Noble House by James Clavell
Poor fool, her with her twisted dreams of power, twisted dreams of lust, just like the old dowager empress—nightmares of a lifetime that no shaft could allay.
Ah Tat pulled her eyes off the knife and plodded onward. The House will never be whole until someone pulls out the knife and casts it into the sea—curse or no curse.
The old woman did not knock on the bedroom door but went in noiselessly so as not to wake him and stood over the vast double bed and looked down. This was the time she enjoyed the most, when her man-child was still sleeping, alone, and she could see his sleeping face and study it and not have to worry about Chief Wife’s spleen and ill-temper over her comings and goings.
Silly woman, she thought gravely, seeing the lines in his face. Why doesn’t she do her duty as Chief Wife and provide my son with another wife, young, child bearing, a civilized person, like old Green-Eyed Devil had. Then this house would be bright again. Yes, the house needs more sons—stupid to risk posterity on the shoulders of one son. And stupid to leave this bull alone, stupid to leave this bed empty, stupid to leave him to be tempted by some mealy-mouthed whore to waste his essence in alien pastures. Why doesn’t she realize we have the house to protect! Barbarians.
She saw his eyes open and focus and then he stretched luxuriously. “Time to get up, my son,” she said, trying to sound harsh and commanding. “You have to bathe and get dressed and make more phone calls, heya, and leave your poor old Mother with more chores and more work, heya?”
“Yes, Mother,” Dunross mumbled through a yawn in Cantonese, then shook himself like a dog, stretched once more and got out of bed and strode naked for the bathroom.
She studied his tall body critically, the crinkled, savage scars of the old burns from his airplane crash covering most of his legs. But the legs were strong, the flanks strong and the yang resolute and healthy. Good, she thought. I’m glad to see all’s well. Even so, she was concerned at his perpetual leanness, with no substantial belly that his wealth and position merited. “You’re not eating enough, my son!”
“More than enough!”
“There’s hot water in the bucket. Don’t forget to wash your teeth.”
Contentedly she began to remake the bed. “He needed that rest,” she muttered, not realizing she was talking aloud. “He’s been like a man possessed for the last week, working all hours, fear in his face and over him. Such fear can kill.” When she had finished the bed she called out, “Now don’t stay out late tonight. You must take care of yourself and if you go with a whore bring her here like a sensible person, heya?”
She heard him laugh and she was glad for it. There hasn’t been enough laughter from him the last few days, she thought. “A man needs laughter and youthful yin to nourish the yang. Eh what, what did you say?”
“I said, where’s Number One Daughter?”
“In, out, always out, out with that new barbarian,” she said going to the bathroom door and peering at him as he doused water over himself. “The one with long hair and crumpled clothes who works for the China Guardian. I don’t approve of him, my son. No, not at all!”
“Where are they ‘out,’ Ah Tat?”
The old woman shrugged, chomping her gums. “The sooner Number One Daughter’s married the better. Better for her to be another man’s problem than yours. Or you should give her a good whip to her rump.” He laughed again and she wondered why he laughed this time. “He’s getting simple in the head,” she muttered, then turned away. At the far door, remembering, she called out, “There’s small chow for you before you leave.”
“Don’t worry about food …” Dunross stopped, knowing it was a waste of time. He heard her go off mumbling, closing the door after her.
He was standing in the bath and bailed more cold water over himself. Christ, I wish this bloody water shortage’d cease, he thought. I could use a really long hot shower, his mind inexorably zeroing in on Adryon. At once he heard Penelope’s admonition, “Do grow up, Ian! It really is her own life, do grow up!”
“I’m trying,” he muttered, toweling himself vigorously. Just before he had slept he had called Penelope. She was already at Castle Avisyard, Kathy still in the London clinic for more tests. “She’ll be coming up next week. I do so hope everything will be all right.”
“I’m in touch with the doctors, Penn.” He told her about sending Gavallan to Scotland. “He’s always wanted to be there, Kathy too, it’ll be better for both of them, eh?”
“Oh, that’s marvelous, Ian. That’ll be a marvelous tonic.”
“They can take over the whole east wing.”
“Oh yes. Ian, the weather’s wonderful today, wonderful, and the house so lovely. No chance you can come for a few days I suppose?”
“I’m up to my nose in it, Penn! You heard about the market?”
He had heard the momentary silence and he could see her face change and within her head hear her impotent raging against the market and Hong Kong and business, as much as she tried to cast it away.
“Yes. It must be terrible,” she had said, still a thread in her voice. “Poor you. Alastair was carrying on a bit last night. It’ll be all right, won’t it?”
“Oh yes,” he said with great confidence, wondering what she would say if he told her that he would have to guarantee personally the Murtagh loan if it came through. Oh Christ let it come through. He gave her all the news, then told her that AMG had sent him a very interesting message that he would tell her about when he saw her, adding that the messenger was a Japanese-Swiss woman. “She’s quite a bird!”
“I hope not too much!”
“Oh no! How’s Glenna and how’re you?”
“Just fine. Have you heard from Duncan?”
“Yes. He arrives tomorrow—I’ll get him to phone you the moment he’s home. That’s about it, Penn, love you!”
“I love you too and wish you were here. Oh, how’s Adryon?”
“More of the same. She and that Haply fellow seem to be inseparable!”
“Do remember she’s very grown up, darling, and don’t worry about her. Just try to grow up yourself.”
He finished drying himself and looked at his reflection in the mirror, wondering if he was old for his years or young, not feeling any different from when he was nineteen—at university or at war. After a moment, he said, “You’re lucky to be alive, old chum. You’re oh so lucky.” His sleep had been heavy and he had been dreaming about Tiptop and, just at waking, someone had said in his dream, “What’re you going to do?” I don’t know, he thought. How far do I trust that bugger Sinders? Not far. But I got under his guard with my threat … no, my promise to publish the eleven pieces of paper. And I will, by God!
I’d better call Tiptop before I leave for Plumm’s. I’d better.
His ears heard the bedroom door swing open again and Ah Tat padded back across the room to stand at the bathroom door. “Ah, my son, I forgot to tell you, there’s a barbarian waiting for you downstairs.”
“Oh? Who?”
She shrugged. “A barbarian. Not as tall as you. He has a strange name, and he’s more ugly than usual with hair of straw!” She searched in her pocket and found the card. “Here.”
The card read, Dave Murtagh III, Royal Belgium and Far East Bank. Dunross’s stomach twisted. “How long’s he been waiting?”
“An hour, perhaps more.”
“What? Fornicate all gods. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Eh? Why didn’t I wake you?” she asked caustically. “Why? Why do you think? Am I a fool? A foreign devil? Ayeeyah, what is more important, him waiting or your rest? Ayeeyah!” she added disdainfully and stalked off, grumbling, “As if I didn’t know what was best for you.”
Dunross dressed hurriedly and rushed downstairs. Murtagh was sprawled out in an easy chair. He awoke with a start as the door opened. “Oh, hi!”
“I’m terribly sorry, I was having a kip and didn’t know you were here.”
“That’s all right, tai-pan.” Dave Murtagh was haggard. “The
Dunross held his aching disappointment off his face. It must be a turndown, he thought. “Whiskey?”
“Sure, with soda. Thanks. Jesus I’m tired.”
Dunross went to the decanter and poured, and a brandy and soda for himself. “Health,” he said, resisting the urge to ask.
They touched glasses.
“Health. And you got your deal!” The young man’s face cracked into an enormous grin. “We did it!” he almost shouted. “They screamed and they hollered but an hour ago they agreed. We got everything! 120 percent of the ships and a $50 million U.S. revolving fund, cash’s up Wednesday, but you can commit Monday at 10:00 A.M., the offer of the tanker deals was the clincher. Jesus, we did it for chrissake!”
It took all of Dunross’s training to hold in his bellow of triumph and keep the joy off his face and say calmly, “Oh, jolly good,” and take another sip of his brandy. “What’s the matter?” he asked, seeing the shock on the younger man’s face.
Murtagh shook his head and slumped down exhaustedly. “You limeys’re something else! I’ll never understand you. I give you a hundred percent parole with the sweetest deal God ever gave man and all you say is ‘Oh jolly good.’”
Dunross laughed. It was a great bellow of laughter and all his happiness spilled out. He pummeled Murtagh’s hand and thanked him. “How’s that?” he asked, beaming.
“That’s better!” He grabbed his briefcase and opened it and pulled out a sheaf of contracts and papers. “These’re just as we agreed. I was up all night drafting them. Here’s the main loan agreement, this’s your personal guarantee, these’re for the corporate seal, ten copies of everything.”
“I’ll initial one set now which you keep, you initial one which I’ll keep and then we’ll sign formally tomorrow morning. Can you meet me in my office tomorrow morning, say at 7:30? We’ll chop all the documents an—”
The young man let out an involuntary moan. “How ’bout 8:00, tai-pan, or 8:30? I just gotta catch up on some sleep.”
“7:30. You can sleep all day.” Dunross added at a sudden thought, “Tomorrow night your evening’s reserved.”
“It is?”
“Yes. You best get all the rest you can, your evening will be busy.”
“Doing what?”
“You’re not married, you’re not attached, so an entertaining evening wouldn’t be bad. Eh?”
“Gee.” Murtagh brightened perceptibly. “It’d be terrific.”
“Good. I’ll send you to a friend of mine at Aberdeen. Goldtooth Wu.”
“Who?”
“An old friend of the family. Perfectly safe. While I think of it, lunch at the races next week?”
“Oh Jesus, thanks. Yesterday Casey gave me a hot tip and I won a bundle. The rumor is you’re going to ride Noble Star Saturday. Are you?”
“Perhaps.” Dunross kept his eyes on him. “The deal’s really through? No chance of a foul-up?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die! Oh here I forgot.” He handed him the confirming telex. “It’s as we agreed.” Murtagh glanced at his watch. “It’s 6:00 A.M. New York time now but you’re to call S. J. Beverly, our chairman of the board, in an hour—he’s expecting your call. Here’s his number.” The young man beamed. “They made me VP in charge of all Asia.”
“Congratulations.”
Dunross saw the time. He would have to leave soon or he would be late and he did not want to keep Riko waiting. His heart picked up a beat. “Let’s initial now, shall we?”
Murtagh was already sorting the papers. “Just one thing, tai-pan, S.J. said we got to keep this secret.”
“That’s going to be difficult. Who typed these?”
“My secretary—but she’s American, she’s as tight as a clam.”
Dunross nodded but inside he was unconvinced. The telex operator—didn’t Phillip Chen say he had already had copies of some of the telexes?—or cleaners, or phone operators, it would be impossible to gauge who but the news would be common knowledge soon, whatever he or Murtagh did. Now, how to use everything to the best advantage while it’s still secret? he was asking himself, hard put not to dance with joy, the fact of the deal unprecedented and almost impossible to believe. He began to initial his set of papers, Murtagh another. He stopped as he heard the front door open and slam. Adryon shrieked, “Ah Tat!” and followed up with a flood of amah Cantonese ending, “… and did you iron my new blouse by all the gods?”
“Blouse? What blouse, Young Miss with the piercing voice and no patience? The red one? The red one belonging to Chief Wife who told y—”
“Oh, it’s mine now, Ah Tat! I told you very seriously to iron it.”
Murtagh had stopped too, listening to the stream of screeching Cantonese from both of them. “Jesus,” he said tiredly. “I’ll never get used to the way the servants go on, no matter what you tell ’em!”
Dunross laughed and beckoned him, opening the door softly. Murtagh gasped. Adryon had her hands on her hips and she was going at Ah Tat who gave it back to her, both of them raucous, both talking over the other and neither listening.
“Quiet!” Dunross said. Both stopped. “Thank you. You really do go on a bit, Adryon!” he said mildly.
She beamed. “Oh hello, Father. Do you th—” She stopped, seeing Murtagh. Dunross noticed the instant change. A warning shaft soared through him.
“Oh, Adryon, may I introduce Dave Murtagh, Vice-President for Asia of the Royal Belgium and Far East Bank?” He looked at Murtagh and saw the stunned expression on his face. “This is my daughter, Adryon.”
“You, er, speak Chinese, Miss, er, Dunross?”
“Oh yes, yes of course, Cantonese. Of course. You’re new in Hong Kong?”
“Oh no, ma’am, no, I’ve, er, I’ve been here half a year or more.”
Dunross was watching both of them with growing amusement, knowing that for the moment he was totally forgotten. Ah, boy meets girl, girl meets boy and maybe this one’d be the perfect foil to throw into Haply’s works. “Would you like to join us for a drink, Adryon?” he asked casually, the moment their conversation lapsed and she prepared to leave.
“Oh. Oh thank you, Father, but I don’t want to disturb you.”
“We’re just finishing. Come along. How’re things?”
“Oh fine, fine.” Adryon turned back to Ah Tat who still stood there solidly—she too had noticed the instant mutual attraction. “You’ll iron my blouse! Please,” she said imperiously in Cantonese. “I have to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“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 st
“… 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.