Free The Chinese Alchemist by Lyn Hamilton

as any that he was as displeased by that development as we were.”
    “I’m sorry. I guess I was so focused on the upcoming bidding that I didn’t notice,” Burton said. “I knew you were there, of course, and that there was a bidder on the telephone, but I don’t recall anyone else who looked particularly interested in the box.”
    “To have a paddle, which is to say to be able to bid on something as expensive as that, the man must have established some kind of credit with Molesworth and Cox. If you get in touch with them,” I said to Chen, “they would almost certainly have a record, and you know, they might tell you who he was, given this is a criminal investigation.”
    “They’re never going to find it,” Burton said as we were about to leave. “For one thing, by the time the people at Molesworth and Cox respond to the enquiry from the police here, it will be long gone. They’ll go on and on about protecting their clients’ identities, and will only give up the name if they are legally required to do so. I am going to have to find a new signature piece for the T’ang gallery. The box will disappear into the black market. What a crashing waste of time! The only happy note I can think of is that it serves the seller right for withdrawing it in New York at the last minute like that. I hope for their sake it was insured.”
    I, too, was feeling similarly irked. “It’s all a little odd, isn’t it?” I said. “First it’s withdrawn, then it’s put up for sale halfway around the world, and then it’s stolen. I know it’s special, but still, this is a bit much.”
    “A bit much is right. I’ve spent thousands following it around for nothing. Yes, my travel budget at the Cottingham is generous, but who can afford something as useless as this? I’m going home tomorrow, I hope. I’m wait-listed for tomorrow, and have a confirmed booking for Wednesday. I planned to be going home with the silver box, but I guess that’s not going to happen. It will not be my most triumphant return, I must say.”
    “Nor mine. I don’t know what is worse, wasting someone else’s money or your own. Now that you mention it though, how were you planning to get the box out of the country?” I said. “China is clamping down on exports, as Mira Tetford has pointed out to me.”
    “The auction house assured me that the requisite papers would be provided, because the piece was legally out of the country before it was put up for auction here. Anyway, it’s always possible, isn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question. “Palms can be greased, customs agents either too ignorant to know what they’re looking at, or persuaded to look the other way. But you should know that if you were planning to be the successful bidder. Does that mean you weren’t planning to take it out of the country? Interesting idea,” he said.
    Oops,
I thought. “That’s a cynical attitude, Burton,” I said.
    “Cynical? I call it realistic. I was shopping on the antique street, Liulichang Dajie, a couple of days ago and went into a government-owned shop. At least, it was supposed to be a government-owned shop. It had the plaque outside the door proclaiming it as such. I was offered T’ang ceramics. I should probably say I was offered fake T’ang ceramics. Quite lovely, though. Pretending I didn’t know they were fake, I pointed out that they were way too old for export. They promised me that would not be a problem. Now given that they were fake, obviously it shouldn’t be a problem, but it does call the whole system into some question, does it not?”
    “Maybe there was a language problem,” I said. “Maybe they were trying to tell you they were reproductions.”
    “I speak Chinese, Lara. Surely you’ve noticed. Not well, perhaps, but well enough. Now, what are your plans?”
    “I’m joining my partner Rob in Taiwan for a visit with his daughter,” I said.
    “You have a client in Taiwan?” he said. “How would you manage