Dragon Bones (Red Princess 3)

“That wouldn’t happen. Tang is just a thug—”

“A thug who tried to kill me and now you.” David didn’t wait for Stuart to respond. “Third, you know the ruyi belongs to China. In addition, I’m going to make you a hero. And finally, in giving me the ruyi you’re going to become even richer than you already are.”

“How’s that?”

“You give me the ruyi before the police get here, then they don’t need to know that you’re in possession of a stolen artifact. I take the ruyi back to China and tell the government that you bought it at auction in order to return it to its homeland. Think of the gratitude. Think of the contracts you’ll get—forever.”

Stuart considered the logic. As a lawyer, David knew that Stuart really had only one option. Finally Stuart said, “A hero, huh?”

David nodded.

“Not bad for three million dollars.” Stuart sounded nonchalant, but it had to have been a huge concession.

“Not bad at all,” David agreed, “and it sure beats being tied up in litigation, or worse, ending up in a Chinese jail.”

Stuart sighed long and hard. “All right.” He stood shakily. “Come with me.”

Bill Tang was still out and not going anywhere, so David followed Stuart to the open doorway on the other side of the room. It looked like a closet, but actually it was the antechamber to Stuart’s vault. Tang had gotten much closer to his prize than Stuart had wanted to admit. He punched in an electronic code, and they stepped into a room lined floor to ceiling with drawers. He opened one of the drawers. Inside were four ruyis. They were horribly ugly and horribly beautiful at the same time—the way the fungus stems twisted, the way the heads unfurled. They were natural yet somehow seemed beyond nature in their otherworldliness. Stuart picked up the Site 518 ruyi, wrapped it in linen, and handed it to David.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” It was the first time Stuart had acknowledged he might know more about the ruyi than its collectibility.

“What do you mean?” David asked, hoping Stuart could confirm what he suspected.

“This is China’s Holy Grail. Have you thought about the power it has to unite, control, and rule?” Stuart asked. “I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but have you considered what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands? The ruyi could be used symbolically to strengthen the Chinese military and in the process destabilize the current government. We, as Americans, may not like everything about the regime that’s in power now, but at least we know what we’re dealing with. So I hope you know what you’re doing and who to trust, because this could change China’s future.”

“Is it really Da Yu’s ruyi?” David asked point-blank. “Did Brian actually find Da Yu’s scepter?”

“You never met him, but Brian was a brilliant kid,” Stuart answered. “The fellowship proposal he sent this spring was amazing. It not only confirmed for me that he’d found a tomb or some other treasure chamber but that he’d made a discovery about Chinese culture through artifacts and language. Think about it, David. Think about how few artifacts there are in the world that have had an impact on how people view culture. The Rosetta stone provided the key to the decipherment of Egyptian hieroglyphics. The discovery of oracle bones did the same for Chinese language and history.”

“But the ruyi doesn’t have anything to do with language.”

“That’s right. I believe Brian made two separate discoveries. One was theoretical and would be of interest only to scholars; the other was something tangible and of far greater importance.”

David tried to mesh what Stuart had said with what he now knew about Brian. The split between language and the ruyi as separate entities in Brian’s journal entries backed up Stuart’s hypothesis.

“So in answer to your question,” Stuart went on, “yes, I believe Brian found proof of Yu the Great. But it’s shocking that he gave it to Lily.”

Drawing conclusions from what he’d read in Brian’s journal, David tried to explain. “He didn’t realize what it was at first. Once he did, I don’t think he had any intention of giving it to Lily or anyone else. He needed money, sure, but he was an archaeologist first. Once he realized that there were people after it, he knew he had to get it out to a safe place at any cost. He must have been very frightened or else he wouldn’t have told Lily what it was. He did tell her, right?”

“Yes, and he also told Catherine. What I don’t understand is why.”

“To save it. You were his last hope.”

“To save it from Bill Tang?” Stuart sounded skeptical. “I’ll admit that the guy’s gone around the bend—”

“He’s not who you think he is. He’s a high-ranking member of the All-Patriotic Society. Brian wanted to keep the ruyi out of Xiao Da’s hands.”

Stuart snorted in disbelief. “You’ve got this all wrong. Tang’s not some religious wacko. He’s just a VYRUSCAN tech head. He’s probably lost money in the stock market or…. I don’t know—” He visibly struggled to make sense out of what had just happened to him and what he knew of Tang. When nothing connected, he said in exasperation, “Tang’s a computer nerd. Christ, you’ve met the guy he works for.”

“What? Who?”

“Michael Quon. You had lunch with him at Site 518 the other day. Bill Tang’s to Michael Quon what Paul Allen is to Bill Gates.” Stuart’s words caught David off guard, and all of a sudden he noticed how much his head hurt. He didn’t want to hear this. “Michael Quon,” Stuart repeated. “Don’t you know who he is?” When David shook his head, Stuart said, “He’s the inventor of VYRUSCAN. You know, the software? Squares within squares and all that.”

“Do you mean five concentric squares?” When Stuart nodded, David grabbed him. “Show me!”

They went back through the bedroom, where Tang was awake now and wrestling futilely against his bindings, but David and Stuart just rushed past and hurried downstairs to the library. Stuart turned on his computer and said, “Look, this isn’t a big deal. You probably have it on your computer even if you don’t know it. Think Norton Utilities, only Quon doesn’t have his photo on every product that goes out like Peter Norton does. Come on, David, you’ve heard of him. Quon’s like Larry Ellison—”

“I wouldn’t recognize Larry Ellison, or Peter Norton for that matter.”