Page 22 of The Mouse and the Maestro

“Don’t tempt me,” she said so seriously he couldn’t tell if she was joking.

When she returned to work, Blue attempted once again to locate her, this time switching to the dark web. He was about to give up when suddenly her name pinged out like a beacon. Unfortunately for him the rest of the page was encrypted and Blue’s decryption key was on his home computer and not his laptop. His mind raced, wondering what the site said and how he could have missed it on his first search. Worse, it was a hacker’s site. Why would hackers be talking about Jane?

Several hours later, she delivered her conclusion to the other scientists: the artifact was another fraud. Like before, it was an excellent, sophisticated forgery. As predicted, they were devastated. Blue didn’t get it. To him it was a simple jade scarab. To them it represented much more, authenticity and provenance that had now been ruined.

They thanked their hosts and stepped outside into a bustling Manhattan weekday. “Where to, tour guide?” Blue asked.

“What are you up for?” Jane asked.

“Anything,” Blue said.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said and raised her hand for a taxi.

A half hour later they landed in Chinatown. Jane led them through crowded streets to a restaurant with no visible English written anywhere.

“What would you like?” she asked once they stepped inside.

“Um,” he said, scanning the wall for a menu. Everything was in Mandarin. “I have no idea.”

“Are you picky?”

“No.”

“Do you trust me to order for you?” she said.

“Completely,” he said and stepped back while she stepped forward to order in Mandarin. Jane retrieved chopsticks and sauce and they found a small table in the back.

“Exactly how many languages do you speak?” he asked. This morning she’d spoken Sanskrit while reading an object.

“The number changes depending on the fluency. I can speak a smattering from every place I’ve lived. We lived in China for six months when I was eleven. I learned enough to order food and read a few signs.”

“What did you order?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise.” She opened her chopsticks and laid them on a napkin.

“This is the point where I confess to you I have never been able to master chopsticks,” he said.

“I’ll show you how a friend in China showed me.” She placed the chopsticks between his thumb and third finger. “Grip it as if you’re holding a pencil. Now lay the other one on top and rest your index finger gently on top of it.”

“That’s a lot easier, but I’m still fairly certain I’m going to end up wearing most of my meal.”

“I promise not to notice if you’re covered in food.”

Their food arrived a few minutes later. Jane had ordered an assortment of dumplings and dim sum as well as fresh squid.

“This one’s my favorite, but be careful because it has hot soup in it,” Jane warned.

“There’s hot soup in the dumpling?”

“Yes, and it’s amazing.”

“How does one eat it?”

She demonstrated, using her chopsticks.

“You make it look so easy,” he said. He attempted to take a dumpling and failed miserably.

“I think I have something that can help, if you like,” Jane said.

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