In the Shadow of the Cypress (23 page)

“I suppose that makes sense, but then I’ve never had either, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, tomorrow you’re going to look like you’ve got both. Now, did you bring all the paperwork?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“Good. And if my father wishes to see the originals, how long would it take for you to get your hands on them?”

“One day at the most. The material is relatively close by. But what have you got planned?”

Robert got up and went to warm himself by the fire. “I took the liberty of inviting my father to come down here for lunch tomorrow. After lunch we’ll make our pitch. I bought a display easel today. We’ll set it up in the south wing with a couple of chairs and no distractions from household interruptions. We can show him what you’ve discovered and tell him what we believe is needed to further the search. Now, I warn you, my father is a cunning and circumspect fellow, and he chooses his words very carefully, so you probably won’t see any appreciable reaction at first. He’ll mull things over in his head for a while, and then get back to us when he’s made a decision.”

“Does he speak English well?”

Robert laughed. “Are you kidding? He’s an honors graduate of Harvard Law and pulled second billing in a class of ninety-three. And like that lovely friend of yours at the aquarium, he
speaks better English than I do. And you know something odd, in my whole life I’ve never seen him lose his temper or swear. Not once. Not even in Chinese.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is, think before you speak. My father believes that lazy or haphazard use of language indicates lazy and disordered thinking. He once fired one of his top men because he overheard him swearing on the phone to a supplier.”

“Well, perhaps you should do all the talking.”

“Not at all. He’ll want to ask you questions. Just answer him as simply and succinctly as you can, and never embroider your sentiments for his consumption. He hates flattery and glib responses, and can spot a hustle while it’s still over the horizon. Would you believe it, I never got away with a single thing as a kid. It was like he had eyes in the back of his head, and he was always five steps ahead of me in everything. But no matter what I did, he never once raised his hand or his voice to me. He didn’t have to. I lived in terror of his lectures. All he had to do was say that I had disappointed him, and dishonored my ancestors, and I would break down in tears and confess to everything. Hell, I’d even confess to things I didn’t do, just in the hope he’d let up on the lecture.”

Luke sniggered. “Well, I do hope you’ve learned a few new moves since then. I didn’t drive all this way just to witness your long-suffering father administer corporal punishment for the first time.”

Robert let the comment pass with a nod and suggested that they make an early night of it. He said that they would have to be on their toes in the morning to make plans for the presentation, something best done with a clear head and sharp perception. Luke agreed and said that he could really use the sleep.
The day had been long and the weekend traffic like a slow parade of escaped mental patients.

The bedroom reserved for Luke was large and beautifully appointed. It had an attached bathroom that was bigger than his kitchen at home. Robert said that Mrs. Martinez had taken the liberty of unpacking his bag and that he would find everything neatly hanging in the closet. Luke would also find a suit, shirt, tie, and shoes to wear at the meeting. He then bid his friend good night and retired to his own room across the hall.

Luke found all his things had been laid out neatly. His shaving kit had been placed in the bathroom, and when he checked the closet he found all his clothes had been placed on hangers. But he was even more surprised to find a beautiful pearl-gray Armani suit hung up there as well. On the floor of the closet he discovered a handsome pair of expensive oxblood dress shoes. Out of curiosity Luke tried them on, and they fit as though they had been custom-made for him.

The next morning at eight thirty, Mrs. Martinez awakened Luke with a tray of coffee and the morning paper. She said that breakfast would be served in thirty minutes.

Over generous portions of bacon and eggs, Robert told Luke how he believed the meeting should be conducted. He would make the introductory remarks, and then Luke would take over. He should explain how and when the discovery of the papers had taken place, and how he had come to seek out Robert at Stanford for help. He cautioned his friend to answer all questions honestly, but to volunteer nothing beyond what was asked, and to voice no unfounded opinions, as it would sound like a sales pitch. Robert said his father was in the habit of making up his own mind without encouragement to believe things one way or the other.

Next, Robert would take over and contribute his own translation of the inscriptions, as his father would be unfamiliar with many of the more esoteric characters in the ancient text. Though he was fluent in Mandarin and Cantonese, Wu senior was not versed in ancient forms of either dialect. Finally they would show Dr. Gilbert’s old photographs of the artifacts, which would stand as proof that the rubbings had come from the artifacts themselves. In closing, they would state what they believed was needed to further their search by way of information, tong cooperation, and financial assistance. Lastly, Robert said they should leave his father alone to read Dr. Gilbert’s journal for himself, as he preferred privacy when reading. He was also in the habit of making his own notes, so a notebook would be supplied.

After all the material arrangements had been made, Luke and Robert retired to shower and get dressed for lunch. Robert expected his father to be diligently punctual. It was one of the things he demanded of himself, and of others.

Robert and Luke, warned by the gate buzzer, were waiting outside when Mr. Wu senior arrived at the door in a chauffeured town car. The driver was a large, muscular Chinese gentleman. Luke could only assume he also served as Mr. Wu’s bodyguard.

Robert introduced his father as Lawrence H. Wu, and Luke was surprised to find such a close physical resemblance between father and son. Mr. Wu senior was a tall, dapper gentleman of erect posture, patrician bearing, and indeterminate age. His hair was jet black and impeccably trimmed, and his features were handsome and open, though one side of his mouth hinted at a face that preferred smiling. He was handsomely dressed in an expensively tailored but understated black silk suit.

During lunch the elder Wu politely queried Luke on his
background and education, and seemed moderately impressed with what he heard. Everyone meticulously avoided any mention of business while eating. Robert had warned Luke that his father never discussed matters of importance when at the table. He thought it uncouth, and believed that meals were to be enjoyed without mundane references tainting the experience.

After lunch they retired to the south wing, and Robert began the presentation. Then Luke took over as planned. However, Robert was quite unprepared for the response his father exhibited. Routinely polite but unresponsive to most things, his father surprisingly became quite animated by what he was hearing and seeing. It appeared that the subject of Zhou Man’s discovery of California had touched a nerve that, for the moment, completely engrossed all of Mr. Wu’s attention and enthusiasm.

Robert was so amazed that when Luke looked at his partner for an insight, all Robert could do was raise his eyebrows and shrug his shoulders in confusion. He’d never seen his father so engrossed in anything before. And then, quite unexpectedly, Wu senior politely requested that Mr. Lucas stay while he read Dr. Gilbert’s journal, just in the event that he had any questions about the professor’s entries. Again, Robert could do nothing but shake his head and shrug as he left the room to arrange for tea to be served.

When Robert’s father left the house, promptly at 3:30 p.m., Robert and Luke were standing in the driveway to see him off. Under his breath, Robert told Luke to bow, but only slightly, as his father’s car drove off. “It’s more respectful than waving,” he whispered.

When Robert knew they could no longer be seen from the car, he abruptly turned to Luke and, with the expression of a wife who has just been embarrassed by her drunken husband,
said, “Just what the hell did you say to my old man while I was out of the room! I’ve never seen my father like that in my whole life.”

Luke shrugged innocently. “I don’t know. I just did what you told me to do, and worded everything as speculative supposition. You told me he loved history, so I played to that. But I also hinted that whoever claimed patronage for the discovery of Zhou Man’s stone marker on this continent would obviously garner international prestige and respect, especially in China.”

Robert quoted an old saying in Spanish: “For honor will bloom like the jacaranda, and where the petals fall, influence will increase.”

“Yeah! Something along those lines, I suppose, but not quite so bucolic. Anyway, listen, I’ve got to get home before seven. I’ve got a fair bit of work to do before class on Monday. Thanks for the loan of the Armani.”

“It wasn’t a loan. You can keep it. Hopefully you’ll have a chance to wear it again soon.”

“Well, I do have a date tomorrow. Thanks.”

T
HE FOLLOWING
S
ATURDAY FOUND
L
UKE
anxious to be off for a day of surfing down the coast. In the last week he’d spent a good amount of his not-so-spare time doing his own research. With the help of two old “freaks” from the Stanford computer lab, Luke began his own line of inquiries into Mr. Lawrence H. Wu. However, that particular morning he’d received a green “surf alert” on his e-mail. Seven-to-nine-foot swells were generating some interesting sets offshore on the north-facing points and beaches. The accompanying map
attachment picked out some favorable spots just south of Point Sur.

Luke had been anxious to try out his new surfboard. It was actually an old board that he had modified with a little help from a friend at the surf shop. Luke had been influenced by filmed experiments of scuba divers rigged fore and aft with a couple of battery powered discs that emitted just enough of a charge to create an electric field around the swimmer. Even with the diver suspended in the midst of a darting frenzy of feeding tiger sharks, not one shark could tolerate the electric field for more than a half second. They all immediately closed their second eyelids in distress and rolled away like wounded aircraft. Thinking of the kid who had been killed by a great white off Lover’s Point, Luke wondered if he couldn’t rig out a surfboard the same way.

To that end Luke had made all the necessary wiring modifications, including cutting out a small, watertight compartment into the center of the board that held two small rechargeable twelve-volt batteries. Luke’s tank tests in seawater showed a dependable battery life was somewhere around eight hours. More than enough electrical discharge to discourage shark attacks for a six-hour day in the surf, if in fact one were all that enthusiastic or crazy.

Luke had just finished loading up his Jeep with his wet suit, beach gear, and cooler. He was strapping his board to the padded roll cage when his BlackBerry began to chirp at him like an enraged sparrow. He swore and reached into his backpack, withdrew the source of unwanted distraction, and checked to see who was calling. It was Robert Wu, and Luke, suspecting the worst, thought of ignoring the call, but he answered it anyway.

“Hello, Robert, what can I do for you? And I hope to God you say ‘nothing.’ ”

“I need you to grab your best togs and meet me at Monterey Airport at three o’clock this afternoon. Your suit is cleaned and pressed, I hope.”

Luke tried to sound disgruntled, but his curiosity was piqued. “Yeah, it’s cleaned and pressed and still in the bag, but you’re going to have to explain this airport business. I’m just on my way down the coast to do some important research off Point Sur. Can’t you take a cab to town? I’ll meet you when I get back later this afternoon.”

Robert chuckled. “You don’t understand, Luke. I’m not coming in to stay, you’re going out at three fifteen, but I’ll be there to escort you.”

“Would you mind explaining to me just why I should drop everything I’d planned for today?”

“It has nothing to do with me, it’s my father. He earnestly desires that we join him for dinner at seven o’clock this evening. Knowing him as I do, I have ample reason to expect something unusual. He’s as keen as a diamond, mind you, but he isn’t normally this animated. He’s more the contemplative tortoise type.”

“I’m sure that’s nice for you, but I said I was doing research!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say . . . Well, are you coming or not? I really believe this is important for both of us.”

Luke sighed like one belabored by the world’s cares, but only to mask the fact that he was secretly intrigued by the receipt of such a brisk response to their presentation. “I’ll be there on time, Dr. Wu.” Luke ended the call with a push of a button and began to unload the Jeep, beginning with his experimental surfboard.

Luke changed clothes, packed quickly, and called for a cab to the airport without knowing quite what to expect, but ripe with expectation all the same. He stood in the airport lobby looking around hopefully for almost five minutes. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked around to find Robert smiling at him. Robert looked pretty much the same except that he now wore his long hair slicked back and joined in a braided queue at the back. He motioned to Luke. “We’ve got to step on it, the pilots don’t want the engines to cool down. You’ll enjoy this.”

The twin-engine Learjet was a plush affair in soft black leather, set off with bird’s-eye maple veneer everywhere, including the head. No sooner had Luke buckled himself into his leather recliner than the Lear began to quickly roll out toward its takeoff position.

Robert looked over at Luke with a serious glint in his eye. “Tell me again, Luke, how difficult would it be for you to retrieve Dr. Gilbert’s original documents?”

“Not too difficult. They’re relatively close by. Why do you ask?”

“Well, if my father wanted to see the originals tonight, could that be arranged? I know it’s really short notice, but I was told to ask. Of course, no one will press the point if the inconvenience makes it impossible.”