When he was alone the governor sighed. He thought a moment then picked up the special phone and gave the operator the minister's private number in London.

"This is Geoffrey Allison. Is he in please?"

"Hello, Geoffrey!"

"Hello, sir. I've just seen Roger. He assures me that the hiding place and Dunross will be completely guarded. Is Mr. Sinders en route?"

"He'll be there on Friday. I presume there have been no repercussions from that seaman's unfortunate accident?"

"No sir. Everything seems to be under control."

"The P.M. was most concerned."

"Yes sir." The governor added, "About the 14aa perhaps we shouldn't mention anything to our friends, yet."

"I've already heard from them. They were distressingly irritated. So were our fellows. All right, Geoffrey. Fortunately it's a long weekend this week so I'll inform them Monday and draft his reprimand then."

"Thank you, sir."

"Geoffrey, that American senator you have with you at the moment. I think he should be guided."

The governor frowned. Guided was a code word between them, meaning "watched very carefully." Senator Wilf Tillman, a presidential hopeful, was visiting Hong Kong en route to Saigon for a well-publicized fact-finding mission.

"I'll take care of it as soon as I'm off the phone. Was there anything else, sir?" he asked, impatient now to bathe.

"No, just give me a private minute on what the senator's program has been." Program was another code which meant to furnish the Colonial Office with detailed information. "When you've time."

"I'll have it on your desk Friday."

"Thank you, Geoffrey. We'll chat at the usual time tomorrow." The line went dead.

The governor replaced the phone thoughtfully. Their conversation would have been electronically scrambled and, at either end, unscrambled. Even so, they were guarded. They knew the enemy had the most advanced and sophisticated eavesdropping equipment in the world. For any really classified conversation or meeting he would go to the permanently guarded, concrete, cell-like room in the basement that was meticulously rechecked by security experts for possible electronic bugs every week.

Bloody nuisance, Sir Geoffrey thought. Bloody nuisance all this cloak-and-dagger stuftl Roger? Unthinkable, even so, once there was Philby.

25 - 6:20 P.M.:.

Captain Gregor Suslev waved jauntily to the police at the dockyard gates in Kowloon, his two plainclothes detectives fifty yards in tow. He was dressed in well-cut civilians and he stood by the curb a moment watching the traffic, then hailed a passing taxi. The taxi took off and a small gray Jaguar with Sergeant Lee, CID, and another plainclothes CID man driving, followed smartly.

The taxi went along Chatham Road in the usual heavy traffic, southward, skirting the railway line, then turned west along Salisbury Road on the southmost tip of Kowloon, passing the railway terminus, near the Golden Ferry Terminal. There it stopped. Suslev paid it off and ran up the steps of the Victoria and Albert Hotel. Sergeant Lee followed him as the other detective parked the police lag.

Suslev walked with an easy stride and he stood for a moment in the immense, crowded foyer with its high ceilings, lovely and or- nate, and old-fashioned electric fans overhead, and looked for an empty table among the multitude of tables. The whole room was alive with the clink of ice in cocktail glasses and conversation. Mostly Europeans. A few Chinese couples. Suslev wandered through the people, found a table, loudly ordered a double vodka, sat and began to read his paper. Then the girl was standing near him.

"Hello," she said. - "Ginny, doragayal" he said with a great beam and hugged her, lifting her off her little feet to the shocked disapproval of every woman in the place and the covert envy of every man. "It's been a long time, golubchik"

"Ayeeyah, " she said with a toss of her head, her short hair danc ing, and sat down, conscious of the stares, enjoying them, hating them. "You late. Wat for you keep me wait? A lady no like wait in Victoria by her self, heyal"

"You're right, golubchiLl " Suslev pulled out a slim package and gave it to her with another beam. "Here, all the way from Vladivostok!"

"Oh! How thank you?" Ginny Fu was twenty-eight and most nights she worked at the Happy Drinkers Bar in an alley off Mong Kok, half a mile or so to the north. Some nights she went to the Good Luck Ballroom. Most days she would pinch-hit for her friends behind the counter of tiny shops within shops when they were with a client. White teeth and jet eyes and jet hair and golden skin, her gaudy chong-sam slit high on her long, stockinged thighs. She looked at the present excitedly. "Oh thank, Gregor, thank very much!" She put it in her large purse and grinned at him. Then her eyes went to the waiter who was strolling up with Suslev's vodka along with the smug, open contempt reserved by all Chinese for all young Chinese women who sat with quad loin. They must of course be third-class whores who else would sit with a quad lob in a public place, particularly in the foyer of the Vic? He set down the drink with practiced insolence and stared back at her.

"Dew neh lob mob on all your pig-swill ancestors," she hissed in gutter Cantonese. "My husband here is a 489 in the police and if I say the word he'll have those insignificant peanuts you call your balls crushed off your loathsome body an hour after you leave work tonight!"

- The waiter blanched. "Eh?"

"Hot tea! Bring me fornicating hot tea and if you spit in it I'll get my husband to put a knot in that straw you call your stalk!"

The waiter fled.

"What did you say to him?" Suslev asked, understanding only a few words of Cantonese, though his English was very good.

Ginny Fu smiled sweetly. "I just ask him bring tea." She knew the waiter would automatically spit in her tea now, or more probably, for safety, get a friend to do it for him, so she would not drink it and thus cause him to lose even more face. Dirty dog bone! "Next time no like meet here, lotsa nasty peoples," she said imperiously, looking around, then crinkled her nose at a group of middle-aged Englishwomen who were staring at her. "Too much body stinky," she added loudly, tossing her hair again, and chortled to herself seeing them flush and look away. "This gift, Gregy. Thank so very!"

"Nothing," Suslev said. He knew she would not open the gift now or in front of him which was very good, sensible Chinese man- ners. Then, if she did not like the gift or was disappointed or cursed aloud that what~'was given was the wrong size, or wrong color, or at the miserliness of the giver or bad taste or whatever, then he could not lose face and she could not lose face. "Very sensible!"

"Wat?"

"Nothing."

"You looks good."

"You too." It was three months since his last visit and though his mistress in Vladivostok was a Eurasian with a White Russian mother and Chinese father, he enjoyed Ginny Fu.

"Gregy," she said, then dropped her voice, her smile saucy. "Finish drink. We begin holiday! I got vodkaa I got other things!"

He smiled back at her. "That you have, golubchiLl"

"How many day you got?"

"At least three buta"

"Oh!" She tried to hide her disappointment.

"a I'm back and forth to my ship. We've tonight, most of it, and tomorrow and all tomorrow night. And the stars will shine!"

"Three month long time, Gregy."

"I'll be back soon."

"Yes." Ginny Fu put away her disappointment and became pragmatic again. "Finish drink and we begin!" She saw the waiter hurrying with her tea. Her eyes ground into the man as he put it down. "Huh! Clearly it's cold and not fresh!" she said disgustedly. "Who am I! A dirty lump of foreign devil dogmeat? No, I'm a civilized person from the Four Provinces who, because her rich father gambled away all his money, was sold by him into concubinage to become Number Two Wife for this chief of police of the foreign devilsl So go piss in your hat!" She got up.

The waiter backed off a foot.

"What's up?" Suslev asked.

"Don't pay for teas, Gregy. Not hot!" she said imperiously. "No give tip!"

Nonetheless Suslev paid and she took his arm and they walked out together, eyes following them. Her head was high, but inside she hated the looks from all the Chinese, even the young, starched bellboy who opened the door the image of her youngest brother whose life and schooling she paid for.

Dunross was coming up the steps. He waited for them to pass by, an amused glint in his eyes, then he was bowed in politely by the beaming bellboy. He headed through the throng for the house phone. Many noticed him at once and eyes followed him. He walked around a group of tourists, camera bedecked, and noticed Jacques deVille and his wife Susanne at a corner table. Both were set-faced, staring at their drinks. He shook his head, wearily amused. Poor old Jacques has been caught again and she's twisting his infidelity in its well-worn wound. Joss! He could almost hear old Chen-chen laugh. "Man's life is to suffer, young fan! Yes, it's the eternal yin warring on our oh so vulnerable yanga"

Normally Dunross would have pretended not to notice them, leaving them to their privacy, but some instinct told him otherwise.

"Hello, Jacques Susanne. How're things7"

"Oh hello, hello, tai-pan." Jacques deVille got up politely. "Would you care to join us?"

"No thanks, can't." Then he saw the depth of his friend's agony and he remembered the car accident in France. Jacques's daughter Avril and her husband! "What's happened? Exactly!" Dunross said it as a leader would say it, requiring an instant answer.

Jacques hesitated. Then he said, "Exactly, tai-pan: I heard from Avril. She phoned from Cannes just as I was leaving the office. She, she said, 'Daddya Daddy, gorge's deada Can you hear met I've been trying to reach you for two daysa it was head-on, and the, the other man wasa My gorge's deada can you hear mea' " Jacques's voice was flat. "Then the line went dead. We know she's in the hospital at Cannes. I thought it best for Susanne to go at once. Her, her flight's delayed soa so we're just waiting here. They're trying to get a call through to Cannes but I don't hope for much."

"Christ, I'm so sorry," Dunross said, trying to dismiss the twinge that had rushed through him as his mind had substituted Adryon for Avril. Avril was just twenty and Borge Escary a fine young man. They had been married just a year and a half and this was their first holiday after the birth of a son. "What time's the flight?"

"Eight o'clock now."

"Susanne, would you like us to look after the baby? Jacques, why not get on the flight I'll take care of everything here."

"No," Jacques said. "Thanks but no. It's best that Susanne go. She'll bring Avril home."

"Yes," Susanne said, and Dunross noticed that she seemed to have sagged. "We have the amabsa it's best just me, tai-pan. Merck but no, this way is best." A spill of tears went down her cheeks. "It's not~fair is it? Borge was so nice a boy!"

"Yes. Susanne, I'll get Penn to go over daily so don't worry, we'll make sure the babe's fine and Jacques too." Dunross weighed them both. He was confident that Jacques was well in control. Good, he thought. Then he said as an order, "Jacques, when Susanne's safely on the flight go back to the office. Telex our man in Marseilles. Get him to arrange a suite at the Capitol, to meet her with a car and ten thousand dollars worth of francs. Tell him from me he's to be at her beck and call as long as she's there. He's to call me tomorrow with a complete report on Avril, the accident, who was driving and who the other driver was."

"Yes, tai-pan."

"You sure you're all right?"

Jacques forced a smile. "Out. Merck more amt."

"Rie~ I'm so sorry, Susanne call collect if we can do anything. " He walked away. Our man in Marseilles is good, he thought. He'll take care of everything. And Jacques's a man of iron. Have I covered everything? Yes, I think so. It's dealt with for the moment.

God protect Adryon and Glenna and Duncan and Penn, he thought. And Kathy, and all the others. And me until the Noble House is inviolate. He glanced at his watch. It was exactly 6:3Q He picked up a house phone. "Mr. Bartlett, please." A moment, then he heard Casey's voice.

"Hello?"

"Ah, hello, Ciranoush," Dunross said. "Would you tell him I'm in the lobby."

"Oh hello, sure! Would you like to come up? We're"

"Why don't you come down? I thought, if you're not too busy I'd take you on my next appointment it might be interesting for you. We could eat afterwards, if you're free."

"I'd love that. Let me check."

He heard her repeat what he had said and he wondered, very much, about his bet with Claudia. Impossible that those two aren't lovers, he thought, or haven't been lovers, living so close together. Wouldn't be natural!

"We'll be right down, tai-pan!" He heard the smile in her voice as he hung up.

The Most High Headwaiter was hovering beside him now, waiting for the rare honor of seating the tai-pan. He had been summoned by the Second Headwaiter the moment the news had arrived that Dunross had been seen approaching the front door. His name was Afternoon Pok and he was gray-haired, majestic, and ruled this shift with a bamboo whip.

"Ah Honored Lord, this is a pleasure," the old man said in Cantonese with a deferential bow. "Have you eaten rice today?" This was the polite way of saying good-day or good evening or how are you in Chinese.

"Yes, thank you, Elder Brother," Dunross replied. He had known Afternoon Pok most of his life. As long as he could remember, Afternoon Pok had been the headwaiter in the foyer from noon till six, and many times when Dunross was young, sent on an errand here, sore from a whipping or cuffing, the old man would seat him in a corner table, slip him a pastry, tap him kindly on the head and never give him a bill. "You're looking prosperous!"

"Thank you, tai-pan. Oh, you are looking very healthy too! But you've still only one son! Don't you think it's time your revered Chief Wife found you a second wife?"

They smiled together. "Please follow me," the old man said im- portantly and led the way to the choice table that had miraculously appeared in a spacious, favored place acquired by four energetic waiters who had squeezed other guests and the tables out of the way. Now they stood, almost at attention, all beaming.

"Your usual, sir?" the wine waiter asked. "I've a bottle of the 'S2."

"Perfect," Dunross said, knowing this would be the La Doucette that he enjoyed so much. He would have preferred tea but it was a matter of face to accept the wine. The bottle was already there in an ice bucket. "I'm expecting Mr. Bartlett and Miss Tcholok.' Another waiter went at once to wait for them at the elevator.

"If there's anything you need, please call me." Afternoon Pok bowed and walked off, every waiter in the foyer nervously conscious of him. Dunross sat down and noticed Peter and Fleur Marlowe trying to control two pretty, boisterous girls of four and eight and he sighed and thanked God his daughters were past that age. As he sipped the wine approvingly, he saw old Willie Tusk look over at him and wave. He waved back.

When he was a boy he used to come over from Hong Kong three or four times a week with business orders for Tusk from old Sir Ross Struan, Alastair's father or, more likely, they were orders from his own father who, for years, had run the foreign division of the Noble House. Occasionally Tusk would service the Noble House in areas of his expertise anything to do with getting anything out of Thailand, Burma or Malaya and shipping it anywhere, with just a little hteungyau and his standard trading fee of 7ki percent.

"What's the half percent for, Uncle Tusk?" he remembered asking one day, peering up at the man he now towered over.

"That's what I call my dollymoney, young Ian."

"What's dollymoney?"

"That's a little extra for your pocket to give away to dollies, to ladies of your choice."

"But why do you give money to ladies?"

"Well that's a long story, laddie."

Dunross smiled to himself. Yes, a very long story. That part of his education had had various teachers, some good, some very good and some bad. Old Uncle Chen-chen had arranged for his first mistress when he was fourteen.

"Oh do you really mean it, Uncle Chen-chen?"

"Yes, but you're not to tell anyone or your father will have my guts for garters! Huh," the lovely old man had continued, "your father should have arranged it, or asked me to arrange it but never mind. Now wh"

"But when do I, when do Ia oh are you sure? I mean how, how much doll pay and when, Uncle Chen-chen? When? I mean before or, or after or when? That's what I don't know."

"You don't know lots! You still don't know when to talk and when not to talk! How can I instruct you if you talk? Have I all day?"

"No sir."

"Eeeee," old Chen-chen had said with that huge smile of his, "eeeee, but how lucky you are! Your first time in a Gorgeous Gorge! It will be the first time, won't it? Tell the truth!"

"Era well er er wella er, yes."

"Good!"