Noble House

"Ayeeyah on your fifteen minutes, Young Empress." Ah Tat huffed, and went back into the kitchen, grumbling.
Adryon focused on Murtagh who blossomed noticeably, his fatigue vanished. "What part of the States are you from?"
"Texas, ma'am, though I've spent time in Los Angeles, New York and New Orleans. You play tennis?"
"Oh, yes, I do."
"We've some good courts at the American Club. You, maybe you'd like a game next week?"
"I'd love that. I've played there before. Are you good?"
"Oh no, ma'am, er, Miss Dunross, just college class."
"College class could mean very good. Why don't you call me Adryon?"
Dunross gave her the glass of sherry he had poured and she thanked him with a smile though still concentrating on Murtagh. You'd better be top of your class, young fellow, he thought, knowing how competitive she was, or you're in for a drubbing. Carefully keeping his amusement private, he went back to the papers. When he finished initialing his set, he watched the two of them critically, his daughter sitting casually on the edge of the sofa, beautiful and so assured, very much a woman, and Murtagh tall and well mannered, a little shy, but holding his own very well.
Could I stand a banker in the family? I'd better check up on him! God help us, an American? Well he's Texan, and that's not the same, is it? I wish Penn were back here.
". . . oh no, Adryon," Murtagh was saying. "I've a company apartment over at West Point. It's a little bitty place but great."
"That makes such a difference, doesn't it? I live here but I'm going to have my own apartment soon." She added pointedly, "Aren't I, Father?"
"Of course." Dunross added at once, "After university! Here's my set, Mr. Murtagh, do you think you could sign yours?"
"Oh yes … oh sorry!" Murtagh almost ran over, hurriedly initialed his set with a flourish. "Here you are, sir. You, er, you said 7:30 at your office tomorrow morning, huh?"
Adryon arched an eyebrow. "You'd better be punctual, Dave, the tai-pan's uncomfortably ornery at unpunctuality."
"Rubbish," Dunross said.
"I love you, Father, but that's not rubbish!"
They chatted for a minute then Dunross glanced at his watch, pretending to be concerned. "Damn! I've got to make a phone call then rush." At once Murtagh picked up his briefcase but Dunross added blandly, "Adryon, you said you were leaving in a few minutes. I wonder, would you have time to drop Mr. Murtagh?"
The young man said at once, "Oh, I can get a cab, there's no need to trouble yoursel—"
"Oh it's no trouble," she said happily, "no trouble at all. West Point's on my way."
Dunross said good night and left them. They hardly noticed his going. He went to his study and closed the door and with the closing of the door, shut out everything else but Tiptop. From the fireplace Dirk Struan watched him. Dunross stared back a moment.
"I've plan A, B or C," he said aloud. "They all add up to disaster if Sinders doesn't perform."
The eyes just smiled in their curious way.
"It was easy for you," Dunross muttered. "When someone got in your way you could kill them, even the Hag."
Earlier he had discussed the plans with Phillip Chen. "They're all fraught with danger," his compradore had said, very concerned.
"Which do you advise?"
"The choice must be yours, tai-pan. You will have to make personal guarantees. It's face too, though I'd support you in everything, and you did ask for a favor as an Old Friend."
"What about Sir Luis?"
"I've arranged to see him tonight, tai-pan. I hope for cooperation." Phillip Chen had seemed grayer and older than ever. "It's a pity there's nothing we can give Tiptop in case Sinders reneges."
"What about bartering the tanker fleet? Can we lean on Vee Cee? What about thoriums—or Joseph Yu?"
"Tiptop needs something to barter with, not a threat, tai-pan. Did P.B. say he'd help?"
"He promised to phone Tiptop this afternoon—he said he'd also try one of his friends in Peking."
At exactly seven o'clock Dunross dialed. "Mr. Tip, please. Ian Dunross."
"Good evening, tai-pan. How are you? I hear you may be riding Noble Star next Saturday?"
"That's possible." They talked about inconsequential matters, then Tiptop said, "And that unfortunate person? At the latest, when is he going to be released?"
Dunross held on to himself, then committed his future. "Sunset tomorrow, at Lo Wu."
"Do you personally guarantee he will be there?"
"I personally guarantee I've done everything in my power to persuade the authorities to release him."
"That's not the same as saying the man will be there. Is it?"
"No. But he'll be there. I'm …" Dunross stopped. He was going to say, "almost certain" and then he knew he would surely fail— not daring to guarantee it because a failure to perform would take away his face, his credulity, forever—but he remembered something Phillip Chen had said about Tiptop having something to barter with and all at once he had an opening. "Listen, Mr. Tip," he began, his sudden excitement almost nauseating. "These are foul times. Old
Friends need Old Friends like never before. Privately, very privately, I hear that our Special Branch in the last two days discovered there's a major Soviet spy ring here, a deep-cover ring, the code name of the operation Sevrin. The purpose of Sevrin's the destruction of the Middle Kingdom's link with the rest of the world."
"That's nothing new, tai-pan. Hegemonists will always be hegemonists, Tsarist Russia or Soviet Russia, there's no difference. For four hundred years it's been that way. Four hundred years since their first incursions and theft of our lands. But please go on."
"It's my belief Hong Kong and the Middle Kingdom are equal targets. We're your only window on the world. Old Green-Eyed Devil was the first to see that and it's true. Any interruption here and only the hegemonists will gain. Some documentation, part of the Special Branch documentation has come into my hands." With complete accuracy Dunross began to quote verbatim from the stolen head documents in AMG's report, his mind seeming to read from the pages that effortlessly appeared from his memory. He gave Tiptop all the pertinent details of Sevrin, the spies, and about the police mole.
There was a shocked silence. "What's the date on the Sevrin head document, tai-pan?"
"It was approved by an 'L.B.' on March 14, 1950."
A long sigh. Very long. "Lavrenti Beria?"
"I don't know." The more Dunross thought about this new ploy the more excited he became, certain now that this information and proof positive in the right Peking hands would cause a tidal wave in Soviet-Chinese relations.
"Is it possible to see this document?"
"Yes. Yes it would be possible," Dunross said, sweat on his back, thanking his foresight in photocopying the Sevrin sections of AMG's report.
"And the Czechoslovak STB document you referred to?"
"Yes. The part I have."
"When was that dated?"
"April 6, 1959."
"So our so-called allies were always wolfs heart and dog's lungs?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Why is it Europe and those capitalists in America don't understand who the real enemy in the world is? Heya?"
"It's difficult to understand," Dunross said, playing a waiting game now.
After a pause, controlled once more, Tiptop said, "I'm sure my friends would like a copy of this, this Sevrin paper, and any supporting documents."
Dunross wiped the sweat off his forehead but kept his voice calm. "As an Old Friend, it's my privilege to assist in any way I can."
Another silence. "A mutual friend called to offer his support to your request for the Bank of China's cash and a few minutes ago I was told that a very important person called from Peking to suggest any help that could be given in your need would be merited." Another silence and Dunross could almost feel Tiptop and the others who were probably listening on the phone weighing, nodding or shaking their heads. "Could you excuse me a moment, tai-pan, there's someone at the door."