said Byron. âToo many students with nothing better to do than gape.â
âHow about your office?â asked Nicki.
âNo, thatâs no good.â
Why canât we go to his office? she wondered.
âLet me think,â said Byron, placing an index finger on his chin. âThereâs got to be some quiet place nearby.â
âLetâs go to Macâs room,â suggested Tâai. He turned to Nicki. âHe lives here in residence.â
âGood,â said Byron, and the three of them headed across campus.
The door to Macâs room swung open when Tâai knocked. His friend was nowhere in sight.
âHe must have a class. The guy never rests.â Tâai closed the door behind the other two. âHe wonât mind if we come in.â
Nicki removed several layers of bubble wrap from the vase.
Peter Byron was more interested in Macâs room and everything in it.
âTakes me back,â he said. Then he opened a desk drawer. âCan I borrow a pen?â he asked. âI want to take some notes, then I can check my sources for information about your bowl.â
âVase.â
Nicki watched his eyes skim back and forth across the desk drawer, as if he was searching for something. Finally, he picked up a pen. Then he looked for paper, but instead of going for blank sheets from an open package, he riffled through typed pages sitting in a pile next to Macâs printer.
âHere it is.â Nicki handed the vase to Byron.
âYes, thatâs a Ming all right,â he said, then gave it to Tâai.
Thatâs it? Thatâs all youâre going to say? âCan you tell me anything about it?â asked Nicki.
âWhat year would this have been fired?â Tâai gently turned the vase around. âCan you determine the age from the dragon design?â Tâai looked at the bottom. âI guess it would have been made in 1600 or so.â
âYes, yes,â said Byron, âyouâre probably right.â
Nicki watched his gaze shift back and forth between the vase and every book, file, and disk on Macâs desk.
Whatâs this guyâs problem?
âHow do you know that the vase isnât from the Tang dynasty? Since that came immediately before the Ming periodâwouldnât it be difficult to tell?â
Tâai went to correct her, but Nicki gestured him not to speak.
âWell, you canât be sure, of course. It could be a Tang vase.â He scratched down something on the paper, tucked it into his shirt pocket, and went to put the pen back into the desk drawer, but dropped it.
âIâll get that,â said Tâai, bending over to pick it up.
Byronâs hand moved fast, but Nicki was sure he stuck something on the underside of the drawer.
Did he just plant a bug?
âIâll consult some of my colleagues and see what I can find out,â he said. âBut really, I think youâd better take this to an expert in ceramics. Maybe somebody at the Royal Ontario Museum.â
âYes,â said Nicki, âthe ROM has had exhibits of Chinese porcelain in the past. Thatâs a good idea.â
As she began to wrap the vase, Mac entered the room.
âWhatâs going on?â His face turned bright red, and he stormed over to Tâai. âWhat! You think you can bust in here without even asking me?â
âBut, the door wasââ
âI donât care. Get out of here.â
Nicki and Byron shuffled out to the hall.
âMac, you always said I couldââ Tâai stopped. âYour forehead. Itâs bruised.â He moved closer. âWhat happened, Mac?â
âForget about it.â
He slammed the door in Tâaiâs face.
Tâai hollered through the crack.
âMac, Iâm sorry. Really. You said I could come here anytime.â
There was no reply.
Tâai slapped his hand on the door several times, but Mac
Learning to Kill: Stories