‘Some only look like rock.’
The professor laughed.
‘Some only are rock. Geology is ninety per cent rock, nine per cent volcano and one per cent gold.’
‘You have gold here?’
‘Yes, a piece somewhere, but it’s unprocessed. It would leave you highly unimpressed.’
‘That’s life, I suppose.’
‘Well,’ the professor said. ‘That’s geology anyway.’
Lisa picked up a stick of chalk and started signing her name across the blackboard. The professor winced as the chalk scraped and whistled its way across the surface.
‘I may be some time yet,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go to the machine down the corridor and get us both some coffee?’ He handed Lisa some change and set about arranging charts and books, depositing some into his briefcase, dropping most on the floor.
At the coffee machine Lisa hesitated for a while, making the momentous choice of tea or chocolate. From the corridor on the fifth floor you could see right into the heart of Hong Kong. She liked to watch the bustle and the business of the streets at this time, when it was at its busiest. Down in the street, however, today, something caught her eye. In amongst the thousands of people milling to and fro was a young woman, dressed in bright red, running.
Lisa moved over, nearer to the window and leaned her forehead on it. Squinting, she could clearly make out the face of the girl — she looked Japanese and was clearly running for all she was worth. Lisa adjusted her glance along the street and saw she was indeed being chased by four men dressed in smart but plain clothes. The first of the four men wore sunglasses and had a shock of dark black hair. His hand was permanently placed inside his jacket as if concealing something — perhaps, Lisa thought to herself, a gun. She shook herself. How ridiculous, she thought, the girl was running away from the police, or she was running to catch a taxi, or else she was running from a jealous boyfriend. These things happen all the time in a big city like this. She had, after all, been told many times that she could be obsessive and compulsive and that someday her imagination was going to get the better of her. She took the cups from the machine and made her way back to the classroom where the professor was clearing up. Something, however, made her stop; something made her put the cups down on the ground and make her way back over to the window. Something made her press her nose up against the glass again and look downward to the street below where she saw the girl in red enter the University by the front door, leaving the men chasing her at the entrance unsure of whether they could chance going in. Lisa once again shook herself. There was, she reasoned, nothing to be concerned about: it was a student late for an appointment, a date at the library or cafeteria, or with an important deadline to meet. She bent down and picked up the cups again then made her way to the classroom of her uncle and kicked open the door.
Inside the professor was slumped over the desk. Lisa felt her heart leap; she slammed the cups down on the desk beside her and rushed over to where her uncle’s body lay, seemingly lifeless, across the table. Slowly she leaned over. She could hear the sound of her blood rushing through her ears and feel the beat of her heart on her ribcage. Her hand touched his shoulder but he did not stir. She walked over to stand beside him but his head was turned away from her. ‘Uncle?’ she whispered. ‘Uncle?’ She rose and walked round to the other side of the desk where she saw his face, eyes wide open staring at the desk with intense concentration. As he saw her, his face lit up slightly in a smile. ‘Diamonds!’ he said. ‘What?’
‘A diamond, around here somewhere — if you see it, grab it.’
Lisa began to look on the table. ‘Is it small?’ she asked.
‘Not too small, but it’s clear, few facets, very unreflective… was very cheap, hardly worth bothering about.’
Lisa patted the desk with her hands. ‘Sample?’ she asked.
Her uncle looked up. ‘A sample of what?’
‘Was the diamond a sample… for the lab?’
The professor smiled. ‘My cufflink,’ he said, and showed her the space where once a small, evidently cheap diamond had sat. Suddenly there was a crash and a rush of air as the door to the classroom flew open. Both Lisa and the professor turned around with a start and Lisa recognised the girl who ran in as the same one she had seen in the street below only moments earlier. The girl looked half dead. She was about twenty and had long black hair tied in a ponytail behind her head. She wore a distinctive red coat, the type they used to wear in the country years ago but which was very seldom seen these days. Her brown eyes flashed wildly as she crossed the room. ‘Okada San?’ she said, barely able to speak through either fear or exhaustion. The professor replied that he was.
‘I have something for you,’ the girl said, and brought out a small book, bound in brown leather. She looked at it lovingly before thrusting it in the professor’s arms. There was a brief moment of silence that was broken only by the sound of further footsteps in the corridor outside. The girl looked terrified and ran over to the window. Finding nothing there she opened the door and ran out, crashing it behind her.
She knew that Tanaka and his gang had come from Japan and that they were after her. They would probably catch her and she knew they must not get the book. She had been lonely in Hong Kong. There were very few Japanese, but she had read articles in the newspaper written by a Professor Okada, he seemed intelligent, he seemed kind, he seemed honourable.
The professor and Lisa looked at each other barely able to speak. Lisa pointed at the book. ‘What is it?’
Her uncle opened the cover and read a little. ‘It’s about Buddhist temples in China. How odd. I have never heard of the author. A European by all accounts, but it’s in Japanese. A fair mix of races, wouldn’t you say?’ ‘Is there anything written in it?’
‘Yes, hundreds of things.’ ‘No, anything written for you.’
The professor leafed through. ‘No, no pencil or pen marks, just the printed word.’
‘Perhaps she had heard of the renovation projects you have carried out, uncle. Perhaps she wants you to carry out some work.’
‘She could have asked. I would probably have said yes,’ he said with a smile. ‘Perhaps it’s late at the library and she didn’t want to pay the fine,’ the professor said and laughed to himself. ‘Anyway, whatever it is, I need to find that diamond before I go home or I will never be able to speak to your father again.’
Lisa bent and started patting the floor with her hand but only succeeding in finding dirt.
Later that evening back at his small apartment, professor Okada ran a bath. As he eased himself into the hot water he opened the book. There was something about it that puzzled him — nothing he could put his finger on, just something that did not seem right. Not with the writing but with the book itself. It did not feel right; it was stiff and would not close properly. Gently he lay back and let the water flow over him. He raised the book to his eye — line but could see nothing. He assumed it must be the book’s age — sometimes when the leather had got damp and then dried quickly it shrank, either splitting or making it hard to close. Sometimes, the binder would use too much glue or too little and this would manifest itself in inconsistencies later in life. He shook the book but nothing came out. It was definitely there though — something about it was not quite correct. Suddenly he noticed something. It was the spine, the spine was stiff. He had had a book like it once — the paper that made up the thick binding had come loose and he had to get it rebound because it wouldn’t close. He turned the book sideways and held it up to the light. Was there something there? Some dislodged piece of paper?