John Ball - Five pieces of jade

Finegold nodded his head. "That sounds very fair both ways, Mr. Wu. Let's leave it at this for tonight: I'll keep your offer very clearly in mind and give you a full opportunity in any competitive situation if one develops. Your being an established dealer is a strong point in your favor."

"Thank you. May I also remind you that I was Wang, Fu-sen's close friend; by our standards that leaves me with a very definite obligation under the present circumstances."

"I appreciate that. Thank you, Mr. Wu."

When the last of the guests had left, Virgil turned to Yumeko and Chin. "Both of you did very well this evening," he said. "I'm sorry that I had to put you to so much i trouble, but there was a good reason for it."

"I am aware," Chin Soo answered. "What are we to do tomorrow?"

"I'll call you. I recommend that you stay here until I! do." He was too mentally tired to suggest anything else. He had been on very keen edge all evening and it was» telling on him.

"A cup of coffee before you go?" Chin asked.

"No, thanks. I want to go home and go to bed. Thank: you both again." With that he left and walked back to his; car.

It took him less than fifteen minutes to drive home and park. Then he went up to his apartment and phoned the night-watch commander, Lieutenant Olsen. "I may have stirred something up tonight," he reported. "If I was successful, then something should break soon-possibly later ij tonight, but tomorrow evening looks like a much better bet After that it should be all over. Can you keep the stakeout going?"

"Of course, Virgil. If you need more help let me know."

"Right now everything looks fine. If anything does let go tonight, call me here right away, please. Otherwise, good night."

He was ready then for a drink. He mixed himself one and sat down to enjoy it, trying to think of something besides the case and all of its ramifications. It was a weird one and 140

he was perhaps the only one who knew how really weird it was in all of its aspects.

The jade book on the table beside him invited attention. He picked it up, opened to where he had stopped his last period of study, and began to read. He knew that he would not be involved with jade much longer, but it was a fascinating subject and there was no telling when one additional bit of information might be the key to a major conclusion.

He read for almost an hour and a half before he finally went to bed. Even while he slept there were a number of people who wanted very much to get in touch with him; only the fact that his private phone was unlisted made it possible for him to rest undisturbed.

By nine-thirty in the morning the adolescent day was already garbed in its Sunday best, as fine a product as southern California could produce. It was warm and bright; the high shining sun promised rebirth to everyone and everything, and the air was rich with sensuous warmth. Like several million others, Virgil Tibbs took pleasure in it; he sat in his venerable dressing gown, a constant companion of his leisure hours, on his davenport with the window behind him wide open. The freshness and peace of the new day filled his apartment with its welcome exhilaration; it declared that everywhere men were brothers and that nothing but good inhabited the world. That was how the day had been bom and if its high ideals were to be defiled, then it would take the weaknesses of the human race to do it.

Unfortunately it was almost a mathematical certainty that somewhere someone had already fouled it up. Some festering domestic quarrel had erupted into violence, a number of automobiles had already been stolen in the small hours of the yet unborn day, perhaps even murder had been done. «And in secret laboratories violently dangerous and illegal drugs were being brewed for profit and the degradation of those unfortunates who would use them. Every morning the whole of humanity was staked to a fresh start, but invariably blew it before the first rays of the sun could inch their way above the horizon.

Which was why policemen came to be in the first place.

Virgil read Peanuts and was amused; happily there was no visible hmit to Charlie Brown's ability to assimilate disasters and survive them unharmed. The sports page announced that the California Angels had acquired a new pitcher who showed unusual promise. The Dow Jones Industrial Average was up a modest amount for the week. And savagery and compassion met head on in a story about a Vietnamese child who had had both legs blown off by a Viet Cong land mine; a picture showed him under specialized medical care in an American hospital.

In the local news section there was an extended article about the sudden, almost inundating pressure that had been brought to bear on all of the hospital and treatment facilities that dealt with drug addiction. A fresh supply of Methadone had been flown in, but there was still a drastic shortage of beds and other essential requirements. Three deaths, apparently from overdoses of an unspecified narcotic, were reported; to Tibbs they were murder.

He got up and poured himself some more coffee. It was instant, but it would do.

His phone rang, which probably meant bad news-it usually did. As he had expected, it was the watch desk. "A couple of things, Virg," the duty man reported. "On the operation which we've got going for you-nothing."

*Thanks, and please don't let up now; there may be a little more happening later on."

"We won't: Lieutenant Olsen left those instructions. Also, a Miss Yumechi Nagashima, or something like that, has been calling you. Do you want to talk to her?"

"I'll call her; I've got the number."

"Right. Have a nice day."

He was in no hurry to talk to Yumeko; he had been enjoying his leisure too much. He thought of going to church, but prudence dictated that he stay close to his phone. Things could start breaking at any time.

Then he picked up his phone and dialed-there might be some news. Chin Soo answered, to be followed very quickly by Yumeko on an extension. "We wish you to tell us what to be doing," the girl said. "We are alone now and we are not sure."

At that precise moment the solution to one of the most persistent problems that had been nagging him sprang, like Minerva, full-blown out of his brain. He could have shouted "Eureka!" but he restrained himself. "I'm coming over to see you," he said instead. "I'll be there in forty minutes." With that he hung up and turned to the task of shaving and making himself presentable to go out. The last thing he did before leaving his apartment was to close the window; it might be some time before he would be home again and the painting on his wall, if nothing else, was valuable.

Outside the day was fully as fine as he had expected that it would be. As he unlocked his car he thought of at

least half a dozen things that he would very much like to do on his precious day off. He had long promised himself to visit the new art museum some day. A good workout at the karate dojo would be a sound safeguard against any approaching flabbiness; if he didn't keep in shape Nishiyama would take it out of his hide-literally. He hadn't been to the beach for months-possibly more than twelve of them. And he had yet to ride the Palm Springs tram. He climbed in behind the wheel, fastened his seat belt snugly-because he had seen too many accidents where heads had gone into windshields with gory results and began to drive toward the Wang house, where duty called.

Yumeko greeted him in a blue and white dress that had about it the air of a little girl-one who had grown up and become increasingly feminine in the process. Chin Soo appeared within seconds; he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and the same trousers that he had had on the night before. Also the same shoes. "I have been working in the jade room," he said.