There was a long pause. "I'lla I'll talk to Tightfist."

"I'll talk to Tightfist too. Meanwhile I'd like to know I have your backing now."

"You've reconsidered our offer?"

"Do I have your backing, Lando? Or not."

Another pause. Mata's voice was more nervous. "I'lla I'll tell you when I see you at 10:20. Sorry, Ian, but I really must talk to Tightfist first. See you for coffee. 'Bye!"

The phone clicked off. Dunross replaced his receiver gently and muttered sweetly, "Dew neh lob mob, Lando old friend."

He thought a moment then dialed. "Mr. Bartlett please."

"No answer his phone. You want message?" the operator said.

"Please transfer me to Miss K. C. Tcholok."

"Wat?"

"Caseya Miss Casey!"

The call tone rang and Casey answered sleepily, "Hello?"

"Oh sorry, I'll call you back latera"

"Oh, Ian? Noa no, that's all right, I shoulda should have been up hours agoa" He heard her stifle a yawn. "a Jesus, I'm tired. I didn't dream that fire did I?"

"bJo. Ciranoush, I just wanted to make sure you were both all right. How're you feeling?"

"Not so hot. I think I must have stretched a few musclesa don't know if it was the laughing or throwing up. You all right?"

"Yes. So far. You haven't a temperature or anything? That's what Doc Tooley said to watch out for."

"Don't think so. I haven't seen Linc yet. Did you talk to him?"

"No there's no reply. Listen, I wanted to ask you two to cocktails, at six."

"That's lovely with me." Another yawn. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'll call you back later toa"

Again the intercom. "The governor's on line two, tai-pan. I told him you'd be at the morning meeting."

"All right. Listen, Ciranoush, cocktails at six, if not cocktails maybe late supper. I'll call later to confirm."

"Sure, Ian. And fan, thanks for calling."

"Nothing. 'Bye." Dunross stabbed line two. "Morning, sir."

"Sorry to disturb you, fan, but I need to talk to you about that awful fire," Sir Geoffrey said. "It's a miracle that more weren't lost, the minister's hopping mad about poor Sir Charles Pennyworth's death and quite furious that our security procedures allowed that to happen. The Cabinet have been informed so we can expect highlevel repercussions."

Dunross told him his idea about the kitchens for Aberdeen, pretending it was Shi-teh T'chung's.

"Excellent. Shitee's clever! That's a start. Meanwhile Robin Grey and Julian Broadhurst and the other MPs have already phoned for a meeting to protest our incompetent fire regulations. My aide said Grey was quite incensed." Sir Geoffrey sighed. "Rightly so, perhaps. In any: event that gentleman's going to stir things up nastily, if he can. I hear he's scheduled a press conference for tomorrow with Broadhurst. Now that poor Sir Charles's dead Broadburst becomes the senior member and God only knows what'll happen if those two get on their high horse about China."

"Ask the minister to muzzle them, sir."

"I did and he said, 'Good God, Geoffrey, muzzle an MP? That'd be worse than trying to set fire to Parliament itself.' It's all really very trying. My thought was that you might be able to cool Mr. Grey down. I'll seat him next to you tonight."

"I don't think that's a good idea at all, sir. The man's a lunatic."

"I quite agree, fan, but I really would appreciate it if you tried. You're the only one I'd trust. Quillan would hit him. Quillan's already phoned in a formal refusal purely because of Grey. Perhaps you could invite the fellow to the races on Saturday also?"

Dunross remembered Peter Marlowe. "Why not invite Grey and the others to your box and I'll take him over part of the time." Thank God Penn won't be here, he thought.

"Very well. Next: Roger asked me to meet you at the bank at six o'clock tomorrow."

Dunross let the silence hang.

"Ian?"

"Yes sir?"

"At six. Sinders should be there by then."

"Do you know him, sir? Personally?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I just wanted to be sure." Dunross heard the governor's silence. His tension increased.

"Good. At six. Next: Did you hear about poor John Chen?"

"Yes sir, just a few minutes ago. Rotten luck."

"I agree. Poor fellow This Werewolf mess couldn't've come at a worse time. It will surely become a cause ce'lebre for all opponents of Hong Kong. Damned nuisance, apart from the tragedy so far. Dear me, well, at least we live in interesting times with nothing but problems."

"Yes sir. Is the Victoria in trouble?" Dunross asked the question casually but he was listening intently and he heard the slightest hesitation before Sir Geoffrey said lightly, "Good Lord no! My dear fellow, what an astonishing idea! Well, thank you, Ian, everything else can wait till our meeting at noon."

"Yes sir." Dunross put the phone down and mopped his brow. That hesitation was bloody ominous, he told himself. If anyone'd know how bad things are it'd be Sir Geoffrey.

A rain squall battered the windows. So much to do. His eyes went to the clock. Linbar due now, then Sir Luis. He already decided what he wanted from the head of the stock exchange, what he must have from him. He had not mentioned it at the meeting of the Inner Court this morning. The others had soured him. All of them Jacques, Gavallan, Linbar were convinced the Victoria would support Struan's to the limit. "And if they don't?" he had asked.

"We've the Par-Con deal. It's inconceivable the Victoria won't helpl"

"If they don't?"

"Perhaps after last night Gornt won't continue to sell."

"He'll sell. What do we do?"

"Unless we can stop him or put off the Todaand Orlin payments we're in very great trouble."

We can't put off the payments, he thought again. Without the bank or Mata or Tightest even the Par-Con deal won't stop Quil- lan. Quillan knows he's got all day today and all Friday to sell and sell and sell and I can't buy ev "Master Linbar, tai-pan."

"Show him in, please." He glanced at the clock. The younger man came in and closed the door. "You're almost two minutes late."

"Oh? Sorry."

"I don't seem to be able to get through to you about punctuality. It's impossible to run sixty-three companies without executive punctuality. If it happens one more time you lose your yearly bonus."

Linbar flushed. "Sorry."

"I want you to take over our Sydney operation from Bill Foster."

Linbar Struan brightened. "Yes certainly. I'd like that. I've wanted an operation of my own for some time."

"Good. I'd like you to be on the Qantas flight tomorrow an"

"Tomorrow? Impossible!" Linbar burst out, his happiness evaporating. "It'll take me a couple of weeks to get ev"

Dunross's voice became so gentle but so slashing that Linbar Struan blanched. "I realize that, Linbar. But I want you to go there tomorrow. Stay two weeks and then come back and report to me. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand. Buta but what about Saturday? What about the races? I want to watch Noble Star run."

Dunross just looked at him. "I want you in Australia. Tomorrow. Foster's failed to get possession of Woolara Properties. Without Woolara we've no charterer for our ships. Without the charterer our present banking arrangements are null and void. You've two weeks to correct that fiasco and report back."

"And if I don't?" Linbar said, enraged.

"For chrissake don't waste time! You know the answer to that. If you fail you'll no longer be in the Inner Court. And if you're not on that plane tomorrow you're out of Struan's as long as I'm taipan."

Linbar Struan started to say something but changed his mind.

"Good," Dunross said. "If you succeed with Woolara your sal- ary's doubled."

Linbar Struan just stared back at him. "Anything else? Sir?"

"No. Good morning, Linbar."

Linbar nodded and strode out. When the door was closed Dunross allowed himself the shadow of a smile. "Cocky young bastard," he muttered and got up and went to the window again, feeling closed in, wanting to be out in a speedboat or, better, in his car, racing the corners just too fast, pushing the car and himself just a little harder each lap to cleanse his head. Absently he straightened a picture and watched the raindrops, deep in thought, saddened by John Chen.

A globulet fell a wet obstacle course and vanished to be replaced by another and another. There was still no view and the rain pelted down.

His private phone jangled into life.

"Yes, Penn?" he said.

A strange voice said, "Mr. Dunross?"

"Yes. Who's this?" he asked, startled, unable to place the man's voice or his accent.

"My name is Kirk, Jamie Kirk, Mr. Dunross. I'm, er, I'm a friend of Mr. Grant, Mr. Alan Medford Granta" Dunross almost dropped the phone. "a Hello? Mr. Dunross?"

"Yes, please go on." Dunross was over his shock now. AMG was one of the few who had been given this number and he had known it was to be used only in emergencies and never passed on except for a very special reason. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm, er, from London; Scotland actually. Alan told me to call you as soon as I got to Hong Kong. He, er, gave me your number. I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

"No, not at all, Mr. Kirk."

"Alan gave me a package for you, and he also wanted me to talk to you. My, er, my wife and I are in Hong Kong for three days so I, er, I wondered if we could meet."

"Of course. Where are you staying?" he asked calmly, though his heart was racing.

"At the Nine Dragons in Kowloon, room 455."

"When did you last see Alan, Mr. Kirk?"

"When we left London. That was, er, two weeks ago now. Yes, two weeks to the day. We've, er, we've been to Singapore and Indonesia. Why?"

"Would after lunch be convenient? Sorry but I'm jammed till 3:20. I could see you then if that would be satisfactory."

"3:20 will be fine."

"I'll send a car for you an"

"Oh there's, or, there's no need for that. We can find our way to your office."

"It's no trouble. A car will call for you at 2:30."

Dunross replaced the phone, lost in thought.

The clock chimed 8:45. A knock. Claudia opened the door. "Sir Luis Basilio, tai-pan."

Johnjohn at the Victoria Bank was shouting into the phone. "a I don't give a sod what you bastards in London think, I'm telling you we've got the beginnings of a run here and it looks very smelly indeed. Ia What? Speak up, man! We've got a rotten connectiona What?a I couldn't care less that it's 1:30 in the morning where the hell were you anyway I've been trying to get you for four hours!a What?a Whose birthday? Christ almightya" His sandy eyebrows soared and he held on to his temper. "Listen, just get down to the City and the Mint very first bloody thing and tell thema Hello?a Yes, tell them this whole bloody island may run out of money anda Hello?a Hello?a Oh for chrissake!" He started jiggling the plunger up and down. "llellol" Then he slammed the receiver onto its cradle, cursed for a moment, then prodded the intercom button. "Miss Mills, I was cut off, please get him back quickly as you can."

"Certainly," the cool, very English voice said. "Mr. Dunross's here."

Johnjohn glanced at his watch and whitened. It was 9:33. "Oh Christ! Holda yes, hold the call. I'lla" Hurriedly he put the phone down, rushed to the door, composed himself and opened it with forced nonchalance. "My dear Ian, so sorry to keep you waiting. How're things?"

"Fine. And with you?"

"Marvelous!"

"Marvelous? That's interesting. There must be six or seven hundred impatient customers queuing up outside already and you're half an hour to opening time. There're even a few outside Blacs."

"More than a fewa" Johnjohn just caught himself in time. "Nothing to worry about, Ian. Would you like coffee or shall we go straight up to Paul's office."

"Paul's office."