Flowers in the Blood (66 page)

His eyes flew open and met mine. I was able to hold them without flinching.

“Good.” He sighed.

Edwin stood up. “Dinah, we should let your father rest,” he said.

I didn't let go of his hand, though, for there was something else I had to say. “One more question, Papa. Do you think there will ever be an end to the opium business in India?”

“Everything ends sometime,” he said sadly. “But I can't envision it happening in my lifetime or yours. Last year the net opium revenue for India was more than ten percent of the total revenues from the colony.”

This sounded so similar to Edwin's apologies for the substance that I felt outnumbered. Didn't anybody share my scruples? “Wouldn't it be beneficial to some people if there was less available?”

“There will always be those who cry out in moral outrage, but the pragmatists who run the show will silence them.”

“Are you a pragmatist?” I asked softly, though I meant it as a rebuke.

“We Sassoons have always been beyond reproach in our dealings,” he said with a defensive retort.

Not in what they have dealt in, I thought to myself. My father sighed again. Whether he was allowing himself to meditate along the same lines as I had been or whether he was only tiring, I was not certain. Although he voiced no remorse, I had a sense there was some ambivalence—especially because of what had happened to my mother— he had never been able to express.

Zilpah was coming across the lawn. Knowing she was going to chide us for interrupting my father's rest, Edwin and I stood and said our good-byes. “One last word,” Papa added, barking a hoarse cough. “Remember, they may outlaw opium someday, but they will never outlaw tea.”

 

“I don't think we should go ahead with the plan,” I said when Edwin and I were alone.

“Dinah! How can we back down now?” “Very easily. We have not done anything irrevocable.” He switched on a lamp in our parlor. Since returning from Theatre Road, we had reviewed every point, looking for flaws. In the waning light of the day, my enthusiasm had also dimmed. “What are you frightened of?”

“You heard what my father said. I am afraid of failure.”

“We have agreed that the possible losses are within tolerable limits.”

“You have agreed. I have assented to nothing! Don't you recall what it is like to lose fifty thousand rupees?”

Edwin blanched, and I immediately regretted the outburst.

“For years I have borne the weight of that responsibility. Even today I am not free of the burden.”

I knew that was true. He never would have acquiesced to working for the Sassoons or suffered the indignities had he not been mortified by the loss.

“This time I know we are taking the right course.”

“My father doesn't.”

“He doesn't understand what we actually are going to attempt.”

“He came close, though, and he made me promise we would not go after a share.”

“No, you knew better than to do that. You promised you would act responsibly to guard your inheritance. And you shall—we shall. This time we are not betting the whole account. At most, we could lose a fraction of the cash assets. If the Luddy Tea Company does as well as it did the past five years, the income from the balance alone will support us grandly. What more do we need? Besides, if all goes as planned, we will have lost nothing and we will have rid ourselves of Samuel—and your Aunt Bellore—forever.”

“Aren't there less expensive, less risky ways to do that?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“Dinah, we've gone over this a thousand times.”

“We could tell my father about the embezzlement.”

“The malaria has severely debilitated him. It would be too much of a shock.”

“And this won't be?”

“A pleasant surprise could restore him.”

“And if it does not work the way you think it will?”

“Then he will have to be told. Besides, even if we did inform him or your brothers, you know as well as I what would happen: they would recover the money as best they could and bury the matter.”

“I don't agree.”

“I work with them every day and I know the way they think.” Edwin brushed off his jacket and stood authoritatively. “There is one other possibility.”

“What is that?” I asked, fired with the hope there was a course we had overlooked.

“Take the matter to court. A criminal case would accomplish what you want and there would be some justice in seeing your uncle— possibly even your aunt—in the dock.”

“Justice! There is no justice in the courts. My uncle would hire a bunch of slimy solicitors who would do anything—including bribery—to free him.” My voice lowered to a husky pitch. “There is no justice in the courts of Calcutta, or anywhere else probably. My mother was murdered by two men whose guilt was proved to everyone except the judge. There was evidence, there were witnesses, and still they were released.”

“What happened to them?”

“Dr. Hyam believes they went to Singapore or Macao. Once he heard that Sadka returned to Calcutta and was said to have even bragged about the crime, but that indiscretion forced him to disappear again.”

“Where are they now?”

“Who knows? Somewhere in the world Sadka and Chachuk are free. My mother never had a second chance. So don't tell me I should try to seek justice in the courtroom.”

“Dinah, you don't have to convince me.”

My arguments were crumbling. Was there no other choice? I gulped and added, “I thought we agreed that even at the largest estimate of what Samuel may have accumulated, he couldn't afford the reserve of even the lowest-priced chests.”

“Do you think it is a coincidence that he has been meeting with
Indian
moneylenders?”

As I looked up in astonishment, he smiled like a man holding the trump card. “How do you know that?”

“Gulliver has made himself useful to me in this matter. The list includes Shyamachurn Banerjee of the Agra Bank and Surroop Dutt of Tagore and Company. Why else would he be going to the Bengalis? You can imagine the terms he must be getting. Banks lend money to a credit society at six percent; the society then advances it to the moneylenders at ten percent; and if Samuel persuades the moneylenders, he'll pay in the area of twenty-five percent. His risk is enormous. Only if he corners the market and can set his price will he be able to. pay them back.”

“But my father said these raids won't work unless he also has the shippers and Chinese merchants in his pocket.”

“By now he must have a plan of his own. He's not going to repeat old mistakes. Perhaps he has hired the resources of one of our competitors, or perhaps he is planning a merger with one of them.”

“Is that possible?” I gasped.

“Yes,” Edwin replied resolutely. “We don't have a monopoly on China.”

“If he joined with someone else or put together strong associates, he could continue to parlay his gains this time into building another company, couldn't he?”

Edwin nodded morosely. “There is another possibility. If we lose our chance to make a profit this season, he could arrange to have almost the entire network of the Sassoons at his disposal. Don't you see? If Samuel owns the crop, he will control the market price. The gains he can make could be so enormous that he could do this again and again. In fact, he could end up commanding Sassoon and Company. We could all be working for
him.”

45

 

E
verything was in place. Or so I thought. We had studied the plan repeatedly, and though there were many eventualities we could not anticipate, we framed strategies to master any deviations. My folly was to have probed behind every door—except my own.

The evening before the auction, Calcutta was all pastels beneath the setting sun. Even the bustling throng along Free School Street seemed softer, more muted as I walked with Aaron, and Yali followed with a twin on each hand. Smiling at a pleasant breeze that ruffled the children's sun-streaked locks, I looked back toward the drab facade of Uncle Jacob's house. When this was over, my first task would be to find us a new place to live. Several possibilities near Grandmother Helene's appealed to me, or I might consider one of the large houses across from St. Xavier's, which would be convenient when the boys were older. Edwin might even want to teach there from time to time. The business had wasted his intellectual gifts. Now that there was no need for him to struggle, he should be able to manage some aspects of the Luddy holdings and devote himself to a more satisfying task.

What would I do? The tea business required my attention. After the lesson of Uncle Samuel's duplicity, I knew I had to take an active interest in the Luddys' enterprises. I wanted to make certain Silas' promotional ideas continued, and was pondering new tea blends for special markets. Did the Americans like brisk tea? I wondered. What did the Continentals prefer? We might travel and discover the various tastes, then tailor our product to suit the market instead of trying to sell what we had in stock. These thoughts danced about without choreography, for the main music in my mind was a replay of the last exciting days, when we had seen the pieces on the chessboard line up for tomorrow's checkmate.

First of all, Edwin had calculated how much cash my uncle had embezzled and had estimated between two and two and a half million rupees, or twenty-five lacs. Almost ten thousand chests were to be sold at the next auction. The reserve was figured at an average fourteen hundred rupees per excise chest. If the purchase price averaged close to the reserve, say fourteen-fifty per chest, the sale would gross over one crore, thirty lacs. In order to monopolize the price, Uncle Samuel would have to garner close to seventy-five percent of the crop. That was almost one hundred lacs. How could twenty-five buy my uncle a hundred? It couldn't. If he had bankers willing to lend him money until he made back his price, he would have to come up with only twenty-five percent of three-quarters of the crop. Amazingly, that figure was 2,501,250 rupees—a pinch over our estimate. With that calculation I was firmly convinced of his intentions.

In order to succeed, however, we required the support of the other merchants. After giving the matter careful thought, we decided not to meet each individually. Instead we would discuss the situation with Abner Raphael, head of the second-largest Jewish opium house. A close friend of Uncle Saul's and the Maghen David synagogue's principal benefactor, Raphael was among the most-respected men in the community. I myself had had a special fondness for the gentleman since the time my father first had been trying to find me a husband and Raphael had remarked, “If I had a son the right age, I would welcome your daughter into my house.” I hoped he would receive us in the same benevolent spirit when Edwin and I called at his home ten days before the auction.

“Your father, is he recuperating?” Abner Raphael had asked with a concerned expression after we were seated in his study. The man was not ten years older than my father, but his traditional Baghdadi dress and long beard made him look like portraits of my Sassoon forefathers: Moses, David, even Sheikh Sason ben Saleh.

I tried to put my awe aside and responded with confidence. “We hope so. The fevers are less frequent, but he requires complete rest. He won't return to China this year.”

“Who will go in his stead?”

“We are not certain. Possibly my brother Jonah, and Reuben's son Noah.”

“Nathaniel might be better,” he judged, stroking his creamy beard. “Is that what you have come about? Do you require advice on the China trade?”

“No, Mr. Raphael,” Edwin replied. He had remained in the background until he was required to bolster the argument, for he had said this was a favor that had to be requested by a Sassoon.

“Then to what do I owe this pleasure?” Raphael replied slowly. “Are you soliciting for a charity? I know of your family's estimable work after the earthquake and your own interests in helping in Darjeeling. I would be pleased to—”

I held up my hand and laughed uneasily. “Only if you consider Sassoon and Company a charity.”

“Indeed I do.” His eyes crinkled to slits as he guffawed. “The Raphaels have lost out often enough to feel we. have been giving to the Sassoons—albeit against our will—for half a century.”

I observed his expression carefully. There was no hint of hostility. The Raphael mansion was even grander than Theatre Road. This palatial residence next to the residence of Calcutta's commissioner of police included a private zoo that my children often visited. Their favorite creature was a venerable tortoise that must have given rides to every Jewish child. However, I could no longer trade on our friendship. The time had come to win Raphael with facts. Without any further preliminaries I told him what we had discovered, with me outlining the broad problem, Edwin reading from his notes on the details of the theft.

Raphael leaned farther and farther forward as the magnitude of the deception mounted. “A tragedy,” he clucked. “Samuel Lanyado! Who would have thought he could do such a thing?” He shook his head sadly. “Are you sure? Couldn't there be another explanation?”

“If we had found a few isolated errors, I would agree with you,” I replied softly.

“How long has this been going on?”

“We aren't certain,” Edwin added. “The oldest records are in storage and we have not been able to retrieve them.”

“I suspect he has been taking what did not belong to him since Uncle Saul and Uncle Jacob died,” I continued. “Possibly even before then.”

“No!” Raphael spat. “He would not have dared.”

I backed down instantly. “I suppose you are right. Even so, we place the loss between twenty and thirty lacs.”

Edwin nodded somberly. “We are also fairly certain Gabriel Judah helped his father-in-law.”

For about a minute Raphael was silent. “How could they conspire against their own family?”

“Greed,” Edwin filled in simply. “What else could it be?”

I stared at our host imploringly. “We need your help to put an end to it.”

Raphael threw up his hands. “What can I do? This is a matter for the Sassoons to settle. Why doesn't your father step in?”

“He doesn't know,” Edwin replied resolutely.

“The doctor warned us that his heart was weak,” I added.

Raphael's face seemed carved in ice. For a moment I didn't think we would succeed with him. “What can I do?” he repeated with a catch in his throat.

I took a deep breath. “We have reason to believe that Samuel has saved the bulk of the money to make a run on the opium auction.”

“Ridiculous! Nobody has ever been successful at it. We work together to sustain our shares. Besides, as I recall, he tried once before. He learned his lesson then.”

“He didn't have twenty-five lacs then,” Edwin offered.

Raphael gave us an indulgent smile. “That is not nearly enough.”

“It's enough if he buys on margin,” I said. “He has made deals with Bengali moneylenders.” Doing his part to back me with solid figures, Edwin went over the mathematics.

Raphael shook his head. “Even if the numbers worked in his favor and he bought enough chests, he would have to sell the stuff in China. How could he get rid of it—and at a higher price at that—without an organization?” Suddenly the color drained from his cheeks, and he filled in his own answer. “If he amassed seventy-five percent, he would control the Sassoons.”

“We cannot allow him to get that far,” I said, hoping the bold use of the “we” wouldn't put him off.

Before Raphael could interrupt, Edwin launched into our plea. “The way he will gain control of the lots is to outbid everyone else. He'll be clever, probably working through several of the independent bidders who pay more for smaller lots of the medicinal grades. We estimate that he might let some chests go close to reserve, escalating the price as slowly as possible. In the end it will be obvious that a run is on, and unless the rest of you band together to fight him, he'll garner what he needs.”

“How do you children know this?” Raphael asked with a tinge of condescension in his tone.

“We spoke with my father.”

“You. said he was ignorant of the Lanyado matter.”

“He is,” I insisted. “We told him we wanted to learn more about the business. Then he became suspicious. He accused us of trying to do our own run, using the Luddy money.”

“How do I know your story about your uncle isn't a falsehood to get the others and me to back down while you take over the Sassoons? I have more confidence in your holdings than the amount your uncle supposedly embezzled.”

“I promised my father I would not attempt to control the auctions for my own gain. I am trying to protect the Sassoons now, and the rest of you in the future. Do you really want a man like Lanyado running the show in Calcutta?”

“You are a clever girl, Dinah, but what do you know about the opium trade? Why should a Jardine or a Davidson, a Gubbay or the Meyer brothers, an Eliahu or a Raphael, for that matter, want to give up any fraction of this year's profits to help you settle a family feud?”

“Nobody will have to give up a single anna,” I said, laying most of our cards on the table. “If you will orchestrate the auction so the rest of the merchants bid up to twenty percent above your highest agreed lot price, I will cover the difference.”

“That is crazy! You might lose everything.”

“I can afford that out of my capital. None of the Luddy Company assets will be affected. We must be certain to give my uncle enough rope to hang himself, then recapture the balance of the chests so he has no ability to repay the Bengalis.”

“But we will have forced the price up twenty percent,” Raphael said before he had thought through my offer. “The Chinese won't tolerate that much of an increase.” I didn't reply. At last comprehension illuminated his face. “The rest of us come on the market with a price close to the usual, while you personally absorb the loss. . . .”

“Yes,” Edwin said with a lopsided, nervous grin.

I was also on the edge, wondering if I would fall off the precipice as we played our last card. I glanced at Edwin. This was his hand.

“In return, we would want a small concession.”

Raphael lifted his bushy white eyebrows and waited.

“Because we accept the entire risk—and don't forget, we are protecting your interests as well as the Sassoons'—we are asking that each of the merchants return to us twenty percent of his revenue after expenses on each chest, or twenty percent of the chests themselves, whichever we choose.”

I squeezed in before Raphael could reply. “In other words, if the reserve was calculated at fourteen-seventy-five, you normally might bid up to fifteen-fifty. With us covering an additional twenty percent, you could bid another three hundred and ten per chest, paying up to eighteen-sixty.”

“Nobody has ever paid eighteen-sixty based on that reserve!” Raphael said in a shocked tone.' “Nor would the Chinese pay over fifty-five hundred, which we would need to stay in line with last year's profits.”

“I agree you might not do as well as last year, but that doesn't mean you couldn't unload it in China for around five thousand. You probably multiply the auction price times three hundred percent, the way the Sassoons do, and have something like our seventy-percent margin to work with, but even at five thousand you are making almost seventeen percent on your investment.”

“But—” Raphael was about to jump in, but I didn't give him an opening.

“If everything works out, I will have a chance to make a small profit. If the Chinese merchants accept a higher price, I would make substantially more, but if you are unable to get a price that gives you that level of profit, I lose. No matter what, I will have accomplished the goal of ridding Sassoon and Company of my uncle, and I will have kept a promise to my father to act responsibly with my Luddy inheritance.”

“Are you suggesting the rest of us should forfeit twenty percent of our market this season?”

“Yes,” Edwin agreed affably. “Look at it another way: if Samuel takes over, you will lose a minimum of fifteen percent for the whole year. However, twenty percent of this season is only one-sixth, or three percent, for the year, plus you will have purged yourself of a rival whom you could never again trust. On the other hand, think of what Samuel might do with those profits. What might he attempt at the next auction? By working with us, you limit your losses to three percent, and even those losses are a phantom penalty on income you
hoped
to make, not losses on funds depleted.”

Raphael sighed. “Do you plan to take delivery of your chests?”

“I'm not certain,” I answered truthfully. “Probably not, even if the Sassoon situation is secure. I do not want to mingle my money with theirs. As you know, I have no shares in the company. If I decide against delivery, you and the other merchants would sell my twenty percent and pay me with the last of the
sycee
from the season. I can afford to wait.”

“How generous,” Raphael responded facetiously.

I let his sarcasm slide. “Not at all. I wanted to offer sweet coating for a bitter pill.”

“You actually expect me to endorse this ridiculous scheme?” Raphael asked gruffly.

“Only your word would convince the others,” I added softly.

“You haven't done so badly yourself,” he complimented. He was thoughtful for a moment. “What if you hadn't found the evidence of the embezzlement?”

“Samuel would have an easy time at the auction, wouldn't he?” Edwin answered.