Noble House

"Hang on, Christian . . . you're okay now."
Desperately Toxe tried to talk through his retching. "My … my wife's . . . she's down th . . . down there . . . down . . ."
The sailor swam over. "I've got him, sir, you all right?"
"Yes . . . yes … he says his wife was sucked down."
"Christ! I didn't see anyone . . . I'll get some help!" The sailor turned and shouted at the police launch for assistance. At once several sailors dived overboard and began the search. Dunross looked for Gornt and could not see him. Casey came up panting and held onto the upturned cutter to catch her breath.
"You all right?"
"Yes … yes … thank God you're okay …" she gasped, her chest heaving. "There's a woman down there, Chinese I think, I saw her sucked down."
"Have you seen Gornt?"
"No. . . . Maybe he's . . ." She motioned at the launch. People were clambering up the gangway, others huddling on the deck. Bartlett surfaced for an instant and dived again. Casey took another great breath and slid into the depths. Dunross went after her slightly to her right.
They searched, the three of them, until everyone else was safe on the launch or in sampans. They never found the woman.
When Dunross had got home Penelope was deep asleep. She awoke momentarily. "Ian?"
"Yes. Go back to sleep, darling."
"Did you have a nice time?" she asked, not really awake.
"Yes, go back to sleep."
This morning, an hour ago, he had not awakened her when he left the Great House.
"You heard that Gornt made it, Alexi?" he said.
"Yes, yes I did, tai-pan. As God wills."
"Meaning?" '
"After yesterday's stock market it would have been very convenient if he hadn't made it."
Dunross grinned and eased an ache in his back. "Ah, but then I would have been very put out, very put out indeed, for I'd not have had the pleasure of smashing Rothwell-Gornt myself, eh?"
After a pause deVille said, "It's astonishing more didn't die." They watched Pilot Fish as the stallion cantered past looking very good. DeVille's eyes ranged the course.
"Is it true that Bartlett saved Peter Marlowe's wife?" Travkin asked.
"He jumped with her. Yes. Both Line and Casey did a great job. Wonderful."
"Will you excuse me, tai-pan?" Jacques deVille nodded at the stands. "There's Jason Plumm—I'm supposed to be playing bridge with him tonight."
"See you at Prayers, Jacques." Dunross smiled at him and deVille walked off. He sighed, sad for his friend. "I'm off to the office, Alexi. Call me at six."
"Tai-pan . . ."
"What?"
Travkin hesitated. Then he said simply, "I just want you to know I … I admire you greatly."
Dunross was nonplussed at the suddenness and at the open, curious melancholy that emanated from the other man. "Thanks," he said warmly and clapped him on the shoulder. He had never touched him as a friend before. "You're not so bad yourself."
Travkin watched him walk off, his chest hurting him, tears of shame adding to the rain. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and went back to watching Noble Star, trying to concentrate.
In the periphery of his vision he saw someone and he turned, startled. The KGB man was in a corner of the stands, another man joining him now. The man was old and gnarled and well known as a punter in Hong Kong. Travkin searched his mind for the name. Clinker. That's it! Clinker!
He watched them blankly for a moment. Jason Plumm was in the stands just behind the KGB man and he saw Plumm get up to return Jacques deVille's wave and walk down the steps to meet him. Just then the KGB man glanced in his direction and he turned carefully, trying not to be sudden again. The KGB man had lifted binoculars to his eyes and Travkin did not know if he had been noticed or not. His skin crawled at the thought of those high-powered binoculars focused on him. Perhaps the man can lip-read, he thought, aghast. Christ Jesus and Mother of God, thank God I didn't blurt out the truth to the tai-pan.
His heart was grinding nastily and he felt sick. A flicker of lightning went across the eastern sky. Rain was puddling the concrete and the open, lower section of the stands. He tried to calm himself and looked around helplessly not knowing what to do, wanting very much to find out who the KGB man was. Absently he noticed Pilot Fish was finishing his workout in fine form. Beyond him Richard Kwang was talking intently to a group of other Chinese he did not know. Linbar Struan and Andrew Gavallan were leaning on the rails with the American Rosemont and others from the consulate he knew by sight. They were watching the horses, oblivious of the rain. Near the changing rooms, under cover, Donald McBride was talking to other stewards, Sir Shi-teh T'Chung, Pugmire and Roger Crosse among them. He saw McBride glance over to Dunross, wave and beckon him to join them. Brian Kwok was waiting for Roger Crosse on the outskirts of the stewards. Travkin knew both of them but not that they were in SI.
Involuntarily his feet began to move toward them. The foul taste of bile rose into his mouth. He dominated his urge to rush up to them and blurt out the truth. Instead he called over his chief ma-foo. "Send our string home. All of them. Make sure they're dry before they're fed."
"Yes sir."
Unhappily Travkin trudged for the changing rooms. From the corner of his eye he saw that the KGB man had his binoculars trained on him. Rain trickled down his neck and mixed with the fear-sweat.
"Ah, Ian, we were thinking that if it rains tomorrow, we'd better cancel the meet. Say at 6:00 P.M. tomorrow," McBride said. "Don't you agree?"
"No, actually I don't. I suggest we make a final decision at ten Saturday morning."
"Isn't that a little late, old boy?" Pugmire asked.
"Not if the stewards alert the wireless and television fellows. It'll add to the excitement. Particularly if you release that news today."
"Good idea," Crosse said.
"Then that's settled," Dunross said. "Was there anything else?"
"Don't you think… it's a matter of the turf," McBride said. "We don't want to ruin it."
"I quite agree, Donald. We'll make a final decision Saturday at ten. All in favor?" There were no dissenters. "Good! Nothing else? Sorry, but I've got a meeting in half an hour."
Shi-teh said uncomfortably, "Oh, tai-pan, I was terribly sorry about last night . . . terrible."
"Yes. Shitee, when we meet the governor in Council at noon we should suggest he implants new, very severe fire regulations on Aberdeen."
"Agreed," Crosse said. "It's a miracle more weren't lost."
"You mean close the restaurants down, old boy?" Pugmire was shocked. His company had an interest in two of them. "That'll hurt the tourist business badly. You can't put in more exits. . . . You'd have to start from scratch!"
Dunross glanced back at Shi-teh. "Why don't you suggest to the governor that he order all kitchens at once be put on barges that can be moored alongside their mother ship? He could order that fire trucks be kept nearby until the changes have been made. The cost'd be modest, it would be easy to operate and the fire hazard would be solved once and for all."
They all stared at him. Shi-teh beamed. "Ian, you're a genius!"
"No. I'm only sorry we didn't think of it before. Never occurred to me. Rotten about Zep … and Christian's wife, isn't it? Have they found her body yet?"