“From a source of undoubted trust.” Struan got up. “I’ll put it into your hands before you go. Use it how you like. It’ll certainly prove that you’re right and Cunnington wrong, apart from anything else.”
“Will you dine with me, Dirk?” Longstaff felt better than he had in years. “We can chat about old times.”
“Na tonight, if you’ll excuse me. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Fine. Thank you. And I’m so glad our judgment’s vindicated.”
“Last—there’s something else that needs immediate attention. The Triads.”
“Eh?”
“Gorth Brock was murdered by Triads from Hong Kong. From Tai Ping Shan.”
“ ’Pon me word! Why?”
“I dinna ken.” Struan related what the Portuguese officer had told him about the Triads. And about Gordon Chen. He knew that he had to give Longstaff this information, else it would seem as if he were trying to protect his son when it came out officially. If Gordon was involved with them, this would flush him out. If he was not, then nae harm done.
“Bless my breeches,” Longstaff said with a laugh. “A ridiculous story.”
“Aye, spread by my enemies, nae doubt about it. But issue a proclamation about Triads and order Major Trent to crush them. Else we’ll have the cursed mandarins on our necks.”
“Good idea. Excellent, by Jove. I’ll get Horatio—damn it, I gave him Macao leave for two weeks. Can I borrow Mauss?”
“Certainly. I’ll send him to you.”
When Struan had gone, Longstaff sat down elatedly at his desk. “My dear Sir William,” he said to his glass. “I feel wonderful. If the truth be known, I’m damned glad to be leaving this malodorous island. I couldn’t care a tinker’s cuss what happens to it—to the traders, the Chinese or the poxy Triads.” He went to the window and began to chuckle. “We’ll see what the briefcase contains. And when we get back to England we’ll decide. If Cunnington’s out, we can safely back Hong Kong to advantage. If Cunnington’s still in, I can agree he’s right and dump the island as one of those things. Because I’ll have the papers, a key to any Foreign Secretary’s bedchamber, and also lots of tea.” He roared with laughter. A few days ago a private emissary had come from Ching-so to tell him the seeds that Horatio had requested would be shipped within two weeks. “I’d say you’ve done a fine day’s work, Your Excellency!”
Aboard
Resting Cloud, Struan found May-may already in bed in her own quarters, looking very well and even stronger.
“I’m very gracious happy to be home, Tai-Pan. There, you see! Your old mother obeys like seaman. I’ve had two cups of cinchona and am prepared for three more.”
“Eh?” he said, his suspicions rising.
“Why, absolute yes. And dinna look like that. I am truth speaking! Am I a Hoklo whore? A dogmeat beggar? Do I lie in my face? A promise is a promise, and dinna forget it. Of course,” she added sweetly, “now I take dungtasting poison magic with mango juice, which any normal womans would think of immediate but nae mans, oh dear no— that’s much too simple.” She tossed her head with her old imperiousness. “Mans!”
Struan hid his smile, and his pleasure that she was more her own self. “I’ll be back later. And you stay in bed.”
“Huh! Do I break promises? Am I a good-for-nothing turtle dropping?” She held out her hand like an empress. “Tai-Pan!”
He kissed her hand gallantly and she burst into laughter and hugged him. “Run along, my son, and no dirty whorehouses!”
Struan left her and went to his own cabin. He unlocked his safe and took out one of two copies of the briefcase papers and maps that he had meticulously made. He put them in his pocket, with the small sack which contained the remains of the cinchona bark.
He boarded his cutter again.
“Boston Princess,” he ordered, naming the Cooper-Tillman hulk.
The sun was teetering on the horizon, but it glowed dully as though a veil had been drawn across the heavens.
“What do you make of that, Bosun?”
“Doan know, sorr. I seed it like that in the South Seas, afore good weather an’ bad. If moon be ringed tonight, then mayhaps we be getting a spell of rain.”
Or worse, Struan added to himself. He stood up and looked to the west channel. There was no sign of the
White Witch. Well, he thought, maybe they’ll stand off and come in at dawn. I will na think about you yet, Tyler.
The cutter swung alongside the
Boston Princess. She was a huge three-decked, converted merchantman, permanently at anchor.
Struan ran up the gangplank. “Permission to come aboard,” he said to the American officer on deck. “Perhaps Mr. Cooper would see me. It’s urgent.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Struan.” The officer went below.
Struan lit a cheroot and threw the match overboard.
China Cloud was bearing off toward her moorings that lay in deep water abreast of Happy Valley.
“Hello, Tai-Pan,” Jeff Cooper said, briskly coming on deck. “I suppose you heard what that stupid son-of-a-bitch Cunnington’s done? We were terribly sorry to hear about the duel and everything. Did those two young fools elope?”
“Aye. How’s Wilf?”
“He’s dead.”
“Damnation! When did he die?”
“Three days ago.”
“Let’s below, eh?”
“All right. What about Longstaff being sacked and the treaty repudiated?”
“Means nothing. Just a stupid political blunder. I’m sure it’ll be corrected.”
Cooper led the way below. The main cabin was luxurious. “Brandy?”
“Thanks.” Struan accepted the drink. “Health!”
“Health.”
Struan opened the small bag and took out some of the cinchona. “See this, Jeff? It’s a bark. Cinchona bark. Sometimes called Jesuits’ bark. Make a tea out of it and it’ll cure malaria.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aye. It cured my mistress. That part’s private—but it cures for certain.”
Cooper picked up a piece of the bark, his fingers trembling. “Oh my God, Tai-Pan, do you realize what you’ve done? Do you realize what you’re saying?”
“Aye. Malaria’s worldwide—you’ve got it in the States all over Florida and the Louisiana Purchase. I know a cure and how to get the bark. What does that lead you to?”
“A service to mankind—and a fortune to whoever gets in first.”
“Aye, laddie. I’m proposing a partnership.” Struan put the bark back in the bag, suddenly sad. “Ironic, is it na? A few weeks ago this could have saved Robb and little Karen. All the others—and even Wilf, though I despised him.”
“He died badly,” Cooper said.
“I’m sorry for that.” Struan tasted the brandy and dismissed what was past. “My proposal is simple. We form a new company to specialize in the bark. We put up equal money. Four directors—you and your appointee, mysel’ and Culum. You run the company. I supply the where and the how and the what immediately and you start planning tomorrow.”
Cooper put out his hand. “You’ve a deal.”
Struan told him how he had got the bark and from whom, and about the ship that he had chartered that was leaving Macao tomorrow for Peru. “The bishop sent word Father Sebastian will go with her. I propose we double up and na take chances. The company’ll be debited the costs of this vessel, and we send another ship—but direct from America. We hire two doctors and two businessmen to go with the ship and find out everything they can about cinchona. The day the U.S. ship leaves, we release the news in the States through your connections. We’ll be one step ahead of our competitors and we’ll cover my bet with the bishop. We release the news instantly here to take the curse off Happy Valley. And as soon as we can in Europe. By the time our ships are back, doctors throughout the world will be screaming for cinchona. My ships will freight to the British Empire—you take care of the American continent—and we split the rest of the world. We could sell it by the ton in southern Italy alone.”