Page 13 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
James looked into his bowl, chewing slowly, and Magda got the sense that he was working out how to tell his story. “I assume you already know that I’m an art curator for a bank here in Hong Kong?” Magda nodded as she chewed. She had done her own research to add to the digging Frank had done. “I look after their collection of art and antiques. Some of it is on display, some of it is on loan, but much of it is held as an investment. Art is one of the world’s most valuable assets these days.” James proceeded to give a short, unnecessary explanation of art investment. Magda listened, her impatience bubbling away below the surface. As much as she liked James, as much she enjoyed listening to him and learning about his life, she wanted to get to the exciting stuff, the magic.
“How does this lead you to the artefact?” she asked, at the first available break in his explanation. She didn’t like cutting him off mid-flow, and James himself stumbled a little over his words, as if put off by the question. He frowned, and Magda felt like she wanted to apologise. She pointed at her bowl with her chopsticks. “This is delicious, by the way.”
James nodded his agreement. “I told you. Best noodles,” he said and took another slurp before continuing. “So, how does it lead to an artefact? Well, part of my job is dealing with anything bequeathed to the bank. It doesn’t happen very often, but sometimes. Recently one of our seniorpartners died unexpectedly. David Yan. He was only sixty, I think. Unmarried, no children, an only child of two only children, so no living relatives. But he did leave a will, and in that will he left all of his assets to the bank.”
“And did he have many assets?” Magda asked. She noticed she’d spilled some broth on her blouse and picked up a napkin to pat it dry.
“He was a man who gathered money like it was oxygen that would keep him alive. He had so much money but no idea what to do with it. So he spent it on things he never used or cared for. It was my job to go through the assets, to work out what was valuable, what might be good to put on display, what to donate.”
Magda picked up her chopsticks and returned to eating.
“Paintings and carvings and etchings and all this extraordinary, beautiful stuff.” James contemplated his bowl. “And then I came across something different, something... unusual.”
Magda focussed on him as he neared the point of his story, experiencing the odd sensation of the rest of the room and all of the noise fading into the background.
“What did you find?” she asked, impatient to know.
“It was a metal box. Small, heavy. And it was locked and there didn’t seem to be a key, so I arranged for a locksmith to open it. He thought it would be easy, but it took him a few hours.” James shrugged and looked up at Magda. “Inside there was a single chess piece. A rook, you know, the castle-shaped piece.”
Magda nodded, urging him on.
“Carved out of ivory. Really quite beautiful.”
Magda shivered suddenly, from the excitement or the tension or the jet lag, she didn’t know. She glanced around the room, trying to regulate her senses and calm her racing heartbeat. She had a sudden moment of clarity in which she remembered what she was doing. This was Society business, not a date. She leaned towards James a little, lowering her voice.
“What made you think it was an artefact?”
James mulled the question as he stirred the remaining broth with his spoon. “It’s hard to say. The piece just feels... different... different in a way I can’t explain. It seems too heavy and too solid. And it made meshudder if I looked at it for too long. It made me think of what my father told me on his deathbed—about unknowable objects, ordinary, everyday items that seem strange, or do unusual things.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Magda murmured, watching him closely.
“As soon as that memory came back to me it just fitted together. Besides, who keeps a single chess piece locked in a box?”
Magda nodded slowly, feeling her heart beating loudly in her chest, suddenly aware that she was full of nervous energy, one leg jiggling on the ball of her foot beneath the table. She looked down at her noodles, a few thin slices of beef swimming in the broth, and decided that she’d eaten enough. She pushed it away and dropped the chopsticks onto her napkin. She glanced up to the far end of the room as her thoughts raced, gazing out to the busy street beyond. She saw a face in the window, a gaunt white man, the first Westerner she had noticed since they had walked away from the Peninsula Hotel, and she had the sense that he was staring directly back at her, his gaze intense.
“Anyway, that’s why I decided to contact Mr.Simpson,” James continued, pulling Magda’s eyes back to him briefly. When she glanced again to the window the face was gone. She searched the street outside, trying to make sure, and James noticed her distraction and turned in his seat to follow her gaze. “What is it?”
Magda shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m sure. So you contacted Frank?”
“I tracked him down at the bookshop in London, sent him an email. I don’t know if this item is an unknowable object or not, but someone from the Society might. I hope it’s not been a wasted journey for you.”
Magda shrugged, flicking her eyes back to the window once more, checking again that the gaunt-faced man wasn’t there. “It’s not been a wasted journey,” she said. “I’ve only been in the city a few hours and I’ve already eaten the best noodles I’ve ever had. I have also splashed food all over myself...” She gestured down at the stain on her blouse. “But that will wash out. Now, I think we should go have a look at this artefact and see what it is, if you don’t mind.”
James nodded decisively. He paid for their food and led them from the cool, raucous noodle shop into the sweltering, raucous night. Magdalooked up and down the busy street searching for any sign of danger—for a pale, gaunt-faced man—but she saw nothing obvious, nothing sinister. She told herself she hadn’t seen anything, or she had imagined the man looking at her specifically.
You are jet-lagged and tired and disoriented. That’s all it was.
“You seem nervous,” James observed, raising an eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”
“Just cautious,” Magda replied, letting none of her anxiety sound in her voice. “Especially if we’re going to see what you’ve found. I’ve got to be careful.”
“Of course,” James agreed, nodding his understanding.
“So where do we go?” she asked him, stepping back out of the path of a group of middle-aged Chinese women as they bustled past them. The women stopped and pointed at the noodle shop Magda and James had just emerged from, and there was a brief debate before the group moved off down the street.
“How about my office,” he suggested. “It’s a short taxi ride away. We can use a meeting room. There’ll be other people around, but we can also have some privacy.”
“There’ll be people around at this time of the evening?” Magda asked.
