Noble House

"Why so?" he asked, wanting to keep her talking, her lilting accent pleasing him.
"Without his help, the Emperor could not have succeeded, could not have abolished the Shogunate, abolished feudal law, the daimyo, the whole samurai class, and forced them to accept a modern constitution. It was Prince Yoshi who negotiated a peace among the daimyo, and then invited English experts to Japan to build our navy, our banks and our civil service, and help us into the modern world." A small shadow went across her face. "My father told me much about those times, tai-pan, not yet a hundred years ago. Transition from samurai rule to democracy was often bloody. But the Emperor had decreed an ending so there was an ending and all the daimyo and samurai dragged themselves painfully into a new life." She toyed with her glass, watching the bubbles. "The Toda were Lords of Izu and Sagami where Yokohama is. For centuries they had had shipyards. It was easy for them and their allies, the Kasigi, to come into this modern age. For us…" She stopped. "Oh, but you already know this, so sorry."
"Only about Prince Yoshi. What happened to your family?"
"My great-grandfather became a very minor member of Prince Yoshi's staff, as a civil servant. He was sent to Nagasaki where my family have lived since. He found it difficult not to wear the two swords. My grandfather was also a civil servant, like my father, but only very tiny." She looked up and smiled at him. "The wine is too good. It makes my tongue run away."
"No, not at all," he said, then conscious of the eyes watching them, he added in Japanese, "Let us talk Japanese for a while."
"It is my honor, tai-pan-san."
Later, over coffee, he said, "Where should I deposit the money owing to you, Riko-san?"
"If you could give me a cashier's check or bank draft"—she used the English words for there was no Japanese equivalent—"before I leave that would be perfect."
"On Monday morning I will have it sent to you. There's Ј10,625, and a further Ј8,500 payable in January, and the same the following year," he told her, knowing her good manners would not permit to ask outright He saw the flash of relief and was glad he had decided to give her two extra years of salary—AMG's information about oil alone was more than worth it. "Would eleven o'clock be convenient for the 'sight draft'?" Again Dunross used the English word.
"Whatever pleases you. I do not wish to put you to any trouble."
Dunross noticed how she was speaking slowly and distinctly to help him. "What will be your travel plans?"
"On Monday I think I will go to Japan, then . . . then I don't know. Perhaps back to Switzerland though I have no real reason to return. I have no relations there, the house was a rented house and the garden not mine. My Gresserhoff life ended with his death. Now I think I should be Riko Anjin again. Karma is karma."
"Yes," he told her, "karma is karma." He reached into his pocket and brought out a gift-wrapped package. "This is a present from the Noble House to thank you for taking so much trouble and such a tiring trip on our behalf."
"Oh. Oh thank you, but it was my honor and pleasure." She bowed. "Thank you. May I open it now?"
"Perhaps later. It is just a simple jade pendant but the box also contains a confidential envelope that your husband wanted you to have, for your eyes only and not for the eyes that surround us."
"Ah. I understand. Of course." She bowed again. "So sorry, please excuse my stupidity."
Dunross smiled back at her. "No stupidity, never, only beauty."
Color came into her face and she sipped coffee to cover. "The envelope is sealed, tai-pan-san?"
"Yes, as he instructed. Do you know what's in it?"
"No. Only that… only that Mr. Gresserhoff said that you would give me a sealed envelope."
"Did he say why? Or what you were supposed to do with it?"
"One day someone would come to claim it."
"By name?"
"Yes, but my husband told me I was never to divulge the name, not even to you. Never. Everything else I could tell you but not the . . . the name. So sorry, please excuse me."
Dunross frowned. "You're just to give it to him?"
"Or her," she said pleasantly. "Yes, when I am asked, not before. After it has been digested, Mr. Gresserhoff said the person would repay a debt. Thank you for the gift, tai-pan-san. I will cherish it."
The waiter came and poured the last of the champagne for him then went away again. "How do I reach you in the future, Riko-san?"
"I will give you three addresses and phone numbers that will find me, one in Switzerland, two in Japan."
After a pause he said, "Will you be in Japan the week after next?"
Riko looked up at him and his spirit twisted at such beauty. "Yes. If you wish it," she said.
"I wish it."
75
2:30 P.M. :
The Sea Witch was tied just offshore beside Sha Tin boat harbor where they had moored for lunch. As soon as they had arrived, the cook, Casey and Peter Marlowe, had gone ashore with Gornt in command to select the prawns and shrimps and fish that were still swimming in sea tanks, then on to the bustling market for morning-fresh vegetables. Lunch had been quick-fried prawns with crunchy broccoli, then fish rubbed with garlic and pan-fried, served with mixed Chinese greens, again al dente.
The lunch had been laughter filled, the Chinese girls entertaining and happy, all of them speaking varying degrees of salty English, Dunstan Barre choleric and outrageously funny, the others joining in, and Casey thought how different the men were. How much more unrestrained and boyish, and she thought that sad. The talk had turned to business, and in the few short hours she had learned more about Hong Kong techniques than through all the reading she had done. More and more it was clear that unless you were on the inside, real power and real riches would escape you.
"Oh, you'll do very well here, Casey, you and Bartlett," Barre had said. "If you play the game according to Hong Kong rules, Hong Kong tax structures and not U.S. rules, right, Quillan?"
"Up to a point. If you go with Dunross and Struan's—if Struan's and Dunross exist as an entity by next Friday—you'll get some milk but none of the cream."
"With you we'll do better?" she had asked.
Barre had laughed. "Very much better, Casey, but it'll still be milk and very little cream!"
"Let's say, Casey, with us the milk'll be homogenized," Gornt had said amiably.
Now the wonderful smell of freshly roasted coffee, freshly ground, was wafting up from the galley. Conversation was general around the table, banter back and forth, mostly for her benefit, about trading in Asia, supply and demand and the Asian attitude to smuggling, the Chinese girls chattering among themselves.
Abruptly, Grey's voice, a biting rasp to it, cut through. "You'd better ask Marlowe about that, Mr. Gornt. He knows everything about smuggling and blackmailing from our Changi days."
"Come on, Grey," Peter Marlowe said in the sudden silence. "Give over!"
"I thought you were proud of it, you and your Yankee blackmailer mate. Weren't you?"
"Let's leave it, Grey," Marlowe said, his face set.
"Whatever you say, old lad." Grey turned to Casey. "Ask him."
Gornt said, "This is hardly the time to rehash old quarrels, Mr. Grey." He kept his voice calm and the enjoyment off his face, outwardly the perfect host.
"Oh, I wasn't, Mr. Gornt. You were talking about smuggling and black marketeering. Marlowe's an expert, that's all."