"If you'll excuse me, I'd better see our host." Crosse pushed his way through the crush. "Hello, Christian," he said, easing past the tall, thin editor of the Guardian. He saw the desolation the man desperately tried to hide. "Sorry about your wife."
"Joss," Christian Toxe said, attempting to sound calm, and stood in his way. "Joss, Roger. She, well, she'd… life has to go on, doesn't it?" His forced smile was almost grotesque. "The Guardian has to do its work, eh?" "Yes."
"Can I have a word later?" "Certainly—off the record, as always?" "Of course."
He went on, passing Pugmire and Sir Luis deep in conversation about the General Stores-Struan takeover and noticed Casey in the center of a group on the wide balcony overlooking the harbor, deVille among them, Gornt also part of the group, looking benign, which Crosse found strange. "Hello, Jason," he said coming up behind Plumm who was talking with Joseph Stern and Phillip Chen. "Thanks for inviting me." "Oh. Oh hello, Roger. Glad you could come." "Evening," he said to the others. "Jason, where's your guest of honor?"
"Ian phoned to say he'd been delayed but was on his way. He'll be here any moment." Plumm's tension was evident. "The, er, the champagne's ready, and my little speech. Everything's ready," he said, watching him. "Come along, Roger, let me get you a drink. It's Perrier, isn't it? I've got some on ice."
Crosse followed him, equally glad for the opportunity to talk privately but just as they reached the kitchen door there was a momentary hush. Dunross was at the door with Riko, Gavallan beside them. All three were beaming.
"Listen, Jason, I—" Crosse stopped. Plumm had already turned back to the bar and if he hadn't been watching very carefully he would never have seen Plumm's left hand deftly break the tiny vial over one of the filled champagne glasses, then palm the shreds back into his pocket, pick up the tray with four glasses on it and head for the door. Fascinated, he watched Plumm come up to Dunross and offer the champagne.
Dunross let Riko take a glass, then Gavallan. Without any apparent prompting Dunross took the doctored glass. Plumm took the last, giving the tray to an embarrassed waiter. "Welcome, Ian, and congratulations on the coup," Plumm said, casually toasting him, not making a big thing of it. Those nearby politely followed suit. Dunross of course did not drink his own toast.
"Now, perhaps you should toast Richard Kwang and Johnjohn and their merger?" Plumm said, his voice sounding strange.
"Why not?" Dunross replied with a laugh and glanced across the room at Johnjohn. "Bruce," he called out, raising his glass, and there was a small hole in the general level of noise. "Here's to the Victoria!" His voice picked up power and cut through neatly. Others glanced over and stopped in midsentence. "Perhaps everyone should share the toast. I've just heard the Bank of China's agreed to lend you and the other banks half a billion in cash in good time for Monday's opening."
There was a sudden vast silence. Those on the balcony came into the room, Gornt to the fore. "What?"
"I've just heard the Bank of China's lending Hong Kong—lending the Vic to lend to other banks—half a billion in cash and as much more as you want. All bank runs're over!" Dunross raised his glass. "To the Victoria!"
As pandemonium broke out and everyone started asking questions, Crosse got his feet into motion and the moment before Dunross could drink, appeared to stumble and collided with him, knocking the glass out of his hand. It shattered as it hit the parquet flooring. "Oh Christ, I'm sorry," he said apologetically. Plumm stared at him appalled. "For chrissa—" "Ah, Jason, I'm so sorry," Crosse overrode him, adding more quickly as a waiter hastily retrieved the pieces, "Perhaps you'd get Ian another glass."
"Er, yes, but. . ." Numbly Plumm went to obey but stopped as Riko said, "Oh, here, tai-pan, please to take mine." Then Johnjohn shouted over the uproar, "Quiet, quiet a moment!" and pushed over to Dunross. "Ian," he said in the utter silence, "You're sure? Sure about the cash?"
"Oh yes," Dunross replied leisurely, sipping Riko's drink, enjoying the moment. "Tiptop called me personally. It'll be on the nine o'clock news."
There was a sudden great cheer and more questions and answers and Dunross saw Gornt staring at him from across the room. His smile hardened and he raised his glass, paying no attention to the barrage of questions. "Your health, Quillan!" he called out, mocking him. Quickly conversation died again. Everyone's attention zeroed on them.
Gornt toasted him back, equally mocking. "Your health, Ian. We've really got China's money?"
"Yes, and by the way, I've just arranged a new revolving fund of 50 million U.S. Now the Noble House's the soundest hong in the Colony."
"Secured by what?" Gornt's voice slashed through the abrupt silence.
"The honor of the Noble House!" With a nonchalance he did not feel, Dunross turned on Johnjohn. "The loan's from the Royal Belgium, a subsidiary of First Central of New York and backed by them." Deliberately he did not look back at Gornt as he repeated, enjoying greatly the sound, "50 million U.S. Oh by the way, Bruce, tomorrow I'm retiring your loans on both my ships. I no longer need the Vic loan—Royal Belgium's given me better terms."
Johnjohn just stared at him.
"You're joking