"Pity one of them didn't hit you.""Yes, yes I was ready." 'Sinders glanced at Armstrong briefly as the big man clicked the lighter on, lit a cigarette and, under the light of the flame, peered at the paper. Sinders glanced up at the ship above. Once more Suslev was standing at the head of the gangway staring down at them. "He looks very angry indeed. Good." The flicker of a smile went over him. "Very good." With Sir Geoffrey's approval he had ordered the sudden arrival and attempt to disrupt the Ivanov's communications —and complacency—to put pressure on Arthur and the Sevrin moles, hoping to flush them out. "And our police mole," Sir Geoffrey had added grimly. "It's impossible that Brian Kwok's the spy mentioned in the AMG papers. Eh?""I agree," he had said.Armstrong clicked the lighter off. In the semidarkness of the car he hesitated. "You'd better get the detail organized, Malcolm. No need to waste any more time here. All right, Mr. Sinders?""Yes. Yes we can go now."Obediently Malcolm Sun left. Armstrong was watching Suslev on the deck. "You, er, you read Russian, don't you sir?""Yes, yes I do. Why?"Carefully Armstrong passed over the paper, holding it by the edges. "This fell out of Suslev's pocket."Equally carefully Sinders took the paper but his eyes never left Armstrong's. "You don't trust senior agent, Sun?" he asked softly."Yes. Oh yes. But Chinese are Chinese and it's in Russian. I don't read Russian."Sinders frowned. After a moment he nodded. Armstrong lit the flame for him. The older man scanned the paper twice and sighed. "It's a weather report, Robert. Sorry. Unless it's in code, it's just a meteorological report." Carefully he folded the paper in its original creases. "The fingerprints might be valuable. Perhaps it's code. Just for safety I'll pass it on to our cipher fellows."Sinders settled back more comfortably in the car. The paper had read: "Advise Arthur that, following his request for a Priority One on the traitor Metkin, an immediate intercept was ordered for Bombay. Second, the meeting with the American is brought forward to Sunday. Third and final, the AMG files continue to be Priority One. Maximum effort must be made by Sevrin to achieve success. Cen-Now which American! Sinders asked himself patiently, and is it Arthur's meeting or whose? Captain Suslev? Is he as innocent as he appears? Which American? Bartlett, Tcholok, Banastasio or who? Peter Marlowe—Anglo-American-Know-all writer with his curious theories?Did Bartlett or Tcholok make contact with Center in June in Moscow when they were there, with or without Peter Marlowe, who also happened to be there when a highly secret meeting of foreign agents was taking place?Or is the American not a visitor at all but someone who lives here in Hong Kong?Is it Rosemont? Or Langan? Both would be perfect.So much to wonder about.Like who's the fourth man? Who's the VVIP above Philby? Where will those threads lead? Into Burke's Peerage? Perhaps to some castle, or even a palace?Who's this mysterious Mrs. Gresserhoff who took Kiernan's second call and then vanished like a smoke ring?And what about those bloody files? What about bloody AMG and bloody Dunross trying to be so bloody clever. . . .It was getting toward midnight and Dunross and Casey were sitting happily side-by-side in the glassed-in forward section of one of the Golden Ferries, which swerved confidently toward its berth Kowloon side. It was a good night though the clouds still scudded low. Canvas storm panels still closed in and protected the open part of the decks, but here where they were, the view was good and a fine sea-salt breeze came through one of the open windows."It is going to rain again?" she asked, breaking their comfortable silence."Oh yes. But I certainly hope the heavy stuff stays away till late tomorrow afternoon.""You and your races! Are they that important?" "To all Hong Kong yan, oh yes. To me, yes and no." "I'll put my entire fortune on your Noble Star." "I wouldn't do that," he said. "You should always hedge a bet." Casey glanced across at him. "Some bets you don't hedge." "Some bets you can't hedge," he said, correcting her with a smile. Casually he lifted her arm and linked his with hers and settled his hand back in his lap. The contact pleased both of them. It was their first real touch. All during their stroll from the Mandarin Hotel to the ferry Casey had wanted to take his arm. But she had fought back the impulse and now she pretended not to notice their interlinking though, instinctively, she had moved a fraction closer."Casey, you never finished your story of George TofFer—did you fire him?""No, no I never did, not as I thought I would. When we'd won control I went to his boardroom. Of course he was fit to be tied but by that time I'd found out he wasn't the hero he claimed to be and a few other things. He just waved one of my letters about the money he owed me in my face and shouted that I'd never get that back, never." She shrugged. "I never did, but I got his company.""What happened to him?""He's still around, still cheating someone. Say, can we stop talking about him, it gives me indigestion."He laughed. "Perish that thought! Terrific night, isn't it?""Yes." They had dined impeccably in the Dragon Room atop the skyscraper hotel. Chateaubriand, a few thread-thin French fries, salad and creme brulee. The wine was Chateau Lafite."Celebration?" she had asked."Just a thank you for the First Central New York.""Oh, Ian! They agreed?""Murtagh agreed to try."It had taken just a few seconds to fix the terms based on the bank's' agreeing to the financing that Casey had laid out as possible: 120 percent of the cost of both ships, a 50 million revolving fund."Everything covered by your personal guarantee?" Murtagh had asked."Yes," he had said, committing his future and his family's future."We, er, I figure with Struan's great management you'll make a profit so our money's secure and … but Mr. Dunross, sir, we gotta keep this secret as hell. Meanwhile, I'll give it the old college try." Murtagh was trying to hide his nervousness."Please do, Mr. Murtagh. The very best old college try you can. How about joining me for the races tomorrow? Sorry, I can't invite you to lunch, I'm crammed to the gills and overbooked, but here, here's a pass if you're free to join us from 2:30 on.""Oh Jesus, tai-pan, you mean it?"Dunross smiled to himself. In Hong Kong an invitation to a steward's box was like being presented at court, and just as useful."Why the smile, tai-pan?" Casey asked, shifting slightly, feeling his warmth."Because all's well, at the moment, in the world. At least all the various problems are in their compartments." Going ashore and out of the ferry terminal he explained his theory that the only way to deal with problems was the Asian way: to put them into individual compartments and take them up only when ready for them."That's good, if you can do it," she said, walking close beside him but not touching now."If you can't you'll go under—ulcers, heart attack, old before your time, your health broken.""A woman cries, that's her safety valve. She cries and then she feels better. …" Casey had wept earlier, before leaving the V and A to meet him. Because of Line Bartlett. Part rage, part frustration, part longing, and part need—physical need. It was six months since she had had one of her rare, very casual and very short affairs. When the need became too strong she would go away for a few days, skiing or sunning and she would choose whom she would allow into her bed. Then, as quickly, she would forget him."But oh, isn't it very bad, Ciran-chek," her mother had once said, "to be so callous?""Oh no, Mama darling," she had told her. "It's a fair exchange. I enjoy sex—I mean I enjoy it when I'm in the mood, though I try to keep the mood as infrequent as possible. I love Line and no one else. But I th—""How can you love him and go to bed with someone else?" "It's, it's not easy, in fact, it's awful. But Mama, I work hard for Line all hours, weekends and Sundays, I work hard for all of us, for you and Uncle Tashjian and Marian and the kids, I'm the wage earner now that Marian's on her own and I love it, truly I enjoy it, you know I do. But sometimes it all gets too much so I just go away. And that's when I choose a partner. Honestly, Mama, it's just biological, there's no difference that way between us and men, and now that we've the God-blessed pill we can choose. It's not like in your day, thank God, my darling …"Casey stepped aside to avoid a phalanx of oncoming pedestrians and bumped Dunross slightly. Automatically she took his arm. He did not withdraw.Since she had asked him for equality this afternoon and had been turned down . . . No, that's not fair, Casey, she told herself. Ian didn't turn me down, he just gave me the truth from his point of view. From mine? I don't know. I'm not sure. But the one thing I'm not is a fool and so tonight I dressed carefully, a little differently, and put on perfume and made my makeup more definite and tonight 1 bit my tongue three to thirty times and held back, not giving measure for measure, playing it more conventionally, saying sweetly, "That's interesting!"And most times it was. He was attentive, entertaining and receptive and I felt marvelous. lan's certainly one helluva man. Dangerous and oh so tempting.The wide marble steps up to the V and A were ahead. Discreetly she let go of his arm and felt nearer to him because of her understanding. "Ian, you're a wise man. Do you think it's fair to make love to someone—if you don't love them?""Eh?" He was startled out of the pleasantness. Then he said lightly, "Love is a Western word, lady. Me, I'm China-manl""Seriously."He laughed. "I don't think it's time to be serious.""But do you have an opinion?""Always."