"Everything with her was very good, thank you."
"Thank God for that, we were all worried to death!" Phillip Tyrer beamed down at him, a picture of health, ruddy, strong, taller than Struan but only because now he walked, and stood, hunched over. "You're looking much better yourself."
"Wish that were true, Phillip." Abruptly Malcolm's envy prompted him to say sharply, "I hear Nakama's been giving you all sorts of information, you and Sir William?"
Tyrer's smile faded. "Yes, I suppose he has."
"The arrangement was that you were to keep Jamie and me informed. Everything. Eh?"
"Well, yes, yes it was. But Sir William... he's trying to find out the politics of Japan an--"
"Politics of a country and business are like a pair of gloves, Phillip. Perhaps you'd drop by tomorrow, before tiffin? I'd appreciate knowing what's new." He forced a smile. "Please give my best to Sir William, see you tomorrow."
He limped down the street, angry at himself for being so caustic, sick to death of walking like this, then climbed the stairs of the Struan Building heading for his suite. His back and stomach ached alarmingly. No more than usual, he thought irritably, and that's no cause to snap at Phillip. He was just trying to be pleasant.
Never mind, a little of Ah Tok's elixir and I'll be fine again. I'll ask Phillip to dinner an-- "Tai-pan!"
"Oh hello, Jamie." Malcolm stopped halfway up the staircase. "Did you hear Ocean Witch is leaving early? Perhaps on this evening's tide?"
"Ah! I was just going to tell you. Heard the rumor, tried to get it confirmed by Norbert but he's busy at the moment--how's Angelique?"
"Fine," Malcolm said absently, "We'd better be ready with our mails in case the Witch sails early."
"I'll be all set. I'll collect yours as soon as I hear if it's true." Jamie frowned, seeing how distracted Malcolm was.
"Send someone to Angelique, she has mail too." Her letter to his mother, written and rewritten until both were satisfied. It's a good letter, he thought.
"She was really all right, Tai-pan?"
"Gorgeous." Malcolm smiled, aches momentarily forgotten, the Witch forgotten. She had looked spectacular in bed, fresh though wan, happy and attentive and so pleased to see him. "She said by tomorrow evening she'll be fine, Jamie. Why don't we arrange a grand dinner, here, eh? Us, and say Dmitri, Babcott, Marlowe if he's free, and Pallidar, they're both good sorts though they fawn on her like puppies."
"What about Phillip and Sir William?"
"Phillip yes but not Sir William... no, best leave them both out. How about Count Zergeyev, he's always good for a laugh or two?"
"If you invite him you should really include all the Ministers--can't very well leave Sir William out then."
"You're right. Make it simple, them another night."
"I'll make the arrangements," Jamie said, glad that they were on friendly terms again. Together they walked into his suite. All damage from the fire had been repaired though there was still the slight smell of smoke. "What about Ketterer?"
"He has to guard our interests or he's out."
Malcolm sat at his desk, began to stack the mail he wanted to send. "Mother will have already seen the Governor and sorted him out."
"Yes."
Malcolm looked up sharply, hearing a strangeness under the voice. After a moment he said, "Curious how confident we are she'll do that, and not at all confident I can persuade her to approve my marriage."
"Don't quite know how to answer that, Tai-pan,"
McFay said sadly, "if it's a question."
Malcolm nodded slowly, seeing the strong, well-used face and strong tough body and wondered if he would be as strong when he was thirty-nine-- in nineteen years. "You got another letter from her?"
"Yes. 'fraid no good news at all from Ocean Witch."
"Oh? Sit down, Jamie. What did she say?"
"Sorry, but, well she reiterated her order I assist Dr. Hoag to see you back to Hong Kong at once, confirming I'm sacked at the end of the month."
"You can forget that. You wrote her, as I told you, that you're under the tai-pan's orders, my orders, not hers?"
"Yes."
"Good, so did I and that's the end of it. Your letter and mine must have crossed hers." Malcolm lit a cheroot and noticed his fingers were shaking.
"You've never smoked?"
"No, tried once and didn't like it."
"Forget the sacking nonsense. What other bad news?"
"I've got all the correspondence and cuttings for you when you're ready. Business is rotten all over. We've lost Racing Cloud--she's too long overdue San Francisco."
"Bloody hell!" Racing Cloud was one of their clipper fleet, twenty-two ships.
Clippers, three-masted queens of the sea, were much faster on long ocean runs than cumbersome steamers that had to carry and conserve coal. Her cargo was tea, silk and spices, all highly prized goods and now, because of the American war, astronomically valuable--particularly if diverted to the South. "Insurance won't cover us, will it?"
"'fraid not. Never does, even Lloyd's.
They may even claim an Act of War. It is a war zone."
"Ayeeyah! That'll cost a pretty penny.
Damned shame about the crew. Her Captain was Caradoc, wasn't he?"
"Yes. They must have run into a hurricane-- several were reported off Hawaii though they're late this year. Her Second Mate was my cousin, Duncan McGregor."
"Oh, sorry about that." Even more depressed, Struan glanced at his bureau where the elixir waited. I wonder if the same storms swallowed Savannah Lady, along with young Pedrito Vargas and our order for five thousand rifles, he thought absently. That reminded him. "Those cannon at Mirs Bay-- they weren't sold through us were they?"
"Not to my knowledge," Jamie said, the normal response to such a question. Both were aware of major arms sales to Chinese traders who always represented the Manchu government. What happened on delivery at Canton or Shanghai was another matter.
Malcolm was thinking, I'll bet fifty Mex to a dollar they were from us, one way or another. He was party to one of Struan's inner secrets: a tenuous friend-enemy relationship existed between the Noble House and the seaborne White Lotus Wu Chois, begun by his grandfather and continued by his father. What about me? What do I do about them, he asked himself, suddenly sick to death of Yokohama and violently anxious to assume all the mantle and secrets of his grandfather--and to confront his mother. "In a week or so," he muttered.
"Tai-pan?"