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Lieutenant Piet van der Haan was careful to hide his smile. As divisional intelligence officer, he spoke Kikuyu perfectly.

Jardine Matheson House, Thanon Witthayu, Bangkok, Thailand

“And so, Madam Ambassador, I would like to formally welcome you to the new headquarters of Jardine Matheson. We’re up and running as the formal headquarters of the Princely Hong as of today. All our key staff and all our records are here. Our agents and clients know that this is where the decisions are made. All the other Hongs are either already here or following. By the end of the year, there’ll be nothing left in Hong Kong except empty buildings.” Simon Keswick hesitated; leaving anything behind for the Japanese upset him. “I wish we could bring them over too.”

“Have you somewhere comfortable to live?” Suriyothai well understood how valuable this alliance would be and it had to work. As much depended on this as it had on the war in Indochina.

“A very fine household, rented on a 99-year lease. And the accommodations you have found for our Chinese staff are more than acceptable. You have worked hard for us, Madam, and your efforts are appreciated. As are those of your army.” Keswick spoke the latter with a dry sense of humor.

The Japanese Fifth Division wouldn’t be capable of doing anything other than rebuild itself. Another division would have to be moved to Indochina to replace it. That meant the planned operation against Hong Kong would be delayed for months. The time so bought had been invaluable in making an orderly move. “I am sure Swire, Hutchinson-Whampoa, HSBC and all the other Hongs will be equally appreciative. It is a pity Lloyds of London have chosen to center their international operations on Bombay, but they were already established there…”

The Ambassador looked out the window at Thanom Witthayu and the construction work going on. The canal down the center had been filled in and the road turned into a modern, hard-surfaced, divided highway to join the city’s administrative center with the explosively growing international business area here. Across the street, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank had its ‘headquarters’ in a dilapidated wooden house. They had gone to great lengths to be the second Hong to make Bangkok its home. Next to that existing building, foundations for their new office block were already being poured.

Less than a year into the great revolution she had planned and already her city was being fundamentally changed. The buildings going up were a symbol of that. Once, at six stories, this office building had been the largest in the city. It would be dwarfed by the new ones going up along Thanom Witthayu and Thanom Sukhumvit. Already, Jardine Matheson were planning a new and much larger headquarters. Phillip is right; we are going to need a lot of cement.

There was a copy of the latest issue of Life magazine on the conference room table. The cover picture had been taken by Robert Capa. It showed a Thai infantry sergeant bayoneting a Japanese officer. Capa had caught the moment perfectly. The sergeant was in a classically perfect bayonet thrust. The long blade transfixed the officer; its end clearly visible beyond the man’s back. The officer was arching backwards from the force of the thrust; his cap hurled from his head and his sword flying through the air. The caption ‘Japan Meets Its Match’ was, in the Ambassador’s opinion, premature. But, Life hadn’t had access to the long casualty lists from the 11th Infantry to temper its judgement when the front page had been set.

“You kept your promise, Highness.” Keswick looked at the picture also. “All your promises. Your Army fought better than anybody expected. But, I do not think that sergeant will sleep well for many nights to come.”

“You are not concerned about our new Prime Minister?” The change in government had been politically essential, but she was worried about the effects it might have on the business community.

“Khun Pridi? Not at all. He is a good and honest man, an excellent Prime Minister. And one who knows his duty.”

The Ambassador and the Taipan smiled at each other. As always, they understood each other perfectly.

Room 208, Munitions Building, Washington, DC, USA

“I know Pridi. A good man, he studied law at the Sorbonne.”

Cordell Hull was ready to acknowledge the merits of a fellow-lawyer. The result of the elections and the ensuing peaceful transfer of power from the National to the Democratic Party had surprised him. He had honestly expected the National Party to win a massive majority, even without rigging the results. That it had not done so forced him to admit that he had seen everything he could have wished, a democratic government, the Japanese defeated and their allies driven back. The situation in the region had been stabilized; temporarily, at least. Even more importantly, with its back door protected, the Indians had felt secure enough to turn a blind eye to the supplies being shipped into Rangoon and then sent to China via the Ledo Road.

“Very progressive in economic matters.” Henry Morgenthau echoed Hull’s feelings. “I have their initial list of proposed purchases from the line of credit we are extending to them. Almost all civilian-sector industrial development. New power stations figure prominently. They want an asphalt plant for road construction and a new University. The University of Chicago has been approached to partner with them and set up their courses. They are also asking us for funding to set up an institute to research and develop snakebite antitoxins.”

“No military equipment?” Stimson was curious.

“Some. Biggest item is 24 DB-7C torpedo bombers for a new naval air arm. They’re the same as the ones the Dutch ordered for the East Indies. Otherwise, they are ordering some more tanks in addition to the M2 lights.”

“Which ones?” Stimson was worried about that. The U.S. Army was desperately short of tanks itself. Even losing a hundred of the obsolete M2s had been a painful blow to an army that was frantically trying to mechanize.

“They want enough M3 medium tanks to equip a battalion.”

Stimson sucked his teeth. He didn’t think much of the M3 design; it was an interim product until a better vehicle was designed, but it was the only medium in prospect for a while. “We’ll have to take that under advisement. The DB-7Cs won’t be a problem. Anything else?”

“Artillery. They want our 105s.”

“So do we. We can ship them surplus French 75s instead. That it?”

“They want more fighters in the longer term; they’re asking about Republic P-44s or Bell P-39s. But they say that can wait, since they have problems absorbing the new aircraft they have. There’s another thing coming up. We’re picking up rumors that the Dutch East Indies, Australia and India are all being approached by Japan for supplies. Oil, rice, food, iron ore and so on. And those countries are responding. Viewed objectively, they don’t have much choice of course. They can’t sell to anybody else and Japan can’t buy from anybody else. Good question whether it’s a buyer’s or seller’s market. But, Cordell, we’re going to have to admit that any trade embargo we mount against Japan is going to be very leaky.”

“Have you read the reports we got from that battle on the Mekong?”

Stimson shook his head in disbelief at what he had read. He had a copy of Life magazine in his briefcase. The article on the battle, illustrated by Capa’s stark pictures, had shocked him. “We’ve had a lot of reports back from China, but nothing like this. This is the first time we’ve seen the Japanese defending against a counterattack from a modern army. The Japanese simply didn’t retreat and they didn’t give up. They had to be killed in their foxholes, one by one. We haven’t seen that in China, probably because the Japanese haven’t faced a defeat of this scale there, but the reports are chilling. They took no prisoners; they just killed anybody who tried to surrender, including their own people. Not that they had much occasion to do the latter. Their infantry just didn’t surrender. No quarter given or taken, even when they faced flamethrowers. Towards the end, they’d been driven back on to a spit of land with no way out. The survivors just kept charging the Thai positions until they were gunned down. We’re going to have to accept that if we go to war with them, it will be bloody.”