The Miko - 02 (53 page)

Then, slowly and carefully, as if he were made of delicate crystal, he crawled across the
tatami
to where her painting pad with its black finger of the sable brush lay.

He reached out and picked up the pad, drawing it toward him as his eyes studied the calming confluence of forces within the bonsai garden. He heard the plaintive call of a plover through the partially open
fusuma
; he was quite unaware of the coolness in the room.

And with the pad pressed tightly against his chest, he began a slow rocking on his haunches.

At last one salty tear slid down his weathered cheek, to drop silently on the edge of the pad, immediately absorbed by the sheets of paper, gone forever.

[Release the trigger]

“I
AM AFRAID, MR.
Nangi, that the news is a good deal worse than either you or I first imagined.”

Tanzan Nangi sat sipping his pale gold jasmine tea, staring out the set of windows that faced the Botanical Gardens on Hong Kong Island’s Mid-Levels. Just beyond was Victoria Gap, high up on the Peak.

He was high up above the Central District in the All-Asia Bank’s executive offices, a glass and steel tower in the middle of Des Voeux Road Central.

“Go on,” Nangi said placidly as he tapped the ash from his cigarette into a crystal ashtray on the desk in front of him.

Allan Su glanced briefly down at the oversized buff folder he was clutching although it was apparent that he hardly needed to do that. He wiped at his upper lip, then ran his fingers through his hair. He was a small, compact Chinese of Shanghainese extraction who was normally calm and clear headed. Now his obvious anxiety filled the room like a strange perfume.

He began to pace back and forth over the antique Bhokara. “To give you an example, we have three-quarters interest in the Wan Fa housing project in the New Territories in Tai Po Kau. The first mortgage has already been refinanced once and is on the verge of being so again. That would necessitate a second mortgage, which we cannot afford.

“We need an occupancy rate of seventy-six percent to break even at this point. The units should be renting for sixteen thousand Hong Kong dollars a month; we’re lucky if we get five thousand now. Since the announcement by the Communists no one wants to live in such an ‘unstable’ area that ‘could be overrun at any moment.’”

Allan Su stopped his pacing long enough to slam the folder down on the polished teak desktop on a pile of other such folders. “The list is almost endless.” There was true disgust in his voice. “Anthony Chin could not have done us more damage were he secretly working for one of our competitors.”

“Was he?” Nangi inquired.

“In this city, who knows?” Su’s shoulders lifted and fell. “But I doubt it. Several of the other banks were caught the same as us, though none to such a degree.” He shook his head. “No, I think Mr. Chin was merely greedy, and greed, Mr. Nangi, is the worst enemy of good judgment.”

Nangi bent forward and poured more tea. Then he settled himself more comfortably in Allan Su’s high-backed leather chair and contemplated the terraced network of white and pale ochre high rises that sprouted from the slopes of Victoria Peak, a forest of concrete.

“Tell me, Mr. Su, when was your last severe earthquake?”

Momentarily nonplussed by the question, Allan Su blinked his eyes behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Why, it’s been almost two years now, I believe.”

“Uhm.” Nangi’s attention was still firmly on the thicket of skyscrapers. “A bad one, inopportunely placed, would do many of those in, don’t you agree? They’d all fall apart like a jumble of children’s building blocks. Many lives would be lost, many family lines would abruptly come to a halt, many fortunes would be destroyed.”

He turned his head to face Allan Su fully. “And who else do
you
work for, Mr. Su?”

“I…Pardon me, Mr. Nangi, but I do not understand what you are talking about.”

“Oh, come, come,” Nangi said, thinking that all Chinese were alike, “there’s no room here for coyness.
Everyone
in Hong Kong holds down more than one job; it’s far more profitable.”

He paused to pour tea into a second cup. “Now take Anthony Chin, for instance. He was not only the president of the All-Asia Bank of Hong Kong but he was also a lieutenant in the Red Chinese Army.” He pushed the cup across the desk.

“Impossible!” Allan Su had ceased his pacing. “I’ve known him for years. Our wives shopped together once a week.”

“Then you must have known of all this fiscal impropriety,” Nangi said blandly, indicating the pile of folders filled with their damning evidence. The investigation team he had hired had done their work well.

“I knew nothing of the sort!” Su proclaimed hotly.

Nangi nodded his head. “Just as you knew nothing of his true affiliation.”

Allan Su stared at Nangi for a moment, trying to force down his instinctive hatred of the Japanese and see this man for what he really was. He knew that that clarity was all that could save him now. “Then it follows that you also suspect me of being a Communist.”

“Oh, you may rest easy on that score,” Nangi said. He smiled. “Come, Mr. Su, will you drink with me?”

His heart hammering in his throat, Allan Su did as he was bade. “I should no longer be surprised at the outcome of events here.” He gulped at his tea, which had already grown cold, then used the cup to gesture out the expanse of sparkling glass toward the slender fingers of the Mid-Levels. “Take those high rises, for instance. It would take far less than a major earthquake to send them tumbling. More than likely they’ve been built with a gross insufficiency of supporting iron rods in the concrete. The favorite trick is to set a half dozen in the poured cement—which, by the way will have twice as much sand in it as it should—while the building inspector watches. Then, as he moves on, those same six rods will be removed from the setting cement and used in the next section the inspector is looking at. After he’s gone, they’ll be removed once more and used at the next building site.

“It’s a game, really, because the inspector has already been paid off by the builders not to search through the site too thoroughly.”

Nangi frowned. “That’s nothing to play a game over: lives. And millions of dollars.”

Su shrugged. “If I can buy a twelve-year-old virgin down in Wan Chai, why then should I not be able to buy a building inspector as well?”

“The difference there,” Nangi said dryly, “is that the twelve-year-old virgin you’ve paid your hard-earned dollars for could probably screw rings around your wife.”

“Then my lust—and that’s a form of greed—has blinded my good judgment.”

Nangi stood up abruptly. “How much is the Royal Albert Bank paying you a month, Mr. Su?”

Allan Su almost dropped his porcelain cup. But not quite. He heard the yammering of his pulse in his ears like the screaming of all his ancestors and he thought, Great Buddha, what will happen to my family now? No work and ruined in the midst of the Colony’s worst recession in three decades.

Nangi was seeming to slip in and out of focus, and with the exaggerated slowness and care of a habitual drunk he placed the empty cup on the desk top next to the pile of buff folders.

“Come, come,” Nangi said. “It’s a simple enough question.”

“But the answer’s a difficult one. I beg to—”

“I do not,” Nangi interrupted him, leaning forward with his rigid arms on the teak, “wish to hear explanations, Mr. Su. I require someone here whom I can trust completely. Either you can do it or you can’t.”

Nangi held his eyes. “You know what will happen to you, Mr. Su, if you can’t do it.”

Allan Su shuddered, saying nothing.

He stood very straight though his knees felt weak. Of course he could walk out of here now, tendering his resignation. But where would that get him? Had he any assurance that the Royal Albert would hire him? The job market had narrowed considerably in many fields—banking high among them—since the damnable Communists made their accursed announcement. He thought about his wife, his six children, aunt, and two uncles, one widowed—and how many cousins on his wife’s side—whose welfare he was responsible for.

Of course he could always try to brazen it out. But he suspected that would be an unwise course for him to take, the result being the same as if he walked out. Nangi was hard. And he was Japanese. But if he were fair he could make a satisfactory employer.

Su decided to tell the truth. “The Royal Albert has been paying me ten thousand Hong Kong dollars a month to keep them informed of all All-Asia transactions.” He held his breath. He could hear his accelerated heartbeat like surf in his inner ear.

“I see.” Nangi tapped the eraser end of a new pencil on Su’s desk top. Then he looked up. “As of now, Mr. Su, your salary is doubled.” Great gods of the west wind, Su thought. A thin line of sweat broke out at his hairline. “In six months we’ll review the matter and, based on the bank’s overall position, it will be reevaluated upward…or downward. The same will hold true a year from now.” His eyes were searching Su’s face. “If, at that time, the bank has performed up to a schedule of profit I shall work up for you before I depart, you will receive a ten percent stock equity in All-Asia pursuant to your signing a lifetime contract.”

Nangi saw with satisfaction that all color had drained from Su’s broad face.

“I will immediately sever all ties with the Royal Albert.” Su’s voice was thin and reedy. His eyes seemed glassy.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Nangi said. “You’ll take your ten thousand a month and within sixty days ask for a raise. God knows, you’ve earned it.”

Su’s face clouded. “Sir. I don’t think I understand.” Relief was flooding through him like a spring torrent, muddying his thoughts.

“From today on, Mr. Su, you will provide the Royal Albert with precisely the information I feed you. At the same time you will relay to me just what is going on at our competition. I will want to know every major and minor deal on their boards. I will want to know their capital outlay, their spread, and their investment goals for one year, five years, and ten years.” He cocked his head. “Are you getting all this, Mr. Su?”

Su had recovered sufficiently to smile. Oh, gods of all four quarters, he prayed silently, tonight I will offer a feast to each and every one of you. “I’m with you, Nangi-san,” he said in his best idiomatic English. “This is sounding more and more like a task I will enjoy immensely.”

Then concern flooded his face again. “But I cannot be expected to achieve these great gains with the depletion of capital that currently plagues us. The bank is on the verge of insolvency if we were to have to redeem on any kind of an extended run. And even if the run does not materialize—may all the gods hear and make it so!—it would take more than twelve months for us to recover sufficiently from these setbacks so that I can make even a semblance of headway.”

“Two items will help us here,” Nangi said, unruffled. “First, we will have additional capital available to us within seventy-two hours.”

“May I ask the source of this capital?” Su interjected.

“Just be prepared to invest part of it wisely for a maximum return with a minimum of time factor.”

Su was already shaking his head. “Big risk in that. Too much for us in our current position.”

“Not with the information you’re going to be getting from the Royal Albert.” Nangi was smiling now as he rose. “Ride their back, Mr. Su, as the temple dog rides the great dragon. Let
them
take all the risks, do all the work while you make our money grow for us risk free.” He nodded his head.

“Congratulations! This is a big day for you. Shall we go and celebrate?”

Tanya was manning the ARRTS terminal when the cipher came in. That was luck, pure and simple. But if someone else had been on, which had been far more likely, he or she would have merely starred the unreadable entry and she would have been flagged down immediately on her return.

The “Spearfish” situation, as she had somewhat ironically designated it, was her baby. She was its monitor principally because it was a personal matter of Minck’s and not business.

Well, that was not strictly true. “Spearfish”
had
been business up until perhaps a year ago. It should have been terminated then, as Tanya had argued. In fact, as far as anyone else in Red Section or anywhere else in the Family was concerned, it was terminated. Only Minck and Tanya knew otherwise.

The moment Tanya became aware that “Spearfish” had crossed the line it never should have, into the personal sector, she had come alert. One of her jobs, unspoken and all the more crucial for that, was to protect Minck. In her judgment he had picked a particularly dangerous time to pull something like this, though she knew when personal feelings were allowed to interfere with business there was no good time for it.

Thus she became “Spearfish”’s guardian while acknowledging the foolhardiness of the enterprise. Some things could be kept in cold storage better than others. But nothing could be well kept for long out in the open.