A loupe to dial up the texture of the glaze, the heap-and-pile of the cobalt borders, the ghostly wear marks too faint for the mere human eye. The Micro-Nikkor lens, the tripod, and the silver umbrella to absorb the flash. Hard measuring tape, calipers, cloths, contact-lens solution, the snuff-bottle light whose long flexible wire could see down inside the narrowest, long ceramic neck.
Her fingers traced the cotton cloth-covered shape inside the indigo-dyed box, before tipping it open and reaching inside the silk. Carefully, she eased out the porcelain and set it on the roll of thick felt. Her eye traced the under glaze blue, the ornate border and faux-Arabic script. 1506 to 1521, Zhengde period. The court then had been infatuated with Middle Eastern motifs. She checked the jar’s mark and period just to be sure, but--yes, Zhengde.
Mischa smiled. Already a record of the pot was surfacing in her memory: “Gems of Porcelain”, an 18th century catalog of album paintings composed for the Qianlong emperor. She reached for the camera.
Mischa was on her tenth digital photo when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. Brows raised in question, she turned to see Lia, one of the gallery’s curators. The pixie face was wearing that particular blend of attention and uncertainty that happened when Mischa wasn’t wearing the hearing aids. Like the rest of Murasaki’s staff Lia was mostly used to Mischa's habit of doing without the devices when working but…
Ah, well.
“What’s up?” Mischa asked, eyes steady on the other woman’s face. The trick, she discovered, was to try to see the whole of it without simply staring at the mouth.
“There’s a bit of trouble at the front desk,” Lia said, relaxing.
Mischa’s brows rose higher. “Serious?”
“Not--well, James isn’t sure.” Lia’s mouth twitched. “Apparently McGuyver just walked in.”
“What?” She shook her head and reached for the tiny enameled case housing her hearing aids. “Never mind, I’ll see to it in a second.” Before it turns into something for Sato-san to complain about. Considering the Baku’s mood lately, Mischa wasn’t eager to tempt her boss’ temper again. “Actually, no. Lia, I’m sorry, would you mind packing this away?”
“Sure. Go make sure Old Faithful doesn’t scare away a potential Picasso from our doorstep.” That, Mischa thought, deftly pushing the aids into places, Is a little too true for comfort. James was a nice enough man, but he had all the open warmth of a military Doberman. Anybody who didn’t smell like “money”…Mischa hasted her pace, Jimmy Choo heels clicking authoritatively on the polished floor.
She rounded the corner with her platinum smile in place.
Only to visibly start, the shiny professionalism suddenly blooming into genuine pleasure and surprise.
“Cam!” She almost opened her arms for a hug, checking herself in time, and taking his hand between hers instead. “What in the world are you doing this far east?
Cam’s hand still between her palms, Mischa turned to smile brightly at the security guard. “It’s quite all right, James; he’s kosher.”
“Are you sure, Ms. Lenkeit? Because I can--” The guard’s well meaning tone froze.
Carefully, Mischa let go of Cam’s hand and tilted her head to look squarely at the guard. Her shiny, happy smile was suddenly just a little bit harder.
“Mr. Harper,” Mischa said pleasantly, her accent cutting the words into crisp, cool arrows, “is welcome. Always. Now, please, return his personal affects to him, yes?”
“…yes, Ms. Lenkeit.”
“Thank you, James.” she waited for Cam to recollect his treasure trove--really, what was he planning to do with all that?--before tucking her friend’s arm into the crook of her own and steering them inside the gallery gleaming interior.
“I’m sorry,” she said once they were safely out of reach of any overly curious ears. “People are idiots, no matter how pretty their credentials. But, blimey, Cam, do you always go armed into Manhattan? A whiff of gun oil and--well, you’re lucky it’s James today and not one of the Russians.” But even her chiding tone had a note of cheer in it. It was just so good to see him. “All right, I give: what are you doing here?”