Noble House

"Yes," Alastair Struan had said. "Aye, I'm afraid it is."
"I'm not afraid it is. I'm not afraid of anything. Granny Dunross saw to that."
"Heya, tai-pan," Claudia Chen said brightly as the elevator door opened. She was a jolly, gray-haired Eurasian woman in her mid-sixties, and she sat behind a huge desk that dominated the twenty-first-floor foyer. She had served the Noble House for forty-two years and succeeding tai-pans, exclusively, for twenty-five of them. "Neh hoh mah?" How're you?
"Ho ho," he replied absently. Good. Then in English, "Did Bart-lett call?"
"No." She frowned. "He's not expected until lunch. Do you want me to try to reach him?"
"No, never mind. What about my call to Foster in Sydney?"
"That's not through either. Or your call to Mr. MacStruan in Edinburgh. Something's troubling you?" she asked, having instantly sensed his mood.
"What? Oh, no, nothing." He threw off his tension and walked past her desk into his office that overlooked the harbor and sat in an easy chair beside the phone. She closed the door and sat down nearby, her notepad ready.
"I was just remembering my D Day," he said. "The day I took over."
"Oh. Joss, tai-pan."
"Yes."
"Joss," she repeated, "and a long time ago."
He laughed. "Long time? It's forty lifetimes. It's barely three years but the whole world's changed and it's going so fast. What's the next couple of years going to be like?"
"More of the same, tai-pan. I hear you met Miss Casey Tcholok at our front door."
"Eh, who told you that?" he asked sharply.
"Great good God, tai-pan, I can't reveal my sources. But I heard you stared at her and she stared at you. Heya?"
"Nonsense! Who told you about her?"
"Last night I called the hotel to see that everything was all right. The manager told me. Do you know that silly man was going to be 'overbooked'? Huh, if they share a suite or a bed or don't, never mind I told him. This is 1963 and the modern age with lots of liberations, and anyway it's a fine suite with two entrances and separate rooms and most important they're our guests." She chortled. "I pulled a little rank. . . . Ayeeyah, power is a pretty toy."
"Did you tell young Linbar or the others, about K. C. being female?"
"No. No one. I knew you knew. Barbara Chen told me Master John had already phoned you about Casey Tcholok. What's she like?"
"Beddable would be one word," he said and grinned.
"Yes—but what else?"
Dunross thought a moment. "She's very attractive, very well dressed—though subdued today, for our benefit I imagine. Very confident and very observant—she noticed the front door was out of whack and asked about it." He picked up an ivory paper knife and toyed with it. "John didn't like her at all. He said he'd bet she was one of those pathetic American women who're like California fruit: great to look at, with plenty of body, but no taste whatsoever!"
"Poor Master John, much as he likes America, he does prefer certain, er, aspects of Asia!"
Dunross laughed. "How clever a negotiator she is we'll soon find out." He smiled. "I sent her in unannounced."
"I'll wager 50 HK at least one of them knew in advance she was a she."
"Phillip Chen of course—but that old fox wouldn't tell the others. A hundred says neither Linbar, Jacques or Andrew Gavallan knew."
"Done," Claudia said happily. "You can pay me now, tai-pan. I checked very discreetly, this morning."
"Take it out of petty cash," he told her sourly.
"So sorry." She held out her hand. "A bet is a bet, tai-pan."
Reluctantly he gave her the red one-hundred-dollar note.
"Thank you. Now, a hundred says Casey Tcholok will walk all over Master Linbar, Master Jacques and Andrew Gavallan."
"What do you know?" he asked her suspiciously. "Eh?"
"A hundred?"
"All right."
"Excellent!" she said briskly, changing the subject. "What about the dinners for Mr. Bartlett? The golf match and the trip to Taipei? Of course, you can't take a woman along on those. Shall I cancel them?"
"No. I'll talk to Bartlett—he'll understand. I did invite her to Saturday's races though, with him."
"Oh, that's two too many. I'll cancel the Pangs, they won't mind. Do you want to sit them together at your table?"
Dunross frowned. "She should be at my table, guest of honor, and sit him next to Penelope, guest of honor."
"Very well. I'll call Mrs. Dunross and tell her. Oh and Barbara —Master John's wife—wants to talk with you." Claudia sighed and smoothed a crease in her neat dark blue chong-sam. "Master John didn't come back last night—not that that's anything out of the ordinary. But it's 10:10 now and I can't find him either. It seems he wasn't at Morning Prayers."
"Yes, I know. Since he dealt with Bartlett last night I told him to skip them." Morning Prayers was the jocular way that insiders in Struan's referred to the daily obligatory 8:00 A.M. meeting with the tai-pan of all managing directors of all Struan's subsidiaries. "No need for him to come today, there's nothing for him to do until lunch." Dunross pointed out of the window at the harbor. "He's probably on his boat. It's a great day for a sail."
"Her temperature's very high, tai-pan, even for her."
.
"Her temperature's always high, poor bugger! John's on his boat —or at Ming-li's flat. Did you try her flat?"
She sniffed. "Your father used to say a closed mouth catches no wee beasties. Even so, I suppose I can tell you now, Ming-li's been Number Two Girl Friend for almost two months. The new favorite calls herself Fragrant Flower, and she occupies one of his 'private flats' off Aberdeen Main Road."
"Ah, conveniently near his mooring!"
"Oh very yes. She's a flower all right, a Fallen Flower from the Good Luck Dragon Dance Hall in Wanchai. But she doesn't know where Master John is either. He didn't visit either of them though he had a date with Miss Fallen Flower, so she says, at midnight."
"How did you find out all this?" he asked, filled with admiration.
"Power, tai-pan—and a network of relations built up over five generations. How else do we survive, heya?" She chuckled. "Of course if you want a little real scandal, John Chen doesn't know she wasn't the virgin she and the broker claimed she was when he first pillowed her."
"Eh?"
"No. He paid the broker . . ." One of the phones rang and she picked it up and said "Please hold one moment," clicked on the hold button and continued happily in the same breath, ". . . 500 cash, U.S. dollars, but all her tears and all the, er, evidence, was a pretend. Poor fellow, but it serves him right, eh, tai-pan? What should a man like him at his age want virginity to nourish the yang for—he's only forty-two, heya?" She pressed the on connection. "Tai-pan's office, good morning," she said attentively.
He watched her. He was amused and bemused, astounded as always at her sources of information, pithy and otherwise, and her delight in knowing secrets. And passing them on. But only to clan members and special insiders.
"Just one moment please." She clicked the hold button. "Superintendent Armstrong would like to see you. He's downstairs with Superintendent Kwok. He's sorry to come without an appointment but could you spare them a moment?"
"Ah, the guns. Our police're getting more efficient every day," he said with a grim smile. "I didn't expect them till after lunch."
At seven this morning he had had a detailed report from Phillip Chen who had been called by one of the police sergeants who made the raid and was a relation of the Chens.
"You'd better put all our private sources on finding out the who and the why, Phillip," he had said, very concerned.