"Yes." Suslev closed the door behind Crosse, then wiped the palms of his hands on his trousers and took out the roll of film. Quietly he cursed it and Dunross and Hong Kong and Sinders, the specter of the KGB questioning him about Metkin swamping him. Somehow I've got to avoid that, he told himself, the cold sweat running down his back. Perhaps I should shop Arthur after all. How to do it, and keep Roger in the clear? There must be a way.

Outside on the landing, Roger Crosse got into the elevator and pressed the ground-floor button. Alone now he leaned exhaustedly against the rickety walls and shook his head to try to get the fear out. "Stop it!" he muttered. With an effort he dominated himself and lit a cigarette, noticing his fingers were trembling. If that bugger chemical debriefs Dunross, he told himself, I'm up the creek. And I'll bet fifty dollars to a pile of dung Suslev still hasn't ruled out the possibility of shopping Plumm. And if he does that, Christ my whole pack of cards can come tumbling down about my ears. One mistake, one tiny slip and I'm finished.

The elevator stopped. Some Chinese got in noisily but he did not notice them.

On the ground floor, Rosemont was waiting.

"And?"

"Nothing, Stanley."

"You and your hunches, Rog."

"You never know, Stanley, there might have been something," Crosse said, trying to get his mind working. He had invented the hunch and invited Rosemont along to wait below the ruse just to throw off Rosemont's CIA men he knew were still watching the foyer.

"You all right, Rog?"

"Oh yes. Yes, thanks. Why?"

Rosemont shrugged. "You want a coffee or a beer?" They walked out into the night. Rosemont's car was waiting outside.

"No thanks. I'm going there." Crosse pointed to Rose Court, the highrise that loomed over them on the road above. "It's a cocktail party obligation." He felt his fear welling again. What the hell do I do now?

"What's up, Rog?"

"Nothing."

"Rose Court, huh? Maybe I should get me an apartment there. Rosemont of Rose Court."

"Yes." Crosse mustered his strength. "Do you want to come down to the dock to see the Ivanov off?"

"Sure, why not? I'm glad you sent that mother packing." Rosemont stifled a yawn. "We broke that computer bastard tonight. Seems he had all sorts of secrets stacked away."

"What?"

"Bits and pieces about the Corregidor. her top speed, where her nukes come from, their arming codes, things like that. I'll give you a rundown tonight. You pick me up at midnight, okay?"

"Yes, yes all right." Crosse turned and hurried off. Rosemont frowned after him, then looked up at Rose Court. Lights blazed from all of the twelve floors. Again the American put his eyes back on Crosse, a small figure now in the dark as he turned the corner, climbing the steep curling roadway.

What's with Rog? he asked himself thoughtfully. Something's wrong.

80 - 8:10 P.M.:.

Roger Crosse got out of the elevator on the fifth floor, his face taut and went through the open door into the Asian Properties apartment. The large room was crowded and noisy. He stood at the doorway, his eyes ranging the guests, seeking Plumm or Dunross. At once he noticed that there was little happiness here, an air of gloom over most of the guests, and this added to his disquiet. Few wives were present the few that were stood uneasily grouped to- gether at the far end. Everywhere conversation was heated about the coming debacle of the stock market crash and bank runs.

"Oh come on for chrissake, it's all very well for the Victoria to . announce a multimillion takeover of the Ho-Pak but where's the cash to keep us all afloat?"

"It was a merger, not a takeover, Dunstan," Richard Kwarg began, "the Ho-Pak's n"

Barre's face was suddenly choleric. "For chrissake, Richard we're all friends here and we all know there's more in it than a bail-out, for God's sake. Are we children? My point," Barre said, raising his voice louder to drown Richard Kwang and Johnjohn out, "my point, old boy, is that merger or not, we the businessmen of Hong Kong, can't stay afloat if all you bloody banks have stupidly run out of cash. Eh?"

"It's not our fault, for God's sake," Johnjohn rapped. "It's jwt a temporary loss of confidence."

"Bloody mismanagement if you ask me," Barre replied sourly to general agreement, then noticed Crosse trying to pass. "Oh, oh hello, Roger!" he said with a pasty smile.

Roger Crosse saw the immediate caution that was normal whenever he caught anyone unawares. "Is Ian here?"

"No. No, not yet," Johnjohn said and Crosse exhaled, wet with relief. "You're sure?"

"Oh yes. Soon as he arrives I'm leaving," Dunstan said sourly. "Bloody banks! If it wasn't"

Johnjohn interrupted, "What about those bloody Werewolves, Roger?" The discovery of the two bodies had been the lead item of Radio Hong Kong and all Chinese newspapers there being no afternoon English Sunday papers.

"I know nothing more than you do," Crosse told them. "We're still trying to identify the victims." His eyes zeroed in on Richard Kwang, who quailed. "You don't know of any sons or nephews, missing or kidnapped, do you, Richard?"

"No, no sorry, Roger, no."

"If you'll excuse me, I'd better see our host." Crosse pushed his way through the crush. "Hello, Christian," he said, easing past the tall, thin editor of the Guardian. He saw the desolation the man desperately tried to hide. "Sorry about your wife."

"Joss," Christian Toxe said, attempting to sound calm, and stood in his way. "Joss, Roger. She, well, she'da life has to go on, doesn't it?" His forced smile was almost grotesque. "The Guardian, has to do its work, eh?"

"Yes."

"Can I have a word later?"

"Certainly off the record, as always?"

"Of course."

He went on, passing Pugmire and Sir Luis deep in conversation about the General Stores-Struan takeover and noticed Casey in the center of a group on the wide balcony overlooking the harbor, deVille among them, Gornt also part of the group, looking benign, which Crosse found strange. "Hello, Jason," he said coming up behind Plumm who was talking with Joseph Stern and Phillip Chen. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Oh. Oh hello, Roger. Glad you could come."

"Evening," he said to the others. "Jason, where's your guest of honor?"

"Ian phoned to say he'd been delayed but was on his way. He'll be here any moment." Plumm's tension was evident. "The, er, the champagne's ready, and my little speech. Everything's ready," he said, watching him. "Come along, Roger, let me get you a drink. It's Perrier, isn't it? I've got some on ice."

Crosse followed him, equally glad for the opportunity to talk privately but just as they reached the kitchen door there was a momentary hush. Dunross was at the door with Riko,Gavallan beside them. All three were beaming.

"Listen, Jason, I " Crosse stopped. Plumm had already turned back to the bar and if he hadn't been watching very carefully he would never have seen Plumm's left hand deftly break the tiny vial over one of the filled champagne glasses, then palm the shreds back into his pocket, pick up the tray with four glasses on it and head for the door. Fascinated, he watched Plumm come up to Dunross and other the champagne.

Dunross let Riko take a glass, then Gavallan. Without any apparent prompting Dunross took the doctored glass. Plumm took the last, giving the tray to an embarrassed waiter. "Welcome, Ian, and congratulations on the coup," Plumm said, casually toasting him, not making a big thing of it. Those nearby politely followed suit. Dunross of course did not drink his own toast.

"Now, perhaps you should toast Richard Kwang and Johnjohn and their merger?" Plumm said, his voice sounding strange.

"Why not?" Dunross replied with a laugh and glanced across the room at Johnjohn. "Bruce," he called out, raising his glass, and there was a small hole in the general level of noise. "Here's to the Victoria!" His voice picked up power and cut through neatly. Others glanced over and stopped in midsentence. "Perhaps everyone should share the toast. I've just heard the Bank of China's agreed to lend you and the other banks half a billion in cash in good time for Monday's opening."

There was a sudden vast silence. Those on the balcony came into the room, Gornt to the fore. "What?"

"I've just heard the Bank of China's lending Hong Kong lending the Vic to lend to other banks half a billion in cash and as much more as you want. All bank runstre over!" Dunross raised his glass. "To the Victoria!"

As pandemonium broke out and everyone started asking quest lions, Crosse got his feet into motion and the moment before Dunross could drink, appeared to stumble and collided with him, knocking the glass out of his hand. It shattered as it hit the parquet flooring. "Oh Christ, I'm sorry," he said apologetically.

Plumm stared at him appalled. "For chrissa"

"Ah, Jason, I'm so sorry," Crosse overrode him, adding more quickly as a waiter hastily retrieved the pieces, "Perhaps you'd get Ian another glass."

"Er, yes, buta" Numbly Plumm went to obey but stopped as Riko said, "Oh, here, tai-pan, please to take mine." Then Johnjohn shouted over the uproar, "Quiet, quiet a moment!" a,nd pushed over to Dunross. "Ian," he said in the utter silence, "You're sure? Sure about the cash?"

"Oh yes," Dunross replied leisurely, sipping Riko's drink, enjoying the moment. "Tiptop called me personally. It'll be on the nine o'clock news."

There was a sudden great cheer and more questions and answers and Dunross saw Gornt staring at him from across the room. His smile hardened and he raised his glass, paying no attention to the barrage of questions. "Your health, Quillan!" he called out, mocking him. Quickly conversation died again. Everyone's attention zeroed on them.

Gornt toasted him back, equally mocking. "Your health, Ian. We've really got China's money?"

"Yes, and by the way, I've just arranged a new revolving fund of 50 million U.S. Now the Noble House's the soundest hong in the Colony."

"Secured by what?" Gornt's voice slashed through the abrupt silence.

"The honor of the Noble House!" With a nonchalance he did not feel, Dunross turned on Johnjohn "The loan's from the Royal Belgium, a subsidiary of First Central of New York and backed by them."-Deliberately he did not look back at Gornt as he repeated, enjoying greatly the sound, "50 million U.S. Oh by the way, Bruce, tomorrow I'm retiring your loans on both my ships. I no longer need the Vic loan Royal Belgium's given me better terms."

Johnjohn just stared at him.

"You're joking!"

"No. I've just talked to Paul." Momentarily Dunross glanced at Plumm. "Sorry, Jason, that was why I was late. Naturally I had to see him. Bruce, old fellow, Paul's already down at the bank making arrangements for the transfer of China's cash in time for opening he asked if you'd go there, at once."

"Eh?"

"At once. Sorry."

Johnjohn stared at him blankly, started to talk, stopped, then erupted with a cheer that everyone took up, and rushed out, cheers following him.

"Christ, tai-pan, but did youa"

"Tiptop? That means it's real! Don't you thinka"

"First Central of New York? Aren't they the berks whoa"

"Christ, I've been selling shorta"

"Me too! Shit, I'd better buy first thing ora"

"Or I'll be wiped out anda"

Dunross saw that Sir Luis, Joseph Stern and Phillip Chen had their heads together, Gornt still staring at him, his face frozen. Then he saw Casey smiling at him so happily and he raised his glass and toasted her. She toasted him back. Gornt saw this and he went over to her and those nearby shivered and fell silent. "First Central's Par-Con's bank. Isn't it7"

"Yes, yes it is, Quillan," she said, her voice sounding small but it went through the room and once more all attention surrounded them.

"You and Bartlett, you did this?" Gornt asked, towering over her.

Dunross said quickly, "I arrange our loans."

Gornt paid no attention to him, just watched her. "You and Bartlett. You helped him?"

She looked back at him, her heart thumping. "I've no control over that bank, Quillan."

"Ah but your fingers're in that pie somewhere," Gornt said coldly. "Aren't they?"

"Murtagh asked me if I thought Struan's a good risk," she said, her voice controlled. "I told him, yes, that Struan's was an admirable risk."

"Struan's is on the rocks," Gornt said.

Dunross came up to them. "The whole point is, we're not. By the way, Quillan, Sir Luis has agreed to withdraw Struan's from trading until noon."

All eyes went to Sir Luis who stood stoically, Phillip Chen beside him, then went back to Dunross and Gornt again.

"Why?"

"To give the market time to adjust to the boom."

"What boom?"

"The boom we all deserve, the boom Old Blind Tung forecast." A wave of electricity went through everyone, even Casey. "Also to adjust our stock value," Dunross's voice rasped. "We open at 30."

"Impossible," someone gasped, and Gornt snarled, "You can't! You closed at 9.50 by God! Your stock closed at 9.50!"

"So we offer stock at 30 by God!" Dunross snarled back.

Gornt whirled on Sir Luis. "You're going along with this highway robbery?"

"There isn't any, Quillan," Sir Luis said calmly. "I've agreed, with the committee's unanimous approval, that it's the best for all, for the safety of all investors, that there should be a quiescent period so that everyone could prepare for the boom. Till noon seemed fair."

"Fair eh?" Gornt grated. "You've got lots of stock I've sold short. Now I buy it all back. What price?"

Sir Luis shrugged. "I'll deal at noon tomorrow, on the floor, not away from the market."

"I'll deal with you right now, Quillan," Dunross said harshly. "How many shares've you sold short? 700,000? 8? I'll let you buy back in at 18 if you will sell the controlling interest in All Asia Air at 15."

"All Asia Air's not for sale," Gornt said, enraged, his mind shouting that at 30 he would be wiped out.

"The offer's good till opening tomorrow."

"The pox on you, tomorrow, and your 30!" Gornt whirled on Joseph Stern. "Buy Struan's! Now, in the morning or at noon! You're responsible!"