Free Jade Tiger by Jenn Reese Page A

Shan hurried over and caught the door just as Etienne was closing it. She met his frightened gaze and smiled.
    "Shh," she said, holding a finger to her lips. She pulled the trap door back open slowly, and the boy let her. Mrs. Fortier and the daughter had been waiting at the end of the hallway. They crept forward and joined Shan.
    "Etienne!" the little girl said. Mrs. Fortier quickly covered her daughter's mouth with her hand, but she was smiling, too. Etienne, ever the little gentlemen, extended his hand and helped his mother and sister climb into the attic.
    "Stay quiet," Shan told them. "Someone will come for you when it's safe." To Etienne, she said simply, "Protect them." She knew he would understand her meaning, even if the words made no sense. That little boy was full of surprises.
    Much like Ian, it turned out.
    Shan slunk down the staircase to the sounds of full-blown laughter coming from the front room.
    "You can't be serious, Ian!" Shan heard a voice say. Charles Fortier, judging from the accent. "I thought most cuneiform tablets were trade related, just 'I'll give you two sheep if you give me ten barrels of oats.'"
    "It's true," said Ian, laughing. "That's what made this find so astonishing. You should have seen Dr. Simmons's face when he had to ask me to confirm his translation of the word 'breast.'"
    Buckley guffawed. Charles laughed, too, but even from a distance, Shan could sense it was forced, nervous. Who could blame him? Shan found a darkened nook and put her ear against the wall to listen better. Before she found One-eye, she wanted to see what kind of man Charles Fortier had become, living with the dragon for so long.
    "But seriously, Ian," Charles began, "you flew across an ocean to get here, with not so much as an email to let me know. What's going on with these animals? Have you found the other three?"
    Shan breathed calmly, keeping her heart rate normal, her blood flowing smoothly and evenly through her body. Come on, Ian, she thought.
    "Would you believe I'm doing it all for a woman?" laughed Ian.
    "I thought Buckley here was that sort--"
    "Oh, I am!" Buckley interrupted.
    "--but you've always seemed more sensible," Charles continued.
    "Makes perfect sense to me," Buckley added.
    There was a brief silence, and Shan imagined the look Mr. Fortier must have been leveling at Buckley. "It must be the animals," Fortier said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Tell me, where did you find the others?"
    "I haven't found the others," said Ian. She heard him walk across the room, heard glass clinking on glass. "At least not yet. Though I do have a good idea where the tiger is..."
    "Ah!" said Fortier, too quickly. "Where?"
    Shan shook her head. Fortier was trying to play One-eye's game. He thought he could save his family by betraying his friends. People never realize that men and women like One-eye lie as often as they breathe. It would make no sense for One-eye to leave the Fortiers alive when this charade was over.
    But, at the same time, what wouldn't Shan have done to save her mother? It's a rare judgment that doesn't also reflect the judge, her mother used to say. Why couldn't she have been wrong once in a while?
    As Ian started to describe how he had tracked down the jade tiger, Shan slid along the wall, hunting for One-eye. It was time to end this, to let Charles Fortier know that his family was safe.
    Ian's story was certainly inventive. Shan could never have woven Tibetan monks and a Mexican fortune-teller into the same tale. Hopefully, it didn't sound too farfetched to her prey. Shan needed to catch him by surprise. If he had recovered from his wounding at the university, he would be dangerous when she fought him. Capable of killing Fortier or Ian or Buckley, if she wasn't fast enough.
    Shan sighed. Everything was so much easier when she worked by herself.
    Ian's story grew to involve the black market in Cairo. Buckley was interrupting at odd moments, asking for clarifications about the dialect