James Clavell - Gai-Jin
Page 103
Malcolm said with abject pretended fervor, following Uncle Chen's advice: "When a mandarin is furious with you, for whatever reason, quickly agree "confidentially" he is right, you can always assassinate him later when he's asleep."
Over the years he had been involved in the same argument with Army, Navy and government officials. And witnessed his father and mother quarreling, his father for free trade and his mother for morality, his father raging about the insolvable opium triangle, his mother vehemently against opium even so--and sales of arms--truth on both sides, both inflexible, the quarrel always ending with his father drinking himself into a stupor and his mother smiling with that fixed, infuriating smile that nothing would dislodge, his father's final barb always: "my Old Man--and your Prince
Charming--the Great Green-eyed Devil Dirk himself started the trade and we've flourished on it so help us God!"
Many the time he had wondered--but never dared to ask--if she had really been in love with the father and not the son, had settled for the son because the father would not. He knew he would never ask and if he did she would just smile that fixed smile of hers and say, "Malcolm, don't be absurd."
"Confidentially, you're right, Admiral," he repeated.
Ketterer choked on his port and poured some more.
"Well, that's something by God!" He looked up.
"Then you'll make sure Struan's does not engage in arms sales here?"
"I will certainly take everything you said under advisement and consult with my fellow traders."
Ketterer took out a handkerchief and blew his nose, took a pinch of snuff, sneezed and blew his nose again. When his head had cleared his baleful eyes looked at the young man, irritated that he could perceive no weakening. "Then let me put it another way. Confidentially, you agree to help Jappos to acquire cannon,
British cannon, any bloody cannon or
British warships is stupid?"
"For them to have a comparable navy would be wr--"
"A disaster, sirrah! Total disaster and stupid!"
"I agree."
"Good. I would like you to persuade all other traders to your opinion: no arms here, particularly cannon, of course no opium.
Confidentially of course."
"I'd be glad to put forward those opinions,
Admiral."
Ketterer snorted. Malcolm began to get up, not wanting to be cornered. "A moment, Mr.
Struan, another matter, before you go. A private matter." The Admiral motioned at the envelope and letter on his desk. "Th. From Mrs.
Struan. You know what it's about?"
"Yes, yes I do."
Ketterer moved the letter to the center of his desk.
"Your Noble House is supposed to be first in
Asia, though I'm told Brock's are pulling ahead of you now. Never mind which, you could be a conduit for good. I would like you and your company to assist me in this just cause. Just, Mr.
Struan."
Exasperated Malcolm said nothing, considering he had answered at length and was not prepared for another lecture.
Pointedly Ketterer said, "Confidentially, between you and me, I don't normally acknowledge such letters from civilians, normally. It goes without saying: Royal Naval rules and regulations belong to the Royal Navy." A sip of port and a subdued liverish belch. "Young Marlowe has invited you and... and your fianc@ee aboard
Pearl during his trials. Tuesday. For the day." The eyes bored deeper. "Has he not?"
"Yessir," Struan muttered, his mind in spasm as his ears seemed to have betrayed him.
"Of course my permission is needed." The
Admiral let this float in the air, then said,
"By the way, Mr. Struan, this intended duel is ill-advised, yes indeed." Malcolm blinked at the non sequitur, and tried to concentrate as the Admiral continued, "As much as that, that
Greyforth fellow deserves to pass on as soon as possible, duelling is against the law and ill-advised, and mistakes can happen, bad ones. Clear?"
"Yessir thank you for the advice but you were say--"
"Thank you, Mr. Struan," the Admiral said smoothly, getting up. "Thank you for coming to see me. Good day."
In turmoil Malcolm groped to his feet, not sure if he understood correctly. "Do I understand you to mean that I ca--"
"I mean nothing more than what I have said, sir." The voice was withering, clear and from the quarter-deck. "Just as you have told me, in confidence, you will take what I have said under advisement, in return, I tell you, in confidence, that I will take what you say, and do under advisement--before Monday, midnight. Good day."
END OF VOLUME VII
GAI-JIN
A Novel of Japan by
JAMES CLAVELL
Volume VIII of Twelve Volumes
Pages i-ii and 1579-1806
For special distribution as authorized by Act of
Congress under Public Law 89-522, andwiththe permission of the copyright holder.
Produced in braille for the Library of Congress,
National Library Service for the Blind and
Physically Handicapped, by Braille International,
Inc., 1994.
Copyright 1993 by James Clavell
All rights reserved.
GAI-JIN
BOOK THREE
Wednesday, 3rd December: (continued)
Outside on the promenade the air smelt good and clean and uncomplicated, and Malcolm took deep breaths until its strength began to take the pounding out of his head and chest. Exhausted and elated, he slumped on to the first bench and stared at the fleet without seeing it.
Have I understood Ketterer correctly,
Malcolm asked himself, over and over, once again blinded with hope, that Ketterer might, just might be prepared to forget Mother's letter and give Marlowe permission to have us aboard and not forbid Marlowe to marry us?
""In confidence," Ketterer had harped on that," he muttered, "and "between ourselves" and "in return."" Does that mean he'll keep quiet if I do my part? What in God's name could I do and say before Monday night to persuade the bugger because that's what he is, a blackmailing sod with no morals!
Nonsense! It's a deal--he's offered a deal, a quid pro quo--a marvelous deal for me, and not bad for him. I'd have to be careful, the other traders won't take kindly to any voluntary embargo. I'll have to be aboveboard because that bugger's smart and won't be satisfied just with promises.
Who can I trust with this new twist in the tangle of my life? Heavenly? Jamie?
Marlowe? Of course not him. Angel? No. Not her. If Uncle Chen was here he'd be the one but as he's not, who? No one. You'd better tell no one!
You have to carry this alone--isn't that what Mother said Dirk always told Father about being tai-pan.
"It's the being alone and carrying responsibility alone, that's the joy and the hurt of it." What can
I do about cannon and gu--
"Afternoon, Mr. Struan."
"Oh! Oh hello, Mr. Gornt."
"You looked so sad I just had to interrupt you."
"No, not sad," Malcolm said tiredly, "just thinking."
"Ah, sorry, in that case I'll leave you, suh."
"No, please sit down. You said, for a price?"
Edward Gornt nodded. "I apologize for not seeing you before, suh, but Mr. Greyforth wouldn't see the... the light. Now he agrees to pistols, double-barrelled duelling pistols, and one shot or two as you choose from twenty paces."
"Good. And?"
"And I tried to talk him out of the duel but he said, "Not unless Malcolm Struan publicly apologizes," words to that effect."
"Good. But the other matter, we've no walls or doors here." Malcolm motioned along the almost deserted promenade. "The price?"
"I thought this a perfect place but we can't spend too much time and have to be careful, Mr.
Greyforth could have binoculars on us."
"Is he watching?"
"I don't know for sure, suh, but I'd bet on it."
; "Then somewhere else? Later?"
"No, here's fine, but he's very wily and I don't want him to get suspicious. The price: If my information assists you to block
Morgan's plan to sink you and bankrupts
Brocks."
"You know the details?"
Gornt laughed softly, "Oh yes and much more, not that Morgan or Old Man Brock know I know, or Mr. Greyforth." He dropped his voice even more, his lips hardly moving. "This all has to be kept secret between us but the price is you break Morgan Brock, pursue him into bankruptcy, or prison if you can--if it's necessary to break Tyler it's all the same to me, but out of the wreckage you guarantee that I get their fifty percent interest in Rothwell's free and clear; that you assist me with the Victoria Bank to raise what's necessary to buy out Jeff Cooper's half; that for ten years you don't come after me other than a normal competitor, giving me favored nation status on any business dealings--all in a letter contract, written and signed by you. After ten years the gloves are off."
"Agreed," Malcolm said at once, expecting harsher conditions. "But the Victoria bastards aren't our friends, Brock started that bank and have excluded us always, so we won't be much help there."
"They soon will be, suh. Soon the whole
Board will fart if you say fart. This all must be kept very secret, of course. What do you plan after the duel?"
Malcolm did not hesitate, finding it so strange that he could trust this man so immediately, telling him about going aboard Prancing Cloud.
"This presumes I'm the winner and not hurt badly. Once I'm in Hong Kong I can simmer things down," he said confidentially.
"What about your shooting? I mean having to use sticks?"
"One is fine to balance with, for that amount of time." Malcolm smiled thinly. "I've been practicing."
"Now, I propose a deception to avoid legal repercussions that worked well in Virginia and should do the same here, in case either of you is killed: you both write the other a letter, dated and delivered the night before the duel, saying that you have mutually agreed to call the duel off "at the
No-Man's-Land rendezvous tomorrow, and you will both accept, as gentlemen, a mutual, simultaneous apology from the other."" Gornt smiled. "We, the seconds will testify that tragically, while you were showing each other your pistols, one went off."
"A fine idea. Has Norbert agreed?"
"Yes. I'll deliver his letter to you,
Tuesday, send him his by Mr. McFay, but best keep it secret, that it's a device."
"Tuesday" kept echoing in Malcolm's head but he forced it aside. Gornt was saying, matter-of-fact, "After the duel--it would be best if you kill him, not wound him--I'll come out to the clipper with you. In exchange for the written contract, I'll lay out the details how you can utterly wreck Brock's financial safety net, with a package of authenticated copies of letters and documents, enough for any court of law, and others that hand you a cudgel to use with the
Victoria."
Malcolm felt the glow deep within him. "Why not now, why wait till Wednesday?"
"Mr. Greyforth might kill you," Gornt said calmly, "then the knowledge would be wasted and I would have put myself at risk for no reason."
After a pause Malcolm said, "Say he does, or wounds me badly, how do you get the revenge you seek?"
"I'll approach Mrs. Struan, suh, at once. I'm gambling that won't be necessary. I gamble on you, not her."
"I heard you did not gamble, Mr. Gornt."
"At cards for money, no suh, never--I saw the futility of that with my stepfather. With life?
To the limit." Gornt felt eyes on him and said softly, "Someone's watching," and he glanced around. It was Angelique, coming out of the
Struan's, across the street. She waved.
Malcolm waved back and got up. The two men watched her approach.
"Hello, Angel," Malcolm said warmly, the Admiral's words dancing in his head. "May
I introduce Mr. Edward Gornt of
Rothwell's in Shanghai? My fianc@ee,
Mademoiselle Richaud."
"Ma'am!" Gornt took her hand and kissed it gallantly.
"Mr. Gornt," she murmured, reading his eyes. There was an abrupt, curious silence between the three of them, then for no apparent reason they burst out laughing.
"What is it?" she asked, her heart picking up beat.
"Joie de vivre," Gornt said.
She looked up at him, liking what she saw, warmed by the smile, then took Malcolm's arm, already relating the encounter in the letter she had interrupted:
I confess, dearest Colette, I spied them on the promenade so put on my best bonnet and took them by surprise, and my Malcolm's arm
(Defensively) for this new arrival is tall and handsome with the naughtiest glint behind his eyes that I saw instantly, though Malcolm could not possibly be aware of, or he would have been more jealous than usual, poor dear! I wanted to meet this tall stranger casually. He has the slightest of Southern accents, broad shoulders, narrow waist, a fencer probably, and glorious dancer--I do hope he'll be a friend, I need them here so much...
"La, ch@eri," she said, fanning herself against the immediate and pleasing internal heat, a subconscious feline reaction to Gornt's masculinity. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt an important conference
..."
"You didn't, Angel," Malcolm said.
"I was just leaving," Gornt said. No need to conceal all of his admiration. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am." He bowed.
"Good day, suh, I shall be in touch."
They watched him walk off. "Who is this Mr.
Gornt?"
He told her, but nothing in fact about the real
Mr. Gornt. He was fogged by the thought of
Tuesday.
"More pork in black bean sauce, Younger
Sister?" Ah Tok asked, chomping on a piece of fish.
"Thank you." Ah Soh reached over with her chopsticks to replenish her bowl, then snapped up the choice, quick fried prawn she had ogled.
"Please continue, Elder Sister."
The two women were in Ah Tok's room, their lunch spread out in a multitude of dishes, a fresh pot of jasmine tea close at hand.
"Ayeeyah, it's very difficult. Illustrious
Chen gave no clear instructions."
"That's not like him." Ah Soh took more of the succulent pieces of beef in oyster sauce.
"Not like him, not at all."
"I agree, but then his new concubine, the whore from Soo Chow, is sure to be taking most of his concentration."
"Ayeeyah! Is it true she's fourteen with no pubics?"
Ah Tok took up another bony piece of fish head and sucked it appreciatively.
"It's only the Garlic People of Chosen who don't have pubics." She spat the bones onto the floor and selected another part.
"Interesting. I wonder if it's all the garlic they eat? May I re-read his letter,
Elder Sister?"
It said:
Greetings, Ah Tok, Sixth Cousin
Twice Removed, You did very well to consult me at once. The cork of the bottle revealed clear traces of Dark of the Moon which must be the
Expeller of Dog Land in the Eastern Sea.
An abortion! The whore was wise and unwise to use it, the Master wise and unwise to advocate it. Until we know if he made the decision, or she did without his knowledge, you must do nothing. Cousin, listen to him sleeping-- he's always muttered in his sleep since a child--perhaps he will tell you more. Instruct Ah Soh to do likewise and both of you be like bats.
Unfailingly obey.
"Ayeeyah, what does he mean, be like bats?" Ah Soh asked irritably. "Bats are silent but they squeak. Bats can fly in the dark but are blind during the light, are invisible at night, helpless by day. Their droppings are valuable but stink to Heaven. What does he mean, heya?"
"Eyes and ears and nostrils open, like a bat, and watch where you drop droppings!" Ah Tok cackled. "Ten thousand summers to Noble House
Chen, with
out him we would not have known her Jade
Gate's hung on my son's door!"
"How do we know it was him?" Ah Soh said with a robust belch. "How do we know it was the Master and not someone else?" She dropped her voice and looked around as though expecting alien ears and Ah