"Mob ching mob mengl" No money no life.

"Yes, but there's not enough money in the world to make me resign. Still, I'll make a deal with you. Struan'stll run the gambling for you, through nominees."

"Sorry, no. It has to be all or nothing."

"We could do it better and cheaper than anyone, with more flair."

"If you resign. All or none, tai-pan."

Dunross's head hurt at the thought of so much money, but he heard Lando Mata's finality. "Fair enough. Sorry, I'm not available," he said.

"I'm sure you'd, you personally, would be welcomed as aa as a consultant."

"If I choose the correct group?"

"Perhaps." The Portuguese smiled. "Well?"

Dunross was wondering whether or not he could risk such an association. To be part of the Macao gambling syndicate was not like being a steward of the Turf Club. "I'll think about that and let you know."

"Good, Ian. Give me your opinion within the next two days, eh?"

"All right. Will you tell me what the successful bid is if you decide to change?"

"An associate or consultant should have that knowledge. Now a last item and I must go. I don't think you'll ever see your friend Tsu-yan again."

Dunross stared at him. "What?"

"He called me from Taipei, yesterday morning, in quite a state. He asked if I'd send the Catalina for him, to pick him up privately. It was urgent he said, he'd explain when he saw me. He'd come straight to my home, the moment he arrived." Mata shrugged and examined his perfectly manicured nails. "Tsu-yan's an old friend, I've accommodated old friends before, so ~ authorized the flight. He never appeared, Ian. Oh he came with the flying boat my chauffeur was on the jetty to meet him." Mata looked up. "It's all rather unbelievable. Tsu-yan was dressed in filthy coolie rags with a straw hat. He mumbled something about seeing me later that night and jumped into the first taxi and took off as though all the devils from hell were at his heels. My driver was stunned."

"There's no mistaker You're sure it was he?"

"Oh yes, Tsu-yan's well known fortunately my driver's Por- tuguese and can take some initiative. He charged in pursuit. He says Tsu-yan's taxi headed north. Near the Barrier Gate the taxi stopped and then Tsu-yan fled on foot, as fast as he could run, through the Barrier Gate into China. My man watched him run all the way up to the soldiers on the PRC's side and then he vanished into the guardhouse."

Dunross stared at Mata in disbelief. Tsu-yan was one of the best-known capitalists and anti-Communists in Hong Kong and Taiwan. Before the fall of the Mainland he had been almost a minor warlord in the Shanghai area. "Tsu-yan'd never be welcome in the PRC," he said. "Never! He must be top of their shit list."

Mata hesitated. "Unless he was working for them."

"It's just not possible."

"Anything's possible in China."

Twenty stories below, Roger Crosse and Brian Kwok were getting out of the police car, followed by Robert Armstrong. A plain- clothes SI man met them. "Dunross's still in his office, sir."

"Good." Robert Armstrong stayed at the entrance and the other two went for the elevator. On the twentieth floor they got out.

"Ah good evening, sir," Claudia said and smiled at Brian Kwok. Zeppelin Tung was waiting by the phone. He stared at the police- men in sudden shock, obviously recognizing them.

Roger Crosse said, "Mr. Dunross's expecting me."

"Yes sir." She pressed the boardroom button and, in a moment, spoke into her phone. "Mr. Crosse's here, tai-pan."

Dunross said, "Give me a minute, then show him in, Claudia." He replaced his phone and turned to Mata. "Crosse's here. If I miss you at the bank tonight, I'll catch up with you tomorrow morning."

"Yes. I'ma please call me, Ian. Yes. I want a few minutes with you privately. Tonight or tomorrow."

"At nine tonight," Dunross said at once. "Or anytime tomorrow."

"Call me at nine. Or tomorrow. Thank you." Mata walked across the room and opened a hardly noticeable door that was camouflaged as part of the bookshelves. This opened onto a private corridor which led to the floor below. He closed the door behind him.

Dunross stared after him thoughtfully. I wonder what's on his mind? He put the agenda papers in a drawer and locked it, then leaned back at the head of the table trying to collect his wits, his eyes on the door, his heart beating a little quicker. The phone rang and he jumped.

"Yes?"

"Father," Adryon said in her usual rush, "sorry to interrupt but Mother wanted to know what time you'd be in for dinner."

"I'll be late. Ask her to go ahead. I'll get something on the run. What time did you get in last night?" he asked, remembering that he had heard her car return just before dawn.

"Early," she said, and he was going to give her both barrels but he heard unhappiness under her voice.

"What's up, pet?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"What's up?"

"Nothing really. I had a grand day, had lunch with your Linc Bartlett we went shopping but that twit Martin stood me up."

"What?"

"Yes. I waited a bloody hour for him. We had a date to go to the V and A for tea but he never showed up. Rotten twit!"

Dunross beamed. "You just can't rely on some people, can you, Adryon? Fancy! Standing you up! What cheek!" he told her, suita- bly grave, delighted that Haply was going to get what for.

"He's a creep! A twenty-four-carat creep!"

The door opened. Crosse and Brian Kwok came in. He nodded to them, beckoned them. Claudia shut the door after them.

"Got to go, darling. Hey pet, love you! 'Bye!" He put the phone down. "Evening," he said, no longer perturbed.

"The files please, lan."

"Certainly, but first we've got to see the governor."

"First I want those files." Crosse pulled out the warrant as Dun ross picked up the phone and dialed. He waited only a moment. "Evening, sir. Superintendent Crosse's herea yes sir." He held out the phone. "For you."

Crosse hesitated, hard-faced, then took it. "Superintendent Crosse," he said into the phone. He listened a moment. "Yes sir. Very well, sir." He replaced the phone. "Now, what the hell shenanigans are you up to?"

"None. Just being careful."

Crosse held up the warrant. "If I don't get the files, I've clearance from London to serve this on you at six P.M. today, governor or no."

Dunross stared back at him, just as hard. "Please go ahead."

"You're served, Ian Struan Dunross! Sorry, but you're under arrest!"

Dunross's jaw jutted a little. "All right. But first by God we will see the governor!"

24 - 6:20 P.M.:.

The tai-pan and Roger Crossewere walking across the white pebbles toward the front door of the Governor's Palace. Brian Kwok waited beside the police car. The front door opened and the young equerry in Royal Navy uniform greeted them politely, then ushered them into an exquisite antechamber.

His Excellency, Sir Geoffrey Allison, D.S.O., O.B.E., was a sandy-haired man in his late fifties, neat, soft-spoken and very tough. He sat at an antique desk and watched them. "Evening," he said easily and waved them to seats. His equerry closed the door, leaving them. "It seems we have a problem, Roger. Ian has some rather private property that he legally owns and is reluctant to give you that you want."

"Legally want, sir. I've London's authority under the Official Secrets Act."

"Yes, I know that, Roger. I talked to the minister an hour ago. He said, and I agree, we can hardly arrest Ian and go through the Noble House like a dose of salts. That really wouldn't be very proper, or very sensible, however serious we are in obtaining the AMG files. And, equally, it wouldn't be very proper or sensible to acquire them with cloaks and daggers that sort of thing. Would it?"

Crosse said, "With lan's cooperation none of that would be necessary. I've pointed out to him that Her Majesty's Government was completely involved. He just doesn't seem to get the message, sir. He should cooperate."

"I quite agree. The minister said the same. Of course when Ian came here this morning he did explain his reasons for being so, so cautiousa quite proper reasons if I may say sol The minister agrees too." The gray eyes became piercing. "lust exactly who is the deep-cover Communist agent in my police? Who are the Sevrin plants?"

There was a vast silence. "I don't know, sir."

"Then would you be kind enough to find out very quickly. Ian was kind enough to let me read the AMG report you rightly inter- cepted." The governor's face mottled, quoting from it, "'a this information should be leaked privately to the police commissioner or governor should they be considered loyala' Bless my soul! What's going on in the world?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well you're supposed to, Roger. Yes." The governor watched them. "Now. What about the mole? What sort of man would he be?"

"You, me, Dunross, Havergill, Armstrong anyone," Crosse said at once. "But with one characteristic: I think this one's so deep that he's probably almost forgotten who he really is, or where his real political interest and loyalty lie. He'd be very special like all of Sevrin." The thin-faced man stared at Dunross. "They must be special Sl's checks and balances are really very good, and the ClA's, but we've never had a whiff of Sevrin before, not a jot or a little."

Dunross said, "How're you going to catch him?"

"How're you going to catch your plant in Struan's?"

"I've no idea." Would the Sevrin spy be the same as the one who betrayed our secrets to Bartlett? Dunross was asking himself uneasily. "If he's top echelon, he's one of seven all unthinkable."

"There you have it," Crosse said. "All unthinkable, but one's a spy. If we get one, we can probably break the others out of him if he knows them." Both the other men felt icy at the calm viciousness in his voice. "But to get the one, someone has to make a slip, or we have to get a little luck."

The governor thought a moment. Then he said, "Ian assures me there's nothing in the previous reports that names anyone or gives any clues. So the other reports wouldn't help us immediately."

"They could, sir, in other areas, sir."

"I know." The words were quietly spoken but they said Shut up, sit down and wait till I've finished. Sir Geoffrey let the silence hang for a while. "So our problem seems to be simply a matter of asking Ian for his cooperation. I repeat, I agree that his caution is justified."

His face tightened. "Philby, Burgess and Maclean taught us all a fine lesson. I must confess every time I make a call to London I wonder if I'm talking to another bloody traitor." He blew his nose in a handkerchief. "Well, enough of that: Ian, kindly tell Roger the circumstances under which you'll hand over the AMG copies."

"I'll hand them, personally, to the head or deputy head of MI-6 or MI-S, providing I have his Excellency's guarantee in writing that the man I give them to is who he purports to be."

"The minister agrees to this, sir?"

"If you agree, Roger." Again it was said politely but the undercurrent said You'd better agree, Roger.

"Very well, sir. Has Mr. Sinders agreed to the plan?"

"He will be here on Friday, BOAC willing."

"Yes sir." Roger Crosse glanced at Dunross. "I'd better keep the files then until then. You can give me a sealed pa"

Dunross shook his head. "They're safe until I deliver them."

Crosse shook his head. "No. If we know, others'd know. The others're not so clean-handed as we are. We must know where they are we'd better have a guard, around the clock."

Sir Geoffrey nodded. "That's fair enough, Ian?"

Dunross thought a moment. "Very well. I've put them in a vault at the Victoria Bank." Crosse's neck became pink as Dunross produced a key and laid it on the desk. The numbers were carefully defaced. "There're about a thousand safety deposit boxes. I alone know the number. This's the only key. If you'll keep it, Sir Geoffrey. Thena well, that's about the best I can do to avoid risks."

"Roger?"

"Yes sir. If you agree."

"They're certainly safe there. Certainly not possible to break open all of them. Good, then that's all settled. Ian, the warrant's canceled. You do promise, Ian, to deliver them to Sinders the moment he arrives!" Again the eyes became piercing. "I have really gone to a lot of trouble over this."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Then that's settled. Nothing yet on poor John Chen, Roger?"

"No sir, we're trying everything."

"Terrible business. Ian, what's all this about the Ho-Pak? Are they really in trouble?"

"Yes sir."

"Will they go under?"

"I don't know. The word seems to be they will."

"Damnab1el I don't like that at all. Very bad for our image. And the Par-Con deal?"

"It looks good I hope to have a favorable report for you next week, sir."

"Excellent. We could use some big American firms here." He smiled. "I understand the girl's a stunner! By the way, the Parliamentary Trade Delegation's due from Peking tomorrow. I'll entertain them Thursday you'll come of course."

"Yes sir. Will the dinner be stag?"