Chapter 242
Chapter 242
At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door. The female driver punched in a code and it swung open.
Wooden crates and parcels were stacked thick along the walls, metal shelves lined up against them — the same basic layout as yesterday's warehouse.
Raymond stood in the middle of the room with a short, heavyset man in a dark jacket. When the door opened, Raymond stopped talking. The man glanced at Vivian, then looked to Raymond. Raymond gave a small wave and the man left.
Raymond walked over to the middle row of shelves and jutted his chin at the parcels. "Everything's here."
Vivian went straight to the nearest rack and pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves.
She picked a sealed parcel and unwrapped the waterproof cloth. Inside was a Vix oinochoe, larger than anything she'd seen yesterday — a Greek-style vessel, the body rough-lined and heavily spotted with dark green patina.
She moved it onto the worktable and bent down to look at its overall form, then flipped it over to check the base.
Most of the body was buried under corrosion, but at the right angle, under the right light, she could make out the lines of a few strokes. She pressed a magnifying glass close to the base for a while, then turned it right side up and rotated it twice under the lamp.
She set it down and picked up the second piece — a medieval silver paten, its decorative style clearly different from the first.
She opened a third parcel: a bronze mirror in remarkably good condition, with crisp patterns on the back and a band of inscription running around the rim.
It took her roughly an hour and a half to work through everything on that section of shelving.
When she finished, she straightened up and rolled her wrists.
Raymond had been standing a few steps away the whole time. When he saw her stop, he moved closer. "Anything stand out?"
"A few pieces I need to look at again." She picked one up and turned it over. "And a few have been repaired — the work is pretty rough."
Raymond stepped up to the worktable. "What about that one piece?"
Vivian turned to him. "The prehistoric European jade axe doesn't belong with this batch."
"Explain."
"The silver vessels are consistent in form and decorative style. The jade axe doesn't match — the material and the workmanship are both off. The wear patterns on its surface don't look like they formed in the same environment as the rest of these pieces. It looks like someone slipped it in separately."
Raymond pulled his eyes away from the jade axe. "Get today's notes together. Come back tomorrow for the rest."
"Can I take the jade axe with me?"
He glanced at her. "Go ahead. Write me a detailed report when you're done."
Vivian wrapped the jade axe in soft cloth, put it in her bag, and zipped it shut. Raymond had already turned toward the door. He walked a couple of steps, then stopped without looking back. "Whatever you tell Ellis is your business."
The door opened and closed. His footsteps faded down the corridor.
Vivian swept her eyes over everything she'd examined today, making sure she hadn't missed anything, then walked out.
The metal door thudded shut behind her. She went down the corridor and out of the building. The dark car was still waiting where she'd left it. The female driver was leaning against the door, smoking. When she saw Vivian, she stubbed out the cigarette and pulled the door open.
On the way back, Vivian held her bag in her lap. Through two layers of cloth, the jade axe gave off a faint coolness.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, running through the axe's characteristics and period in her mind — cross-checking regions and time frames that could be a match — and came to no firm conclusion.
Back at the hotel, she took the jade axe out and set it on the desk. It was a soft, pale green throughout. She switched on the lamp at its brightest setting and went over every groove and every patch of patina again with the magnifying glass.
She sat back in the chair and looked at her notes, mentally comparing the jade axe against several batches of excavated jade pieces she'd seen. She had a rough idea forming, but she needed more information to be sure.
She closed the notebook and checked her phone. Still nothing from Arthur.
She called him. It rang a few times, then connected.
"Are you done with your thing?"
"Not yet." Arthur sounded like he'd just come in from outside — she heard a door close in the background. "You should've told me you were coming to Country M. How'd it go today?"
"I looked at a new batch. There was a prehistoric European jade axe in it that doesn't belong with the silver vessels. I brought it back. Raymond wants me to come in tomorrow for the rest."
A few seconds of silence. "You're going back tomorrow?"
"There's still a batch I haven't finished."
"Any weapons in the lot?"
Vivian's fingers tightened slightly around the phone. "I didn't see any weapons."
"Raymond wouldn't keep weapons and artifacts in the same place. Stay careful."
"I know."
After she hung up, she set the phone on the desk. She thought about Arthur's tone when he asked about weapons — heavier than usual, like the question had been sitting with him for a while.
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The next morning, the female driver was already outside the building when Vivian arrived — the same car as yesterday.
They took a different route this time, several turns, and stopped in front of a smaller metal door.
Inside was a narrow, elongated room. Two rows of parcels were stacked against the walls — not many, but each one was wrapped tightly in waterproof cloth and sealed with several layers of tape.
Raymond was waiting at the far end. When Vivian came in, he stepped to the side.
She crouched in front of the nearest parcel, sliced through the tape with a blade, and unwrapped the cloth.
She opened the second one — a bronze vessel with smooth, rounded lines.
She started on the third. Beneath the waterproof cloth was a layer of plastic sheeting, and when she tore it back, her fingers stopped. What she felt wasn't bronze — it was metal, colder and harder, with a surface coating that felt completely different. She looked down, then looked up at Raymond.
"What is this?"
"Keep going."
Vivian pulled the plastic away fully. Inside was a tubular metal component, machined surfaces, not an artifact, and not an industrial part either. She set it down and opened another — a similar component, slightly shorter, with threaded fittings at one end. She opened a third.
All three were the same material, similar machining tolerances, as if they'd been pulled off the same piece of equipment.
She put the last one back on the worktable and turned to face Raymond. Her hands dropped from the table to her sides, fingers loosely curled.
"These aren't part of the appraisal."