The Mystery of the Ming Connection, Expanded Edition

By Crystal Sharpe

The Mystery of the Ming Connection is a light-hearted, riveting page turner with two serious themes: international art theft and sex trafficking. The story unfolds with the theft of a priceless Ming Dynasty jar from the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. Dr. Sandra Troux and her lifelong friends, Bobbi Power and Lizbet Sheridan, are quickly engaged in pursuing the elusive Gold Scarf Man, the probable art thief, across Korea and China. Two additional thefts of Ming porcelains from museums in Seoul and Beijing threaten to set off an international incident – overshadowed only by a series of scurrilous kidnappings of local and foreign young women. The horror of human trafficking is brought close to home when Bobbi’s college-student daughter Sophie Rose, adopted from China, is kidnapped from right under their noses.
At the site of each theft and kidnapping, a curious coin is left behind. The coin is engraved with Chinese characters for Taina Ziping and a right-facing swastika, the hideous symbol of the Nazis. Two of the words on the coin hark back to the Taiping Rebellion of 1800s China. But what do the other two words mean? And why is the Nazi symbol engraved on it as well? Is the coin left as a clue, an arrogant calling card, or a threat? And what do the Taiping Rebellion, the Nazi swastika, the desire for a valuable gold and diamond bracelet, museum art thefts, and kidnapping all have to do with each other?
In a series of thrilling chases and adventures – by horseback on the Great Wall, through the streets of Beijing in a blinding blizzard, and underground in a secret Xian tunnel system filled with cells of trafficked girls, Sandy and her sister sleuths pursue the heinous criminals to unravel the mystery of the Ming connection. The book’s climatic chapter brings the super shero trio face to face with the surprising and heart-stopping solution to The Mystery of the Ming
Connection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781483532394

Book preview

4

1 A Fateful Meeting

SANDRA TROUX EAGERLY dashed up the broad steps, unaware that she was about to plunge into a world of international intrigue and danger.

Her piercing azure eyes were sparkling and her silver hair flying in the breeze as she approached the entrance to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She could barely wait to see Dr. Zhang Su Lin, her friend, former student and new curator of the Chinese porcelain collection in the Asian Art department. Sandy had been Su Lin’s dissertation advisor in the Anthropology department at a large Midwestern university. Her cultural focus was what Su Lin needed to round out her Archeology and museum studies.

Now they were beginning a collaboration that Sandy had wanted for years. They were planning a lecture in one of her specialties, the leadership roles of women. This talk would focus on women during China’s Ming Dynasty era. A portion of it would be incorporated into the audio tour of the upcoming international Ming in Three Lands exhibit. Today, she and Su Lin would map out the project they had nicknamed, The Mystery of the Ming Connection.

Taking the steps in twos, Sandy stumbled, shoved by a scowling young man pushing past her as he rushed down. Out of my way, Grandma, he growled. True, Sandy was a grandmother and button-bursting proud of her darling daughter June’s children, Kat and Charlie. But she was still taken aback by the comment. Hey! she said to herself. Everyone knows today’s grandmas are among the fittest and most active people around. Isn’t the current motto, ‘Sixty is the new forty’?

Nevertheless, this man had meant his snide aside as an insult. Watch it, buddy I can out run you any day. Sandy was not only a marathon runner, but she held a silver medal in the International Yang Style Tai Qi Competitions. She often crewed on racing sloops, cross country skied and rode horses. She loved to take her blue VW/hybrid convertible out for a fast spin. If my friend Bobbi were here, she’d really let you have it!

Sandy glanced over her shoulder and saw the young man, dressed in jeans, a brown leather jacket with a gold knit scarf knotted at his throat and a dark cap on his head, dive into a waiting cab at the curb of Fifth Avenue. However you slice it, thought Sandy, that young man was acting suspiciously, not to mention rude. I’m definitely going to talk this over with Bobbi and Lizbet.

Barbara Ann Power and Elizabeth Lee Sheridan were Sandra Troux’s lifelong best friends. The trio went back to 5th grade at the Elm Street School in Praireview, a small town in the Midwest. Every Saturday all through elementary and junior high school, they climbed their special sleuth tree and read Nancy Drew mysteries, Agatha Christie stories and other detective books to each other.

As high school freshmen, they had written a who-done-it skit about a missing heiress and acted it out in the annual school talent show. They dreamed of taking on and solving a mystery of their own, just like the feisty Nancy and other fictional female sleuths.

Even during college and afterwards when their paths diverged, Sandy, Bobbi and Lizbet continued their fascination with solving mysteries by exchanging revolving mystery plot chain letters. They stayed close, seeing each other at various holidays, school reunions and family gatherings. They kept in touch via phone, snail mail, email, and most recently on Facebook and Twitter.

Over the years, the three friends were there for each other during the births and adoption of their children, through Bobbi’s divorce from her high school sweetheart, and in the aftermath of the deaths of Sandy’s Peruvian husband Joaquin Quinn and Lizbet’s wife Joan Davis. They cheered each other on for their personal and professional successes and offered shoulders to cry on when things went wrong. Now that Sandy and Lizbet were back in Prairieview for good and Bobbi flew in every other weekend, the three friends were even closer than they had been as girls.

Sandy reached the top of the stairs to find Su Lin waiting at the great bronze entrance doors that opened into the soaring lobby of the museum. Giant bouquets of deliciously fragrant stargazer lilies mixed with holly and winter evergreens graced the information desk and the limestone alcoves on either side of the sweeping central staircase leading to the 2nd floor where Chinese antiquities were on display.

Sandy, I’m so relieved to see you. Something terrible has happened!

Sandy took Su Lin gently by the hand and led her over to a quieter corner of the bustling lobby. Tell me, she said, focusing her intense gaze on her friend.

A Ming Dynasty jar from Beijing has been stolen! It’s over six hundred years old, and it’s worth millions. We’ve got to get it back. Not only is it the centerpiece of the spring show, but it’s on loan from the Palace Museum in Beijing’s Forbidden City, the young woman cried. "It belonged to Cixi, the last ruler of the Qing Dynasty, Dowager Empress of China. The jar is one of a pair of precious Ming jars; the other one is in Seoul, South Korea.

Please, please help me find it, or I’ll be ruined. You’re always so good at figuring out problems no one else understands, Su Lin gasped, clinging to Sandy for support. This theft could create an international incident, and I might lose my job as a result. I’d never get another one, and you know how hard it was for me to get this one as a woman and a minority. Oh, no, maybe I’d even go to jail. Certainly, I will be disgraced here in America and in China. All my relatives will lose face.

"Don’t worry, Su Lin. I’m sure the authorities can get to the bottom of this mystery. I wager whoever stole the jar is taking it back to Asia, maybe to South Korea or China. There are scads of new millionaires and billionaires in Asia, especially in China. And some of those nouveau riche are building private collections from art gotten by questionable means – at secret sales or by theft. I was talking to a colleague just the other day about this problem. No one knows exactly who they are, but there are suspicions. There has even been talk of some kind of art theft ring.

Remember, I told you I’m leaving with my friends, Bobbi Power and Lizbet Sheridan in a few days to visit South Korea and China. Bobbi’s daughter is coming as well. She’s doing a special research project for her Poli Sci class at Stanford. Sandy reassured her friend, I’m sure there’s a way we can help solve this mystery and recover the jar. We might even avert an international incident and save your career and reputation in the process.

Su Lin heaved a huge sigh of relief, Thank you, thank you, Sandy. I’ll give you the names and contact information of colleagues and friends in South Korea and China who can help. Come to my office right now, and I’ll email them and copy you. Contact my friend, Dr. Park Hyun-Jung. She’s the curator of Chinese Antiquities in the China Room at the National Museum of Korea. She’ll also arrange a behind the scenes tour for you and your friends.

Great. Give me a brief description and photo of the missing Ming jar. Better yet, why don’t you email me, and I’ll save them to my cell.

Of course! I should have thought of that myself, replied Su Lin. I’m so upset about the theft that I can hardly think straight. As a matter of fact, I just received the proofs for the new special edition exhibit catalogue on our Ming treasures, which will be available to members first and then for this show. They’re spread out on the conference table near my office. My assistant is reviewing them for me at the moment. He’s an intern from Beijing University and will be working at the Museum through the summer. Let’s have a look.

Wonderful, if you don’t mind, I’ll take a quick photo of the page showing the Ming jar with my cell and save you the task of emailing it.

On the way to the suite of offices devoted to the Asia Art department, Su Lin explained why the Chinese Ming Dynasty jar was such an important part of the upcoming Met exhibit. The blue and white porcelain Ming jar had been produced between 1426 and 1435 C.E., during a period when some of the most beautiful and exciting pieces were emerging from the Imperial kilns at Jingdezhen in Jiangxi Province. Twin jars had been created during the reign of Emperor Xuande, and they were among the first pieces ever to include an imperial inscription, so they were important for dating porcelains and for historical study.

In the conference room, Su Lin introduced her assistant. John, I’d like you to meet my old friend and teacher, Dr. Sandra Troux. She’s leaving for Seoul and Beijing shortly and is going to meet with my colleagues there to help solve the mystery of our missing Ming treasure.

Sandy, she continued, this is John Liu. He’s specializing in the Song, Ming and Qing periods of ancient Chinese art, and has been very instrumental in organizing our exhibit.

It is an honor to meet you, Dr. Troux, said John Liu, as he bowed his head slightly in respect. How can I be of assistance?

John, please pull the page proof with the Ming jar, and give Dr. Troux an overview of its characteristics.

Of course, Dr. Zhang.

John Liu retrieved two-page spreads that illustrated the Ming collection. As you can see, Dr. Troux, the centerpiece of our new exhibit is this exquisite Ming jar, he began. It was painted with an under-glaze of distinctive cobalt blue and depicts a bristling dragon produced with exquisitely sharp Ming Dynasty brushwork. The dragon’s dorsal fins, claws and other features are still very clear. See how the dragon appears to move around the jar? The dragon is important in China, representing positive power, and it was a symbol of the Emperor. See its five toes? That signifies the imperial dragon. Chinese dragons are watery creatures and give rather than destroy life – unlike destructive fiery western dragons. Their life-giving quality is where they get their real power.

Does the twin jar in Seoul look the same? asked Sandy. Su Lin interjected that the other Ming jar had the mythical Phoenix bird on it, and together they represent unity or marriage. Hmm...and what are the other photos on this page? Are they all Ming pieces on loan from China for your upcoming exhibit?

Most of them are, replied Su Lin. The brush washer basin and ink stone are part of a desk set that was designed as companion pieces to be presented to the Dowager Empress Cixi. The only missing item from the original collection was a pair of porcelain and gold seals created for the Empress. They’ve been missing since the dark period during World War II when the Japanese occupied much of eastern China, including Shanghai. It’s presumed they were either destroyed or are still hidden in Japan.

Sandy, Su Lin and John took some time to review and admire some of the other items to be showcased in the exhibit, including a red leather and wooden traveling box and red gilt Sutra box that contained Buddhist scriptures from the early Ming period. After thanking John for his help, the pair walked into Su Lin’s office for the contact information Sandy needed.

When they left, John Liu’s friendly smile faded as his eyes followed them out of the conference room. He lingered at the door, listening to their conversation before returning to his proofreading task.

I’m also giving you the contact information for Minister Wu Mei, who now heads the Beijing Municipal Administration of Cultural Heritage but is still very involved with the museum said Su Lin. She was my mentor at the Palace Museum inside the Forbidden City in Beijing the summer I worked as a visiting university student intern. She’ll introduce you to Dr. Li Jing, the curator of the new Ceramics Gallery in the Palace Museum. They’ll both be able to help in Beijing.

"Good plan. I’m taking my cell and my laptop. And my friend Bobbi is a tech genius – she always has the latest gadgets and understands how to use them! Her cell is one of the new smart phones. I haven’t upgraded yet. So we’ll be in touch with you wherever we are. In fact, we could do a quick conference via Skype from both Seoul and Beijing, or wherever else we land!

Su Lin gave Sandy a grateful hug as the two friends parted. "Now, I’d better run. I have to get out to LaGuardia Airport to catch my plane home and then finish getting ready for our trip. We’re taking a direct flight from Chicago to Seoul on Korea Airlines. On the way home, I’ll give my Dad a call. As you may remember, he was a well-respected international journalist before his retirement, and he’s still very connected to his network. I’ll ask him to get in touch with his news buddies at the international bureaus of CNN, the New York Times, and other media outlets, as well as the local national news offices in Seoul and Beijing. Oh heck, he’ll know who to contact. These reporters will be right on top of this breaking story and maybe they can provide some clues."

Squeezing Su Lin’s shoulder to reassure her, Sandy turned to go. Her foot brushed a small coin. Here, Su Lin, you dropped this. Sandy bent down to pick up an unusual round bronze coin with a square hole inscribed with some Chinese characters.

That’s not mine. Maybe it’s John’s.

If it isn’t, Sandy mused, could it somehow be connected with the Ming theft? And the thief?

2 The Reluctant Thief

A TALL YOUNG MAN, dressed in a brown leather jacket, dark cap and gold scarf, talked excitedly on a cell phone outside the FDR Station Post Office on Third Avenue and 53rd Street. Nervously jingling some coins in his pocket, he exclaimed: We had a bargain! I was to deliver the package to you in return for your promise. You said nothing about another job!

Silence, a menacing voice barked. You’ll do exactly what we tell you, or else. Now, get in the building and up the escalator to the second floor. You’ll get further instructions there. Do not attempt to seek help from the authorities, the voice continued. We’re watching you.

The young man looked around furtively and then entered the building. As he approached the escalator, he tightened his grip on the Metropolitan Museum shopping bag he was holding and resolutely stepped onto the moving stairs. I have to stay focused on what has to be done, he thought to himself.

As he reached the top of the escalator, he walked ahead, alert for any signals. He surveyed the lobby ahead of him, but no one looked suspicious or out of place. The young man was startled to hear a small voice at his elbow say, Excuse me, mister. You dropped this. He looked down to see a boy of around eight in a blue parka, shoving a brown envelope into his hand. Before he could say a word, the boy nodded, turned and disappeared into the crowd.

He looked around cautiously and then slowly walked to a side corridor that was empty except for a well-dressed older couple sitting on a bench talking with eager animation. They looked up briefly as the young man surreptitiously extracted the envelope he had dropped into his bag and examined it. It was a standard small padded manila envelope. The outside had a red stamp of a dragon, like one formed by a traditional Chinese seal. It seemed to have Mandarin characters encircling it, but they were too faint to make out. He opened the envelope to find a key embedded with the number 53666 and a note, also written in Mandarin.

The note simply read: U.S. Post Office, New York, N.Y. 10019 – Box #53666. Proceed with caution to box, remove its contents, and place in your bag.

The young man put the note back into the envelope, turned and noticed the couple on their way to the passport window. He was alone in the corridor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned to the lobby, which was bustling with lunch time customers and activity. No one seemed to notice him, but he could almost feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of his head. He walked carefully toward the P.O. boxes in the next corridor off the lobby and found box #53666 easily. He quickly unlocked it and took out another padded manila envelope. Inside, he found a set of car keys and a receipt for a parking lot in the east sixties. He re-locked the box, pocketed the keys and ticket, and walked out of the building with a confidence he did not really feel. He was certain he was being followed.

He was. The couple had noted his nervousness but had not thought much of it at the time. As they turned from the window with their new passports, they watched as the young man headed toward the escalator. A figure skulked in the corner and then trailed after the young man.

The couple turned and looked at each other, and without hesitation followed both men, staying a safe distance behind them. Something’s not quite right, Emma, the dapper older man remarked. That fella’s up to no good – I feel it in my bones.

OK, Beech Hamilton, you ole codger. Do let’s be careful. We’re not as young as we used to be.

Speak for yourself, my lady, he responded with a wink. Let’s shadow them for a while and if there’s any funny business, we’ll hail a cop.

Ahead, the cold wind made the young man pull his gold scarf more tightly around his neck as he walked uptown briskly for several blocks and then turned east toward the river. Finally, he came to an open parking lot – an unusual sight for the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The attendant took his receipt and pointed him toward the black Honda SUV in the corner. Sorry, you’ll have to pull it out of the lot yourself. We’re swamped. Just as he unlocked the driver’s door and prepared to get into the vehicle, he felt a karate-like chop across the back of his neck, and everything went black.

Sandra Troux was in a taxi on her way to LaGuardia Airport when an SUV screeched around a corner, nearly hitting her cab. Whew! That was close, she shook her head while the car sped away ahead of them. Crazy drivers! As her cab crossed the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge to Queens, she thought about her intriguing and disturbing meeting with her old friend Su Lin. My heart goes out to her. I’m determined to do all I can to help recover the Ming jar and save face for her.

Yet, something about the events of the day was especially troubling. It wasn’t just the news of the theft, or even her near accident on the steps of the museum when she was almost bowled over by that thoughtless hooligan. There was something about Su Lin’s new assistant John Liu that seemed off.

Of course, she knew that Su Lin had had interns before, but they were usually younger art history or archeology majors from one of the leading U.S. universities. Although she saw the obvious benefits of a Chinese national from Beijing working on the special Ming exhibit, she had a feeling about him that she couldn’t shake. He seemed just a little too polished and self-assured. And was it her imagination, or had he lingered within earshot just a little too long when she and Su Lin went to her office?

As the cab approached the airport, she resolved to call Su Lin when she got home. Perhaps she could email one of her friends at Beijing University to inquire about John.

Back in Manhattan, the older couple signaled a cop. Officer, we just witnessed a young man attacked and shoved into a black car, Emma said excitedly.

What kind of car was it and did you get the license number? the officer asked.

No, it was too far away.

I’m sure it was an SUV, Beech added. It was going so fast that it almost crashed into a cab.

Unfortunately, without a license plate number, there’s not much we can do besides take your statement. But, I’ll call it in and canvass the area for other witnesses. Here’s my card in case you think of anything more. Thanks for getting involved.

Just doing our part. You know, ‘If you see something, say something.’ How could we not act? Emma queried.

We’re staying at the Algonquin Hotel till Saturday, Beech told the officer, handing him his own card. ...in case you need to question us further.

The officer grinned and tipped his cap slightly before turning to seek out other witnesses.

At about the time Sandy was going through airport security, the black SUV that had nearly hit her cab was speeding along the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. In the back seat, the young man with the gold scarf lay unconscious.

Twenty minutes later, it turned down a BQE exit ramp and into an old industrial section of Brooklyn, making its way through narrow streets punctuated with potholes. The SUV finally pulled up behind a deserted warehouse near the East River. The young man was dragged inside the building where he was blind-folded, gagged and tied hand and foot to a chair in a large, darkened room.

He shook the grogginess from his head as a bright spotlight was trained on him. He was startled by a rough, accented voice, Ah, Mr. Yang. You have done well. The item we needed is now in our hands, without a mishap or suspicion. You followed our directions to a T.

Yang squirmed and attempted to speak through the tape covering his mouth. Silence! the voice continued nastily. You must learn to hold your tongue and show a little more enthusiasm for your job – unless you are prepared to pay the price!

A moment later, a cell phone rang and the voice said, Excellent. I will be right there. Turning to one of his men, he said Keep an eye on Yang until I return with more instructions. He walked over to a metal stairway and climbed to an upper office which had been equipped with special lights and technical equipment.

Well, Mr. Liu, he said. Have we met with success? Do we have a credible replica? John Liu was sitting near a museum quality kiln, smiling broadly. Xie, xie Lao Ban! he exclaimed proudly in Mandarin. Even the most expert eye would have trouble telling this replica from the original. You can safely send the original by your courier and the replica with our young thief. You are wise not to completely trust him.

Returning to English, he said: I have filled both of these jars with Chinese New Year Lucky Candy in red wrappers, and the jars will fit snugly and safely in the lined center of the six-sided red lacquer candy boxes. Once we fill the compartments with an assortment of candied lotus seeds and fruits to the surrounding compartments and add the lids, seals and ribbons, each box will appear to be a simple New Year’s gift. Not even the most knowledgeable Customs official will suspect differently.

"You are sure no one