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departure was dictated by face. If Ting should be deposed while present, this would constitute a loss of face from which he could never recover. During the time it took him to stride to the door and open it, and for the door to close behind him, no word was spoken. But as soon as he was gone all the businessmen except Koy leaned forward across the table. Koy himself sat bolt upright, like the goddess on the dais on her throne, manifesting the dignity and reserve of one already chosen.
    “What steps would you take?” asked Lau presently.
    “Of course the first job,” said Koy piously, “would be to find and to chastise those youths who carried out the cowardly assault last night on the mayor of Chinatown Mr. Ting.
    The men around the table had lived a long time and had acquired the wisdom that comes with years. Also they were Chinese. That Koy had engineered the massacre himself seemed to them possible, even likely. But they did not pursue their suspicions. The subject held little interest for them. The dead were dead and Ting was about to be superseded. The Golden Palace was no longer their affair. Provided the proprieties were observed, they were prepared to overlook it.
    And so the conversation continued in generalities. Business was not good. The world was changing too fast. Too few opportunities for investment existed. It would have been impossible for an outsider to understand what point exactly was being made. Too many street thugs from Hong Kong. But prosperity, they were sure, could not be far off.
    Koy nodded agreement. The leaders of the youth gangs, he said, could be “talked to.” Future violence might well take place outside of Chinatown. He knew of a number of interesting investments which he might propose at the next meeting. And they were right about the upturn, which he assured them was imminent.
    He had just dealt these aged men in as partners, but then he had known from the first he would have to. Without their approval he could not operate in Chinatown at all. Though perhaps too old to start new ventures of their own, they were still powerful enough to stop his. A word to an underling would be enough. Henceforth they would share in his profits - his losses, if any, would be his own. In exchange he could ask them for advice or contacts or for important favors, such as rerouting a ship, or moving currency around the world. For as long as the profits lasted he would have their sanction. They would not want to know too much about where the profits came from.
    Koy had many partners already - one could not run a worldwide organization without them - and Ting, when he returned to this room, would be another. But partnerships insured harmony, up to a point, and harmony was a quality greatly prized by the Chinese. Without harmony success in business was difficult to attain.
    “The weight of responsibility is heavy on my shoulders,” said Koy, inclining his head.
    The elder Mr. Hong said, “In Little Italy, only two streets to the north, there is a candy store affiliated with one of the Italian families. The proprietor furnishes guns to Chinese youths.” Removing his thick glasses, he rubbed his nearly blind eyes. “The Chinese community has lost much face.”
    “I will look into the matter,” said Koy.
    Hong’s generalized statement, together with Koy’s polite answer, seemed the last of the details to be settled. All heads except Koy’s came together, and there was much whispering in Cantonese. When this ended the old men sat back and all turned to Mr. Lau who, as spokesman, would deliver the verdict.
    Lau said, “Mr. Koy was perhaps sent here by the gods to return our community to the prosperity of the past.”
    “Yellow gold is plentiful compared to white-haired friends,” said Mr. Koy.
    ABOUT AN hour later Koy went through the glass doors, up the rococo staircase and into Ting’s restaurant. The place was noisy, for plasterers, painters and electricians, about a dozen men in all, were at