Jade Island Read Online Free PDF

around the central fountain, creating a kaleidoscope of languages and fashion. The fountain itself was striking—a clear, cantilevered glass sculpture of rectangles and rhomboids where light and water danced with a grace people could only envy. The sweet music of the water blended with the languages of Hong Kong, Japan, and several regions of China, as well as with English accented by countries as distant as Australia or Britain and as close as Canada.
    “The jade must be on the other side of the atrium,” Kyle said.
    “Why?”
    “Most of the Anglos are right here, crowded around the rubies and sapphires from Burma or the Colombian emeralds or Russian diamonds. Jade is a more subtle, civilized taste.”
    “Bull,” Archer said mildly. “Civilization has nothing to do with it. Jade was available in ancient China. Diamonds weren’t. Same goes for Europeans. Clear gemstones were more available than jade. Tradition is created from the materials at hand.”
    Kyle and Archer continued arguing about culture, civilization, and gems while they circled around the glittering fountain. On the way to Asian jade, they passed museum-quality, pre-Columbian jade artifacts from Mexico and Central and South America. Fright masks of gold and turquoise grinned or snarled, scaring off demons whose names were known only to people thousands of years dead. Mixed in among the artifacts were modern examples of gold and jade art.
    Everything, ancient or modern, had a card in front of it naming the corporation which owned the object. Corporate display of support for the arts was as much the purpose of the evening as the charity auction that would precede the ball.
    By the time the Donovan brothers came to the sectionreserved for offshore Chinese exhibits, Kyle was wishing he was aboard the Tomorrow, sharpening hooks and tying leaders for a dawn fishing raid. He snagged a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray, sipped, and grimaced. At a function like this, he had expected higher quality.
    “Bingo,” Archer said softly.
    Kyle forgot the mediocre wine. “Where?”
    “To the left of SunCo’s jade screens, near the Sikh in the jeweled turban.”
    Though they were less than ten feet away, Kyle at first didn’t see any woman. Then the Sikh stepped aside.
    Kyle stared. “You’re sure?”
    “Positive.”
    “Hell.”
    Kyle didn’t know what he had been expecting, but he knew Lianne Blakely wasn’t it. With a combination of skepticism, disgust, and grudging male interest, he studied the sleek, petite young woman who supposedly was so smitten with him that she had been watching him from afar for two weeks.
    Yeah. Right. He was standing close enough to admire the fit of her panty hose, and her patrician little nose was buried in an exhibit of Warring States jade ornaments as though she was alone in a museum.
    Then Lianne turned and looked at Kyle. Her wide, tilted eyes were the color of cognac. She hesitated, almost as if she might have recognized him. Then she shifted the thin strap of her tiny white silk purse on her shoulder and went back to studying jade as though no one else in the room existed, certainly not a man she was interested in meeting.
    “You’re sure that’s her?” Kyle asked quietly, praying it wasn’t.
    “I just said so, didn’t I?”
    “She doesn’t look like an international art thief.”
    “Really?” Archer asked softly. “How many have you known?”
    “Not as many as you, I’m sure. So tell me, is she?”
    “A thief?”
    “Yeah.”
    “They don’t wear labels.”
    Kyle didn’t say anything more. He simply watched Lianne Blakely.
    Archer looked from his brother to Lianne, wondering why Kyle had come to a point like a bird dog scenting warm pheasant. Lianne was attractive, maybe even beautiful in an exotic way, but she certainly wasn’t in the gorgeous-companion category. The simple white dress she wore fit well enough, but wasn’t slit from hem to crotch or throat to pubic bone in order to draw