note 1 ?"
Armstrong looked around uneasily. "I don't even like talking about it here, he could have this place tapped.""And if he has?""If he has and if it's true he can fry us so quickly your head would spin. He can fry us anyway.""Perhaps—but if he is the one then he'll know we're on to him and if he's not he'll laugh at us and I'm out of SI. In any event, Robert, he can't fry every Chinese in the force."Armstrong stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?""Perhaps there's a file on him. Perhaps every Chinese above the rank of corporal's read it.""What?""Come on, Robert, you know Chinese are great joiners. Perhaps there's a file, per—""You mean you're all organized into a brotherhood? A long, a secret society? A triad within the force?""I said perhaps. This is all surmise, Robert. I said perhaps and maybe.""Who's the High Dragon? You?""I never said there was such a grouping. I said perhaps.""Are there other files? On me, for instance?""Perhaps.""And?""And if there was, Robert," Brian Kwok said gently, "it'd say you were a fine policeman, uncorrupted, that you had gambled heavily on the stock market and gambled wrong and needed twenty-odd thousand to clean up some pressing debts—and a few other things." «"What other things?""This is China, old chum. We know almost everything that goes on with quai loh here. We have to, to survive, don't we?"Armstrong looked at him strangely. "Why didn't you tell me before?""I haven't told you anything now. Nothing. I said perhaps and I repeat perhaps. But if this's all true . .." He passed over the file and wiped the sweat off his upper lip. "Read it yourself. If it's true we're up the creek without a paddle and we'll need to work very quickly. What I said was all surmise. But not about Crosse. Listen Robert, I'll bet you a thousand… a thousand to one, he's the mole."107:43 P.M.:Dunross finished reading the blue-covered file for the third time. He had read it as soon as it had arrived—as always—then again on the way to the Governor's Palace. He closed the blue cover and set it onto his lap for a moment, his mind possessed. Now he was in his study on the second floor of the Great House that sat on a knoll on the upper levels of the Peak, the leaded bay windows overlooking floodlit gardens, and then far below, the city and the immensity of the harbor.The ancient grandfather clock chimed a quarter to eight.Fifteen minutes to go, he thought. Then our guests arrive and the party begins and we all take part in a new charade. Or perhaps we just continue the same one.The room had high ceilings and old oak paneling, dark green velvet curtains and Chinese silk rugs. It was a man's room, comfortable, old, a little worn and very cherished. He heard the muted voices of the servants below. A car came up the hill and passed by.The phone rang. "Yes? Oh hello, Claudia.""I haven't reached Tsu-yan yet, tai-pan. He wasn't in his office. Has he called?""No. No not yet. You keep trying.""Yes. See you in a little while. 'Bye."He was sitting in a deep, high-winged chair and wore a dinner jacket, his tie not yet tied. Absently he stared out of the windows, the view ever pleasing. But tonight he was filled with foreboding, thinking about Sevrin and the traitor and all the other evil things the report had foretold.What to do?"Laugh," he said out loud. "And fight."He got up and went with his easy stride to the oil painting of Dirk Struan that was on the wall over the mantelpiece. Its frame was heavy and carved gilt and old, the gilt chipped off here and there, and it was secretly hinged on one side. He moved it away from the wall and opened the safe the painting covered. In the safe were many papers, some neatly tied with scarlet ribbons, some ancient, some new, a few small boxes, a neat, well-oiled, loaded Mauser in a clip attached to one of the sides, a box of ammunition, a vast old Bible with the Struan arms etched into the fine old leather and seven blue-covered files similar to the one he had in his hand.Thoughtfully he slid the file alongside the others in sequence. He stared at them a moment, began to close the safe but changed his mind as his eyes fell on the ancient Bible. His fingers caressed it, then he lifted it out and opened-it. Affixed to the thick flyleaf with old sealing wax were halves of two old Chinese bronze coins, crudely broken. Clearly, once upon a time, there had been four such half-coins for there was still the imprint of the missing two and the remains of the same red sealing wax attached to the ancient paper. The handwriting heading the page was beautiful copperplate: "I swear by the Lord God that whomsoever produces the other half of any of these coins, I will grant him whatsoever he asks." It was signed Dirk Struan, June 10, 1841, and below his signature was Culum Struan's and all the other tai-pans and the last name was Ian Dunross.Alongside the first space where once a coin had been was written: "Wu Fang Choi, paid in part, August 16, Year of our Lord 1841," and signed again by Dirk Struan and cosigned below by Culum Struan and dated 18 June 1845 "paid in full." Alongside the second: "Sun Chen-yat, paid in full, October 10, 1911," and signed boldly, Hag Struan.