Hiraga nodded. "Yes," he said and waited, allowing the silence to thicken. Mukfey had explained the value of silence in negotiating, that a closed mouth at the right time unnerves your opponent--for negotiation is a fight like any other--and snares concessions you would never dream of asking.
The shoya knew he was trapped but had not decided on the extent of the trap, nor the price he would pay. Thus far the information he had been given was worth ten times that amount. But be cautious... this man is dangerous, this Hiraga Otami-sama learns too fast, he may or may not be telling the truth, may or may not be a liar. Even so, better to have a cunning samurai with you than against you. "In bad times, friends should help friends. It might be that the Gyokoyama could arrange a little credit to help.
As I mentioned before, Otami-sama, your father and family are respected and valued clients."
Hiraga bit back the angry words he would normally have spat out at being so openly patronized. "That would be too much to expect," he said, feeling his way in this new world of profit and loss--one person's profit is another's loss, Mukfey had explained many times.
"Anything the great Gyokoyama could do would be appreciated. But speed is very important, could I be assured they would understand? Yes?"
"It would be at once. I will arrange it."
"Thank you, and perhaps they would consider along with a substantial credit, perhaps also an outright grant, a fee, of say one koku..." He saw the eyes flash with anger, quickly hidden and wondered if he had gone too far, "... for services rendered by the family."
Another silence. Then the shoya said, "In the past... and in the future."
Hiraga's eyes became as cold as the shoya's though, like him, his mouth smiled. And, still in the new world, did not take out the small revolver he always carried now and blow a hole in him for his rudeness. "Of course." Then he added sweetly, "Until the day after tomorrow, neh?"
The shoya nodded and bowed. "Until then, Otami-sama."
Once more outside and hidden by the night, Hiraga allowed his triumph to soar with his soul.
One whole koku and credits and now how to exchange the three koku that the Mukfey gai-jin had not asked for, nor needed, into real rice, or real money, that he also could send to his father?
So much for so little, he thought, elated, and, at the same time feeling soiled, in need of a bath.
"Ah, Admiral," Malcolm Struan said, "a private word?"
"Certainly, sir." Admiral Ketterer clambered to his feet, one of the twenty guests still at the table in the Struan great room, grouped around their port that Angelique had left them to. Ketterer was in evening uniform, breeches, white silk stockings and silver-buckled shoes, more florid than usual having enjoyed a mulligatawny soup, barbecued fish, a double helping of the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with potatoes roasted in the dripping and vegetables imported from California, chicken and pheasant pie, a few fried pork sausages, followed by Californian dried apple pie with a lavish portion of the now famous Noble House cream, and to top everything off, a Welsh rarebit savory.
Champagne, sherry, claret--a Ch`ateau Lafite 1837, the year Queen Victoria came to the Throne--port and Madeira. "I could use a breath of air," Ketterer said.
Malcolm led the way to the side French doors, the good food and wine dulling the pain.
Outside it was brisk, but after the stuffy inside refreshing. "Cigar?"
"Thank you."
Number One Boy Chen was hovering in the background with the box. After the cigars were lit he vanished in the smoke.
"You saw my letter in today's Guardian, sir?"
"Yes, yes I did, much of it well put,"
Ketterer said.
Malcolm smiled. "If the hornet's nest of protests it stirred at the meeting this afternoon is any indication it put your point over rather well."
"My point? Damme, I do hope it's yours as well."
"Yes of course, of course. Tomorrow--"
Ketterer interrupted sharply, "I was rather hoping, since you share a perfectly correct and moral position, a man of your undoubted power and influence would, at the very least, have formally led the way and outlawed all contraband, on all Struan ships, and have done with it."
"All contraband is already proscribed, Admiral," Malcolm said. ""Slowly slowly catchee monkey," is the way to go. In a month or two we'll be in the majority."
The Admiral just raised his thick eyebrows and puffed his cigar and turned his attention to the sea.
The fleet looked grand under riding lights.
"Looks as though there could be a storm tonight, or tomorrow. Not the sort of weather for a joy ride, for a lady, I would think."
Anxiously Malcolm looked up the sky and sniffed the wind. No danger signs. As tomorrow's weather was a major concern he had gone to great lengths to check it. To his joy, as for the last few days the forecast had been for smooth seas and fair wind. Marlowe had confirmed it before dinner, and although he did not yet have final sailing approval--or was party to the real reason for Malcolm's need to be aboard with Angelique--as far as he was concerned their trip was on.
"Is that your forecast, Admiral?" Malcolm asked.
"My weather expert, Mr. Struan. He advised cancelling any trials tomorrow. Better to spend the time preparing to stand off Yedo. Eh?"
Ketterer added with thin joviality.
"I'm against flattening Yedo," Malcolm said absently, his mind on this new and unexpected problem--the Admiral's snide refusal to accept his letter that he had been confident would be more than sufficient.
Everything's perfect except for this bugger, he thought, curbing his anger, trying to think of a way out of the dilemma. Prancing Cloud had arrived on schedule and was in the roads off-loading cargo, Captain Strongbow already apprised of the new secret orders for Wednesday's new departure time, and Edward Gornt equally primed to pass over the Brock information as soon as the duel was over.
"I'm also opposed," the Admiral was saying.
"We've no formal orders for war. I'm curious what your reasons are."
"Using a hammer to kill a hornet is not only foolish but can give you piles."
Ketterer laughed. "Damme, that's a good one, Struan. Piles, eh? More of your China-man philosophy, eh?"
"No, sir. Dickens." He eased his back and leaned again on his sticks. "It would please me, sir, and Angelique, to be aboard Pearl, with Captain Marlowe, and out of sight of land tomorrow, for a short time." Heavenly had advised that as the precedent he was using, the marriage of Malcolm's parents, took place between Macao and Hong Kong out of sight of land, for safety he should do the same. "With your blessing of course."
"It would please me to see the Noble House take the lead in the Japans. Clearly you don't have enough time. I suggest ten days would be enough for practical steps. I believe Pearl and Marlowe are needed for fleet matters tomorrow."
Ketterer turned to go.
"Wait," Malcolm said, panic rising, "say I make an announcement right now, to everyone here, that we're, that we're stopping all arms shipments into Japan from now on. Would that satisfy you?"
"The point is would it satisfy you?" the Admiral said, enjoying seeing the man who represented everything he despised wriggling on the barb. "Would it?"
"What... what is it, sir, that I can do, or say?"
"It's not up to me to run your "business."
The way Ketterer used the word, laced with scorn, made it a dirty word. "It would seem to me what's good for the Japans is good for China. If you outlaw guns here, why not do the same in China for all your ships--the same with opium?"
"I can't do that," Malcolm said. "It would put us out of business, opium's not against the law and both are legal--"
"Interesting." Again the word was heavy with sarcasm.
"I really must thank you for a fine dinner, as usual, Mr. Struan. If you'll excuse me, I have lots to do tomorrow."