He got up and stood before the tai-pan. "Christ, I don't know what I'd do without you," he said out loud, remembering that Dirk Struan had been beset by far greater burdens and had conquered them. Only to have the tempest, the wrath of nature, kill him at the zenith of his life, just forty-three, undisputed warlord of Hong Kong and Asia.

Is it always "those whom the gods love die young"? he asked himself. Dirk was just my age when the Devil Winds of the Great Typhoon tore our brand-new three-story residence in Happy Valley to pieces and buried him in the rubble. Is that old or young? I don't feel old. Was that the only way for Dirk to die? Violently? In storm? Young? Killed by nature? Or does the expression mean, those whom the gods love die young in heart?

"Never mind," he said to his mentor and friend. "I wish I'd known you. I tell you openly, tai-pan, I hope to God there is a life after death so that in some eon of time, I can thank you personally."

Confident again, he went back to his desk. In his top drawer was Four Finger Wu's matrix. His fingers touched it, caressing it. How do I squeeze out of this one? he asked himself grimly.

There was a knock. Phillip Chen came in. He had aged in the last few days. "Good God, tai-pan, what are we going to do? 9.50!" he said in a rush, a nervous screech in his voice. "I could tear my hair out! Dew neh lob mob because of the boom, you remember I bought in at 28.90, every penny of spare cash and a lot more and Dianne bought at 28.80 and sold at 16.80 and demands I make up the difference. Oh ho what're we going to do?"

"Pray and do what we can," Dunross said. "Have you got hold of Tiptop?"

"Eha no, no, tai-pan. I've been trying every few minutes but the phone's still out of order. The phone company says the phone's been left off the hook. I had my cousin in the phone company check it personally. Both lines into his house are off the hook."

"What do you advise?"

"Advise? I don't know, I think we should send a messenger but I didn't want to until I'd consulted with youa what with our stock crash and the bank run and poor John and the reporters pesteringa all my stocks are down, all of them!" The old man went into a paroxysm of Cantonese obscenities and curses on Gornt, his ancestors and all his future generations. "If the Vic goes, what are we going to do, tai-pan?"

"The Vic won't go. The governor will certainly declare Monday a bank holiday if Tiptop fails us." Dunross had already apprised his compradore of his conversations with Tiptop, Yu, Johnjohn and Havergill. "Come on, Phillip, think!" he added with pretended anger, deliberately sharpening his voice to help the old man. "I can't just send a god-cursed messenger there to say 'you've deliberately left your bloody phone off the hook'!"

Phillip Chen sat down, the rare anger pulling him a little together. "Sorry, yes, sorry but everythinga and John, poor Johna"

"When's the funeral?"

"Tomorrow, tomorrow at ten, the Christian one, Monday's the Chinese one. I wasa I was wondering if you'd say a few words, tomorrow."

"Of course, of course I will. Now, what about Tiptop?"

Phillip Chen concentrated, the effort hard for him. At length he said, "Invite him to the races. To your box. He's never been and that would be great face. That's the way. You could saya No, sorry, I'm not thinking clearly. Better, much better, tai-pan, I will write. I'll write the note asking him for you. I'll say you wanted to ask personally but unfortunately his phone is out of order then if he wants to come, or is forbidden by his superiors, his face is saved and so is yours. I could add that 'by the way, the Noble House has already telexed firm orders to Sydney for the thoriumsa' " Phillip Chen brightened a little. "That will be a very good trade for us, tai-pan, the price offereda I've checked prices and we can supply all their needs easily and get very competitive bids from Tasmania, South Africa and Rhodesia. Ah! Why not send young George Trussler from Singapore to Johannesburg and Salisbury on an exploratory mission for thoriumsa'' Phillip Chen hesitated. "a and er, certain other vital aerospace metals and materials. I did some quick checking, tai-pan. I was astounded to discover that, outside Russia, almost 90 percent of all the Free World's supply of vanadium, chrome, platinums, manganese, titanium all vital and essential in aerospace and rocketry come from the southern part of Rhodesia and South Africa. Think of that! 90 percent outside Russia. I never realized how vastly important that area is to the Free World, with all the gold, diamonds, uranium, thorium and God knows what other essential raw materials. Perhaps Trussler could also investigate the possibility of opening an office there. He's a sharp young man and due for promotion." Now that his mind was fully occupied, the old man was breathing easier. "Yes. This trade and, er, Mr. Yu's, could be immense for us, tai-pan. I'm sure it can be handled delicately." He looked up at Dunross. "I'd also mention to Tiptop about Trussler, that we were sending an executive, one of the family, in preparation."

"Excellent. Do it immediately." Dunross clicked on the intercom. "Claudia, get George Trussler please." He glanced back at Phillip. "Why would Tiptop cut himself off?"

"To bargain, to increase the pressure on us, to get more concessions."

"Should we keep on calling him?"

"No. After the hand-delivered note, he will call us. He knows we're not fools."

"When will he call?"

"When he has permission, tai-pan. Not before. Sometime before Monday at 10:00 A.M. when the banks are due to open. I suggest you tell that lump of dogmeat Havergill and Johnjohn not to call they'll muddy already dark waters. You don't use a tadpole to catch a shark."

"Good. Don't worry, Phillip," he said compassionately, "we're going to get out of this mess."

"I don't know, tai-pan. I hope so." Phillip Chen rubbed his red-rimmed eyes tiredly. "Diannea those damned shares! I see no way out of the morass. Th"

Claudia interrupted on the intercom. "Master Trussler on line two."

"Thank you, Claudia." He stabbed line two. "Hello, George, how's Singapore?"

"Afternoon, sir. Fine, sir, hot and rainy," the breezy, enthusiastic voice said. "This's a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you?"

"I want you to get on the next plane to Johannesburg. Leave at once. Telex me your flight and hotel and call me as soon as you arrive at the hotel in Johannesburg. Got it?"

There was a slight hesitation and slightly less breeziness. "Johannesburg, South Africa, tai-pan?"

"Yes. The next plane out."

"I'm on my way. Anything else?"

"No."

"Right you are, tai-pan. I'm on my way. 'Bye!"

Dunross put the phone down. Power's a marvelous device, he thought with great satisfaction, but being tai-pan's better.

Phillip got up. "I'll deal with that letter at once.", "Just a minute, Phillip. I've another problem that I need your advice on." He opened the desk and brought out the matrix. Apart from himself and previous tai-pans who were still alive, only Phillip Chen in all the world knew the secret of the four coins. "Here. This was giv"

Dunross stopped, paralyzed, totally unprepared for the effect the matrix had on his compradore. Phillip Chen was staring at it, his eyes almost popped from their sockets, his lips stretched back from his teeth. As though in a dream, everything in slow motion, Phillip Chen reached out and took the matrix, his fingers trembling, and peered at it closely, mouthing soundlessly.

Then Dunross's brain detonated and he realized the half-coin must have belonged to Phillip Chen, that it had been stolen from hirer Of course, Dunross wanted to shout. Sir Gordon Chen must have been given one of the four coins by Jin-qua! But why7 What was the connection between the Chen family and a Co-hong Mandarin that would make lingua give the Eurasian son of Dirk Struan so valuable a gift?

Still in slow motion, he saw the old man raise his head to squint up at him. Again the mouth moved. No sound. Then in a strangled gasp, "Bara Bartlett gave thisa this to you already?"

"Bartlett?" Dunross echoed incredulously. "What in the name of Christ's Bartlett got to d " He stopped as another explosion seemed to shatter his head and more pieces of the jigsaw slammed into place. Bartlett's secret knowledge! Knowledge that could only come from one of seven men, all of them unthinkable, Phillip Chen the most unthinkable of all!

Phillip Chen's the traitor! Phillip Chen's working in conjunction with Bartlett and Caseya it's Phillip Chen who's sold us out and passed over our secrets and passed over the coin.

A blinding rage overcame him. It took all of his training to hold the fury bottled. He saw himself get up and stride to the window and stare out of it. He did not know how long he stood there. But when he turned, his mind was purged clean and the vast error in his logic now clear to him.

"Well?" His voice was chilling.

"Tai-pana tai-pana" the old man began brokenly, wringing his hands.

"Tell the truth, compradore. NowJ" The word frightened Phillip.

"Ita it was John," he gasped, tears spilling. "It wasn't me I sw t'

"I know that! Hurry up for chrissake!"

Phillip Chen spewed out everything, how he had taken his son's key and opened his son's safety deposit box and discovered the letters to and from Bartlett and the second key and how, at dinner the night of the tai-pan's party, he had suddenly had a premonition about his oh so secret safe buried in the garden and how, after digging it up, he had discovered the worst. He even told the tai-pan about his quarrel with Dianne and how they thought the coin might be on John Chen somehow, and how, when the Werewolf phoned, she suggested calling his cousin, Four Finger Wu, to get his street fighters to follow him, then to follow thema Dunross gasped but Phillip Chen did not notice it, rambling on in tears, telling how he had lied to the police and had paid over the ransom to the Werewolf youths he would never recognize again and how the street fighters of Four Fingers who were supposed to be guarding him had not intercepted the Werewolves or recaptured John or recaptured his money. "That's the truth, tai-pan, all of it," he whimpered, "there's no morea nothing. Nothing until this morning and my poor son's body at Sha Tin with that filthy sign on his chesta"

Helplessly Dunross was trying to collect his wits. He had not known that Four Fingers was Phillip's cousin, nor could he fathom how the old seaman could have got the coin unless he was the chief Werewolf or in league with them, or in league with John Chen who had masterminded a supposed kidnapping to squeeze money out of the father he hated and then Four Fingers and John Chen had quarreled ora or what? "How did John know our secrets, get all those secrets to pass them over to Bartlett how the House's structured? Eh?"

"I don't know," the old man lied.

"You must have told John there's only you, Alastair, my father Sir Ross, Gavallan, deVille or me who know, and of those, only the first four know the structure!"

"I didn't tell him I swear I didn't."

Dunross's blinding rage began to swell again but once more he held it into place.

Be logical, he told himself. Phillip's more Chinese than European. Deal with him as a Chinese! Where's the link? The missing part of the jigsaw?

While he was trying to work out the problem, his eyes bored into the old man. He waited, knowing that silence too was a vast weapon, in defense or attack. What's the answer? Phillip would never tell John anything that secret, thereforea "Jesus Chnst!" he burst out at the sudden thought. "You've been keeping records! Private records! That's how John found out! From your safe! Eh?"

Petrified by the tai-pan's devil rage, Phillip blurted out before he could stop himself, "Yesa yesa I had to agreea" He stopped, fighting for control.

"Had to? Why? Come on goddamnit!"

"Becausea because my father, before hea he passed the House over to me and the coin to mea made me swear to keepa to record the private dealings ofa of the Noble House to protect the House of Chen. It was just that, tai-pan, never to use against you or the House, just a protectiona"

Dunross stared at him, hating him, hating John Chen for selling Struan's out, hating his mentor Chen-chen for the first time in his life, sick with rage at so many betrayals. Then he remembered one of Chen-chen's admonitions years ago when Dunross was almost weeping with anger at the unfair way his father and Alastair were treating him: "Don't get angry, young Ian, get even. I told Culum the same thing, and the Hag when they were equally young~ulum never listened but the Hag did. That's the civilized way: Don't get angry, get even! "So Bartlett has our structure, our balance sheets. What else's he got?"

Phillip Chen just shivered and stared back blankly.

"Come on for chrissake, Phillip, think! We've all got skeletons, a lot of skeletons! So've you, the Hag, Chen-chen, Shitee T'chung, Diannea for chrissake, how much more's documented that John could have passed over?" A wave of nausea went through him as he remembered his theory about the connection between Banastasio, Bartlett,- Par-Con, the Mafia and the guns. Christ, if our secrets get into the wrong hands! "Eh?"

"I don't know, I don't knowa What, what did Bartlett asks For the coin?" Then Phillip cried out, "It's mine, it belongs to me!"

He saw the uncontrollable trembling of Phillip's hands and a sudden tinge of gray in his face. There was brandy and whiskey in decanters on the sideboard and Dunross fetched some brandy and gave it to him. Gratefully the old man drank, choking a little. "Thana thank you."

"Go home and fetch everything and th " Dunross stopped and stabbed an intercom button. "Andrew?"

"Yes, tai-pan?" Gavallan said.

"Would you come up a second? I want you to go home with Phillip, he's not feeling too well and there're some papers to bring back."

"On my way."

Dunross's eyes had never left Phillip's.

"Tai-pan, what did, did Bar"

"Stay away from them on your life! And give Andrew everything John's letters, Bartlett's letters, everything," he said. his voice chilling.

"Tai-pana"

"Everything." His head ached, he had so much rage in him. He was going to add, I'll decide about you and the House of Chen over the weekend. But he did not say it. "Don't get mad, get even" kept ringing in his ears.

Casey came in. Dunross met her halfway. She carried an umbrella and was again wearing her pale green dress that set off her hair and eyes perfectly. Dunross noticed the shadows behind her eyes. They made her somehow more desirable. "Sorry to keep you waiting." His smile was warm but he enjoyed none of its warmth. He was still appalled over Phillip Chen.

Casey's hand was cool and pleasant. "Thanks for seeing me," she said. "I know you're busy so I'll come to the point."

"First tea. Or would you like a drink?"

"No liquor thanks, but I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble, I'm going to have tea anyway. 4:40's tea time." As though by magic the door opened and a liveried houseboy brought in a silver tray with tea for two with thin buttered toast and hot scones in a silver warmer. The man poured and left. The tea was dark brown and strong. "It's Darjeeling, one of our House blends. We've been trading it since 1830," he said sipping it gratefully, as always thanking the unknown genius Englishman who had invented afternoon tea, which, somehow, always seemed to settle the cares of the day and put the world into perspective. "I hope you like it."

"It's great, maybe a mite too strong for me. I had some around 2:00 A.M., and it certainly woke me up."

"Oh? You still on jet lag?"

She shook her head and told him about Peter Marlowe.

"Oh! What bad joss!" He stabbed the intercom. 'Claudia, call the Nathan Nursing Home and see how Mrs. Marlowe is. And send some mowers. Thanks."

Casey frowned. "How'd you know she was at the Nathan?"

"Doe Tooley always uses that place in Kowloon." He was watching her closely, astonished that she seemed so friendly when obvi- ously Par-Con was trying to sabotage their deal. If she's been up most of the night, that accounts for the shadows, he thought. Well, shadows or not, watch out, young lady, we shook on the deal. "Another cup?" he asked solicitously.

"No thanks, this's fine."

"I recommend the scones. We eat them like this: a big dollop of Devonshire clotted cream on top, a teaspoon of homemade straw- berry jam in the center of the cream anda magic! Herel"

Reluctantly she took it. The scone was just bite-sized. It vanished. "Fantastic," she gasped, wiping a touch of the cream off her mouth.

"But all those calories! No, really, no more, thanks. I've done nothing but eat since I got here."

"It doesn't show."

"It will." He saw her smile back at him. She was sitting in one of the deep high-backed leather chairs, the tea table between them. Again she crossed her legs and Dunross thought once more that Gavallan had been right about her that her Achilles' heel was impatience. "May I start now?" she asked.

"You're sure you don't want some more tea?" he asked, deliberately to throw her off balance again.

"No thanks."

"Then tea's over. What's cooking?"

Casey took a deep breath. "It seems that Struan's is way out on a limb and about to go under."

"Please don't concern yourself about that. Struan's really is in very fine shape."

"You may be, tai-pan, but it doesn't look that way to us. Or to outsiders. I've checked. Most everyone seems to think Gornt, and or the Victoria, will make the raid stick. It's almost a general thumbs down. Now our deal's"

"We have a deal till Tuesday. That's what we agreed," he said, his voice sharpening. "Do I understand you want to renege or change it?"

"No. But in the present state you're in, it'd be crazy and bad business to proceed. So we've two alternatives: It's either RothwellGornt, or we've to help you with some kind of bail-out operation."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I've a plan, a partial plan for how you could maybe extricate yourself and make us all a fortune. Okay? You're the best for us long-term."

"Thank you," he said, not believing her, all attention, well aware that any concession she offered was going to be prohibitively expensive.

"Try this on for size. Our bankers are the First Central New York the hated- bank here. They want back into Hong Kong so much it hurts, but they'll never get a new charter, right?"

Dunross's interest peaked at this new thought. "So?"