"Jesus, Casey," Murtagh had burst out, "head office'll never go for it in a million years!""If they don't they'll miss the greatest opportunity of their lives. And so will you. This is your big chance—grab it! If you help Struan's now think how much face everyone gets. When Dunross comes to see you th—""If he comes!""He'll come. I'll get him to come see you! And when he does, tell him this's all your idea, not mine, and that y—""But, Casey, don—""No. It's got to be your idea. I'll back you a thousand percent with New York. And when Dunross comes to you, tell him you want Old Friend status too.""Jesus, Casey, I've got enough troubles without having to explain to those meatheads back home about Old Friend and 'face'!""So don't explain that part to them. You pull this oif and you'll be the most important American banker in Asia."Yes, Casey told herself, sick with hope, and I'll have extricated Line from Gornt's trap. I know I'm right about Gornt."The hell you are, Casey!" Bartlett had said angrily this morning, the first time in their life together he had ever flared at her."It's obvious, Line," she had slammed back. "I'm not trying to interfere i—""The hell you're not!""You brought Orlanda up, I didn't! You're going overboard about—about her great cooking and great dancing and great outfit and great company! All I said was, did you have a nice time?""Sure, but you said it with a real crappy harpy jealous tone and I know you meant: I hope you had a lousy time!"Line was right, Casey thought in misery. If he wants to be out all night that's up to him. I should have buttoned up like the other times and not made a big deal of it. But this isn't like the other times. He's in danger and won't see it!"For chrissake, Line, that woman's after your money and power and that's all! How long have you known her? A couple of days. Where did you meet her? Gornt! She's got to be Gornt's puppet! That guy's as smart as they come! I've done some checking, Line, her apartment's paid by him, her bills. Sh—""She told me all that and all about him and her and that's the past! You can forget Orlanda! Get it? Just don't bad-mouth her anymore. Understand?""Par-Con's got a lot riding on whether it's Struan's or Gornt and they'll both use any tactic to undermine you or lay you open to att—""And lay the operative word? C'mon, Casey, for chrissake! You've never been jealous before—admit you're fit to be tied. She's everything a man could want and you're . . ."She remembered how he had stopped just before he'd said it. Tears filled her eyes. He's right, goddamnit! I'm not. I'm a goddamn business machine, not feminine like her, not an easy lay and not interested in being a housewife, at least not yet, and I could never do what she's done. Orlanda's soft, pliant, golden, a great cook, he says, feminine, great body great legs great taste, trained and beddable, Jesus, how beddable. And with no thought in her goddamn head but how to catch a rich husband. The Frenchwoman was right: Line's a patsy for any no-account, harpy, Asian gold digger, and Orlanda's the cream of the Hong Kong crop.Shit!But whatever Line says, I'm still right about her and right about Gornt. Or am I?Let's face it, I've nothing to go on but a few rumors, and my own intuition. Orlanda's got me on the run, I'm running scared. I made a goddamn mistake letting myself go at Line. Remember what he said before he left the suite. "From here on in you stay the hell out of my private life!"Oh God!There was a fine wind blowing as the ferry skittered across the harbor, engines pounding, sampans and other boats moving nimbly out of the way, the sky brooding and overcast. Oblivious, she dabbed her tears away, took out her mirror and checked that her mascara was not running. A huge freighter sounded its horn, flags fluttering, and moved majestically past, but she did not see it, nor the immensity of the nuclear carrier tied up alongside the Admiralty Wharf, Hong Kong side. "Get hold of yourself," she muttered in misery to her mirror image. "Jesus, you look forty."The cramped wooden benches were crowded and she shifted uncomfortably, jammed between other passengers, most of whom were Chinese, though here and there were camera-heavy tourists and other Europeans. There was not an inch of free space, all gangways clogged, seats clogged, and already blocks of passengers crowded the ramp exit on both decks. The Chinese beside her were awkwardly reading their newspapers as people would on any subway except that, from time to time, they would hawk noisily to clear their throats. One spat. On the bulkhead right in front of him was a large sign in Chinese and English: NO SPITTING—FINE TWENTY DOLLARS. He hawked again and Casey wanted to take his newspaper and thump him with it. The tai-pan's remark flooded her memory: "We've been trying to change them for a hundred and twenty-odd years, but Chinese don't change easily."It's not just them, she thought, her head aching. It's everyone and everything in this man's world. The tai-pan's right.So what am I going to do? About Line? Change the rules or not?I have already. I've gone over his head with the bail-out scheme. That's a first. Am I going to tell him about it or not? Dunross won't give me away and Murtagh'll take all the credit, has to, if First Central'll buy it. I'll have to tell Line sometime.But whether the bail-out works or not, what about Line and me?Her eyes were fixed ahead, unseeing, as she tried to decide.The ferry was nearing the Kowloon Terminal berth now. Two other ferries leaving for Hong Kong side swirled out of the way for the incomers. Everyone got up and began to jostle for position at the port exit ramp. The ship heeled slightly, unbalanced. Jesus, she thought uneasily, jerked out of her reverie, there must be five hundred of us on each deck. Then she winced as an impatient Chinese matron squeezed past, stomped carelessly on her foot and pushed on through the throng to the head of the line. Casey got up, her foot hurting, wanting to belt the woman with her umbrella."They're something else, eh?" the tall American behind her said with grim good humor."What? Oh yes, yes … something else, some of them." People surrounded her, crowding her, pressing too close. Suddenly she felt claustrophobic and sickened. The man sensed it and used his bulk to force a little room. Those who were pushed aside gave way with ill humor. "Thanks," she said, relieved, the nausea gone. "Yes, thanks.""I'm Rosemont, Stanley Rosemont. We met at the tai-pan's."Casey turned, startled. "Oh, sorry, I guess … I guess I was a million miles away, I didn't. . . sorry. How's it going?" she asked, not remembering him."More of the same, Casey." Rosemont looked down at her. "Not so good with you, huh?" he asked kindly."Oh I'm fine. Sure, very fine." She turned away, self-conscious that he'd noticed. Sailors were fore and aft and they tossed out guy lines which were instantly caught and dropped over stanchions. The thick ropes screeched under the tension, setting her teeth on edge. As the ferry eased perfectly into its berth, the drawbridge gate began to lower but before it was down completely the crowd was surging off the boat, Casey carried with it. After a few yards the pressure eased and she walked up the ramp at her own pace, other passengers flooding down the other ramp opposite to board for Hong Kong side. Rosemont caught up with her. "You at the V and A?"