Black Tusk

Chapter One- Singapore

Black and gold. The carpet, furniture, and chandelier sparkled with the black and gold glow that illuminated the Singapore cocktail lounge. Businessmen with their other halves draped on their arms stood near a low-lit grand piano, its keys not the bone-white ivory of Europe, but instead a shocking ebony. The jewelry of the Singaporean women seemed to be comprised of the same material -- a glittering blackness.
   
The smooth, deep vibrations of the grand piano echoed throughout the lounge, distinguishable over the polite chatter of the crowd. The light was dim and smoky, a deep red illuminating the faces of a sizable crowd of about forty, most of their faces ruddy with drink. The laces of smoke danced around the room with an occasional stab of the lighting of a cigar; cubans of course. Zhi Shu stood by the bar, dressed in a black suit identical to half a dozen others in his closet. The ready supply of perfectly tailored items made him feel more comfortable at social events such as these, where he wasn't exactly comfortable – though he was putting on his best attempt for the benefit of Mr. and Mrs. Richard McAvoy.  His income for the next year, he knew, depended on their investment – and for that, he needed to be both affable and brilliant.

"Chopin's Concerto No.1," Mr. Shu said impressively, his English free of any trace of an accent. He chuckled. "My mother made sure I could play all the Western masterpieces, though I can't say I ever possessed any talent for music. Only discipline."

Mrs. McAvoy smiled and tilted her head coquettishly. "A true Renaissance man, Mr. Shu," she remarked. "You only just finished sharing your knowledge of whiskey – now we discover you are a man of music?"

Mr. Shu assured her that his knowledge only included "the essentials" before Mr. McAvoy cut in. "I'd love to try the rare barrel Yamazaki, as a matter of fact," he announced. "Perhaps a couple of glasses before we get down to business?"

Mr. Shu whisked himself towards the bar with impressive stealth. Left alone with his wife, Mr. McAvoy remarked, "The man chose this place well. I wish he'd get on with his proposal, though, instead of waxing poetic about Chopin."

Mrs. McAvoy smiled. "It's the art of seduction, my darling. And we in America do business in nearly the same way. Always with a little song and dance."

"I guess I'm not used to his style of song and dance."

Mrs. McAvoy sidled up to the bar. She was accustomed to being noticed, to being recognized as the wife and – no one could fail to recognize – partner to one of San Francisco's leading entrepreneurs. She could not recall the last time (if ever) she'd felt like she did now – for lack of a better word, frumpy. Singaporean women seemed to float throughout the lounge like those in a Qiu Ying painting. And Mr. Shu had done well: unmistakably, most of them wore the very item they were there to discuss – black ivory.

Mrs. McAvoy had first spotted the rare material on the wife of one of her husband's business acquaintances, the dim-witted but wealthy Rebecca Ho. She had gone on and on about the seashell-shaped pendant on her necklace, which glowed and glittered with an unnatural darkness --  how it was from a rare breed of elephant ("Already dead when the ivory was taken," she said matter of factly, though of course Mrs. McAvoy knew immediately that the opposite was probably true) and only a handful of such jewelry existed in the world.

The necklace had been remarkable. If one thought of black as the absence of color, he would need only see a bit of this ivory to know that black, on the contrary, was a reflective prism of all colors, from the deepest chartreuse to the richest royal blue to the brightest yellow. Still, Mrs. McAvoy's life was full of beautiful and rare items, and her interest wasn't piqued until Rebecca had commented, "Its reputation is all over Asia. You know what that means, my dear. The West is following the East now."

Mr. Shu, having returned with the whiskey, was finally beginning to elaborate on the "lucrative investment opportunity" that black ivory could offer the McAvoys when a stout, middle-aged man -- one of the few other non-Asians in the room -- interrupted the conversation. "Just so you two know," he said gruffly to Mr. and Mrs. McAvoy, "I've heard that there have been knockoffs of this stuff throughout London and even Paris. Apparently, the counterfeit looks awful, but there isn't any real black ivory left...or if there is, it's so rare that this guy can't get you to it."

Mr Shu offered a polite smile, watching the nonverbal cues of his guests, who appeared mildly concerned by the interjection. Encouraged, the man said in a slightly louder voice, "I know what you've got in mind for these two, and you're filling their heads with empty promises! There's no black ivory left to be found -- you'd make a better profit stealing what's in this room than investing money trying to find what's already been wiped out!"

The burst of volume attracted the attention of a woman sitting alone in the cocktail lounge, wearing drop earrings unmistakably of black ivory. "I heard the king of Jordan captured all the remaining black tusked elephants to trade for oil," the red-hatted lady proclaimed excitedly. "The jewelry in Singapore is about to multiply in worth, a hundred times over!"

A thin-framed man with a jaundiced complexion interjected, "No! No! No! That's a silly rumor. Nonsense! The last black tusked elephant was killed last year in Nepal, I believe. It was all over the papers."

Mr. McAvoy threw Mr. Shu a look of indignance, then proceeded to lean across the bar. "I thought you could promise us black ivory, Mr. Shu," he said in a low voice. "Please don't take offense to the fact that I must wonder if we are we being swindled here."

Mr. Shu took a sip of whiskey, boldly reciprocating Mr. McAvoy's gaze. "I assure you that my word is as good as oak. I am expecting a phone call from a close friend...one who knows far more than the people in this lounge about the existence of a black ivory supply. Let me check in with him and I will let you know our proposition."

Mr. McAvoy arched his back in irritation and took a deep breathe. His wife still had not spoken, but she sensed his belief that this trip could very well be a waste of time and opportunity. But if there was even the slightest chance that this raw material could materialize, they'd do right to humor Mr. Shu a bit longer.

Mr. Shu walked outside to the balcony and pulled out his phone. As he dialed, he prayed to the fading sun, hoping that this phone call would offer new hope of erasing his debt. "Kapia!" he burst out. "How many times have I called you? Do you have any idea how foolish I look? The Americans are here and I am.."

"We found them, Zhi, we found them, " interrupted Kapia.

"You what!? Where? How?" Mr. Shu's eyes widened and he looked around to make sure he was alone. "Not to worry, boss; we got a lead. Looks very promising." Kapia was proud and reassuring.

"Where?" demanded Mr. Shu.

"Do you have any idea how rich this will make us?" Kapia teased.

Mr. Shu's eyes were like glass orbs about to crack. "Where, damnit! And how many?!"