88 - 4:10 A.M.:.

Bartlett could hear them loudly now. From time to time dust and dirt would cascade, sodden rubble in its wake, as timbers and beams and mess above were removed. His rescuers seemed to be about ten yards away as far as he could judge, still five or six feet above him, the trickle of light making the waiting easier. His own escape was blocked all around. Earlier he had considered going back, down under this flooring, then down again to try to find another route and seek better safety that way.

"Better wait, Mr. Bartlett!" Hooks had shouted to him. "We knows where you be!"

So he had stayed. He was rain soaked, lying on some boards, not too uncomfortably and well protected by heavy beams. Most of his line of sight was blocked a few feet away. Above was more twisted flooring. There was just enough room to lie down or, with care, to sit up. The smell of gas was strong but he had no headache yet and felt he was safe enough, the air good enough to last forever. He was tired, very tired. Even so, he forced himself to stay awake. From his vantage point he knew it would take them the rest of the night, perhaps part of the day, to work a shaft to him. That did not worry him at all. They were there. And he had made contact. An how ago he had heard Dunross nearby. "Line? Linc, it's Ian!"

"What the helltre you doing here?" he had called back happily.

"Looking for you. Don't worry, we're not far away."

"Sure. Say, Ian," he had begun, his anxiety almost overwhelming, "Orlanda, Orlanda Ramos, you know her? I was wai"

"Yes. Yes I saw her just after the slip hit the building. She's fine. She's waiting up at Kotewall. She's fine. How about you?"

"Hell, no sweat," he had said, almost light-headed now, knowing she was safe. And when Dunross had told him about his own miraculous escape and that Casey had seen the whole catastrophe happen, he was appalled at the thought of how close the others had all been to disaster. "Jesus! A couple of minutes either way and you'd all've been clobbered."

"Jose!"

They had chatted for a while then Dunross had moved out of the way so the rescue could continue.

Thinking about Orlanda now, another tremor shook him and again he thanked God that she was safe and Casey was safe. Orlanda'd never make it underground, he thought. Casey maybe, but not Orlanda. Never. But that's no loss of face either.

He eased himself more comfortably, his soaking clothes making his skin crawl, the shouts and noises of the approaching rescue comforting. To pass the time, he continued his reverie about the two women. I've never known a body like Orlanda's or a woman like her. It's almost as though I've known her for years, not a couple of days. That's a fact. She's exciting, unknown, female, wonderfully dangerous. Casey's no danger. She'd make a great wife, a great partner but she's not female like Orlanda is. Sure Orlanda likes pretty clothes, expensive presents, and if what people here say is true she'll spend money like there's no tomorrow. But isn't that what most of it's for? My ex's taken care of, so're the kids. Shouldn't I have some fun? And be able to protect her from the Biltzmanns of the world?

Sure. But I still don't know what it is about her or Hong Kong that's got to me. It's the best place I've ever been and I feel more at home here than back home. "Maybe, Line, you've been here in a previous lifetime," Orlanda had said.

"You believe in reincarnation?"

"Oh yes."

Wouldn't that be wonderful, he thought in his reverie, not noticing the gas or that now the gas was touching him a little. To have more than one lifetime would be the best luck in all the world at "Linc!"

"Hey! Hi, fan, what's cooking?" Bartlett's happiness picked up. Dunross's voice was quite close. Very close.

"Nothing. We'rejust going to take a short break. It's heavy going.

We've got to detour again but we're only a few yards away. Thought I'd chat. As far as we can judge we're about five feet above you, coming in from the west. Can you see us yet?"

"No. There's a floor above me, all busted up, and beams, but I'm okay. I can last out easy. Hey, you know something?"

"What?"

"Tonight's the first time you called me Linc."

"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

Bullshit, Bartlett thought and grinned to himself. "What y " A sudden chill took both men as the wreckage began groaning, twisting hare and thae. In a moment the noise ceased, most of it. Bartlett began to breathe easia. "What you going to do tomorrow?"

"What about?"

"The stock market. How are you going to beat Gornt?" He listened with growing awe as Dunross told him about the Bank of China's money, Plumm's party and his challenge to Gornt, backed by his new 50 million revolving fund.

"Fantastic! Who's supporting you, Ian?"

"Father Christmas!"

Bartlett laughed. "So Murtagh came through, huh?" He heard the silence and smiled again.

"Casey told you?"

"No. No, I had that figured. I told you Casey's as smart as a whip. So you're home free. Congratulations," he said with a grin, meaning it. "I thought I had you, Ian." Bartlett laughed. "You really think your stock'll open at 30?"

"I'm hoping."

"If you're hoping, that means you and your pals have fixed it. But Gornt's smart. You won't get him."

"Oh yes I will."

"No you won't! How about our deal?"

"Par-Con? That stands of course. I thought that was all arranged?"

Bartlett heard the dry innocence. "Quillan must be fit to be tied."

"He is! He's just above. He's helping too."

Bartlett was surprised. "Why?"

There was a pause. "Quillan's a first-class, twenty-four-carat berk buta I don't know. Maybe he likes you!"

"Screw you too!" Bartlett was equally good-natured. "What're you going to do about Quillan?"

"I've made him a proposal." Dunross told it to him.

Bartlett grunted. "So my 2 mill's down the sewer?"

"Of course. That 2 million is. But your share of the General Stores takeover'll bring you 5, perhaps more, our Struan-Par-Con deal much more."

"You really figure 5?"

"Yes. You 5, Casey 5."

"Great! I always wanted her to get her drop dead money." I wonder what she'll do now? he asked himself. "She's always wanted to be independent and now she is. Great! What?" he asked, missing what Dunross had said.

"I just said, would you like to talk to her? It's dicey but safe enough."

"No," Bartlett said firmly. "Just say hi, I can say it better when I'm out."

"Casey's said she's not moving till you are." There was a slight pause. "Orlanda too. How about her? You want to say hello or anything?"

"No thanks. Plenty of time later. Tell them both to go home."

"They won't. I'm afraid you're rather popular."

Bartlett laughed and sat up and bumped his head. A pain snaked down his back and he grunted, then moved more comfortably, his head almost touching the roof.

Dunross was cramped in a small space not far away at the bottom of the twisting passage, hating the closeness, his claustrophobia nauseating, a chill cold sweat soaking him because of it. He could see no sign of Bartlett but he had noted his voice sounded strong and confident. Hooks had asked him to keep Bartlett talking while they rested, in case the gas was enveloping him. "You never know, tai-pan, gas can sneak up on you. We need him alert. We'll be needing his help soon now."

The tai-pan squirmed around uneasily, sensing danger. Someone was climbing down, rubble cascading with him. It was Hooks. He stopped a few feet above.

"All right, tai-pan. Best come out now, we'll get some of my lads back in."

"Right away. Linc! Stay awake. We're starting again."

"Okay, no sweat. Say, Ian, would you consider being a best man?"

"Certainly," he said at once, his brain shouting, Which one? "It'd be an honor."

"Thanks," he heard Bartlett say and as much as he wanted to know, he knew he could never ask. He was sure Bartlett would volunteer the who. But all Bartlett said was, "Thanks. Yes, thanks very much." He smiled, surprised. Linc's learning, he told himself. It'll be good to have him as a partner and a voting member of the Turf Club. Casey too "We'll have you out in a jiffy!"

Just as he was leaving he heard: "Wouldn't it be great if they could be friends? Guess that's too much to hope for?"

Dunross was not sure if it had been meant for him. "What?" he called out.

"Nothing," Bartlett replied. "Say, Ian, we've got lots to do this week! Hey, I'm glad you won over Gornt!" Yes, he told himself happily. It'll be good maneuvering with you, watching you carefully, building our Noble House.

About eight yards away, a few feet up, Dunross turned awkwardly and began to climb back.

Sixteen feet above him, Gornt and the others were waiting beside the greatly widened mouth of the pit. Dawn was lightening the east, a patch of sky now among the enveloping clouds. All over the slope tired men were still digging, searching, calling and listening. Wearily Hooks clambered out of the deepening pit. At that moment there was a tremendous noise from up near Po Shan Road. All heads jerked around. Then far above and to the left they saw part of the slope moving. The noise increased, then a wall of water and mud surged from behind the curve of the hillside up Kotewall Road and, gathering speed, rushed at them. Men began to flee as the sludge crest swept down to where the foyer had been and poured over the slope and wreckage, inundating it, the enormous mass of the sludge pressing the crest forward and down. Gornt saw it coming and hung on to an H-beam, the others hanging on as best they could. The foul, stinking murk swept up to them and passed, Gornt buried to his knees but his grip firm against the suction. The wave surged onward leaving inches of slush over everything, Hooks and the others pulling themselves out, everything else momentarily forgotten.

Gornt had not forgotten.

From where he was he could see down into the pit. He saw Dunross's hands and head appear out of the sludge. The hands grabbed a hold. More sludge was sweeping downward into the pit, finding a level, filling it. Dunross's grip slipped and he was sucked under but he fought out again and hung on precariously.

Gornt watched. And waited. And did not move. The mud poured down. The level rose more.

Dunross felt himself falling, the suction very great. He was choking in the slime, but his fingers held, he forced his toes into a crevice and began to climb. Somehow he tore himself out of the suction and now he was safe, hugging the side, half out of the mud, his chest heaving, heart pounding, retching. Still half in shock, his knees trembling, he wiped the mud from his eyes and mouth and stared around blankly. Then he saw Gornt ten feet above, watching him, resting easily against an outcropa For an instant his whole being concentrated, seeing the sardonic twisted smile, the hate open and disappointment vast, and he knew that if he had been above and Gornt trapped as he had been trapped, he would have watched and waited too.

Would I?

I'd've watched and waited equally and never never a helping hand. Not for Gornt. And then, at long last, Dirk Struan's curse would be ended, be laid to rest, and those who follow me never bedeviled again.

Then the instant was over. His head cleared. He remembered Bartlett and he stared downward in horror. Where the crawlspece had been was now only a slimy pool.

"Oh Christ! Helllpl" he cried out. Then there was sudden pandemonium and others were in the pit, Hooks and firemen and soldiers, and they hurled themselves impotently at the slime wim shovels and wim hands.

Dunross pulled himself out. Shakily he stood on the edge. In anguish. Gornt had already gone. In a little while all attempts ceased. The puddle remained.

T U E S D A Y.

89 - 5:39 P.M.:.

Dunross stood at the bay window of his penthouse atop the Struan Building, watching the harbor. The sunset was wonderful, visibility unlimited, the sky clear except for a few tinged cumulus westward over Mainland China, reddish there, darkness touching the eastern horizon. Below, the harbor was busy as usual, ordinary as usual, Kowloon glowing in the falling sun.

Claudia knocked and opened the door. Casey came in. Her face was stark, her tawny hair like the sunset. Her grief made her ethereal.

"Hello, Casey."

"Hello, Ian."

There was no need to say any more. Everything about Bartlett had been said already. It had taken until late last night to get his body out. Casey had waited on the slope for him. Then she had gone back to the hotel. This morning she had called and now she was here: "Drink? Tea? Coffee? There's wine. I made martinis."

"A martini. Thanks, Ian," she said, her voice flat, the hurt in it tearing him. "Yes, I'd like that."

She sat on the sofa. He poured and put in an olive. "Everything can wait, Casey," he said compassionately. "There's no hurry."

"Yes, yes I know. But we agreed. Thanks." She accepted the chilled glass and raised it. "Joss."

"Joss."

She sipped the ice-cold liquor, all her movements studied, almost apart from herself, then opened her briefcase and put a manila envelope on his desk. "This contains all the John Chen papers about Struan's and everything he offered or told us. These're all the copies I have here. The ones in the States I'll shred." Casey hesitated. "You're sure to have made changes by now but, well, it's all there."

"Thanks. Did Linc give anything to Gornt7"

"No, I don't think so." Again the hesitation. "For safety I'd consider part of the information leaked."

"Yes."

"Next, our Par-Con-Struan deal." The sheaf of documents she gave him was quite thick. "All six copies are signed and sealed with the corporate seal. I've the executive power to sign." She hesitated. "We had a deal, Linc and I. I willed him voting power of all my stock for ten years, he did the same for me. So I'm head of Par- Con."

Dunross's eyes widened slightly. "For ten years?"

"Yes," she said without emotion, feeling nothing, wanting nothing except to weep and to die.

Later I can be weak, she thought. Now I must be strong and wise. "For ten years. Linca Linc had voting control. I'll send you a formal verification when it's official."."

Dunross nodded. From the lacquer desk he brought back an equivalent set of papers. "These are the same. I've chopped them formally. This" he put an envelope onto the pile "this's our private agreement giving Par-Con title to my ships as collateral."

"Thanks. But with your revolving fund that's not necessary."