Behind her stood a man wearing a perfectly tailored pearl-gray suit. He was about an inch taller than she was, and powerfully built.
“Mr. Mai?” Nancy asked.
The man nodded slightly. “Do you like my dragon?” he repeated.
“It’s beautiful,” Nancy said.
“In Buddhism the dragon represents the god of the East,” Mr. Mai explained. “He is the spirit of change—some say of life itself—and the lord of all sea creatures. Just as the tiger, the god of the West, represents courage and is lord of all land creatures. The piece you are looking at is from eighteenth-century Japan.”
Nancy studied Mr. Mai as he spoke, but she couldn’t tell how old he was. With his high cheekbones and jet black hair, he could have been thirty or fifty. The only thing certain was that he had money. Everything from his elegant suit to the antique jade ring on his hand was obviously expensive.
He nodded toward a case that held the inscribed tablets of jade she’d noticed yesterday. “This is what we call a jade book. The writing is actually a poem from the Manchu Dynasty. Jade books were something of a fad among the Chinese emperors of that period. Which period are you focusing on, Ms. Drew?”
That’s a good question, Nancy thought. Somehow, when she’d done her research at the library, she hadn’t thought too specifically about different periods in history. What she wanted to do was find out what might have been in the trunk.
“Actually,” Nancy said, “it isn’t a specific period I’m interested in. I’m researching jade carvings from Vietnam.” At once she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. There might have been a piece of jade in the trunk, but the jade itself could have come from anywhere in Southeast Asia.
“I was born in Vietnam,” Mr. Mai said. “Many of the jade carvings from my country were done in the last two centuries. A great many were statues made for the temples.”
“Do you have any here?” Nancy asked.
“Nothing at the present,” Mr. Mai said. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
With a sinking feeling, Nancy realized the interview was over and she’d learned nothing about Mr. Mai except that he was Vietnamese. And that wasn’t enough to tie him to the trunk. She glanced at the heavy wooden door behind him. What she really wanted was to get into the back room of the gallery. That was probably where new shipments were unpacked and where the displays were set up.
“Mr. Mai,” Nancy said, thinking quickly of a way to prolong the interview, “aren’t many of the Vietnamese carvings similar to the Chinese?”
“Some of those that were made for the Buddhist temples are,” he answered.
“Do you have anything here like that?”
For the next twenty minutes Mr. Mai gave Nancy a tour of his gallery. He was clearly an expert on his subject and lectured at a rapid speed.
Knowing she had to keep her cover as a student, Nancy took notes, but most of the information on jade flew past her. Instead, she listened for something that would link Mr. Mai or the gallery to the trunk.
It didn’t take long before Nancy realized that the reason Mr. Mai had agreed to see her was that he was a very vain man. He knew a tremendous amount about his subject and was running a very successful business. And he liked lecturing to people about what he’d accomplished.
Nancy decided her best strategy was to act extremely impressed. “Where do you find all these amazing pieces?” she asked after he’d shown her a vase from sixteenth-century China.
Mr. Mai smiled for the first time since she’d met him. “Private collectors,” he replied. “This is a highly specialized field. Most of the jade collectors know each other. We’re a very small circle.”
Nancy was running out of questions. She couldn’t think of anything that would prompt him to show her more of the gallery—particularly the back room. And then the door to the back room slowly opened.
Casually Nancy stepped to the side so that she could get a glimpse of what was behind the door. But her eyes never got as far as the room itself. Standing in the open doorway was the boy with the silver dragon earring.
The boy’s eyes met hers, and without a word he turned and bolted.
“Stop!” Nancy shouted. She knew she couldn’t let him get away again, not when he seemed to be the key to the mystery.
“Ms. Drew!” Mr. Mai yelled out.
Nancy had no time to explain. She took off after the boy, racing past file cabinets and display cases. The boy obviously knew where he was going. He moved deftly through the back room, around a corner, and through a door that led out of the gallery.
Nancy followed him and found herself in the alley behind the gallery. Praying that she wouldn’t have a third encounter with the Doberman, she continued to chase the boy out of the alley and into the streets of Sausalito.
The boy sprinted downhill toward the bay, his arms pumping as he sped along a narrow street. Nancy followed as quickly as she could, but she was wearing a skirt and couldn’t run at her usual speed.
Her breath was coming in short gasps by the time the boy reached the Plaza Vina del Mar. He skirted the fountain, nearly collided with an elderly man, then darted around one of the plaza’s elephant statues and disappeared.
Nancy slowed to a halt and eyed the plaza in disbelief. Where could he have gone? she asked herself. He couldn’t have just vanished. He had to be somewhere nearby.
Patiently she began to search the plaza and Gabrielson Park. But there was no trace of a boy in a white T-shirt and black jeans who wore a silver dragon earring.
Who is he? she wondered. And what is he so desperate to hide?
8
Back from the Grave
With a sigh Nancy sat down next to one of the plaza’s elephant statues. She’d lost the boy with the silver dragon earring. What was he doing inside the gallery, anyway? she wondered. He’d clearly been alarmed when she saw him. Did he work there? Or was he about to steal something?
Nancy reviewed what she knew about the boy. She’d first seen him at Terry’s house, and he’d sent her to the gallery. Then she’d seen him behind the gallery with his dog and had just seen him again inside the gallery. That meant there was a good chance he lived in Sausalito. Her next step would be to ask some of the local storekeepers and business people if they knew him. After all, she reasoned, he was easy to recognize.
But first she had to get back up the hill and explain her mad race through the gallery to Mr. Mai. And she had no idea of what she’d tell him.
Nancy approached the gallery and peered through the window. Mr. Mai was standing near the entry, talking to the woman at the desk. Hesitantly Nancy went back in.
Mr. Mai turned to face her, and she saw at once that her task was not going to be easy. The gallery owner wore a cold, closed expression. “Ms. Drew,” he said with a nod, “you left very suddenly.”
