“How’s Mrs. Brock?”
“As well as can be expected—as the papers would say. How’s—did the cinchona arrive?”
“Aye. She’s fine now.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!”
“Aye.” But in spite of his feeling of well-being, Struan was troubled by a vague, yet piercing apprehension. It was nothing that he could articulate, just an awareness of danger somewhere. The letters had given no hint of what it might be. Gordon Chen had written that he still had hopes of finding the cinchona. And Skinner had said that he would release the news immediately and expect Struan today.
But it canna be today now. I wish to God I’d been firm and told May-may she’ll stay.
“I’ll be returning to Hong Kong tomorrow. You two’d best come with me.”
“I think we’d better go in
White Witch with Mrs. Brock and Lillibet,” Culum said. “Mrs. Brock sent word to Brock by lorcha this morning. About us—and about Gorth.”
“Dinna worry, lad. Liza Brock’ll come around, and Tyler will na trouble you either. He swore an oath, remember?”
Culum studied the Tai-Pan for a moment. “Did know I was going to take Tess on
China Cloud?”
“Well, lad, when she was missing, I hoped you had,” Struan said circumspectly.
Culum picked up a paperweight that was on the desk. It was white jade and heavy. “I’ve been very stupid.”
“I dinna think so. Best thing you could have done. You’re settled now.”
“I’ve been very stupid because again I’ve been a puppet.”
“Eh?”
“I think you put the idea of eloping into my head. I think you deliberately put Orlov under my command knowing that I would order him to marry us. I think you sent me and Tess off knowing that this would drive Gorth berserk, and make him publicly attack you and give you the opportunity to kill him openly. Did you?”
Struan sat motionless in the chair. His eyes did not waver from Culum’s. “I dinna quite know how to answer you, Culum. I dinna know for certain if you want an answer. The fact is that you wanted to marry Tess quickly and you
are married. The fact is that Gorth did try to murder you in the foulest way a man could conceive. The fact is that he’s dead. The fact is I regret na having the pleasure of killing him, but the fact is that his blood’s na on my hands. The fact is that because he is dead, you’re alive—you and Tess. The fact is that whatever Brock wants to do about it, he swore a holy oath to give you a safe berth in a safe harbor. And a last fact is that soon now you can take over. As Tai-Pan.”
Culum put down the paperweight. “I’m not ready to be Tai-Pan.”
“I know. But you soon will be. I’m going home in a few months,” Struan said. “I’ll bring
Lotus Cloud back next year and deal with Wu Kwok. But everything else will be your problem.”
Culum thought about being Tai-Pan, about being on his own. But he knew that now he was not on his own. Now he had Tess.
“I think I can make peace with Brock—if you don’t try to do it for me,” he said. “Did you plan all this? Can I have a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” He waited, desperately wanting a “no.”
“Aye,” Struan said deliberately. “I used certain facts to achieve a calculated end.”
“When I’m Tai-Pan I’m joining Struan and Company with Brock and Sons,” Culum said. “Brock’ll be the first Tai-Pan and I’ll be after him!”
Struan was on his feet. “That bastard’ll na be Tai-Pan of The Noble House. He’ll na run my ships!”
“They’re not
your ships. They’re the company’s. Isn’t Brock just another pawn to be used or abused at whim?”
“I swear to God, Culum, I dinna understand you. Your whole life’s put into your hands and now you’ll do the one thing to destroy it.”
Culum suddenly saw his father clearly—as a man. He saw the size and strength and the hard, weathered face, the red-gold hair and the startling green of the eyes. And he knew that he would always be this man’s tool. He knew he could never battle with him, or persuade him that the only way he could survive alone as Tai-Pan would be to join with Brock and gamble that Brock would leave him and Tess in peace. “I can never be
the Tai-Pan of
the Noble House. I’m not like you,” he said with calm finality. “I don’t want to be, and I never will.”
There was a knock.
“Aye?” Struan grated.
Lo Chum opened the door. “So’dger Mass’er see, can?”
“I will na be a minute.”
Culum got up. “I think I’ll go and—”
“Just a minute, Culum.” Struan turned back to Lo Chum. “See now, savvy?”
Lo Chum huffed irritably and opened the door wider.
The young Portuguese officer entered. “Good afternoon, senhor.”
“Please sit down, Captain Machado. Do you know my son Culum?”
They shook hands and the officer sat down.
“As leader of the English nationals, my superiors have asked me to tell you officially the result of our investigation into the murder of Senhor Brock,” he began.
“Have you caught the others?” Struan interrupted. The officer smiled and shook his head. “No, senhor. I doubt if we ever will. We passed the assassin over to the Chinese authorities as we are bound to do. They investigated him in their inimitable way. He admitted he was a member of a secret society. The Hung Mun. Triads, I believe you call them. It seems he came here from Hong Kong a few days ago. According to him, there is a thriving lodge in Tai Ping Shan.” The officer smiled again. “It seems, too, that you have many enemies, Senhor Struan. That
Cabrdo claimed your—your natural son, Gordon Chen, was the leader.”
“That’s the best joke I’ve heard in years,” Struan said, outwardly amused. But he was considering very carefully the possibility that it was true. And if it is? he asked himself. I dinna ken. But you’d better find out fast, one way or another.
“The mandarins were amused too, so they said,” Machado told him. “In any event, unfortunately the heathen devil died before they could get the real leader’s name.” He added disdainfully, “He claimed he had been sent here to assassinate Senhor Brock on the leader’s orders. Of course he gave names of his associates but these are as meaningless as the rest of his story. It was a simple robbery. These damned Triads are nothing but highwaymen. Or perhaps,” he said pointedly, “a matter of vengeance.”
“Eh?”
“Well, senhor. The young Senhor Brock was—how shall I put it—not exactly admired in certain quarters of ill repute. It seems that he frequented a house near where he was found. He brutally attacked a prostitute a week or so ago. She died the day before yesterday. We have just received a complaint against him from the mandarins. Who knows? Perhaps the mandarins decided a tooth for a tooth, and this is all a diversion. You know how devious they are. Perhaps it’s just as well he is dead, for we would have to have taken action and that would have embarrassed everyone.” He got up. “My superiors will, of course, send an official report to His Excellency, as one of your nationals is involved.”
Struan offered his hand. “Will you thank them for me? And I wonder if this could be hushed up? The part about the prostitute. My son’s married to his sister, and I’d like to guard the Brock name. Tyler Brock is an old associate.”