jamesclavell.noblehouse-第6章

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　〃You　and　all　your　crew　know　the　importing　of　any　firearms　into　the　Colony　is　absolutely　forbidden？　We're　very　nervous　about　firearms　in　Hong　Kong。〃
　〃So　am　I；　Superintendent　…　anywhere。　That's　why　I've　the　only　key　to　the　gun　cabinet。〃
　〃Good。　Any　problems；　please　check　with　my　office。〃　Armstrong　left　and　went　into　the　anteroom；　Svensen　just　ahead。
　Jannelli　watched　him　inspect　the　air　hostess's　passport。　She　was　pretty；　Jenny　Pollard。　〃Son　of　a　bitch；〃　he　muttered；　then　added　quietly；　〃Something　stinks　around　here。〃
　〃Huh？〃
　〃Since　when　does　CID　brass　check　goddamn　passports　for　chrissake？　You　sure　we're　not　carrying　anything　curious？〃
　〃Hell　no。　I　always　check　everything。　Including　Sven's　stores。　Of　course　I　don't　go　through　Linc's　stuff　…　or　Casey's　…　but　they　wouldn't　do　anything　stupid。〃
　〃I've　flown　him　for　four　years　and　never　once　。。。　Even　so；　something　sure　as　hell　stinks。〃　Jannelli　wearily　twisted　and　settled　himself　in　his　pilot's　seat　more　fortably。　〃Jesus；　I　could　use　a　massage　and　a　week　off。〃
　In　the　anteroom　Armstrong　was　handing　the　passport　to　Sergeant　Lee　who　stamped　it。　'Thank　you；　Miss　Pollard。〃
　〃Thank　you。〃
　〃That's　all　the　crew；　sir；〃　Svensen　said。　〃Now　Mr。　Bartlett。〃
　〃Yes；　please。〃
　Svensen　knocked　on　the　central　door　and　opened　it　without　waiting。　〃Linc；　this's　Superintendent　Armstrong；〃　he　said　with　easy　informality。
　〃Hi；〃　Linc　Bartlett　said；　getting　up　from　his　desk。　He　put　out　his　hand。　〃May　I　offer　you　a　drink？　Beer？〃
　〃No　thanks。　Perhaps　a　cup　of　coffee。〃
　Svensen　turned　for　the　galley　at　once。　〃ing　up；〃　he　said。
　〃Make　yourself　at　home。　Here's　my　passport；〃　Bartlett　said。　〃Won't　be　a　moment。〃　He　went　back　to　the　typewriter　and　continued　tapping　the　keys　with　two　fingers。
　Armstrong　studied　him　leisurely。　Bartlett　was　sandy　haired　with　gray…flecked　blue　eyes；　a　strong　good…looking　face。　Trim。　Sports　shirt　and　jeans。　He　checked　the　passport。　Born　Los　Angeles；　October　1；　1922。　He　looks　young　for　forty；　he　thought。　Moscow　franking；　same　as　Casey　Tcholok；　no　other　Iron　Curtain　visits。
　His　eyes　wandered　the　room。　It　was　spacious；　the　whole　width　of　the　airplane。　There　was　a　short　central　corridor　aft　with　two　cabins　off　it　and　two　toilets。　And　at　the　end　a　final　door　which　he　presumed　was　the　master　suite。
　The　cabin　was　fitted　as　if　it　were　a　munications　center。　Teletype；　international　telephone　capability；　built…in　typewriters。　An　illuminated　world　time　clock　on　a　bulkhead。　Piling　cabinets；　duplicator　and　a　built…in　leather…topped　desk　strewn　with　papers。　Shelves　of　books。　Tax　books。　A　few　paperbacks。　The　rest　were　war　books　and　books　on　generals　or　by　generals。　Dozens　of　them。　Wellington　and　Napoleon　and　Patton；　Eisenhower's　Crusade　in　Europe；　Sun　Tzu's　The　Art　of　War　。。。
　〃Here　you　are；　sir；〃　broke　into　Armstrong's　inspection。
　〃Oh；　thank　you；　Svensen。〃　He　took　the　coffee　cup　and　added　a　little　cream。
　Svensen　put　a　fresh；　opened　can　of　chilled　beer　beside　Bartlett；　picked　up　the　empty；　then　went　back　to　the　galley；　closing　the　door　after　him。　Bartlett　sipped　the　beer　from　the　can；　rereading　what　he　had　written；　then　pressed　a　buzzer。　Svensen　came　at　once。　〃Tell　Jannelli　to　ask　the　tower　to　send　this　off。〃　Svensen　nodded　and　left。　Bartlett　eased　his　shoulders　and　swung　around　in　the　swivel　chair。　〃Sorry　…　I　had　to　get　that　right　off。〃
　〃That's　all　right；　Mr。　Bartlett。　Your　request　to　stay　overnight　is　approved。〃
　〃Thanks　…　thanks　very　much。　Could　Svensen　stay　as　well？〃　Bartlett　grinned。　〃I'm　not　much　of　a　housekeeper。〃
　〃Very　well。　How　long　will　your　aircraft　be　here？〃
　〃Depends　on　our　meeting　tomorrow；　Superintendent。　We　hope　to　go　into　business　with　Struan's。　A　week；　ten　days。〃
　〃Then　you'll　need　an　alternate　parking　place　tomorrow。　We've　another　VIP　flight　ing　in　at　1600　hours。　I　told　Captain　Jannelli　to　phone　Ground　Control　before　1400　hours。〃
　〃Thanks。　Does　the　head　of　CID　Kowloon　usually　deal　with　parking　around　here？〃
　Armstrong　smiled。　〃I　like　to　know　what's　going　on　in　my　division。　It's　a　tedious　habit　but　ingrained。　We　don't　often　have　private　aircraft　visiting　us　…　or　Mr。　Chen　meeting　someone　personally。　We　like　to　be　acmodating　if　we　can。　Struan's　owns　most　of　the　airport　and　John's　a　personal　friend。　He's　an　old　friend　of　yours？〃
　〃I　spent　time　with　him　in　New　York　and　L。A。　and　liked　him　a　lot。　Say；　Superintendent；　this　airplane's　my　m　…　〃　One　of　the　phones　rang。　Bartlett　picked　it　up。　〃Oh　hello　Charlie；　what's　happening　in　New　York？。。。　Jesus；　that's　great。　How　much？　。。。　Okay　Charlie；　buy　the　whole　block。　。。。　Yes；　the　whole　200；000　shares。　。。。　Sure；　first　thing　Monday　morning；　soon　as　the　market　opens。　Send　me　a　confirm　by　telex。　。。。〃　Bartlett　put　the　phone　down　and　turned　to　Armstrong。　〃Sorry。　Say；　Superintendent；　this's　my　munications　center　and　I'll　be　lost　without　it。　If　we　park　for　a　week　is　it　okay　to　e　back　and　forth？〃
　〃I'm　afraid　that　might　be　dicey；　Mr。　Bartlett。〃
　〃Is　that　yes　or　no　or　maybe？〃
　〃Oh　that's　slang　for　difficult。　Sorry；　but　our　security　at　Kai　Tak's　very　particular。〃
　〃If　you　have　to　put　on　extra　men；　I'd　be　glad　to　pay。〃
　〃It's　a　matter　of　security；　Mr。　Bartlett；　not　money。　You'll　find　Hong　Kong's　phone　system　first　class。〃　Also　it　will　be　far　easier　for　Special　Intelligence　to　monitor　your　calls；　he　thought。
　〃Well；　if　you　can　I'd　appreciate　it。〃
　Armstrong　sipped　the　coffee。　〃This's　your　first　visit　to　Hong　Kong？〃
　〃Yes　sir。　My　first　time　in　Asia。　Farthest　I've　gotten　was　Guadalcanal；　in　'43。〃
　〃Army？〃
　〃Sergeant；　Engineers。　Construction　…　we　used　to　build　anything：　hangars；　bridges；　camps；　anything。　A　great　experience。〃　Bartlett　sipped　from　the　can。　〃Sure　I　can't　give　you　a　drink？〃
　〃No　thanks。〃　Armstrong　finished　his　cup；　began　to　get　up。　〃Thanks　for　the　coffee。〃
　〃Now　may　I　ask　you　a　question？〃
　〃Of　course。〃
　〃What's　Dunross　like？　Ian　Dunross。　The　head　of　Struan's？〃
　〃The　tai…pan？〃　Armstrong　laughed　outright。　〃That　depends　whom　you　ask；　Mr。　Bartlett。　You've　never　met　him？〃
　〃No；　not　yet。　I　do　tomorrow。　At　lunch。　Why　do　you　call　him　the　tai…pan？〃
　〃Tai…pan　means　'supreme　leader'　in　Cantonese　…　the　person　with　the　ultimate　power。　The　European　heads　of　all　the　old　trading　panies　are　all　tai…pans　to　the　Chinese。　But　even　among　tai…pans　there's　always　the　greatest。　The　tai…pan。　Struan's　is　nicknamed　the　'Noble　House'　or　'Noble　Hong；'　hong　meaning　'pany。'　It　goes　back　to　the　beginning　of　the　China　trade　and　the　early　days　of　Hong　Kong。　Hong　Kong　was　founded　in　1841；　January　26；　actually。　The　founder　of　Struan　and　pany　was　a　legend；　still　is　in　some　ways　…　Dirk　Struan。　Some　say　he　was　a　pirate；　some　a　prince。　In　any　event　he　made　a　fortune　smuggling　Indian　opium　into　China；　then　converting　that　silver　into　China　teas　which　he　shipped　to　England　in　a　fleet　of　China　clippers。　He　became　a　merchant　prince；　earned　the　title　of　the　tai…pan；　and　ever　since；　Struan's　has　always　tried　to　be　first　in　everything。〃
　〃Are　they？〃
　〃Oh　a　couple　of　panies　dog　their　heels；　Rothwell…Gornt　particularly；　but　yes；　I'd　say　they　were　first。　Certainly　not　a　thing　es　into　Hong　Kong　or　goes　out；　is　eaten　or　buried　or　made　without　Struan's；　Rothwell…Gornt；　Asian　Properties；　Blacs　…　the　Bank　of　London　and　China　…　or　the　Victoria　Bank　having　a　finger　in　the　stew　somewhere。〃
　〃And　Dunross　himself？　What's　he　like？〃
　Armstrong　thought　a　moment；　then　said　lightly；　〃Again　it　depends　very　much　whom　you　ask；　Mr。　Bartlett。　I　know　him　just　a　little；　socially　…　we　meet　from　time　to　time　at　the　races。　I've　had　two　official　meetings　with　him。　He's　charming；　very　good　at　his　job。　。。。　I　suppose　brilliant　might　sum　him　up。〃
　〃He　and　his　family　own　a　lot　of　Struan's？〃
　〃I　don't　know　that　for　certain。　I　doubt　if　anyone　does；　outside　of　the　family。　But　his　stockholdings　aren't　the　key　to　the　tai…pan's　desk。　Oh　no。　Not　of　Struan's。　Of　that　I'm　very　certain。〃　Armstrong　locked　his　eyes　on　Bartlett's。　〃Some　say　Dunross　is　ruthless　and　ready　to　kill。　I　know　I　wouldn't　like　him　as　an　enemy。〃
　Bartlett　sipped　his　beer　and　the　little　lines　beside　his　eyes　crinkled　with　a　curious　smile。　〃Sometimes　an　enemy's　more　valuable　than　a　friend。〃
　〃Sometimes。　I　hope　you　have　a　profitable　stay。〃
　At　once　Bartlett　got　up。　〃Thanks。　I'll　see　you　out。〃　He　opened　the　door　and　ushered　Armstrong　and　Sergeant　Lee　through　it；　then　followed　them　out　of　the　main　cabin　door　onto　the　landing　steps。　He　took　a　deep　breath　of　air。　Once　again　he　caught　a　strangeness　on　the　wind；　neither　pleasant　nor　unpleasant；　neither　odor　nor　perfume　…　just　strange；　and　curiously　exciting。　〃Superintendent；　what's　that　smell？　Casey　noticed　it　too；　the　moment　Sven　opened　the　door。〃
　Armstrong　hesitated。　Then　he　smiled。　〃That's　Hong　Kong's　very　own；　Mr。　Bartlett。　It's　money。〃
　
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　11：48　P。M。　：
　〃All　gods　bear　witness　to　the　foul　luck　I'm　having　tonight；〃　Four　Finger　Wu　said　and　spat　on　the　deck。　He　was　aft；　on　the　high　poop　of　his　oceangoing　junk　that　was　moored　to　one　of　the　great　clusters　of　boats　that　sprawled　over　Aberdeen　harbor　on　the　south　coast　of　Hong　Kong　Island。　The　night　was　hot　and　humid　and　he　was　playing　mah…jong　with　three　of　his　friends。　They　were　old　and　weatherbeaten　like　himself；　all　captains　of　junks　that　they　owned。　Even　so；　they　sailed　in　his　fleet　and　took　orders　from　him。　His　formal　name　was　Wu　Sang　Fang。　He　was　a　short；　illiterate　fisherman；　with　few　teeth　and　no　thumb　on　his　left　hand。　His　junk　was　old；　battered　and　filthy。　He　was　head　of　the　seaborne　Wu；　captain　of　the　fleets；　and　his　flag；　the　Silver　Lotus；　flew　on　all　the　four　seas。
　When　it　was　his　turn　again；　he　picked　up　another　of　the　ivory　tiles。　He　glanced　at　it　and　as　it　did　not　improve　his　hand；　discarded　it　noisily　and　spat　again。　The　spittle　glistened　on　the　deck。　He　wore　a　ragged　old　undershirt　and　black　coolie　pants；　like　his　friends；　and　he　had　ten　thousand　dollars　riding　on　this　single　game。
　〃Ayeeyah；〃　Pockmark　Tang　said；　pretending　disgust　though　the　tile　he　had　just　picked　up　made　him　only　one　short　of　a　winning　bination　…　the　game　somewhat　like　gin　rummy。　〃Fornicate　all　mothers　except　ours　if　I　don't　win！〃　He　discarded　a　tile　with　a　nourish。
　〃Fornicate　yours　if　you　win　and　I　don't！〃　another　said　and　they　all　laughed。
　〃And　fornicate　those　foreign　devils　from　the　Golden　Mountain　if　they　don't　arrive　tonight；〃　Goodweather　Poon　said。
　〃They'll　arrive；〃　Four　Finger　Wu　told　him　confidently。　〃Foreign　devils　are　glued　to　schedules。　Even　so；　I　sent　Seventh　Son　to　the　airport　to　make　sure。〃　He　began　to　pick　up　a　tile　but　stopped　and　looked　over　his　shoulder　and　watched　critically　as　a　fishing　junk　eased　past；　chugging　quietly；　heading　up　the　twisting；　narrow　access　channel　between　the　banks　of　boats　toward　the　neck　of　the　harbor。　She　had　only　riding　lights；　port　and　starboard。　Ostensibly　she　was　just　going　fishing　but　this　junk　was　one　of　his　and　she　was　out　to　intercept　a　Thai　trawler　with　a　cargo　of　opium。　When　she　was　safely　passed；　he　concentrated　on　the　game　once　more。　It　was　low　tide　now；　but　there　was　deep　water　around　most　of　the　boat　islands。　From　the　shore　and　flats　came　the　stench　of　rotting　seaweed；　shellfish　and　human　waste。
　Most　of　the　sampans　and　junks　were　dark　now；　their　multitudes　sleeping。　There　were　a　few　oil　lamps　here　and　there