His eyes saw Paul Choy and the old seaman waiting, watching him, and all of his good humor vanished. He pushed away his vagrant thoughts and concentrated."Yes, you're right of course, Mr. Choy. But your premise is wrong. Of course this is all theoretical, the Ho-Pak hasn't failed yet. Perhaps it won't. But there's no reason why any bank should do what you suggest, it never has in the past. Each bank stands or falls on its own merits, that's the joy of our free enterprise system. Such a scheme as you propose would set a dangerous precedent. It would certainly be impossible to prop up every bank that was mismanaged. Neither bank needs the Ho-Pak, Mr. Choy. Both have more than enough customers of their own. Neither has ever acquired other banking interests here and I doubt whether either would ever need to."Horseshit, Paul Choy was thinking. A bank's committed to growth like any other business and Blacs and the Victoria are the mpst rapacious of all—except Struan's and Rothwell-Gornt. Shit, and Asian Properties and all the other hongs."I'm sure you're right, sir. But my uncle Wu'd appreciate it if you heard anything, one way or another."He turned to his father and said in Haklo, "I'm finished now, Honored Uncle. This barbarian agrees the bank may be in trouble."Wu's face lost color. "Eh? How bad?""I'll be the first in line tomorrow. You should take all your money out quickly.""Ayeeyah! By all the gods!" Wu said, his voice raw, "I'll personally slit Banker Kwang's throat if I lose a single fornicating cash piece, even though he's my nephew!"Paul Choy stared at him. "He is?""Banks are just fornicating inventions of foreign devils to steal honest people's wealth," Wu raged. "I'll get back every copper cash or his blood will flow! Tell me what he said about the bank!""Please be patient, Honored Uncle. It is polite, according to barbarian custom, not to keep this barbarian waiting."Wu bottled his rage and said to Gornt in his execrable pidgin, "Bank bad, heya? Thank tell true. Bank bad custom, heya?""Sometimes," Gornt said cautiously.Four Finger Wu unknotted his bony fists and forced calmness. "Thank for favor … yes … also want like sister son say heya?""Sorry, I don't understand. What does your uncle mean, Mr. Choy?"After chatting with his father a moment for appearances, the young man said, "My uncle would consider it a real favor if he could hear privately, in advance, of any raid, takeover attempt or bail-out —of course it'd be kept completely confidential."Wu nodded, only his mouth smiling now. "Yes. Favor." He put out his hand and shook with Gornt in friendly style, knowing that barbarians liked the custom though he found it uncivilized and distasteful, and contrary to correct manners from time immemorial. But he wanted his son trained quickly and it had to be with Second Great Company and he needed Gornt's information. He understood the importance of advance knowledge. Eeeee, he thought, without my friends in the Marine Police forces of Asia my fleets would be powerless."Go ashore with him, Nephew. See him into a taxi then wait for me. Fetch Two Hatchet Tok and wait for me, there, by the taxi stand."He thanked Gornt again, then followed them to the deck and watched them go. His ferry sampan was waiting and he saw them get into it and head for the shore.It was a good night and he tasted the wind. There was moisture on it. Rain? At once he studied the stars and the night sky, all his years of experience concentrating. Rain would come only with storm. Storm could mean typhoon. It was late in the season for summer rains but rains could come late and be sudden and very heavy and typhoon as late as November, as early as May, and if the gods willed, any season of the year.We could use rain, he thought. But not typhoon.He shuddered. Now we're almost into Ninth Month.Ninth Month had bad memories for him. Over the years of his life, typhoon had savaged him nineteen times in that month, seven times since his father had died in 1937 and he had become Head of the House of the Seaborne Wu and Captain of the Fleets.Of these seven times the first was that year. Winds of 115 knots tore out of the north/northwest and sank one whole fleet of a hundred junks in the Pearl River Estuary. Over a thousand drowned that time—his eldest son with all his family. In '49 when he had ordered all his Pearl River-based armada to flee the Communist Mainland and settle permanently into Hong Kong waters, he had been caught at sea and sunk along with ninety junks and three hundred sampans. He and his family were saved but he had lost 817 of his people. Those winds came out of the east. Twelve years ago from the east/northeast again and seventy junks lost. Ten years ago Typhoon Susan with her eighty-knot gales from the northeast, veering to east/southeast, had decimated his Taiwan-based fleet and cost another five hundred lives there, and another two hundred as far south as Singapore and another son with all his family. Typhoon Gloria in '57, one-hundred-knot gales, another multitude drowned. Last year Typhoon Wanda came and wrecked Aberdeen and most of the Haklo sea villages in the New Territories. Those winds came from the north/northwest and backed to northwest then veered south.Wu knew the winds well and the number of the days well. September second, eighth, second again, eighteenth, twenty-second, tenth, and Typhoon Wanda first day. Yes, he thought, and those numbers add up to sixty-three, which is divisible by the magic number three, which then makes twenty-one which is three again. Will typhoon come on the third day of the Ninth Month this year? It never has before, never in all memory, but will it this year? Sixty-three is also nine. Will it come on the ninth day?He tasted the wind again. There was more moisture in it. Rain was coming. The wind had freshened slightly. It came from north/ northeast now.The old seaman hawked and spat. Joss! If it's the third or ninth or second it's joss never mind. The only certain thing is that typhoon will come from some quarter or other and it will come in the Ninth Month—or this month which is equally bad.He was watching the sampan now and he could see his son sitting amidships, alongside the barbarian, and he wondered how far he could trust him. The lad's smart and knows the foreign devil ways very well, he thought, filled with pride. Yes, but how far has he been converted to their evils? I'll soon find out never mind. Once the lad's part of the chain he'll be obedient. Or dead. In the past the House of Wu always traded in opium with or for the Noble House, and sometimes for ourselves. Once opium was honorable.It still is for some. Me, Smuggler Mo, White Powder Lee, ah, what about them? Should we join into a Brotherhood, or not?But the White Powders? Are they so different? Aren't they just stronger opium—like spirit is to beer?What's the trading difference between the White Powders and salt? None. Except that now stupid foreign devil law says one's contraband and the other isn't! Ayeeyah, up to twenty-odd years ago when the barbarians lost their fornicating war to the fiends from the Eastern Sea, the government monopolized the trade here.Wasn't Hong Kong trade with China built on opium, greased only by opium grown in barbarian India?But now that they've destroyed their own producing fields, they're trying to pretend the trade never happened, that it's immoral and a terrible crime worth twenty years in prison!Ayeeyah, how can a civilized person understand a barbarian?Disgustedly he went below.Eeeee, he thought wearily. This has been a difficult day. First John Chen vanishes. Then those two Cantonese dogmeat fornicaters are caught at the airport and my shipment of guns is stolen by the fornicating police. Then this afternoon the tai-pan's letter arrived by hand: "Greetings Honored Old Friend. On reflection I suggest you put Number Seven Son with the enemy—better for him, better for us. Ask Black Beard to see you tonight. Telephone me afterwards." It was signed with the tai-pan's chop and "Old Friend."