting his hearing aid.
    The redhead cast Riley a wistful look, then turned back to the stooped, old buzzard who had probably put the two-carat ring on her third finger. "I said, I love you, honey."
    "That's just sick," Nan whispered to Riley. "She's young enough to be his granddaughter. It goes to show that men can always get younger women."
    "If they have enough money," Riley agreed.
    "I hate that you're so cynical."
    "Realistic, Grandma. And I don't think you'd be happy if I was walking around San Francisco in armor, pretending to be a knight. So be glad I have a job. The line is moving," he added with relief, as the crowd began to shift toward the front doors of the arena.
    The Cow Palace, once known for its livestock shows, had been divided into several sections, the first an initial screening area where experts scoured the items brought in. When it was their turn, the first screener riffled quickly through Nan's stash, pausing when she came to the statue. She told them to continue to the next screening area with the dragon only. The second screener had the same reaction and called over another appraiser to confer.
    "I think we might get on the show," his grandmother whispered. "Now I wish I'd had my hair done." Nan patted her head self-consciously. "How do I look?"
    "Perfect."
    "And you're lying, but I love you for it." Nan stiffened as the two experts broke apart. "Here they come."
    "This is a very interesting piece," one of the men said. "We'd like to put it on the show."
    "You mean it's worth something?" Nan asked.
    "Definitely," the man replied with a gleam in his eyes. "Our Asian art expert will be able to tell you much more, but we feel this piece may date back to an ancient dynasty."
    "A dynasty?" Nan murmured in wonder. "Imagine that. Riley, did you hear him? Our dragon came from a dynasty."
    "Yeah, I heard him, but I don't believe it. Where did you get that statue, anyway?"
    "I have no idea. Your grandpa must have picked it up somewhere," she said as they made their way across the arena. "This is exciting. I'm so glad you came with me."
    "Just don't get your heart broken," he cautioned in the face of her growing enthusiasm. "It could still be worth nothing."
    "Or maybe it's worth a million dollars. Maybe they'll want to put it in a museum."
    "Well, it is ugly enough for a museum."
    "We're ready for you, Mrs. Delaney," a smiling young woman said as she ushered them onto the set, which was cluttered with lights and cameras.
    An older man of Asian descent greeted them. After inspecting the dragon, he told them the statue had probably been crafted during the Zhou dynasty. "A rare find," he added, launching into a detailed explanation of the materials used, including the jade that made up the eyes, and the twenty-four karat gold strip that encircled the dragon's neck.
    Riley wondered if he could possibly be hearing the man correctly. It appeared that this very odd-looking dragon had some important place in Chinese history and quite possibly had belonged in the private collection of an emperor. The expert estimated that the dragon might be worth thousands of dollars, maybe hundreds of thousands.
    When their segment ended and they were escorted off the set, they were immediately swamped by appraisers and other experts, who handed them business cards and shook their hands. Riley kept a tight grip on the dragon as well as his grandmother's arm. The dragon was like a prime steak tossed into a pack of hungry wolves. He'd never seen such covetous looks, such