Read Online Tai-Pan by James Clavell - Free Book Online Page B

my boat’s crew together. If I’m na out safely in one hour, come and find me.”
    So he had gone, leaving Wolfgang and the armed boat’s crew close by and ready if necessary. The house was joined to others in a row on a quiet, tree-lined street. Struan had entered through a door in the high wall and found himself in a garden. A Chinese woman servant was awaiting him. She was neatly dressed in black trousers and black coat, and her hair was arranged in a bun. She bowed and motioned him to be quiet and to follow her. She led the way through the garden and into the house and up a flight of private stairs and into a room. He followed cautiously, ready for trouble.
    The room was richly furnished and the paneled walls were hung with tapestries. There were chairs and a table and Chinese teak furniture. The room smelled strangely clean with the faintest suggestion of a subtle incense. There was one window which overlooked the garden.
    The woman went to the far end of a side wall and carefully moved a strip of paneling. There was a tiny peephole in the wall. She peered through it, then motioned him to do the same. He knew that it was an old Chinese trick to dupe an enemy into putting his eye to such a hole in a wall while someone waited on the other side with a needle. So he kept his eye a few inches from the hole. Still he could see the other room clearly.
    It was a bedroom. Wang Chu, the chief mandarin of Macao, was on the bed nude and corpulent and snoring. Mary was naked beside him. Her head was propped on her arms and she was staring at the ceiling.
    Struan watched with fascinated horror. Mary langourously nudged Wang Chu and stroked him awake and laughed and talked with him. Struan had been unaware that she could speak Chinese, and he knew her as well as anyone—except her brother. She rang a small bell, and a maid came in and began to help the mandarin dress. Wang Chu could not dress himself for his nails were four inches long and protected with jeweled sheaths. Struan turned away filled with loathing.
    There was a sudden chatter of singsong voices from the garden and he cautiously looked out the window. Wang’s guards were assembling in the garden; they would block his exit. The servant woman motioned him not to worry but to wait. She went to the table and poured him tea; then she bowed and left.
    In half an hour the men left the garden and Struan saw them form up in front of a sedan chair on the street. Wang Chu was helped into the sedan chair and carried away.
    “Hello, Tai-Pan.”
    Struan spun around, drawing his knife. Mary was standing in a doorway which had been concealed in the wall. She wore a gossamer robe which hid none of her. She had long, fair hair and blue eyes and a dimpled chin; long legs and tiny waist and small, firm breasts. A priceless piece of carved jade hung from a gold chain around her neck. Mary was studying Struan with a curious, flat smile.
    “You can put the knife away, Tai-Pan. You’re in no danger.” Her voice was calm and mocking.
    “You ought to be horsewhipped,” he said.
    “I know all about whipping, don’t you remember?” She motioned to the bedroom. “We’ll be more comfortable in here.” She went to a bureau and poured brandy into two glasses.
    “What’s the matter?” she said with the same perverse smile. “Haven’t you been in a girl’s bedroom before?”
    “You mean a whore’s bedroom?”
    She handed him a glass and he took it. “We’re both the same, Tai-Pan. We both prefer Chinese bedmates.”
    “By God, you damned bitch, you—”
    “Don’t play the hypocrite; it doesn’t suit you. You’re married and you’ve children. Yet you’ve many other women. Chinese women. I know all about them. I’ve made it my business to find out.”
    “It’s impossible for you to be Mary Sinclair,” he said half to himself.
    “Not impossible. Surprising, yes.” She sipped her brandy calmly. “I sent for you because I wanted you to see me as I