"Don't worry, everything's perfect. Now, much more importantly, today we must settle on next season's order for silks. Make sure Vargas has the books up-to-date. I want to talk to the shroff about specie and funds as soon as possible--don't forget, tomorrow, Angel and I will be gone all day with Marlowe aboard Pearl."
He would have danced a jig if he could have, but his legs and stomach were aching more than usual. Never mind, he thought, tomorrow's the great day, I'm almost home, then the hell with everyone.
Jamie was finding him strange, not understanding him at all. Every ship from Hong Kong brought both of them another, ever more vituperative letter from Tess Struan and yet, for the last week-odd, Malcolm was completely at ease and as he had been pre-Tokaido, good-humored, clever, attentive and dedicated to business affairs though still in deep discomfort and walking badly as ever. And then there was the overriding hazard of the duel set for Wednesday, the day after tomorrow.
Three times McFay had approached Norbert Greyforth to make an accommodation, even enlisting Gornt's help, but nothing would dissuade the man: "Jamie, you tell the young bugger it's up to him, by God," Norbert had said. "He started this shit. If he apologizes I'll accept it--if it's public, and mighty public at that!"
McFay bit his lip. His last resort was to whisper the time and the place to Sir William but he hated the idea of breaking his solemn oath.
"I'm to meet with that bugger Gornt at six o'clock, to fix the final details."
"Good. Sorry you don't like him, he's a good fellow, Jamie. Really. I invited him tonight.
"Dinna fash yoursel"." Malcolm aped a heavy Scottish accent as a pleasantry.
McFay smiled, soothed by the friendliness. "Do y--" A knock interrupted him.
"Come in."
Dmitri strode in like a bad squall and left the door open behind him. "You gone crazy, Malc? How can Struan's back these assholes about opium and guns?"
"No harm in taking a moral position, Dmitri."
"There is by God if it's crazy. If Struan's take that position, the rest of us are fighting uphill for crissake, goddam Wee Willie will use that to--" He stopped as Norbert Greyforth stalked in without knocking.
"Have you gone bloody mad?" Norbert snarled, leaning over the desk and waving the paper in Malcolm's face. "What about our bloody agreement to act together, eh?"
Malcolm stared up at him, hating him, instantly colorless. "If you want an appointment, make it," he said icily, but controlled. "I'm busy. Get out. Please!"
Norbert flushed, also on notice by Sir William to behave or else. His face twisted with anger. "Wednesday, early, by God! Just bloody be there!" He spun on his feet and stalked away. The door slammed behind him.
"Rude bastard," Malcolm said mildly.
Normally Dmitri would have laughed but he was too concerned. "While we're on that subject, I might as well tell you I'm not taking part in Wednesday's "meeting."
"That's no problem, Dmitri," Malcolm said. Color was coming back into his face. "I still have your word, gentleman's honor, that nothing leaks."
"Sure." Then Dmitri burst out, "Don't do it, you could get seriously hurt."
"I'm seriously hurt now, old chap.
Please don't worry. If Norbert keeps our date he's..." Malcolm was going to say, he's a dead man, and tempted to disclose Gornt's scheme to Dmitri--he had already explained it to McFay who had, reluctantly, approved it as workable--but decided not to.
Instead he said, "I've already offered Norbert a private accommodation but he spurned that.
I'm damned if I'll crawl in public.
Listen, while you're here, what about Colt Armaments? I hear Cooper-Tillman have a block of shares they want to sell. I'd like to buy."
"Eh? How d'you know about them?" Dmitri glanced at McFay who was equally astonished but had managed to hide it. "Where'd you hear about that?"
"A dickybird told me." Malcolm hid his glee. Edward Gornt had given him the tip, amongst other inside tips about Brock's and Cooper-Tillman, to prove his sincerity about the major information he would pass over about the Brocks. "Why wait to tell me, Mr.Gornt," he had said. "If the information is as good as you say it will need dealing with at once."
"It will, yes, at once, Tai-pan. But let's leave it as we agreed: Wednesday's the day. Meanwhile, as we're going to have a long and happy relationship, why not let's drop the "Mister," you call me just Gornt, I'll stay with "Tai-pan" until we meet in Shanghai or Hong Kong--after Sir Morgan's ruined.
Then, maybe, we could be on a first-name basis, eh?"' He watched Dmitri, his excitement increased. So much good happening now. "What do you say, old chap? Is Jeff Cooper prepared to sell, and you have the necessary authority to deal?"
"Yes I have his authority but."
"But nothing. The authority's in writing?"
"In writing and he might sell half but.
At the right price--16.50 a share."
"Balls, that's nowhere near right--that's your Medicine Man approach coming out. 13.20 not a cent more. We can draw up a letter of intent, dated today. Forty thousand shares."
Dmitri gaped at him but quickly recovered-- forty thousand was exactly the right number. 13.20 was low. He had offered the shares to Morgan Brock who had tendered 12.80, a fire-sale price, with a year payout which made the offer unpalatable, though to find a buyer for such a large block of shares was almost impossible.
Where the hell did Malc get the information?
"13.20's no where near good enough."
"13.20 today. Tomorrow it'll be 13.10, Wednesday I withdraw the bid." Gornt had told him Cooper needed to sell quickly to invest in a new U.s. venture-making Ironclads--for either navy. "I've plenty of time, but old Jeff hasn't."
"What you mean by that?"
"Just that I have time and Jeff hasn't. Nor has the Union or even Confederate... navy," he added pleasantly, "with the war going badly for both sides."
"Crap on your spies," Dmitri said.
"No deal. 15.20."
"Dreamer. 13.20, payment in gold from a sight draft on our bank as soon as it arrives in Boston."
Dmitri opened his mouth but Jamie McFay butted in hastily, "Tai-pan, it might be a good idea to conside--"
""... getting HK'S approval,"
Malcolm finished the sentence for him. "Come on, Jamie, we've had that out and that nonsense is finished once and for all." His voice was level, and brooked no argument. "Right?"
"Yes, sorry, you're right."
Calmly Malcolm said, "Well, Dmitri, yes or no?"
Dmitri stared at him with renewed respect.