"Oh? Who?"
She shrugged. "A barbarian. Not as tall as you. He has a strange name, and he's more ugly than usual with hair of straw!" She searched in her pocket and found the card. "Here."
The card read, Dave Murtagh III, Royal Belgium and Far East Bank. Dunross's stomach twisted. "How long's he been waiting?"
"An hour, perhaps more."
"What? Fornicate all gods. Why didn't you wake me?"
"Eh? Why didn't I wake you?" she asked caustically. "Why? Why do you think? Am I a fool? A foreign devil? Ayeeyah, what is more important, him waiting or your rest? Ayeeyah!" she added disdainfully and stalked off, grumbling, "As if I didn't know what was best for you."
Dunross dressed hurriedly and rushed downstairs. Murtagh was sprawled out in an easy chair. He awoke with a start as the door opened. "Oh, hi!"
"I'm terribly sorry, I was having a kip and didn't know you were here."
"That's all right, tai-pan." Dave Murtagh was haggard. "The old biddy threatened the hell out of me if I so much as murmured but it didn't matter, I dropped off." He stretched wearily, stifling a yawn and shook his head to try to clear it. "Jesus, sorry to come uninvited but it's better than on the phone."
Dunross held his aching disappointment off his face. It must be a turndown, he thought. "Whiskey?"
"Sure, with soda. Thanks. Jesus I'm tired."
Dunross went to the decanter and poured, and a brandy and soda for himself. "Health," he said, resisting the urge to ask.
They touched glasses.
"Health. And you got your deal!" The young man's face cracked into an enormous grin. "We did it!" he almost shouted. "They screamed and they hollered but an hour ago they agreed. We got everything! 120 percent of the ships and a $50 million U.S. revolving fund, cash's up Wednesday, but you can commit Monday at 10:00 AM., the offer of the tanker deals was the clincher. Jesus, we did it for chrissake!"
It took all of Dunross's training to hold in his bellow of triumph and keep the joy off his face and say calmly, "Oh, jolly good," and take another sip of his brandy. "What's the matter?" he asked, seeing the shock on the younger man's face.
Murtagh shook his head and slumped down exhaustedly. "You limeys're something else! I'll never understand you. I give you a hundred percent parole with the sweetest deal God ever gave man and all you say is 'Oh jolly good.' "
Dunross laughed. It was a great bellow of laughter and all his happiness spilled out. He pummelling Murtagh's hand and thanked him. "How's that?" he asked, beaming.
"That's better!" He grabbed his briefcase and opened it and pulled out a sheaf of contracts and papers. "These're just as we agreed. I was up all night drafting them. Here's the main loan agreement, this's your personal guarantee, these're for the corporate seal, ten copies of everything."
"I'll initial one set now which you keep, you initial one which I'll keep and then we'll sign formally tomorrow morning. Can you meet me in my office tomorrow morning, say at 7:30? We'll chop all the documents an—"
The young man let out an involuntary moan. "How 'bout 8:00, tai-pan, or 8:30? I just gotta catch up on some sleep."
"7:30. You can sleep all day." Dunross added at a sudden thought, "Tomorrow night your evening's reserved."
"It is?"
"Yes. You best get all the rest you can, your evening will be busy."
"Doing what?"
"You're not married, you're not attached, so an entertaining evening wouldn't be bad. Eh?"
"Gee." Murtagh brightened perceptibly. "It'd be terrific."
"Good. I'll send you to a friend of mine at Aberdeen. Goldtooth Wu."
"Who?"
"An old friend of the family. Perfectly safe. While I think of it, lunch at the races next week?"
"Oh Jesus, thanks. Yesterday Casey gave me a hot tip and I won a bundle. The rumour is you're going to ride Noble Star Saturday. Are you?"
"Perhaps." Dunross kept his eyes on him. "The deal's really through? No chance of a foul-up?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die! Oh here I forgot." He handed him the confirming telex. "It's as we agreed." Murtagh glanced at his watch. "It's 6:00 A.M. New York time now but you're to call S. J. Beverly, our chairman of the board, in an hour—he's expecting your call. Here's his number." The young man beamed. "They made me VP in charge of all Asia."
"Congratulations."
Dunross saw the time. He would have to leave soon or he would be late and he did not want to keep Riko waiting. His heart picked up a beat. "Let's initial now, shall we?"
Murtagh was already sorting the papers. "Just one thing, tai-pan, S. J. said we got to keep this secret."
"That's going to be difficult. Who typed these?"
"My secretary—but she's American, she's as tight as a clam."
Dunross nodded but inside he was unconvinced. The telex operator—didn't Phillip Chen say he had already had copies of some of the telexes?—or cleaners, or phone operators, it would be impossible to gauge who but the news would be common knowledge soon, whatever he or Murtagh did. Now, how to use everything to the best advantage while it's still secret? he was asking himself, hard put not to dance with joy, the fact of the deal unprecedented and almost impossible to believe. He began to initial his set of papers, Murtagh another. He stopped as he heard the front door open and slam. Adryon shrieked, "Ah Tat!" and followed up with a flood of amah Cantonese ending, "... and did you iron my new blouse by all the gods?"
"Blouse? What blouse, Young Miss with the piercing voice and no patience? The red one? The red one belonging to Chief Wife who told y—"
"Oh, it's mine now, Ah Tat! I told you very seriously to iron it."
Murtagh had stopped too, listening to the stream of screeching Cantonese from both of them. "Jesus," he said tiredly. "I'll never get used to the way the servants go on, no matter what you tell 'em!"
Dunross laughed and beckoned him, opening the door softly. Murtagh gasped. Adryon had her hands on her hips and she was going at Ah Tat who gave it back to her, both of them raucous, both talking over the other and neither listening.
"Quiet!" Dunross said. Both stopped. "Thank you. You really do go on a bit, Adryon!" he said mildly.
She beamed. "Oh hello, Father. Do you th—" She stopped, seeing Murtagh. Dunross noticed the instant change. A warning shaft soared through him.
"Oh, Adryon, may I introduce Dave Murtagh, Vice-President for Asia of the Royal Belgium and Far East Bank?" He looked at Murtagh and saw the stunned expression on his face. "This is my daughter, Adryon."
"You, er, speak Chinese, Miss, er, Dunross?"
"Oh yes, yes of course, Cantonese. Of course. You're new in Hong Kong?"
"Oh no, ma'am, no, I've, er, I've been here half a year or more."
Dunross was watching both of them with growing amusement, knowing that for the moment he was totally forgotten. Ah, boy meets girl, girl meets boy and maybe this one'd be the perfect foil to throw into Haply's works. "Would you like to join us for a drink, Adryon?" he asked casually, the moment their conversation lapsed and she prepared to leave.
"Oh. Oh thank you, Father, but I don't want to disturb you."
"We're just finishing. Come along. How're things?"
"Oh fine, fine." Adryon turned back to Ah Tat who still stood there solidly—she too had noticed the instant mutual attraction. "You'll iron my blouse! Please," she said imperiously in Cantonese. "I have to leave in fifteen minutes."
"Ayeeyah on your fifteen minutes, Young Empress." Ah Tat huffed, and went back into the kitchen, grumbling.
Adryon focused on Murtagh who blossomed noticeably, his fatigue vanished. "What part of the States are you from?"
"Texas, ma'am, though I've spent time in Los Angeles, New York and New Orleans. You play tennis?"
"Oh, yes, I do."
"We've some good courts at the American Club. You, maybe you'd like a game next week?"
"I'd love that. I've played there before. Are you good?"
"Oh no, ma'am, er, Miss Dunross, just college class."
"College class could mean very good. Why don't you call me Adryon?"
Dunross gave her the glass of sherry he had poured and she thanked him with a smile though still concentrating on Murtagh. You'd better be top of your class, young fellow, he thought, knowing how competitive she was, or you're in for a drubbing. Carefully keeping his amusement private, he went back to the papers. When he finished initialling his set, he watched the two of them critically, his daughter sitting casually on the edge of the sofa, beautiful and so assured, very much a woman, and Murtagh tall and well mannered, a little shy, but holding his own very well.
Could I stand a banker in the family? I'd better check up on him! God help us, an American? Well he's Texan, and that's not the same, is it? I wish Penn were back here.
"... oh no, Adryon," Murtagh was saying. "I've a company apartment over at West Point. It's a little bitty place but great."
"That makes such a difference, doesn't it? I live here but I'm going to have my own apartment soon." She added pointedly, "Aren't I, Father?"
"Of course." Dunross added at once, "After university! Here's my set, Mr. Murtagh, do you think you could sign yours?"
"Oh yes... oh sorry!" Murtagh almost ran over, hurriedly initialled his set with a flourish. "Here you are, sir. You, er, you said 7:30 at your office tomorrow morning, huh?"
Adryon arched an eyebrow. "You'd better be punctual, Dave, the tai-pan's uncomfortably ornery at unpunctuality."
"Rubbish," Dunross said.
"I love you, Father, but that's not rubbish!"
They chatted for a minute then Dunross glanced at his watch, pretending to be concerned. "Damn! I've got to make a phone call then rush." At once Murtagh picked up his briefcase but Dunross added blandly, "Adryon, you said you were leaving in a few minutes. I wonder, would you have time to drop Mr. Murtagh?"
The young man said at once, "Oh, I can get a cab, there's no need to trouble yoursel—"
"Oh it's no trouble," she said happily, "no trouble at all. West Point's on my way."
Dunross said good night and left them. They hardly noticed his going. He went to his study and closed the door and with the closing of the door, shut out everything else but Tiptop. From the fireplace Dirk Struan watched him. Dunross stared back a moment.
"I've plan A, B or C," he said aloud. "They all add up to disaster if Sinders doesn't perform."
The eyes just smiled in their curious way.
"It was easy for you," Dunross muttered. "When someone got in your way you could kill them, even the Hag."
Earlier he had discussed the plans with Phillip Chen. "They're all fraught with danger," his compradore had said, very concerned.
"Which do you advise?"
"The choice must be yours, tai-pan. You will have to make personal guarantees. It's face too, though I'd support you in everything, and you did ask for a favour as an Old Friend."
"What about Sir Luis?"
"I've arranged to see him tonight, tai-pan. I hope for cooperation." Phillip Chen had seemed grayer and older than ever. "It's a pity there's nothing we can give Tiptop in case Sinders reneges."
"What about bartering the tanker fleet? Can we lean on Vee Cee? What about thoriums—or Joseph Yu?"
"Tiptop needs something to barter with, not a threat, tai-pan. Did P. B. say he'd help?"
"He promised to phone Tiptop this afternoon—he said he'd also try one of his friends in Peking."
At exactly seven o'clock Dunross dialled. "Mr. Tip, please. Ian Dunross."
"Good evening, tai-pan. How are you? I hear you may be riding Noble Star next Saturday?"
"That's possible." They talked about inconsequential matters, then Tiptop said, "And that unfortunate person? At the latest, when is he going to be released?"
Dunross held on to himself, then committed his future. "Sunset tomorrow, at Lo Wu."
"Do you personally guarantee he will be there?"
"I personally guarantee I've done everything in my power to persuade the authorities to release him."
"That's not the same as saying the man will be there. Is it?"
"No. But he'll be there. I'm..." Dunross stopped. He was going to say, "almost certain" and then he knew he would surely fail—not daring to guarantee it because a failure to perform would take away his face, his credulity, forever—but he remembered something Phillip Chen had said about Tiptop having something to barter with and all at once he had an opening. "Listen, Mr. Tip," he began, his sudden excitement almost nauseating. "These are foul times. Old Friends need Old Friends like never before. Privately, very privately, I hear that our Special Branch in the last two days discovered there's a major Soviet spy ring here, a deep-cover ring, the code name of the operation Sevrin. The purpose of Sevrin's the destruction of the Middle Kingdom's link with the rest of the world."
"That's nothing new, tai-pan. Hegemonists will always be hegemonists, Tsarist Russia or Soviet Russia, there's no difference. For four hundred years it's been that way. Four hundred years since their first incursions and theft of our lands. But please go on."
"It's my belief Hong Kong and the Middle Kingdom are equal targets. We're your only window on the world. Old Green-Eyed Devil was the first to see that and it's true. Any interruption here and only the hegemonists will gain. Some documentation, part of the Special Branch documentation has come into my hands." With complete accuracy Dunross began to quote verbatim from the stolen head documents in AMG's report, his mind seeming to read from the pages that effortlessly appeared from his memory. He gave Tiptop all the pertinent details of Sevrin, the spies, and about the police mole.
There was a shocked silence. "What's the date on the Sevrin head document, tai-pan?"
"It was approved by an 'L.B.' on March 14, 1950."
A long sigh. Very long. "Lavrenti Beria?"
"I don't know." The more Dunross thought about this new ploy the more excited he became, certain now that this information and proof positive in the right Peking hands would cause a tidal wave in Soviet-Chinese relations.
"Is it possible to see this document?"
"Yes. Yes it would be possible," Dunross said, sweat on his back, thanking his foresight in photocopying the Sevrin sections of AMG's report.
"And the Czechoslovak STB document you referred to?"
"Yes. The part I have."
"When was that dated?"
"April 6, 1959."
"So our so-called allies were always wolfs heart and dog's lungs?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Why is it Europe and those capitalists in America don't understand who the real enemy in the world is? Heya?"
"It's difficult to understand," Dunross said, playing a waiting game now.
After a pause, controlled once more, Tiptop said, "I'm sure my friends would like a copy of this, this Sevrin paper, and any supporting documents."
Dunross wiped the sweat off his forehead but kept his voice calm. "As an Old Friend, it's my privilege to assist in any way I can."
Another silence. "A mutual friend called to offer his support to your request for the Bank of China's cash and a few minutes ago I was told that a very important person called from Peking to suggest any help that could be given in your need would be merited." Another silence and Dunross could almost feel Tiptop and the others who were probably listening on the phone weighing, nodding or shaking their heads. "Could you excuse me a moment, tai-pan, there's someone at the door."
"Would you like me to call you back?" he said at once to give them time to consider.
"No, that won't be necessary—if you don't mind waiting a moment."
Dunross heard the phone put down. A radio was playing in the background. Indeterminate sounds that might be muffled voices. His heart was racing. The waiting seemed to go on forever. Then the phone was picked up again.
"Sorry, tai-pan. Please send those copies early—would after your morning meeting be convenient?"
"Yes, yes certainly."
"Please give Mr. David MacStruan my best wishes when he arrives."
Dunross almost dropped the phone but recovered in time. "I'm sure he would wish me to return them. How is Mr. Yu?" he asked, stabbing in the dark, wanting to scream down the phone "What about the money?" But he was heavily engaged in a Chinese negotiation. His caution increased.
Another silence. "Fine," Tiptop said but Dunross had heard a different tone. "Oh, that reminds me," Tiptop was saying, "Mr. Yu phoned from Canton this afternoon. He would like to bring the date of your meeting forward, if that's possible. To two weeks tomorrow, Monday."
Dunross thought a moment. That was the week he would be in Japan with Toda Shipping negotiating his whole buy-lease-back scheme that, now that First Central was backing him, would have an enormous chance of success. "That Monday's difficult. The following one would be better for me. Could I confirm to you by Friday?"
"Yes, certainly. Well, I won't keep you anymore, tai-pan."
Dunross's tension became almost unbearable now that the final stage had been reached. He listened intently to the pleasant, friendly voice.
"Thank you for your information. I presume that that poor fellow will be at Lo Wu border by sunset. Oh, by the way, if the necessary bank papers are brought in person by Mr. Havergill, yourself and the governor at 9:00 A.M. tomorrow, a half a billion dollars of cash can be transferred to the Victoria immediately."
Instantly Dunross saw through the ploy. "Thank you," he said easily, avoiding the trap. "Mr. Havergill and I will be there. Unfortunately I understand the governor has been ordered by the prime minister's office to remain at Government House until noon, for consultations. But I will bring his authority and chop, guaranteeing the loan," he added, for of course, it would be impossible for the governor to go personally, cap in hand, like a common debtor and so create an unacceptable precedent. "I presume that will be satisfactory."
Tiptop's voice was almost a purr. "I'm sure the bank would be prepared to delay until noon to accommodate the governor's duty."
"Before and after noon he will be on the streets with the riot police, Mr. Tip, and the army, directing possible procedures against misguided riots stirred up by hegemonists. He is of course commander-in-chief, Hong Kong."
Tiptop's voice sharpened. "Surely even a commander-in-chief can take a few precious moments for what is obviously such an important matter?"
"It would be his pleasure, I'm sure," Dunross said, unafraid, knowing the art of Asian negotiation, prepared for rage, honey and everything in between. "But the protection of the Middle Kingdom's interest as well as that of the Colony would be uppermost in his mind. I'm sure, regretfully, he would have to refuse until the emergency was over."
There was a hostile silence. "Then what would you suggest?"
Again Dunross sidestepped the trap, leaping to the next level. "Oh, by the way, his aide-de-camp asked me to mention that his Excellency is having a party for a few of our most important Chinese citizens at the races next Saturday and he wondered if you would happen to be in the Colony so he could send you an invitation?" He held on to his hope. Putting it that way gave Tiptop the option of accepting or refusing without loss of face—and, at the same time, protected the face of the governor who would thus avoid sending such a politically important invitation that might be refused. Dunross smiled to himself, since the governor knew nothing yet about this important party he would be giving.
Another silence while Tiptop considered the political implications. "Please thank him for his consideration. I believe I will be here. May I confirm it Tuesday?"
"I will be glad to pass your message on." Dunross considered mentioning Brian Kwok but decided to leave that in limbo. "Will you be at the bank at 9:00 A.M., Mr. Tip?"
"Oh no. It is really nothing to do with me. I'm merely an interested bystander." Another silence. "Your representatives should see the chief manager."
Dunross sighed, all his senses honed. No mention of the governor's physical presence. Have I won? "I wonder if someone could confirm to Radio Hong Kong, in time for tonight's nine o'clock news, that the Bank of China is extending the Colony an immediate credit of one half a billion dollars of cash."
Another silence. "Oh I'm sure that's not necessary, Mr. Dunross," Tiptop said and now, for the first time, there was a chuckle in his voice. "Surely the word of the tai-pan of the Noble House is sufficient for a simple capitalist radio station. Good night."
Dunross put down the phone. His fingers were trembling. There was an ache in his back and his heart was pounding. "Half a billion dollars!" he muttered, his mind blown. "No paper, no chop, no handshake, a few phone calls, a little negotiation and one half a billion dollars will be available for transfer by truck at 9:00 A.M.! We've won! Murtagh's money and now China's! Yes. But how to use this knowledge to the best advantage? How? he asked himself helplessly. No point in going to Plumm's now. What to do? What to do?
His knees felt weak, his mind was buzzing with plan and counter-plan. Then his pent-up excitement erupted in a huge bellow that ricocheted off his study walls, and he jumped up and down and let out another war cry that melted into a laugh. He went into the bathroom to splash water on his face. He ripped off his soaking shirt, not bothering about the buttons and threw it into a trash can. The study door whirled open. Adryon rushed in, white-faced and anxious. "Father!"
"Good God what s up?" Dunross said, aghast.
"What's up with you? I heard you shout like a mad bull. Are you all right?"
"Oh, oh yes I'm, I, er, I just stubbed my toe!" Dunross's happiness exploded again and he caught her up, lifting her easily. "Thank you, my darling, everything's fine! Oh very fine!"
"Oh, thank God," she said and at once added, "Then I can have my own flat starting next month?"
"Ye—" He caught himself just in time. "Oh no you don't, Miss Smarty Pants. Just because I'm happy th—"
"But Father, do—"
"No. Thank you, Adryon, but no. Off you go!"
She glared at him then burst out laughing. "I almost caught you that time!"
"Yes, yes you did! Don't forget Duncan's in tomorrow on the Qantas noon flight."
"I won't, don't worry. I'll meet him. It'll be fun to have Dune back, haven't had a good game of billiards since he left. Where're you off to now?"
"I was going to Plumm's at Rose Court to celebrate the General Foods takeover but I don't th—"
"Martin thought that was a wonderful coup! If the stock market doesn't crash. I told the silly man you were bound to arrange everything."
All at once Dunross realised that Plumm's party would be the ideal place. Gornt would be there, Phillip Chen and all the others. Gornt! Now I can put that bugger away for all time, he told himself, his heart racing. "Is Murtagh still downstairs?"
"Oh yes. We were just leaving. He's dreamy."
Dunross turned away to hide a smile and grabbed a clean silk shirt. "Could you hang on a second? I've got some rather good news for him."
"All right." She came over to him, big blue eyes. "My own flat for a Christmas present, pretty please?"
"After university, if you qualify, off you go!"
"Christmas. I'll love you forever."
He sighed, remembering how upset and frightened she had been seeing Gornt in the billiards room. Perhaps I can give you a present of his head tomorrow, he thought. "Not this Christmas, next!"
She hurled her arms around his neck. "Oh thank you Daddy darling but this Christmas, please please please."
"No, because yo—"
"Please please please!"
"All right. But don't tell your mother I agreed for God's sake! She'll skin me alive!"
7:15 PM
The curtains around Orlanda's bed moved gently, touched by the night breeze, the air clean and salt tasting. She was in his arms as they slept, a pervading warmth between them, and then, as her hand moved, Bartlett awoke. For a moment he wondered where he was and who he was, and then everything came back and his heart picked up a beat. Their lovemaking had been wonderful. He remembered how she had responded, cresting again and again, lifting him to heights he had never experienced before. And then the after. She had got out of bed and walked to the kitchen and warmed water and brought back a hot, wet towel and towelled the sweat off him. "I'm so sorry there's no bath or shower, my darling, that's such a shame, but if you're patient I can make everything nice."
A new clean towel and feeling grand, never before knowing the wonder of a real afterward—her gentle ministrations, tender, loving, unself-conscious, the tiny crucifix around her neck her only adornment. He had noticed it glinting in the half-light. Its implications had begun to seep into his brain but somehow, all at once, she was caressing the alien thoughts away with magic hands and touch and lips until, in time, they had both become one with the gods again and, through their generosity, slid into euphoria—and thence into sleep again.
Idly he watched the curtains that fell from the ceiling waver in the air currents, their surrounding embrace making the bed more intimate, the patterns against the light of the window pleasing, everything pleasing. He lay still, not wishing to move to awaken her, not wanting to break the spell, her breath soft against his chest, her sleep face blemishless.
What to do, what to do, what to do?
Nothing, for the moment, he answered himself. The airplane's free, you're free, she's unbelievable and no woman's ever pleased you more. Never. But can it last, could it last—and then there's Casey.
Bartlett sighed. Orlanda moved again in her sleep. He waited but she did not awaken.
His eyes were mesmerised by the patterns, his spirit at rest. It was neither hot nor cold in the room; everything was perfect, her weight imperceptible. What is it about her? he asked himself. What causes the spell, because sure as death and taxes you're under a spell, enchanted. We've pillowed, that's all, I've made no promises and yet... You're enchanted, old buddy.
Yes. And it's wonderful.
He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
When Orlanda awoke she was careful not to move. She did not want to awaken him, both for his pleasure and for hers. And she wanted time to think. Sometimes she would do that in Gornt's arms but she knew it was not the same, would never be the same. Always she had been afraid of Quillan, on guard, desperately wanting to please, wondering if she had forgotten anything. No, she thought in ecstasy, this pillowing was better than I ever remember it with Quillan, oh so much better. Linc's so clean and no smoke taste, just clean and wonderful and I promise by the Madonna I will make him a perfect wife, I'll be the best that ever was. I will use my mind and hands and lips and body to please and to satisfy and there will be nothing he needs that I will not do. Nothing. Everything that Quillan taught me I will do for Linc, even the things I did not enjoy, I will enjoy now with Linc. My body and soul will be an instrument for his pleasure, and for mine, when he's learned.
Дата добавления: 2015-11-04; просмотров: 25 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |