Noble House

"Yes. I hope my being a woman won't upset things too much."
"Oh yes it will, very much. But we'll try to accommodate the problem. Would you and Mr. Bartlett care to be my guests at the races on Saturday? Lunch and all that?"
"I think that would be lovely. But I have to check with Line— may I confirm this afternoon?"
"Of course." He looked down at her. She looked back. The doorman still held the door open.
"Well, come along, Miss Tcholok, and let battle commence."
She glanced at him quickly. "Why should we battle? We're here to do business."
"Oh yes, of course. Sorry, it's just a Sam Ackroyd saying. I'll explain another time." He ushered her in and headed for the bank of elevators. The many people already lined up and waiting immediately moved aside for them to get into the first elevator, to Casey's embarrassment.
"Thanks," Dunross said, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. He guided her in, pressed 20, the top button, noticing absently that she wore no perfume or jewelry, just a thin gold chain around her neck.
"Why's the front door at an angle?" she asked.
"Sorry?"
"The front entrance seems to be on a slight tilt—it's not quite straight—I was wondering why."
"You're very observant. The answer is fungsui. When the building was put up four years ago, somehow or other we forgot to consult our house fungsui man. He's like an astrologer, a man who specializes in heaven, earth, water currents and devils, that sort of thing, and makes sure you're building on the Earth Dragon's back and not on his head."
"What?"
"Oh yes. You see every building in the whole of China's on some part of the Earth Dragon. To be on his back's perfect, but if you're on his head it's very bad, and terrible if you're on his eyeball. Anyway, when we did get around to asking, our fung sui man said we were on the Dragon's back—thank God, otherwise we'd've had to move—but that devils were getting in the door and this was what was causing all the trouble. He advised me to reposition the door, and so, under his direction we changed the angle and now the devils are all deflected."
She laughed. "Now tell me the real reason."
"Fung sui. We had very bad joss here—bad luck—rotten in fact until the door was changed." His face hardened momentarily then the shadow passed. "The moment we changed the angle, everything became good again."
"You're telling me you really believe that? Devils and dragons?"
"I believe none of it. But you learn the hard way when you're in China that it's best to act a little Chinese. Never forget that though Hong Kong's British it's still China."
"Did you learn th—"
The elevator stopped and opened on a paneled hallway and a desk and a neat, efficient Chinese receptionist. Her eyes priced Casey's clothes and jewelry instantly.
Cow, Casey thought, reading her loud and clear, and smiled back as sweetly.
"Morning, tai-pan," the receptionist said smoothly.
"Mary, this is Miss K. C. Tcholok. Please show her into Mr. Struan's office."
"Oh but—" Mary Li tried to cover her shock. "They're, they're waiting for a…" She picked up the phone but he stopped her. "Just show her in. Now. No need to announce her." He turned back to Casey and smiled. "You're launched. I'll see you shortly."
"Yes, thanks. See you."
"Please follow me, Miss Tchuluck," Mary Li said and started down the hall, her chong-sam tight and slit high on her thighs, long silk-stockinged legs and saucy walk. Casey watched her for a moment. It must be the cut that makes their walk so blatantly sexual, she thought, amused by such obviousness. She glanced at Dunross and raised an eyebrow.
He grinned. "See you later, Miss Tcholok."
"Please call me Casey."
"Perhaps I'd prefer Kamalian Ciranoush."
She gaped at him. "How do you know my names? I doubt if even Line remembers."
"Ah, it pays to have friends in high places, doesn't it?" he said with a smile. "A bientot. "
"Out, merci," she replied automatically.
He strode for the elevator opposite and pressed the button. The doors opened instantly and closed after him.
Thoughtfully Casey walked after Mary Li who was waiting, ears still tuned for every nuance.
Inside the elevator Dunross took out a key and inserted it into the lock and twisted it. Now the elevator was activated. It serviced the top two floors only. He pressed the lower button. Only three other persons had similar keys: Claudia Chen, his executive-secre-tary; his personal secretary, Sandra Yi; and his Number One Houseboy, Lim Chu.
The twenty-first floor contained his private offices, and the Inner Court boardroom. The twenty-second, the penthouse, was the tai-pan's personal suite. And he alone had the key to the last private elevator that connected the basement garage directly with the penthouse.
"Ian," his predecessor tai-pan, Alastair Struan, had said when he handed over the keys after Phillip Chen had left them, "your privacy's the most valuable thing you have. That too Dirk Struan laid down in his legacy and how wise he was! Never forget, the private lifts aren't for luxury or ostentation, any more than the tai-pan's suite is. They're there just to give you the measure of secrecy you'll need, perhaps even a place to hide yourself. You'll understand better after you've read the legacy and been through the tai-pan's safe. Guard that safe with all you've got. You can't be too careful, there's lots of secrets there—too many I think sometimes—and some are not so pretty."
"I hope I won't fail," he had said politely, detesting his cousin, his excitement huge that at long last he had the prize he had worked so hard to achieve and gambled so much for.
"You won't. Not you," the old man had said tautly. "You've been tested, and you've wanted the job ever since you could think. Eh?"
"Yes," Dunross had said. "I've tried to train for it. Yes. I'm only surprised you've given it to me."
"You're being given the ultimate in Struan's not because of your birthright—that only made you eligible for the Inner Court—but because I think you're the best we've got to follow me, and you've been conniving and pushing and shoving for years. That's the truth, isn't it?"
"Struan's needs changing. Let's have more truth: The Noble House is in a mess. It's not all your fault, there was the war, then Korea, then Suez—you've had bad joss for several years. It'll take years to make us safe. If Quillan Gornt—or any one of twenty enemies—knew half the truth, knew how far we're overextended, we'd be drowned in our own useless paper within the week."
"Our paper's good—it's not useless! You're exaggerating—as usual!"
"It's worth twenty cents on the dollar because we've insufficient capital, not enough cash flow and we're absolutely in mortal danger."
"Rubbish!"
"Is it?" Dunross's voice had sharpened for the first time. "Roth-well-Gornt could swallow us in a month if they knew the value of our present accounts receivable, against our pressing liabilities."
The old man had just stared at him without answering. Then he said, "It's a temporary condition. Seasonable and temporary."
"Rubbish! You know very well you're giving me the job because I'm the only man who can clean up the mess you leave, you, my father, and your brother."
"Aye, I'm gambling you can. That's true enough," Alastair had flared at him. "Aye. You've surely got the right amount of Devil Struan in your blood to serve that master if you've a mind."
"Thank you. I admit I'll let nothing stand in my way. And since this is a night for truth, I can tell you why you've always hated me, why my own father has also hated me."
"Can you now?"
"Yes. It's because I survived the war and your son didn't and your nephew, Linbar, the last of your branch of the Struan's, is a nice lad but useless. Yes, I survived but my poor brothers didn't, and that's still sending my father around the bend. It's the truth, isn't it?"