The veil over the sky had thickened. A gigantic bloody moon sat ten degrees above the clear horizon.
“I think you’ve a good nose, Fong.”
“Thank you, Tai-Pan.”
Struan held up the paper. “What does your nose say about this?”
“Not go alone,” Fong said.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
With the coming of darkness the sky began to cloud over and the humidity intensified. The China traders who were old in the ways of wind and sea knew that rain would come soon. The clouds heralded merely the first of the season’s rains, which would alleviate the constant mugginess for a time and lay the dust. Just a shower if joss was with them. If joss was against them, there would be a storm. And only joss would decide if the storm was to become a typhoon.
“I’m hot, Tai-Pan,” May-may said, fanning herself in the bed.
“So am I,” Struan said. He was changing out of a limp, dank shirt into a fresh one. “I told you you should stay in Macao. It’s much cooler there.”
“That may be, but then I’d na have the pleasure of telling you that I’m hot, by God.”
“I preferred you when you were sick. Nae cheek then and nae vulgar swearing.”
“Huh!” she snorted. “Dinna be mendacious with me!”
“What with you?”
“Mendacious, Tai-Pan. Do you na ken the English? While you’re out all day, na worrying about your poor old mother, I’ve been terrifical busy reading your Dr. Johnson word book, improving my mind with the barbarian tongue. Everyone knows ‘mendacious.’ It means ‘lying.’ That’s wat you are, by God.” She forced a pout and this made her even prettier. “You dinna adore me any more!”
“I’ve a good mind to mendacious your bottom.”
May-may forced a long-suffering groan. “Tai-Pan want-shee cow chillo jig-jig, heya, Mass’er? Can, oh ko, never mind.”
Struan approached the bed and May-may backed off. “Now, Tai-Pan, that was joke.”
He held her tight. “Ah, lassie, you get yoursel’ well, that’s the important thing to do.”
She was wearing a soft blue silk tunic and her hair was done elegantly, her perfume intoxicating. “Don’t you dare to go to whorehouses, eh?”
“Dinna be silly.” He kissed her and finished dressing. He put his knife in its back holster and the small dirk in his left boot, and relied his hair neatly with a ribbon at the nape of his neck.
“Why for you cut your hair, Tai-Pan? Grow it into a queue like a civilized person. Very pretty.”
Lim Din knocked and came in. “Mass’er. Mass’er Chen here-ah. Can?”
“See-ah cabin topside.”
“You come back, Tai-Pan?”
“Nay, lassie. I’ll go straight ashore.”
“Ask Gordon to see me—yes?”
“Aye, lassie.”
“Where you go?”
“Out, by God. And you better behave yoursel’ while I’m away. I’ll na be back till after midnight. But I’ll look in as soon as I’m aboard.”
“Good,” she purred. “But wake me if I’m sleepings. Your old mother would like to know her mendaciousical son’s safe.”
He patted her fondly and went to the cabin on the next deck. “Hello, Gordon.”
Gordon Chen was wearing a long robe of blue silk and light silk trousers. He was hot and greatly worried. “Good evening, Tai-Pan. Welcome back. I’m so happy to hear about the cinchona. How is the Lady T’chung?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“I’m sorry my inadequate efforts were fruitless.”
“Thank you for trying.”
Gordon Chen was again vexed because he had had to lay out a substantial number of taels on the quest, but his vexation was nothing compared to his anxiety over Hong Kong. The whole Kwangtung hierarchy of the Triads was in an uproar over the news from England. He had been summoned by Jin-qua and ordered to sound out the Tai-Pan, to use the total power of the Triads, and whatever means were necessary—bullion, squeeze, increased trade—to prevent the barbarians from leaving the island and to encourage them to stay. “There’s a matter of grave importance, Tai-Pan; otherwise I would not have intruded. Hong Kong. This editorial. Is it true? If it is, we’re lost—ruined.”
“I hear you’re Tai-Pan of the Hong Kong Triads.”
“What?”
“Tai-Pan of the Hong Kong Triads,” Struan repeated blandly, and told him what the Portuguese officer had said. “Stupid story, eh?”
“Not stupid, Tai-Pan, terrible indeed! A shocking lie!” If Gordon had been alone he would have torn his hair and clothes and screamed with rage.
“Why should Triads murder Gorth?”
“I don’t know. How should I know what those anarchists do? Tai-Pan of the Triads? Me? What a foul accusation!” My life’s not worth a price of a coolie’s droppings, he was shouting to himself. That turtledung traitor! How dare he divulge secrets! Get your wits about you. The Tai-Pan of the barbarians is staring at you and you’d better give him a clever answer! “I simply have no idea. Good heavens. Triads in Tai Ping Shan, under my very nose? Ghastly.”
“Have you enemies who’d spread such a story?”
“I must have, Tai-Pan. Great heaven! I wonder if—” The whites of his eyes showed.
“If what?”
“Well, I am—well, you are my father. Could it be that someone is trying to attack you, through me?”
“It could be, Gordon. It could be you
are chief of the Triads.”
“An anarchist? Me?” Oh gods, why have you forsaken me? I spent fifty taels on incense and offerings, and on having prayers said only last week. Am I not the most lavish supporter of all your temples without favor? Have I not personally endowed three temples and four burial grounds, and have I not a retinue of forty-three Buddhist priests on my personal payroll? “Why should I mix with those felons? Through you I am becoming rich. I’ve no need to steal or rob.”
“But you’d like the Manchus off the throne of China?”
“Manchus or Chinese, it’s all the same to me, Tai-Pan. Why should I care? Nothing to do with me.” Oh gods, close your ears for a moment. “I’m not Chinese—I’m English. I’d think the last person any Chinese secret society would trust is me. That would be dangerous, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps. I dinna ken. Perhaps you should spend some taels, Gordon. Start a spy system. Find out who these men are, who their leaders are.”
“At once, Tai-Pan.”
“Three months should be enough for a man of your astuteness to produce the leaders.”
“Six months,” Gordon Chen said automatically, desperately trying to think of a way out of the trap. Now he had an inspiration. Of course. Let the barbarians be the ones to deal with the anti-Triad turtledung. We’ll recruit spies from among them and arrange for them to join a sub-lodge and initiate them with false ceremonies. Excellent! Then . . . let me see. We let drop that the real Triad leader is—is who? I’ll think of some enemy when the time comes. Then we reveal them to the barbarians as actual Triads and off come their heads. “Oh yes, Tai-Pan, I’ll get onto it at once.”
“I think you should. Because one way or another, I’m going to smash the Triads.”