Noble House

by James Clavell

  Cheers and more cheers, applause and roars and someone in the booth said, “Christ what a great idea, tai-pan! Noble Star’ll take that black bastard!”

  “Oh no he won’t! Butterscotch …”

  “Great idea, tai-pan.”

  Into the mike Dunross said, “The stewards appreciate your continued support.” He repeated it in Cantonese, adding, “There will be a further special announcement in a few minutes. Thank you!” in both languages.

  Another huge cheer and those in the rain scurried for cover or for the winning windows, everyone chattering, groaning, cursing the gods or blessing them, choking the exits, long lines of men, women and children seeking the long way home, a wonderful new happiness possessing them. Only those who possessed the winning double quinella numbers, eight and five in the second, one and seven in the fifth, stood paralyzed, staring at the tote, waiting for the winning odds to be declared.

  “Another announcement, tai-pan?” the announcer asked anxiously.

  “Yes,” Dunross said. “Around five.” Havergill had told him that the deal with Richard Kwang had been struck and had asked him to go to the Victoria box as soon as possible. He reached the exit door and went down the steps three at a time to the next level, very pleased with himself. Giving the race to Pilot Fish’s got to throw Gornt, he thought. Gornt knew and I knew it was a carve-up and that Alexi was set up whatever he did—which is the major reason I didn’t ride. They’d’ve tried it on me and I would have killed someone. But next Saturday … ah, next Saturday I’ll ride and Bluey White won’t dare, nor will the other trainers, next Saturday’ll be fair game and they’ll be on notice by God. His excitement picked up a beat. Then ahead in the crowded corridor he saw Murtagh waiting for him.

  “Oh tai-pan, can I se—”

  “Of course.” Dunross led him through the kitchen into his private room.

  “That was a great race. I won a bundle,” the young man said excitedly, “and great about Saturday.”

  “Good.” Then Dunross noticed the sweat on the man’s forehead. Oh Christ, he thought. “Are we in business, Mr. Murtagh?”

  “Please call me Dave, the brass said, er, they said maybe. They’ve scheduled a board meeting for tomorrow, 9:00 A.M. their time. Our time that’s …”

  “10:00 P.M. this evening. Yes. Excellent, Mr. Murtagh, then call me on this number.” Dunross wrote it down. “Please don’t lose it and don’t give it to anyone else.”

  “Oh, of course, tai-pan, I’ll call the very moment … How late can I call?”

  “The moment you put the phone down to them. Keep calling till you get me.” Dunross got up. “Sorry but there’s rather a lot to do.”

  “Oh sure, sure!” Murtagh added uneasily, “Say, tai-pan, I just heard about the 2 million down on the General Stores tender. 2 million from us by 9:30 Monday’s gotta be kinda pushing it.”

  “I rather expected it would be—for your group. Fortunately, Mr. Murtagh, I never planned on that modest amount of cash being your money. I know First Central is inclined to be like the mills of God—they grind slowly—unless they wish to remove themselves from the arena,” he added, remembering many friends who had been hurt by their precipitous withdrawal years back. “Not to worry, my new external source of credit’s more th—”

  “What?” Murtagh blanched.

  “My new external source of finance reacts at once to any sudden business opportunities, Mr. Murtagh. This took them just eight minutes. They seem to have more confidence than your principals.”

  “Hell, tai-pan, please call me Dave, it’s not lack of confidence but, well, they’ve no idea of Asia. I’ve got to convince them the General Stores takeover’s got to double your gross in three years.”

  “In one,” Dunross interrupted firmly, enjoying himself. “So sorry your group won’t share in our huge profits from that minor section of our immense expansion plans. Do have some tea in the box, sorry, I just have to make a phone call.” He took Murtagh’s elbow and firmly led him out of the door, shutting in after him.

  In the kitchen Murtagh was staring at the closed door, the happy clatter of plates and Cantonese obscenities from the twenty cooks and helpers a vast din. “Jesus,” he muttered in near panic, “eight minutes? Shit, are the goddamn Swiss horning in on our client?” He tottered away.

  Inside the room Dunross was on his private phone, listening to the ringing tone. “Weyyyyy?”

  “Mr. Tip please,” he said carefully in Cantonese. “This is Mr. Dunross calling.”

  He heard the phone put down with a clatter and the amah shriek, “It’s the phone! For you, Father!”

  “Who is it?”

  “A foreign devil.”

  Dunross smiled.

  “Hello?”

  “Ian Dunross, Mr. Tip. I was just concerned that your illness wasn’t worse.”

  “Ah, ah, yes, so sorry I could not arrive. Yes. I, I had some pressing business, you understand? Yes. Very pressing. Oh by the way, that was bad joss about Noble Star. I just heard on the wireless that Pilot Fish won by a nose after an objection. What was the objection?”

  Patiently Dunross explained and answered questions about his General Stores takeover bid, delighted that that news had already reached him. If Tiptop, then all newspapers. Good, he thought, waiting Tiptop out but Tiptop outsmarted him. “Well, thank you for calling, tai-pan.”

  At once Dunross said, “It was my pleasure, oh by the way, confidentially, I understand it may well be possible that the police have discovered one of their underlings has made a mistake.”

  “Ah. I presume the mistake will be corrected immediately?”

  “I would presume very soon, if the person concerned wishes to resign and take advantage of permission to travel abroad.”

  “How soon might very soon be, tai-pan?”

  Dunross was picking his words carefully, deliberately vague though formal now. “There are certain formalities, but it is possible that it could be quickly achieved. Unfortunately VIPs have to be consulted elsewhere. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Certainly. But the mighty dragon is no match for the native serpent, heya? I understand there is one of your VVIPs already in Hong Kong. A Mr. Sinders?”

  Dunross blinked at the extent of Tiptop’s knowledge. “I have certain approvals already,” he said, disquieted.

  “I would have thought very few approvals were necessary. True gold fears no fire.”

  “Yes. Is there somewhere I could call you this evening—to report progress?”

  “This number will find me. Please call me at 9:00 P.M.” Tiptop’s voice became even drier. “I understand it might well be possible that your last suggestion about banking might be serviced. Of course any bank would need proper documentation to secure an immediate half billion Hong Kong dollars in cash, but I hear that the Victoria’s chop, the governor’s chop and yours would be all that’s required to secure the loan for thirty days. This … minor amount of cash is ready, for a limited time, whenever the correct procedures are entered into. Until that time this matter is confidential, very strictly confidential.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you for calling.”

  Dunross put the phone down and wiped his palms. “For a limited time” was branded on his mind. He knew, and he knew Tiptop knew he understood that the two “procedures” were absolutely interlinked but not necessarily. Christ Jesus I love Asia, he thought happily as he rushed off.

  The corridors were filled, many people already crowding the elevators to go home. He peered into his box, caught Gavallan’s eye. “Andrew, go down to the members’ stand and get hold of Roger Crosse—he’s there with a fellow called Sinders. Ask them if they’ve a moment to join me in my box! Hurry!”

  Gavallan took off. Dunross hurried along the corridor past the betting windows.

  “Tai-pan!” Casey called out. “Sorry about Noble Star! Did y—”

  “Be back in a minute, Casey. Sorry, can’t stop!” Dunross called back on the run. He noticed Gornt
at the winning window but it did not take away his happiness. First things first, he thought. “How do you want the 10,000? Our bet?”

  “Cash will do very nicely, thank you,” Gornt said.

  “I’ll send it around later.”

  “Monday will do just as well.”

  “Later tonight. Monday I’ll be busy.” Dunross walked off with a polite nod.

  In the packed Victoria box the uproar was the same as everywhere. Drinks, laughter, excitement and some cursing about Pilot Fish but already wagers were being placed on next Saturday’s race. As Dunross came in there were more cheers, condolences and another volley of questions. He fielded them all casually and one from Martin Haply who was jammed beside the door with Adryon.

  “Oh, Father, what rotten luck about Noble Star. I lost my shirt and my month’s allowance!”

  Dunross grinned. “Young ladies shouldn’t bet! Hello, Haply!”

  “Can I ask ab—”

  “Later. Adryon darling, don’t forget cocktails. You’re hostess.”

  “Oh yes, we’ll be there. Father, can you advance me my next mon—”

  “Certainly,” Dunross said to her astonishment, gave her a hug and pushed his way over to Havergill, Richard Kwang nearby.

  “Hello, Ian,” Havergill said. “Bad luck, but clearly Pilot Fish had the edge.”

  “Yes, yes he did. Hello, Richard.” Dunross gave him the copy of the photo finish. “Damned bad luck for both of us.” Others crowded to see it.

  “Good God, by a whisker …”

  “I thought Noble Star …”

  Taking advantage of the diversion Dunross bent closer to Havergill. “Is everything signed?”

  “Yes. 20 cents on the dollar. He agreed to and signed the provisional papers. Formal papers by the end of the week. Of course the rotter tried to wheedle but it’s all signed.”

  “Marvelous. You did a terrific deal.”

  Havergill nodded. “Yes. Yes, I know.”

  Richard Kwang turned around. “Ah, tai-pan.” He dropped his voice and whispered, “Has Paul told you about the merger?”

  “Of course. May I offer congratulations.”

  “Congratulations?” Southerby echoed, coming up to them. “Damned bad luck if you ask me! I had my bundle on Butterscotch Lass!”

  The tempo of the room picked up as the governor came in. Havergill went to meet him, Dunross following. “Ah, Paul, Ian. Damned bad luck but an excellent decision! Both of them.” His face hardened nicely. “Next Saturday will certainly be a needle match.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Paul, you wanted to make a formal announcement?”

  “Yes sir.” Havergill raised his voice. “May I have your attention please …” No one took any notice until Dunross took a spoon and banged it against a teapot. Gradually there was silence. “Your Excellency, ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to announce, on behalf of the directors of the Victoria Bank of Hong Kong and China, that an immediate merger has been arranged with the great Ho-Pak Bank of Hong Kong …” Martin Haply dropped his glass. “… and that the Victoria totally guarantees 100 percent of all Ho-Pak depositors and …”

  The rest was drowned out with a great cheer. Guests in the nearby boxes craned over the balconies to see what was happening. The news was shouted across as others came in from the corridors and soon there were more cheers.

  Havergill was besieged with questions and he held up his hand, delighted with the effect of his announcement. In the silence Sir Geoffrey said quickly, “I must say, on behalf of Her Majesty’s Government, that this is marvelous news, Paul, good for Hong Kong, good for the bank, good for you, Richard, and the Ho-Pak!”

  “Oh yes, Sir Geoffrey,” Richard Kwang said, jovial and loud, sure that now he was a giant step nearer his knighthood. “I decided—of course with our directors—I decided it would be good for the Victoria to have a major foothold in the Chinese community an—”

  Hastily Havergill interrupted and overrode him. “Richard, perhaps I’d better finish the formal announcement and leave the details to our press conference.” He glanced at Martin Haply. “We have scheduled a formal press conference for Monday at noon but all details of the, er, merger have been agreed. Isn’t that so, Richard?”

  Richard Kwang began to make another variation but quickly changed his mind, seeing both Dunross’s and Havergill’s look. “Er, yes, yes,” he said but could not resist adding, “I’m delighted to be partners with the Victoria.”

  Haply called out quickly, “Excuse me, Mr. Havergill, may I ask a question?”

  “Of course,” Havergill said affably, well aware of what he would be asked. This bastard Haply has to go, he thought, one way or another.

  “May I ask, Mr. Havergill, how you propose to pay out all the Ho-Pak customers and yours, Blacs and all the other banks when there’s a run on all of them and not enough cash in the till?”

  “Rumors, rumors, Mr. Haply,” Havergill replied airily and added to laughter, “Remember: A swarm of mosquitoes can create a noise like thunder! Hong Kong’s economy has never been stronger. As to the so-called run on the Ho-Pak, that’s over. The Victoria guarantees the Ho-Pak’s depositors, guarantees the Struan-General Stores takeover and guarantees to be in business for the next hundred and twenty years.”

  “But Mr. Havergill, would you ans—”

  “Not to worry, Mr. Haply. Let’s leave the details of our … our benevolent umbrella for the Ho-Pak till our press conference on Monday.” At once he turned to the governor. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll make it public.” There were more cheers as he started through the crush toward the door.

  Someone began singing, “For he’s a jolly good fellow…” Everyone joined in. The noise became deafening. Dunross said to Richard Kwang in Cantonese, quoting an old expression, “‘When it is enough, stop.’ Heya?”

  “Ah, ah yes. Yes, tai-pan. Yes indeed.” The banker smiled a sickly smile, understanding the threat, reminding himself of his good fortune, that Venus Poon would certainly kowtow now that he was an important director on the board of the Victoria. His smile broadened. “You’re right, tai-pan. ‘Inside the red doors there is much waste of meat and wine!’ My expertise will greatly benefit our bank, heya?” He went off importantly.

  “My God, what a day!” Johnjohn muttered.

  “Yes, yes, marvelous! Johnjohn, old fellow,” McBride said, “you must be very proud of Paul.”

  “Yes, of course.” Johnjohn was watching Havergill leave.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Oh yes, I was just working late.” Johnjohn had been up most of the night estimating how they could safely effect the takeover, safely for the bank and for the Ho-Pak depositors. He had been the architect and this morning he had spent more wearisome hours trying to convince Havergill that now was the time to be innovative. “We can do it, Paul, and create such a resurgence of confid—”

  “And a very dangerous precedent! I don’t think your idea’s as important as you imagine!”

  It was only when Havergill had seen the enormous and immediate gain in confidence after Dunross’s dramatic announcement that he had reconsidered. Never mind, Johnjohn thought wearily, we’re all gainers. The bank, Hong Kong, the Ho-Pak. Certainly we’ll do very well for their investors, stockholders and backers, far better than Richard! When I’m tai-pan I’ll use the Ho-Pak as a pattern for future bail-outs. With our new management the Ho-Pak will be a marvelous asset. Like any one of a dozen enterprises. Even like Struan’s!

  Johnjohn’s tiredness vanished. His smile broadened. Oh hurry up, Monday—when the market opens!

  In the Struan box Peter Marlowe was gloomily leaning on the rail, watching the crowds below. Rain cascaded off the jutting overhang protecting the boxes. The three cantilever balconies of the members and nonvoting members were not so protected. Bedraggled horses were being led down the ramps, bedraggled grooms joining the bedraggled thousands streaming away.

  “What’s up, Peter?” Casey asked.


  “Oh nothing.”

  “Not Fleur, no problem there I hope?”

  “No.”

  “Was it Grey? I saw you both having at it.”

  “No, no it wasn’t Grey, though he’s a pain, ill-mannered and stridently anti-everything of value.” Marlowe smiled curiously. “We were just discussing the weather.”

  “Sure. You were looking depressed as hell just then. You lost the fifth?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t that. I’m ahead, well ahead on the day.” The tall man hesitated then motioned at the boxes and all around. “It’s just that I was thinking that there’re fifty thousand-odd Chinese here and another three or four million out there, and each one’s got a vast heritage, marvelous secrets, and fantastic stories to tell, to say nothing of the twenty-odd thousand Europeans, high and low, the tai-pans, the pirates, freebooters, accountants, shopkeepers, government people here—why did they choose Hong Kong too? And I know that however much I try, however much I read or listen or ask, I’ll never really know very much about Hong Kong Chinese or about Hong Kong. Never. I’ll only ever scratch the surface.”

  She laughed. “It’s the same everywhere.”

  “Oh no, no it isn’t. This’s the potpourri of Asia. Take that guy—the one in the third box over—the rotund Chinese. He’s a millionaire many times over. His wife’s a kleptomaniac so whenever she goes out he has his people follow her secretly and every time she steals something, his fellows pay for it. All the stores know her and him and it’s all very civilized—where else in the world would you do that? His father was a coolie and his father a highwayman and his a Mandarin and his a peasant. One of the men near him’s another multimillionaire, opium and illegal stuff into China, and his wife’s … ah well, that’s another story.”