The Scratch on the Ming Vase (4 page)

Chapter Eight

“Fenwick?”

“Miss Nicki? Where are you?”

“Still downtown. Is everything all right?”

“Splendid,” said the butler. “And don't worry, the Ming is safe and sound.”

“Good, because they think Grand Master Kahana may be out of the coma soon.”

“Terrific news, Miss.”

“I wish it were all good news, but…” She stopped. “Fenwick, did you do that reverse phone check for me?”

“The number is for Soong's Chinese Antiques,” he replied, reading her the address on Spadina Avenue.

“A Chinese antique store?” She waited at a pedestrian crosswalk for the signal to change. “I wonder if he intended to sell the vase.”

“Or maybe get an opinion as to its value.”

“That could be it,” agreed Nicki. “I'm going to check the place out.”

“But aren't you coming home now? It's almost eight.”

“Soong's must be just around the corner from here. I won't be long.” She clicked off her phone and walked until she found the shop.

Dwarfed between two tall buildings, Soong's Chinese Antiques appeared uninhabited, except for a dim light burning at the back. In the window, a huge red-and-yellow sign read
One-of-a-Kind Finds.

Bronze Buddhas and dragons with glassy eyes stared at her from the window, paintings of cherry blossoms and peonies on silk dangled from bamboo rods, ceramic panda bears, hardwood boxes, and incense burners sat in piles, and heaps of cheap-looking pottery took up any space that was left.

The curtain at the back of the store stirred when Nicki walked through the front door, and a bell jingled over her head. Before long, an elderly Chinese woman appeared.

“I'm psychic,” she said.

“So am I,” returned Nicki.

“Well, I suppose there's no point in conversation then. We'll just—”

“Read each other's minds? Okay.” Nicki wandered around the store.

What a load of junk
, she thought.

“This is not junk,” the woman snapped. “These are unique, one-of-a-kind pieces. Why don't you treat yourself to a set of dishes? Or something to decorate your room?” She picked up a ceramic figurine.

“Okay, it's my turn,” said Nicki. “You're wondering what I'm doing here. You figure I'm not going to buy anything—that I'm here with a hidden agenda.”

“Maybe,” said the woman.

Nicki took a business card from a stack on one of the tables.

“So you're Mrs. Soong?”

“My friends call me Lila.”

“Okay, Lila, so why am I here?”

“I said
my friends
call me Lila.” The woman put the figurine back in its place. “I know why you're here.”

“Why?”

“To spy on my handsome grandson.”

I'll bet he's not all that handsome.

“He is so,” said Lila.

The woman can read minds!
“I don't know your grandson.” Nicki dragged her finger along the top of a picture frame. An inch of dust dropped to the floor. “I wouldn't get away with this where I work.”

“Where
do
you work?”

“You're psychic. You tell me.”

The woman didn't reply. Then she grinned.

“Okay,” she said, “you can call me Lila.”

“I work at a hotel, as a housekeeper.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Give me a break,” she said.

“I do,” insisted Nicki.

Lila grabbed Nicki's hands and examined her palms. “These hands haven't ever done a day's hard work.”

“I just started today,” said Nicki, “so they have done one day's work.”

“I'm thirsty. You?”

Nicki nodded.

Lila started for the back room, and Nicki followed.

“So is your handsome grandson's name Robert?”

Lila stopped dead in her tracks.

“No. My grandson is T'ai. Why do you ask if he is Robert?”

“I thought there might be someone here by the name of Robert. Robert A-G.”

Lila rushed to the cash register, slid her hand under the counter, and pushed a button. Four times, maybe five.

“What are you doing?” asked Nicki.

Lila didn't reply.

A door banged shut.

Someone ran down from the apartment upstairs.

A young man of about eighteen pulled back the curtain.

He is good looking
, thought Nicki, noticing his long, dark hair and muscular build.

“What's going on?” T'ai Soong looked at Nicki, then at his grandmother.

“She's asking about someone named Robert A-G.”

T'ai grabbed Nicki by the arm. “Where's my uncle?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She pulled herself free.

He grabbed her again, this time even harder.

Nicki figured she had two choices: employ a roundhouse kick to his ribs or feign weakness and find out who Robert A-G was and why David Kahana had his name.

She opted for the second choice.

Lila Soong's grandson dragged Nicki to the back room.

Chapter Nine

“Who are you?” asked T'ai.

“She's a spy,” said Lila.

The bell over the front door jingled, and Lila peered through the curtains.

A young man with red hair walked in the front door. “It's your friend Mac,” said Lila.

“We're back here,” hollered T'ai.

“Why did you ask about Robert A-G?” Lila stared Nicki down.

“First, tell your grandson to let go of me,” insisted Nicki.

T'ai and Lila exchanged glances.

Lila nodded.

“Robert,” said T'ai, releasing Nicki, “is my great uncle. Lila's brother-in-law.”

“My sister's husband,” added Lila. “He's a widower now.”

“So why did everyone freak out when I mentioned his name?” Nicki brushed off her arm. “And why did you ask if I'm a spy?”

“Robert's gone,” said Lila.

“Gone?” asked Nicki.

“He was supposed to arrive here a week ago.”

“And?” prompted Nicki.

“He never made it. Wasn't on the flight.” Lila leaned against the wall and stared at her with black-marble eyes. “But you already knew that, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Lila,” said T'ai, “I believe her. I mean, look at her. She couldn't hurt a fly.”

You might be surprised
, Nicki said to herself.

“We've contacted everyone he knew in the States,” added T'ai, “but he has vanished without a trace.”

“He's from the States?” asked Nicki.

“He recently retired as a professor in the department of nuclear engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He was coming to Toronto to meet someone, and to stay with us for a while.”

“Now it's time to spill the beans.” Lila moved three steps closer to Nicki. Then she turned to her grandson. “She knows something.”

Nicki glanced through the curtains at the redhead. He was wandering around, picking things up, squeezing them, putting them back down again—as if he was in the produce section of a supermarket.

“Well?” prompted Lila.

“A friend of mine was sent to the hospital,” explained Nicki, “and in his pocket was a slip of paper with Robert A-G and your phone number written on it. That's it. Really.”

“What friend?”

“What does it matter?” Nicki shook her head in frustration.

Lila turned to T'ai. “I still say she's a spy. An agent for the People's Republic of China.”

“I doubt it,” said T'ai. “I believe her. You can see she's upset about her friend, Lila.”

Nicki couldn't keep her eyes off the redhead. He strolled around aimlessly, finally wending his way to the cash register.

She couldn't be certain, because he was slightly out of her sight line, but Nicki was pretty sure he helped himself to some money.

“Come in here, Mac,” said T'ai.

The young man's eyes were red and puffy and his complexion pale.

“Mac's a genius,” said T'ai. “Like my uncle.”

“So I'm a student at the University of Toronto in telecommunications engineering,” Mac said. “Big deal.”

“I'm a history major.” T'ai pulled out a chair and sat down. The others followed suit. “To me, anyone who can do what Mac does is brilliant. What's that you're working on with your professor? Photonic crystals?”

“Photonic crystals?” asked Nicki.

“It's top secret,” said T'ai. “It's going to change the whole smartphone industry. Explain it to her, Mac. I mean, the stuff you
can
talk about.”

“Photonic technology uses light instead of electricity, so signals can be sent at extremely high speeds,” he answered. “There's nothing secret about that.”

“Yeah, but your professor's research is going to take the whole telecom industry by surprise,” added T'ai. “And it will be used in medicine and aviation—right, Mac?”

Mac nodded.

Nicki noticed Mac's fingernails. They'd been chewed so far down, they were bleeding.

“So you've discovered a method of sending signals—differently? Faster?” she asked him.

“My professor has found a way to couple resonant cavities with emitters to controllably produce photons with telecommunications wavelengths.”

Lila rolled her eyes.

“I don't know what he's talking about half the time,” admitted T'ai, “but it's cutting-edge stuff.”

Nobody said anything for a minute or two, then T'ai spoke up.

“My friend here does have a name—Duncan MacDonald,” continued T'ai, pointing to his left. “You know Lila and I'm T'ai.” He scratched his chin. “So who are you?”

“I'm Fu Yin.”

“And this friend you mentioned?”

“David Kahana. He's American. From Honolulu.” She chose her words carefully. “I think he's the one who was supposed to meet your great uncle.”

“What makes you think so?” asked T'ai.

“Because someone tried to kill him last night.”

“What?” Lila's jaw dropped.

“He was stabbed.”

“Oh, wow,” muttered T'ai. “I'm sorry.”

“He's going to recover.” Nicki bit her bottom lip. “He has to.”

“Is this Kahana person a CIA agent?” asked Lila.

“Or involved in intelligence?” added T'ai.

Nicki was about to answer when Mac got up to leave.

Abruptly.

“I'm not feeling so good, T'ai. If you don't mind, I think I'll catch up with you tomorrow night instead.”

“What's up with you, mate? Are you okay?”

“I'm tired, that's all.” The two young men headed to the door. “T'ai,” Nicki heard Mac whisper, “can you loan me a few bucks?”

“Again?” T'ai pulled out his wallet.

“I'll pay you back in a couple days. Please, man. I'm desperate.”

T'ai handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

“That's forty bucks he owes,” Lila shouted from the back room. “The twenty you just gave him, and another twenty for what he took out of the register.”

Nicki listened as the clock on the wall beside her ticked away. A half hour had passed since Mac had left and she still hadn't gotten anywhere with the Soongs.

“Look,” said Nicki, “I've told you what I know.” She leaned back in the chair. “If you don't want to discuss it, I understand. But why are you two so fixated on espionage?”

“My great uncle worked for years at MIT. His research has led to great advances in nuclear technology.”

“That's right,” said Lila.

“My uncle's an honest man; a hardworking man. He believes that his work belongs to the country that has supported his research. Others find it more lucrative to sell technological secrets to foreign governments. Like Russia and China.”

“I see,” said Nicki.

“It was dangerous for him, but my uncle did what was right. He didn't stand for anything underhanded going on with his students or fellow researchers. And the CIA appreciated it. Both the CIA and the FBI knew of people out there who wanted him dead.” T'ai fidgeted with his watchband. “And it looks like they may have succeeded.”

“I think Mr. Kahana was here on behalf of the US government,” said Nicki. “The Secret Service.”

“I don't know anything about him. My uncle didn't tell us much, probably for our own safety.”

“Obviously the wrong person found out that David Kahana was in Toronto, and now he's fighting for his life, and your uncle is—”

“Kidnapped,” said T'ai.

Lila shuddered.

“Or dead,” he said.

“Let's hope you're wrong. Have you contacted the police in Massachusetts?”

“Of course,” said T'ai. “And the local police won't treat this as a missing-person case because they say my uncle left willingly and there was no sign of a struggle.”

“Willingly…” Nicki thought about it. “So someone convinced him to go someplace other than Toronto.”

“Right.”

“And to travel under an assumed name.”

“Probably.”

“What about the FBI?”

T'ai let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right. Like they're going to let
me
in the loop.”

Nicki picked up her jacket. “I've got to go,” she said. “I work at the Haddon Heights hotel, so you can always find me there.

“By the way,” she added, “what does A-G stand for?”

T'ai looked at Lila.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Aisin-Gioro.”

Nicki's bag dropped to the ground.

“You're kidding me.”