Noble House

"Can you read the code?"
"Good God, no."
"What could it be?"
"Anything. The pages are for me or the P.M. so they're probably names and addresses of contacts." Sinders added gravely, "I daren't trust them to cables, however coded. I think I'd better return to London at once."
"Today?"
"Tomorrow. I should finish this business first and I'd very much like to identify this Mrs. Gresserhoff. Will Dunross do what he said?"
"Absolutely."
Sinders pulled at his eyebrows, his washed-out blue eyes even more colorless than usual. "What about the client?"
"I'd say …" The elevator door opened. They got out and walked across the foyer. The uniformed doorman opened the door of Crosse's car for him.
Crosse cut into the snarled traffic, the harbor misted and the rain stopped for a moment. "I'd say one more session, then Armstrong can begin rebuilding. Monday sunset is too fast but . . ." He shrugged. "I wouldn't suggest any more of the Red Room."
"No. I agree, Roger. Thank God the fellow's got a strong constitution."
"Yes."
"I think Armstrong's ready to crack, poor fellow."
"He can conduct one more. Safely."
"I hope so. My God we've been very lucky. Unbelievable!" The session, at 6:00 this morning, had brought forth nothing. But just as they were about to quit, Armstrong's probing produced gold: at long last, the who and the why and the what of Professor Joseph Yu. Of Cal Tech, Princeton, Stanford. Rocket expert par excellence and NASA consultant.
"When's he due in Hong Kong, Brian?" Armstrong had asked, the whole SI team in the control room breathless.
"I … I don't … let me think, let me think … ah, I can't remember … ah yes, it, it's in a we … at the end of… of this month … what is this month? I can't rem … remember … which day it is. He was to arrive . . . and then go on."
"Where from and where to?"
"Oh I don't know, oh no they didn't tell me … except… except someone said he… he was sailing in Guam on holiday from Hawaii and due here ten days … I think it's ten days after . . . after Race Day."
And when Crosse had called in Rosemont and told him—though not where the information had come from—the American was speechless and in panic. At once he had ordered the Guam area scoured to prevent the defection.
"I wonder if they'll catch him," Crosse muttered.
"Who?"
"Joseph Yu."
"I jolly well hope so," Sinders said. "Why the devil do these scientists defect? Damnable! The only good point is he'll launch China's rocketry into the stratosphere and send shivers of horror down all Soviet spines. Bloody good if you ask me. If those two fall out it could help us all immensely." He eased more comfortably in the seat of the car, his back aching. "Roger, I can't risk Dunross publishing those ciphers or keeping a copy."
"Yes."
"He's too damned clever for his own boots is your tai-pan. If it leaks that AMG sent us a ciphered message and if Dunross has the memory he's supposed to have, he's a marked man. Eh?"
"Yes."
They reached the Skyline penthouse restaurant in good time. Crosse was instantly recognized and at once a discreet table was empty at the bar. As Sinders ordered a drink and more coffee Crosse phoned for two agents, one British and one Chinese. They arrived very fast.
At a few minutes to one o'clock Dunross walked in and they watched him go to the best table, maitre d' in advance, waiters in tow, champagne already in a silver bucket.
"The bugger's got everyone well trained, eh?"
"Wouldn't you?" Crosse said. His eyes ranged the room, then stopped. "There's Rosemont! Is that a coincidence?"
"What do you think?"
"Ah, look over there. In the far corner. That's Vincenzo Banas-tasio. The Chinese he's with is Vee Cee Ng. Perhaps that's who they're watching."
"Perhaps."
"Rosemont's clever," Crosse said. "Bartlett went to see him too. It could be Banastasio they're watching." Armstrong had reported Bartlett's conversation about Banastasio to them. Surveillance on the man had been increased. "By the way, I heard he's chartered a helicopter for Macao on Monday."
"We should cancel that."
"It's already done. Engine trouble."
"Good. I suppose Bartlett reporting Banastasio rather clears him, what?"
"Perhaps."
"I still think I'd better go Monday. Yes. Interesting, ah, that Dunross's receptionist had a date with the client. Good God, there's a smasher," Sinders said.
The girl was following the maitre d'. Both men were taken by surprise when she stopped at the tai-pan's table, smiled, bowed and sat down. "Christ! Mrs. Gresserhoff s Chinese?" Sinders gasped.
Crosse was concentrating on their lips. "No Chinese'd bow like that. She's Japanese."
"How in the hell does she fit?"
"Perhaps there's more than one guest. Per—oh Christ!"
"What?"
"They're not speaking English. Must be Japanese."
"Dunross speaks Jap?"
Crosse looked at him. "Yes, Japanese. And German, French, three dialects of Chinese and passable Italian."
Sinders stared back. "You needn't be so disapproving, Roger. I lost a son on HMS Prince of Wales, my brother starved to death on the Burma Road, so don't give me any sanctimonious bullshit, though I still think she's a smasher."
"At least that shows a certain amount of tolerance." Crosse turned back to study Dunross and the girl.
"Your war was in Europe, eh?"
"My war, Edward, is never ending." Crosse smiled, liking the sound of that. "World War Two's ancient history. Sorry about your kin but now Japan's not the enemy, they're our allies, the only real ones we've got in Asia."
For half an hour they waited. He could not read their lips at all.
"She must be Gresserhorf," Sinders said.
Crosse nodded. "Then shall we go? No point in waiting. Shall we fish and chip?"
They went out. The British and Chinese SI agents stayed, waiting patiently, unable to overhear what was being said, envying Dunross, as many did in the room—because he was the tai-pan and because of her.
"Gehen Sie?" she asked in German. Are you going?
"To Japan, Riko-san? Oh yes," he answered in the same language, "the week after next. We take delivery of a new super-cargo ship from Toda Shipping. Did you chat with Hiro Toda yesterday?"
"Yes, yes I had that honor. The Toda family is famous in Japan. Before the Restoration when the samurai class was abolished, my family served the Toda."
"Your family was samurai?"
"Yes, but of low degree. I, I did not mention about my family to him. Those were ancient days. I would not like him to know."
"As you wish," he said, his curiosity piqued. "Hiro Toda's an interesting man," he added, leading her on.
"Toda-sama is very wise, very strong, very famous." The waiter brought their salad and when he had left she said, "Struan's are famous in Japan too."
"Not really."
"Oh yes. We remember Prince Yoshi."
"Ah. I didn't know you knew."
In 1854 when Perry forced the Shogun Yoshimitsu Toranaga to open up Japan to trade, the Hag had sailed north from Hong Kong, her father and enemy, Tyler Brock, in pursuit. Thanks to her, Struan's was the first into Japan, first to buy land for a trading post and the first outsider to trade. Over the years and many voyages, she made Japan a cornerstone of Struan policy.
During the early years she met a young prince, Prince Yoshi, a relation of the Emperor and cousin to the Shogun—without whose permission nothing happened in Japan. At her suggestion and with her help, this prince went to England on a Struan clipper to learn about the might of the British Empire. When he returned home a few years later, it was in another Struan ship, and that year some of the feudal barons—daimyo— hating the incursion of foreigners, revolted against the Shogun whose family, the Toranaga, had exclusively ruled Japan for two and a half centuries in an unbroken line back to the great general Yoshi Toranaga. The revolt of the daimyo succeeded and power was restored to the Emperor but the land was riven. "Without Prince Yoshi, who became one of the Emperor's chief ministers," she said, unconsciously turning to English, "Japan would still be trembling and torn apart in civil war."