"And I'll have one for my father's balance!" Zeppelin echoed.

Richard Kwang said, "I'll send the checks over first thing in the morning."

"Tonight," Mata said, "then they can clear tonight." His eyes ridded even more. "And, of course, another for my personal bal- ance."

"There isn't enough cash to cover those three checks no bank could have that amount," Richard Kwang exploded. "Not even the Bank of England."

"Of course. Please call whomever you wish to pledge some of your securities. Or Havergill, or Southerby." Mata's fingers stopped drumming. "They're expecting your call."

"What?"

"Yes. I talked to both of them this afternoon."

Richard Kwang said nothing. He had to find a way to avoid giving the money over tonight. If not tonight, he would gain a day's interest and by tomorrow perhaps it would not be necessary to pay. Dew neh lob mob on all filthy quad lob and half quad loin. who're worse! His smile was as sweet as Mata's. "Well, as you wish. If you'll both meet me at the bank in an houra"

"Even better," Dunross said. "Phillip will go with you now. You can give him all the checks. Is that all right with you, Phillip?"

"Oh, oh yes, yes, tai-pan."

"Good, thank you. Then if you'll take them right over to Blacs, they'll clear at midnight. Richard, that gives you plenty of time. Doesn't it?"

"Oh yes, tai-pan," Richard Kwang said, brightening. He had just thought of a brilliant answer. A pretended heart attack! I'll do it in the car going back to the bank and thena Then he saw the coldness in Dunross's eyes and his stomach twisted and he changed his mind. Why should they have so much of my money? he thought as he got up. "You don't need me for anything more at the moment? Good, come along, Phillip." They walked out. There was a vast silence.

"Poor Phillip, he looks ghastly," Mata said.

"Yes. It's no wonder."

"Dirty triads," Zeppelin Tung said with a shudder. "The Werewolves must be foreigners to send his ear like that!" Another shudder. "I hope they don't come to Macao. There's a strong rumor Phillip's dealing with them already, negotiating with the Were- wolves in Macao."

"There's no truth to that," Dunross said.

"He wouldn't tell you if he was, tai-pan. I'd keep that secret from everyone too." Zeppelin Tung stared gloomily at the phone. "Dew neh lob mob on all filthy kidnappers."

"Is the Ho-Pak finished?" Mata asked.

"Unless Richard Kwang can stay liquid, yes. This afternoon Dunstan closed all his accounts."

"Ah, so once again a rumor's correct!"

"Afraid so!" Dunross was sorry for Richard Kwang and the Ho-Pak but tomorrow he would sell short. "His stock's going to plummet."

"How will that affect the boom you've forecast?"

"Have I?"

"You're buying Struan's heavily, so I hear." Mata smiled thinly. "So has Phillip, and his tai-tai, and her family."

"Anyone's wise to buy our stock, Lando, at any time. It's very underpriced."

Zeppelin Tung was listening very carefully. His heart quickened. He too had heard rumors about the Noble House Chens buying today. "Did you see Old Blind Tung's column today? About the coming boom? He was very serious."

"Yes," Dunross said gravely. When he had read it this morning he had chortled, and his opinion of Dianne Chen's influence had soared. In spite of himself Dunross had reread it and had wondered briefly if the soothsayer had really been forecasting his own opinion.

"Is Old Blind Tung a relation, Zep?" he asked "No, tai-pan, no, not that I know of Dew rzeh iah mob but it's hot today. I'll be glad to get back to Macao the weather's much better in Macao. Are you in the motor race this year, tai-pan?"

"Yes, I hope so."

"Good! Damn the Ho-Pak! Richard will give us our checks, won't he? My old man will bust a blood vessel if one penny cash is missing."

"Yes," Dunross said, then noticed a strangeness in Mata'seyes. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Mata glanced at Zeppelin. "Zep, it's really important we have your father's approval quickly. Why don't you and Claudia track him down."

"Good idea." Obediently the Chinese got to his feet and walked out, closing the door. Dunross turned his attention to Mata. "And?"

Mata hesitated. Then he said quietly, "Ian, I'm considering taking all my funds out of Macao and Hong Kong and putting them in New York."

Dunross stared at him, perturbed. "If you did that you'd rattle our whole system. If you withdraw, Tightfist will too, and the Chins, Four Fingersa and all the others."

"Which is more important, tai-pan, the system or your own money?"

"I wouldn't want the system shaken like that."

"You've closed with Par-Con?"

Dunross watched him. "Verbally yes. Contracts in seven days. Withdrawing will hurt us all, Lando. Badly. What's bad for us will be very bad for you and very very bad for Macao."

"I'll consider what you say. So Par-Con's coming into Hong Kong. Very good and if American Superfoods' takeover of the H.K. General Stores goes through, that'll add another boost to the market. Perhaps Old Blind Tung wasn't exaggerating again. Perhaps we'll be lucky. Has he ever been wrong before?"

"I don't know. Personally I don't think he has a private connection with the Almighty, though a lot of people do."

"A boom would be very good, very good indeed. Perfect timing. Yes," Mata added strangely, "we could add a little fuel to the greatest boom in our history. Eh?"

"Would you assist?"

"Ten million U.S., between myself and the Chins Tightest won't be interested, I know. You suggest where and when."

"Half a million into Struan's last thing Thursday, the rest spread over Rothwell-Gornt, Asian Properties, Hong Kong Wharf, Hong Kong Power, Golden Ferries, Kowloon Investments and H. K. General Stores."

"Why Thursday? Why not tomorrow?"

"The Ho-Pak will bring the market down. If we buy in quantity Thursday just before closing, we'll make a fortune."

"When do you announce the Par-Con deal?"

Dunross hesitated. Then he said, "Friday, after the market closes."

"Good. I'm with you, fan. Fifteen million. Fifteen instead of ten. You'll sell the Ho-Pak short tomorrow?"

"Of course. Lando, do you know who's behind the run on the Ho-Pak?"

"No. But Richard is overextended, and he hasn't been too wise. People talk, Chinese always distrust any bank, and they react to rumors. I think the bank will crash."

"Christ!"

"Joss." Mata's fingers stopped drumming. "I want to triple our gold imports."

Dunross stared at him. "Why? You're up to capacity now. If you push them too fast they'll make mistakes and your seizure rate will go up. At the moment you've balanced everything perfectly."

"Yes, but Four Fingers and others assure us they can make some substantial bulk shipments safely."

"No need to push them or your market. No need at all."

"Ian, listen to me a moment. There's trouble in Indonesia, trouble in China, India, Tibet, Malaya, Singapore, ferment in the Philippines and now the Americans are going into Southeast Asia which will be marvelous for us and dreadful for them. Inflation will soar and then, as usual, every sensible businessman in Asia, particularly Chinese businessmen, will want to get out of paper money and into gold. We should be ready to service that demand."

"What've you heard, Lando?"

"Lots of curious things, tai-pan. For example, that certain top U.S. generals want a full-scale confrontation with the Communists. Vietnam's chosen."

"But the Americanstll never Whl there. China can't let them, any more than they could in Korea. Any history book will tell them China always crosses her borders to protect her buffer zones when any invader approaches."

"Even so, the confrontation will take place."

Dunross studied Lando Mata whose enormous wealth and longtime involvement in the honorable profession of trading, as he de- scribed it, gave him vast entree into the most secretive of places. "What else have you heard, Lando?"

"The CIA has had its budget doubled."

"That has to be classified. No one could know that."

"Yes. But I know. Their security's appalling. Ian, the CIA's into everything in Southeast Asia. I believe some of their misguided zealots are even trying to wheedle into the opium trade in the Golden Triangle for the benefit of their friendly Mekong hill tribes to encourage them to fight the Viet Cong."

"ChristI"

"Yes. Our brethren in Taiwan are furious. And there's a growing abundance of U.S. Government money pouring into airfields, har- bors, roads. In Okinawa, Taiwan and particularly in South Viet- nam. Certain highly connected political families are helping to supply the cement and steel on very favorable terms."

"Who?"

"Who makes cement? Perhaps ina say in New England?"

"Good sweet Christ, are you sure?"

Mata smiled humorlessly. "I even heard that part of a very large government loan to South Vietnam was expended on a nonexistent airfield that's still impenetrable jungle. Oh yes, Ian, the pickings are already huge. So please order triple shipments from tomorrow. We institute our new hydrofoil services next month that'll cut the time to Macao from three hours to seventy-five minutes."

"Wouldn't the Catalina still be safer?"

"No. I don't think so. The hydrofoils can carry much more gold and can outrun anything in these waters we'll have constant radar communications, the best, so we can outrun any pirates."

After a pause, Dunross said, "So much gold could attract all sorts of villains. Perhaps even international crooks."

Mata smiled his thin smile. "Let them come. They'll never leave. We've long arms in Asia." His fingers began drumming again. "Ian, we're old friends, I would like some advice."

"Glad to anything."

"Do you believe in change?"

"Business change?"

"Yes."

"It. depends, Lando," Dunross answered at once. "The Noble House's changed little in almost a century and a half, in other ways it's changed vastly." He watched the older man, and he waited.

At length Mata said, "In a few weeks the Macao Government is obliged to put the gambling concession up for bids againa" Instantly Dunross's attention zeroed. All big business in Macao was conducted on monopoly lines, the monopoly going to the person or company that offered the most taxes per year for the privilege. "a This's the fifth year. Every five years our department asks for closed bids. The auction's open to anyone but, in practice, we scrutinize very particularly those who are invited to bid." The silence hung a moment, then Matacontinued, "My old associate, Smuggler Mo's already dead. His offspring're mostly profligate or more interested in the Western world, gambling in southern France or playing golf, than in the health and future of the syndicate. For the Mo it's the age-old destiny: one-in-ten-thousand coolie strikes gold, harbors money, invests in land, saves money, becomes rich, buys young concubines who use him up quickly. Second generation discon- tented, spend money, mortgage land to buy face and ladies' favors. Third generation sell land, go bankrupt for same favors. Fourth generation coolie." His voice was calm, even gentle. "My old friend's dead and I've no feeling for his sons, or their sons. They're rich, hugely rich because of me, and they'll find their own level, good, bad or very bad. As to Tightfista" Again his fingers stopped. "Tightfist's dying."

Dunross was startled. "lout I saw him only a week or so ago and he looked healthy, frail as always, but full of his usual piss and vinegar."

"He's dying, fan. I know because I was his interpreter with the Portuguese specialists. He didn't want to trust any of his sons that's what he told me. It took me months to get him to go to see them but both doctors were quite sure: cancer of the colon. His system's riddled with it. They gave him a month, two monthsa this was a week ago." Mata smiled. "Old Tightfist just swore at them, told them they were wrong and fools and that he'd never pay for a wrong diagnosis." The lithe Portuguese laughed without humor. "He's worth over 600 million U.S. but he'll never pay that doctor bill, or do anything but continue to drink foul-smelling, foul-tasting Chinese herbal brews and smoke his occasional opium pipe. He just won't accept a Western, a quad lob diagnosis you know him. You know him very well, eh?"

"Yes." When Dunross was on his school holidays his father would send him to work for certain old friends. Tightfist Tung had been one of them and Dunross remembered the hideous summer he had spent sweating in the filthy basement of the syndicate bank in Macao, trying to please his mentor and not to weep with rage at the thought of what he had to endure while all his friends were out playing. But now he was glad for that summer. Tightfist had taught him much about money-the value of it, how to make it, hold on to it, about usury, greed and the normal Chinese lending rate, in good times, of 2 percent a month. "Take twice as much collateral as you need but if he has none then look at the eyes of the borrowerl" Tightfist would scream at him. "No collateral, then of course charge a bigger interest. Now think, can you trust him? Can he repay the money? Is he a worker or a drone? Look at him, fool, he's your collaterall How much of my hard-earned money does he want? Is he a hard worker? If he is, what's 2 percent a month to hima"-or 4? Nothing. But it's my money that'll make the fornicator rich if it's his joss to be rich. The man himself'sall the collateral you ever need! Lend a rich man's son anything if he's borrowing against his heritage and you have the father's chop-it'll all be thrown away on singsong girls but never mind, it's his money not yoursl How do you become rich? You save! You save money, buy land with one third, lend one third and keep one third in cash. Lend only to civilized persons and never trust a quai loha " he would cackle. Dunross remembered well the old man with his stony eyes, hardly any teeth-an illiterate who could read but three characters and could write but three characters, those of his name-who had a mind like a computer, who knew to the nearest copper cash who owed him what and when it was due. No one had ever defaulted on one of his loans. It wasn't worth the incessant hounding. That summer he had been thirteen and Lando Mata had befriended him. Then, as now, Mata was almost a wraith, a mysterious presence who moved in and out of Macao's government spheres as he wished, always in the background, hardly seen, barely known, a strange Asian who came and went at whim, gathered what he liked, harvesting unbelievable riches as and when it pleased him. Even today there were but a handful of people who knew his name, let alone the man himself. Even Dunross had never been to his villa on the Street of the Broken Fountain, the low sprawling building hidden behind the iron gates and the huge stone encircling walls, or knew anything about him really-where he came from, who his parents were or how he had managed to acquire those two monopolies of limitless wealth. "I'm sorry to hear about old Tightfist," Dunross said. "He was always a rough old bastard, but no rougher to me than to any of his own sons."

"Yes. He's dying. Joss. And I've no feeling for any of his heirs. Like the Chins, they'll be rich, all of them. Even Zeppelin," Lando Mata said with a sneer. "Even Zeppelin'll get 50 to 75 million U.S."

"Christ, when you think of all the money gambling makes. . Mata's eyes lidded. "Should I make a change?"

"If you want to leave a monument, yes. At the moment the syndicate only allows Chinese gambling games: fan-tan, dominoes and dice. If the new group was modern, far-seeing, and they modernizeda if they built a grand new casino, with tables for roulette, vingt-et-un, chemin de fer, even American craps you'd have all Asia flocking to Macao."

"What're the chances of Hong Kong legalizing gambling?"

"None-you know better than I do that without gambling and gold Macao'd drift into the sea and it's a cornerstone of British and Hong Kong business policy never to let that happen. We have our horse racing-you've the tables. But with modern ownership, new hotels, new games, new hydrofoils you'd have so much revenue you'd have to open your own bank." Lando Mata took out a slip of paper, glanced at it, then handed it over. "Here are four groups of three names of people who might be allowed to bid. I'd like your opinion." Dunross did not look at the list. "You'd like me to choose the group of three you've already decided on?" Mata laughed. "Ah, Ian, you know too much about me! Yes,, I've chosen the group that should be successful, if their bid is substantial enough."

"Do any of the groups know now that you might take them as partners?"

"No."

"What about Tightfist-and the Chins? They won't lose their monopoly lightly."

"If Tightfist dies before the auction, a new syndicate will come to pass. If not, the change will be made but differently." Dunross.glanced at the list. And gasped. All the names were well-known Hong Kong and Macao Chinese, all substantial people, some with curious pasts. "Well, they're certainly all famous, Lando."

"Yes. To earn such great wealth, to run a gambling empire needs men of vision."

Dunross smiled with him. "I agree. Then why is it I'm not on the list?"

"Resign from the Noble House within the month and you can form your own syndicate. I guarantee your bid will be successful. I take 40 percent."

"Sorry, that's not possible, Lando."

"You could have a personal fortune of 500 million to a billion dollars within ten years."

- Dunross shrugged. "What's money?"