"Except the Peak," Penelope said. "And the Chinese.""Even the Chinese want to get rich quickly to get out quickly— them more than most. You wait, Casey, you'll see. Hong Kong will work its magic on you—or evil, depending how you see it. For business it's the most exciting place on earth and soon you'll feel you're at the center of the earth. It's wild and exciting for a man, my God, it's marvelous for a man but for us it's awful and every woman, every wife, hates Hong Kong with a passion however much they pretend otherwise.""Come on, Kathren," Penelope began, "again you exaggerate.""No. No I don't. We're all threatened here, Penny, you know it! We women fight a losing battle . . ." Kathren stopped and forced a weary smile. "Sorry, I was getting quite worked up. Penn, I think I'll find Andrew and if he wants to stay I'll slip off if you don't mind.""Are you feeling all right, Kathy?""Oh yes, just tired. The young one's a bit of a trial but next year he'll be off to boarding school.""How was your checkup?""Fine." Kathy smiled wearily at Casey. "When you've the inclination give me a call. I'm in the book. Don't choose Gornt. That'd be fatal. 'Bye, darling," she added to Penelope and left."She's such a dear," Penelope said. "But she does work herself into a tizzy.""Do you feel threatened?""I'm very content with my children and my husband.""She asked whether you feel threatened, Penelope." Susanne de-Ville deftly powdered her nose and studied her reflection. "Do you?""No. I'm overwhelmed at times. But. . . but I'm not threatened any more than you are.""Ah, cherie, but I am Parisienne, how can I be threatened? You've been to Paris, m'selle?""Yes," Casey said. "It's beautiful.""It is the world," Susanne said with Gallic modesty. "Ugh, I look at least thirty-six.""Nonsense, Susanne." Penelope glanced at her watch. "I think we can start going back now. Excuse me a second. . . ."Susanne watched her go then turned her attention back to Casey. "Jacques and I came out to Hong Kong in 1946.""You're family too?""Jacques's father married a Dunross in the First World War— an aunt of the tai-pan's." She leaned forward to the mirror and touched a fleck of powder away. "In Struan's it is important to be family."Casey saw the shrewd Gallic eyes watching her in the mirror. "Of course, I agree with you that it is nonsense for the ladies to leave after dinner, for clearly, when we have gone, the heat she has left too, no?"Casey smiled. "I think so. Why did Kathren say 'threatened'? Threatened by what?""By youth, of course by youth! Here there are tens of thousands of chic, sensible, lovely young Chinoise with long black hair and pretty, saucy derrieres and golden skins who really understand men and treat sex for what it is: food, and often, barter. It is the gauche English puritan who has twisted the minds of their ladies, poor creatures. Thank God I was born French! Poor Kathy!""Oh," Casey said, understanding at once. "She's found out that Andrew's having an affair?"Susanne smiled and did not answer, just stared at her reflection. Then she said, "My Jacques … of course he has affairs, of course all the men have affairs, and so do we if we're sensible. But we French, we understand that such transgressions should not interfere with a good marriage. We put correctly the amount of importance on to it, non?" Her dark brown eyes changed a little. "Oui!""That's tough, isn't it? Tough for a woman to live with?""Everything is tough for a woman, cherie, because men are such cretins." Susanne deVille smoothed a crease away then touched perfume behind her ears and between her breasts. "You will fail here if you try to play the game according to masculine rules and not according to feminine rules. You have a rare chance here, mademoiselle, if you are woman enough. And if you remember that the Gornts are all poisonous. Watch your Line Bartlett, Ciranoush, already there are ladies here who would like to possess him, and humble you."1410:42 P.M. :Upstairs on the second floor the man came cautiously out of the shadows of the long balcony and slipped through the open French windows into the deeper darkness of Dunross's study. He hesitated, listening, his black clothes making him almost invisible. The distant sounds of the party drifted into the room making the silence and the waiting more heavy. He switched on a small flashlight.The circle of light fell on the picture over the mantelpiece. He went closer. Dirk Struan seemed to be watching him, the slight smile taunting. Now the light moved to the edges of the frame. His hand reached out delicately and he tried it, first one side and then the other. Silently the picture moved away from the wall.The man sighed.He peered at the lock closely then took out a small bunch of skeleton keys. He selected one and tried it but it would not turn. Another. Another failure. Another and another, then there was a slight click and the key almost turned, almost but not quite. The rest of the keys failed too.Irritably he tried the almost-key again but it would not work the lock.Expertly his fingers traced the edges of the safe but he could find no secret catch or switch. Again he tried the almost-key, this way and that, gently or firmly, but it would not turn.Again he hesitated. After a moment he pushed the painting carefully back into place, the eyes mocking him now, and went to the desk. There were two phones on it. He picked up the phone that he knew had no other extensions within the house and dialed.The ringing tone went on monotonously, then stopped. "Yes?" a man's voice said in English."Mr. Lop-sing please," he said softly, beginning the code."There's no Lop-ting here. Sorry, you have a wrong number."This code response was what he wanted to hear. He continued, "I want to leave a message.""Sorry, you have a wrong number. Look in your phone book."Again the correct response, the final one. "This is Lim," he whispered, using his cover name. "Arthur please. Urgent.""Just a moment."He heard the phone being passed and the dry cough he recognized at once. "Yes, Lim? Did you find the safe?""Yes," he said. "It's behind the painting over the fireplace but none of the keys fit. I'll need special equip—" He stopped suddenly. Voices were approaching. He hung up gently. A quick, nervous check that everything was in place and he switched oif the flashlight and hurried for the balcony that ran the length of the north face. The moonlight illuminated him for an instant. It was Wine Waiter Feng. Then he vanished, his black waiter's clothes melding perfectly with the darkness.The door opened. Dunross came in followed by Brian Kwok. He switched on the lights. At once the room became warm and friendly. "We won't be disturbed here," he said. "Make yourself at home.""Thanks." This was the first time Brian Kwok had been invited upstairs.Both men were carrying brandy snifters and they went over to the cool of the windows, the slight breeze moving the gossamer curtains, and sat in the high-backed easy chairs facing one another. Brian Kwok was looking at the painting, its own light perfectly placed. "Smashing portrait.""Yes." Dunross glanced over and froze. The painting was imperceptibly out of place. No one else would have noticed it."Something's the matter, Ian?""No. No nothing," Dunross said, recovering his senses that had instinctively reached out, probing the room for an alien presence. Now he turned his full attention back to the Chinese superintendent, but he wondered deeply who had touched the painting and why. "What's on your mind?""Two things. First, your freighter, Eastern Cloud."Dunross was startled. "Oh?" This was one of Struan's many coastal tramps that plied the trade routes of Asia. Eastern Cloud was a ten thousand tonner on the highly lucrative Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore, Calcutta, Madras, Bombay route, with a sometimes stop at Rangoon in Burma—all manner of Hong Kong manufactured goods outward bound, and all manner of Indian, Malayan, Thai and Burmese raw materials, silks, gems, teak, jute, foodstuffs, inbound. Six months ago she had been impounded by Indian authorities in Calcutta after a sudden customs search had discovered 36,000 taels of smugglers' gold in one of the bunkers. A little over one ton.