CHINA BRIGHT AND TEMPTING
Jay Clayton Wilson
Published by Jay Clayton Wilson
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Jay Clayton Wilson
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CHINA BRIGHT AND TEMPTING
CHAPTER 1
The Taiwanese businessman’s lips twisted into leathery knots. His eyes burned with the hate of a political zealot – a zealot whose cherished cause was suddenly in danger. The figure at his feet squirmed in the blood that ran from his throat to his collar and pooled on the carpet. But not enough blood. Not nearly enough to right the scales. The installer’s blood could never balance the damage the idiot had done to the businessman’s great ambition – to his dream of leading Old China into the new economic order – with his family in leadership.
He fidgeted with the gold insignia ring on his stubby finger and twisted it as if he were wringing life out of an enemy. He glared at the other men in the room. Hatred and disbelief boiled in his eyes. He nodded an order to them and stepped away from the struggling man on the floor. Then he took an elevator and left the elegant Dallas Regency Hotel and headed for the Taipei ticket counter. A moment later he found a private phone and pounded out an international number while his dream curled away and evaporated in the afternoon heat.
The wealthy young businessman didn’t have to kill the installer. Those who stayed in the hotel room would do that. But not yet. They hadn’t punished him enough. Not nearly enough.
* * * * *
Back in the plush hotel room the garrote sliced partway through gristle in the squirming man’s neck and constricted his breathing. The husky Asian who held the loop of piano wire grunted and tightened it -- slowly. Struggling against the wire wouldn’t help the installer. It couldn’t. It only served to tighten the garrote around his throat.
Two well dressed Chinese had stayed with the husky executioner. The larger of them shuddered and hissed in a Mandarin dialect, “We’re dead men. Dead. You saw the look in his eyes.” Then to the choking man he spat. “Your stupid incompetence has ended our careers and our lives.”
He turned away from the executioner’s bloody struggle to peer through the powerful telescope at the window. But that too was useless. Nothing had changed. It was business as usual in the law office on the fortieth floor of the Republic National Bank Building, a few blocks away. With one quick step the larger man whirled his agile body and slapped the dying man across the mouth. The blow chipped a yellowed tooth. Screaming into the installer’s contorted face, sputum sprayed like bullets and frustrated rage took control. He bashed him again with the back of his hand.
“Yesterday afternoon we could have killed Noah Jancy. We could have ended his snooping. Now he’s on his way to Taiwan. He is a driven man. He will discover too much.” He kicked the installer in the ribs. “The job was so simple. Your cover was perfect. The time bombs could have been installed so easily. Failure was impossible. But you managed it anyway! You idiot. You have brought the wrath of great men down on us. Now we will be the ones to die. But you will die first. My only regret is that your suffering cannot be made to last for days. You deserve nothing less.”
The loop tightened.
The garroted man squirmed against the wire and cried, “No!” Choking, his last words railed through his collapsing larynx. “Faulty timer . . . arrgg . . . miss marked. Wrong day.”
“Shut up. At least have the courage to die like a man rather than the pile of putrid dog meat that you are. Exactly twenty-four hours ago we could have killed Noah Jancy. Now, because of you, we have less than twenty-four hours to live.”
“No. Please.”
None of the Asians paid attention to the plea. Instead, the larger man returned to the telescope. Magnified a hundred times, the image of lawyers appeared in a sumptuous corner office, conservatively dressed, laughing, unknowing. He slapped the telescope across the room and nodded to the powerful man who held the ends of the piano wire.
“Slowly,” he emphasized.
The doomed man dug his fingers into his own throat in a desperate attempt to stop the wire. Blood began to run down his wrists -- his own blood. It was viscid and slippery. He couldn't even touch the sinking garrote.
The body kicked and thrashed. Blood sprayed. The larger man stepped out of the way. The wire butchered through the trachea, through the thyroid cartilage and, as the man died, through his esophagus.
* * * * *
The law offices of Cole, Solomon & Jancy were furnished with the formal elegance that portended a successful Dallas legal practice. Milled oak doors evidenced their thick substantiality, a comforting welcome to clients who sought the means to secure their fortunes and advance their industries. The names of fifty lawyers graced the portal with the assurance that their combined amain was abundantly sufficient to serve the needs of progressive businessmen in 1979. Wide, carpeted halls between well appointed offices connected the expanses of the entire fortieth floor. Walls were decorated not with boring, self laudatory certificates or paintings of famous, long deceased firm members, but with the portraits of current jurists and powerful corporate executives.
Those portraits were indicia of access. Access was the firm's key work. Physical access and social access to the powerful was its arcane offering. And access to the courts, of course. But of greater importance was the entree to the lair of political influence and corporate power. Those were the offices that had to be reached to piece together the deals that could become the foundations of empires and to cobble those that were flawed.
Well paid legal secretaries hurried from office to office with a dedicated professionalism that precluded miniskirts. None of the men's dark gray suits sported flared bottoms. Neither were suffocating pinstripe suits encouraged. It was the subdued elegance of accomplishment and achievement that was to be projected.
“Well, Noah should be arriving at Taipei just about now,” Brian Cole said. He furrowed his massive brow and ran his manicured fingertips through silvered hair. “It's hard to believe how much success he has had in Southeast Asia. What a fabulous dimension he has added to the firm. AsiaTech will be his crown if he can put it together. And he can taste success. I saw it in his eyes.”
Sy Solomon, the managing partner of the firm, stood next to the window and nodded his agreement to the other four lawyers who sat around his massive desk. The youngest, whose coat hung over his arm, loosened his tie in preparation to go back to work. He threw a comment over his shoulder on the way out.
“Mr. Jancy really deserved the send off the firm gave him yesterday. It's rare that the associates gets to see all three partners in one gathering.”
“It was our pleasure,” Sy replied before the young lawyer got out the door. Then back to Brian he said, “Noah Jancy is shrewd, you know. If he is able to bring the three industrial giants together and form AsiaTech, he’ll want a bigger cut of the firm.”
“Who cares?” Brian shrugged his aging shoulders. “The pie will be much, much larger. Money is the bottom line. I’d rather be able to buy the biggest house in Highland Park than to stick my chest out and talk loud about owning X percent of the firm. Right?”
“Oh, yes!” Sy Solomon agreed with a cordial smile. “I was only ruminating a bit about Noah's phenomenal good luck, his personal tragedies not withstanding.” He glanced away after the remark as if he wished he had not said it. “You and I formed this firm and worked most of our professional lives to build a successful practice. What have we built instead? A funnel into which Noah Jancy can pour fees.”
“Quit bitchin', Mr. Solomon,” one of the younger lawyers laughed. “You already make more money than God. And you’re more important than your own namesake.”
Sy Solomon knew that kind of hyperbole was common and almost true. He acknowledged that success carried the firm on its crest where the curl formed a perfect platform for men like Noah Jancy. Sy’s unbridled pride lifted the gold watch chain across his expanding chest. Years of brilliance and hard work were paying off. The lawyers were awash in money. And influence.
A bellicose young attorney lifted a bone China coffee cup and continued in the confident assurance of mutual friendship and respect, “Noah was a fighter pilot in Vietnam, right? Is that where he made his initial contacts?” Another, who was fastening his gold cufflinks in place, said, “I don't think anyone really knows. But have you ever looked at his eyes? They're kind of long and narrow. He may have some Oriental bloodlines. What do you think?”
Someone else commented about having heard that Noah Jancy's surname had been changed from Jain Cee. Then the lawyer with the gold cufflinks asked how Noah had cultivated his contacts in Washington, D.C. and why those particular clients were never introduced at the office. He wanted to know why Noah’s most secretive Washington client wanted to put together the acquisition in the first place.
“Why,” he complained, “try to combine two major industrial firms with an electronics manufacturer like Fu Lok. Fu Lok is successful in a way. But it isn’t large enough to be in the same league with the big boys. If Noah weren’t so damned hard to get to know, I’d ask him.”
That line of conversation was overridden by a subtle harumph that trumpeted the call to return to work.
The quartz movement of the clock that was mounted on the paneled wall indicated exactly two o'clock. Silicon crystals also resonated in the electronic timers of the devices that the installer had strategically situated through out the office a couple of days earlier. Their timers also indicated exactly two o'clock.
At that precise instant a series of explosions blasted the entire law office into a spray of glass, rubble, and blood that collapsed the interior walls and showered the streets forty floors below. Whole bodies and unidentifiable appendages were thrown through the shattered windows along with ruined furniture and the disintegrated remains of legal files and office equipment. The fortieth floor of the Republic National Bank Building was completely destroyed along with everyone who worked there. Cole, Solomon & Jancy ceased to exist.
* * * * *
Ten thousand miles away a Delta DC-10 flew over the Japanese Islands some thirty thousand feet above their cities and their millions. The next landfall would be Korea. Taiwan was only a few hours farther away -- delicious hours of restful sleep in the leathery luxury of first class accommodations that would assure Noah Jancy of arriving at Chiang Kai-shek International Airport rested and ready to negotiate.
CHAPTER 2
Noah wanted to spend a couple hours in Taipei, Taiwan’s capital, just to absorb the flavor of the bustling city of two million. Maybe take a walk down the boulevard. Or maybe just stand on a street corner for a few minutes beneath the hundreds of neon enticements to Nikon, Sony and Ford. He acknowledged that there wouldn’t be enough time to go back to the Chiang Kai-shek Museum. He wouldn’t have the luxury of wondering at the fortunes of art the Generalissimo brought to Taiwan when he and the Kuomintang army escaped to Formosa from the Chinese Communists in 1949. Something less grand would have to do.
Those were the generalities of Noah's immediate plans when he stood in the long line at the customs inspection desk for American travelers.
Someone tapped his shoulder, “Mr. Jancy, would you come this way please. Your luggage will be taken through customs and delivered to the limousine.”
Of course, Noah thought. These people suffered no time to smell the flowers. A delegation will escort me in a long, black Cadillac to some corporate headquarters. Gray suits, champagne -- business as usual. This little island is only seventy-five miles off the coast of China. But it is a magnet to high energy, Southeast Asian personalities and their money. Moments for meditation are as remote in this Disney World of finance and industry as they are in the middle of Rockefeller Center. The mind has to race ahead. The engine of imagination has to be kept at full throttle to avoid being run over and left behind.
Not every American businessman knew that. Noah did. So he allowed his briefcase to be taken and he was whisked away for a perfunctory stamping of his visa and passport. The engine had started.
* * * * *
Just beyond the customs line, Jiang hustled through Chiang Kai-shek International. He hurried to an executive terminal near the west side of the airport facility that was squeezed between the ocean and the city at the north end of the island. A jet engine turned up and began to whirl the overhead rotor blades of a sleek helicopter. Gradually the blades gathered speed until they began to sing the paean of convenience and efficiency.
Jiang was already buckled in and perusing a report he had prepared for his father. He ran long, delicate fingers through thinning hair and pulled at his soft, clean-shaven chin and let his peaceful eyes gaze out the window. The flight home would be routine. His pilot would make a low altitude sprint away from the airport; a dash to the southwest over Taipei, keeping a close watch for private and military traffic over the sprawling city; then fifty miles down the coastline to the middle of the island; and then inland to the foothills of the thirteen thousand foot Mount YuShan. Half way up the mountain, which was as high as the tallest peak in mountainous northern New Mexico, the chopper would approach the ancient enclave that had been occupied for generations by the ancestors of Chi'lin.
Jiang allowed his interest to drift away from the report that outlined the activities of a west coast glass manufacturer. Not even the most successful industrial espionage could lure his gaze away from his tiny homeland. Taipei's maze of high rise apartments, steel plants, refineries and glass manufacturing plants gave way to shipyards and finally to fishing villages. He loved the island that was only hundred fifty miles long. About the size of Maryland with a population almost as great as California's, Taiwan’s former name, Formosa, meant 'beautiful'. And to him it was. Sweeping down the coast over wall-to-wall industries, he rested his eyes first on the turquoise Straits of Formosa and then inland to the lush, green forests that blurred by on his left. Peasants waded in rice paddies that splashed against the walls of electronics manufacturing companies in a syncretism of the old and the new, the historical and the developing.
His inland mountains were host to significant reserves of coal, natural gas, copper, silver, some oil, and even some gold. Taiwan was a self contained empire with a powerful military complex supported by the United States and an industrial philosophy supported by the irresistible impulse to manufacture and export. But to Jiang it was home. A capitalist's paradise. A land whose age had come.
Symphonic effortlessness characterized the pilot's control of the collective and stick as the chopper sped up a valley to the high citadel of Chi'lin where tile roofs and teak walls were embosomed within gardens and ponds, a tapestry in the forest. As soon as he settled onto the helipad, servants opened the door and whisked Jiang away to his father.
He found Chi'lin sitting at a low table in the simple, uncontrived elegance of a small room where doors were graced with rice paper panels that slid open silently. The elderly gentleman wore a red silk robe. Soft sandals wrapped his feet. His atavistic features took on an element of sublimity when he stroked the ends of his long, gray beard. He was gazing through the window at the world below. It presented itself in the delicate perfection of an Oriental painting.
Jiang knocked gently. Chi'lin turned his regal head and greeted him. “My son. Welcome back. The past month has been a lonely experience without you.”
“Thank you, Father. I am honored by compliments that I do not deserve.”
Jiang felt it refreshing to adopt the humility with which he was so comfortable. That quality had to be left behind when he went away on business. That’s when the gentle Jiang had to let his personality metamorphose into the Western animal that he had been trained to be. He was good -- one of the best. And he put his heart in it. But his heart of hearts was Taiwanese.
That was why Jiang had always loved and admired the sage. Chi'lin was of another, older world that he brought with him into the present. He dominated both.
“Unless you need rest after your journey,” Chi’lin said, “shall we finish with our business while we walk together in the garden? I found two large pieces of obsidian for the stream. They make the water swirl into the little waterfall that you built as a child.”
“I am well rested, Father,” he said to the slight man who stood to walk with him. “It is the east-bound flight that takes so much out of travelers. My trip was easy!
“Here is a synoptic account of the information I acquired in California.” Jiang said, tearing himself away from the past to address the present. “Please glance over it at your leisure. It is followed by an analysis of the numbers I accumulated about Ferron Flat Glass, Inc. They support your initial speculation. We should be able to out bid them and still provide five million lineal feet of quarter inch glass at a profit.”
“Excellent!” Chi'lin's calm, sensitive eyes brightened as they always did when cautious deliberation finally yielded to a decision of moment. He told Jiang, “We will acquire another float glass factory to operate in conjunction with our existing plant if you believe we will need the additional capacity.”
“Yes, Father. If we elect to pursue that market, we may as well insure that we have fewer competitors in the vicinity. And, of course, we will need the additional capacity.”
“Tell me something about Ferron's facilities,” Chi'lin requested as carried the conversation outdoors. He seemed to sense rather than observe the gathering aura of his son’s discomfort. It was obvious that manufacturing glass was not the industry that captured Jiang's imagination because he thought of it as a mere staple. Historically, its aesthetic and practical value had already been recognized and exploited. But it was an extremely profitable business. That alone justified the time and capital expenditure they devoted to the current project. It had required Jiang to drop everything on short notice and devote his analytical abilities to a dinosaur industry.
“Ferron's technology is state of the art, but not unique.” In a kind way, Jiang tried not to reveal his boredom. “They import native sand from Nevada by train.” This is too well understood already. “The sand is moved from the rail cars by conveyer to the eastern entrance of their plant where it is dumped a forty foot furnace along with enough iron compounds to give it the desired green tint. Like it does in our furnace, heat instantly melts the sand into the molten silica. The volume of fresh sand is regulated to force a thin flow of molten silica over a control dam at the opposite end.”
Jiang forced a yawn out of sight behind his soft lips. “On the other side of the dam is a square pool of molten tin.” He rested his pointed chin on a delicate finger and forced his concentration to focus. “The flow of silica pours over the dam onto the liquefied tin and floats there as it moves along. That flattens the lower surface.”
He pushed his metal framed glasses off his flat nose and blinked his intelligent, black eyes. “Of course, gravity flattens the top of the flow so that perfect smoothness of the top and bottom is achieved. A dam at the far end of the tin pool is level with a rolling conveyer that transports the malleable flow through a half mile tunnel where the temperature is gradually reduced until the flat ribbon of glass is solid enough to be cut to length.
“I watched the sheets of crated glass move by forklift to transport trucks that were waiting in bays at the opposite end of the building. My photos record the number of trucks. I calculated the efficiency of the plant by comparing the car loads of sand to the truck loads of finished glass that were shipped.”
Chi'lin stroked his gently flowing mustache down to its gray, pointed tips in deep contemplation. “It seems,” he said, “that no new genius has visited itself on the Americans. I suppose the speed of the conveyer and the movement of the perpendicular cutter are electronically controlled.”
“Yes. Those stages are quite sophisticated.” Humbly looking at the floor to avoid the implication that he knew he had done a good job, he continued, “I learned through some rather extraordinary channels that the manufacturer who installed the system would be willing to provide us with the exact circuitry that Ferron is utilizing! For a price, of course.”
“Interesting, isn't it,” Chi'lin said, pausing as if in hopes of getting a positive response from Jiang, “to see a train load of sand engorged at one end of a building and a ribbon of flat glass being expelled at the other end, ready for installation.”
Jiang yielded to habit and stroked his hairless chin, “Yes, it is -- in a way. There is one long, uninterrupted ribbon of glass that continues to be manufactured as long as trains dump sand into the furnace. Monotony might eventually make it less interesting, however.”
Chi'lin seemed to have expected that remark although he might have hoped for more enthusiasm.
“Thank you for your diligence, Jiang. I thoroughly understand your reluctance to back away from the leading edge of technologies to study the dinosaur. However, our grandchildren will appreciate the empire they will inherit because of our investments in staples. Staples will provide the basis for security while we speculate in more adventurous high technology. That conservative principle will help us to survive when things don't work out the way we planned. It happens you know.”
Jiang thought about his father’s perspective while they walked down the steps into a garden of gnarled little trees, carefully manicured evergreen bushes and, lush perennate broad leaves. Black and gray rocks seemed to grow out from under the carpet of soft green moss that surrounded them. They could hear water purling through a gently winding course until it swirled around two obsidian stones and over a waterfall into a pond that was filled with green lily pads and fragrant floating flowers.
Gracious, leisured, Jiang appreciated that the secluded garden was a halcyon retreat into the mind where truth could be more easily distinguished from hedonic premises that tend to direct life and establish values. Traditionally, this was the place where his father brought his family to try to reach a consensus on complex matters. That was his way. Looking around at the splendor and serenity of the mountain retreat, Jiang realized again that it would be hard to find fault with Chi'lin's approach to business. Arguing with success was a formidable task that should never be undertaken by its beneficiaries. He conceded.
“There is much truth in what you have said, Father. I admit that our grandchildren and their grandchildren will remember you in their prayers because of your unselfish devotion to their well being. Basic industries are important indeed. Thank you for keeping our priorities in proper perspective.”
With resignation, perhaps capitulation, Jiang slipped the past month into a separate compartment where it would no longer get in the way. He came around to his father’s way of thinking. He realized that, like Chi'lin's other children and the family’s investments, he had been maneuvered as deftly as the pieces on a chessboard. Still, he loved the old man.
Youngest of the two male children was Guang, who was thirty and very bright. Lu'tai, his younger sister, held his hand and toyed with the gold insignia ring he wore. They cantered into the garden. Jiang and Chi’lin waved, welcoming them. He stood aside to allow his children to greet each other with hugs, laughter, and genuine friendship. The cabal before him was the golden crown of his achievements.
Gray hairs sprinkled Jiang's temples and a couple of inches additional height over Guang provided physical stature to support the family's firmly established hierarchical structure. However, Jiang was aware that Guang was strong and independent. Muscles throbbed in his neck and his shoulders bulged beneath a custom made white shirt whose collar buttoned down crisply on each side of a loosened tie. His thick, black hair disdained brush and comb. It fell over his ears in rakish shocks. The outer corners of his eyes rose to points near his eyebrows in an impish, or challenging thrust. His business suit was matched by the color of his expensive Italian shoes.
Jiang’s siblings could easily be identified as limbs from the same family tree. They were handsome and beautiful, intelligent and discerning. Those characteristics were buried deep in the physiognomy that had been developed by a generation of study, hard work, and filial devotion. They were clever people by heritage. But it had taken Chi’lin’s tutelage to develop cunning. They knew that was the ultimate achievement in a family that had to earn money by wit.
Taking Jiang and the rest of his brood under his arm, Chi'lin strolled to the garden’s northern most perimeter and gazed over the Straits toward China, empire of their forefathers, key to their future.
Chi'lin mused, “Your grandfathers vacationed in this very garden long before Mao's Communists drove freedom loving people away from the mainland. One million of us who were followers of Sun Yat-Sen escaped to Formosa under Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek. Who knows? If Sun Yat-Sen had lived, perhaps it would have been Mao who fled across the Straits. Ah, well. To me, the escape was almost like returning to a second home from a long, hard journey.
Chi’lin breathed deeply of the garden aroma and the scent of freedom. “Those of us who survived built new homes for our families. We built a place where we could follow man's natural inclination to make things and trade them.” He gazed across the Straits and told them with obvious pride, “Experiences like that are a study in life. When the yoke of poverty is lifted and the traces of oppressive government are released, the Chinese people become the most successful capitalists the world has ever known.”
He continued in the sure knowledge that his children loved their own history. “Back in 1949 this beautiful island was an agrarian paradise inhabited by uncounted Polynesian aborigines and illiterate Asians. In a matter of only thirty years one million of us, exiles from China, transformed it into an industrial complex.” He expanded his frail chest. “Now, Taiwan, the Republic of China, is on every lip that speaks of success. By 1980 it will become the paradigm of opportunity.”
Chi'lin took obvious pleasure in the tingle that swelled within him every time he told the story of Chiang Kai-shek and the daughter of Sun Yat-Sen when they assumed control of the Kuomintang and warred against the Communists. Chi’lin often said that Chiang’s defeat in 1949 gave the United States an opportunity to express loyalty to its friends and to undertake one of the greatest economic experiments in the history of the world. The experiment allowed capitalism to rage and prosper right under Mao’s nose until his death in 1976. While the mainland, the People's Republic of China, collapsed under the weight of Mao's ill conceived Cultural Revolution, Taiwan thrived and prospered. The mainland’s middle class was virtually destroyed along with its economy. Chi’lin always made the point that the dichotomy was there for the world to examine and consider.
The siblings loved to hear him retell the story because they loved the patient, resourceful old man. But Guang was less interested in history.
At an appropriate time during the conversation Guang said to Jiang, “I was away during much your absence. When I returned, Father had me renew efforts to acquire MultiSpectrum Electronics. They rejected our offer, suffering as they do from the delusion that their company is worth an additional thirty dollars per share. The negotiations are at a standstill. I can’t get them to budge a cent.”
“Their asking price has never been supported by their financial statements,” Chi'lin observed sagaciously. “They seem to sense our need for their unique technology.” He stopped to watch a cloud float by. Neither Jiang nor Guang spoke. They watched Chi'lin's soft, gentle eyes rest expressionlessly on the maxims of another world. Often they had watched him delay, tatter the nerves of the negotiators, and allow an impasse before acting decisively.
Chi’lin continued in a reasoning tone that was just beyond the Guang’s ability to fathom – until he said, “Their business success has resulted from the uncanny abilities of the three employees who run their research and development department. I want you to hire them. Offer whatever it takes. But get them. Then withdraw our acquisition offer. We will have acquired their most valuable asset for the price of three salaries. That maneuver will give us what we really want -- and utterly wreck a competitor at the same time.”
Tranquility continued to soften his aging facial features. He was at peace. But Guang’s eyes brightened. A spume of saliva formed at the corner of his mouth.
* * * * *
The Free Commerce Building dominated Taipei's skyline. A steel and aluminum superstructure supported its curtain of reflective glass like a bright cloak that imposed its magnificent presence over the seat of government and the citadel of power. From its offices and boardrooms emanated the policies and directives that caused mergers and set the helm of industrial expansion. Over its conference tables, and those like them around the world, there occurred the dynamic interface between ideas and action. Noah Jancy's host and closest friend, Leedok, did not have an office on the prestigious top floor -- yet. But Noah knew he had set his sights high.
“Let’s go, Leedok. You ushered me out of the airport so fast I didn’t have time take a breath. So update me,” Noah said without a polite preamble.
Leedok shrugged his taut Oriental physique and said, “Noah, I presume your client wants to move expeditiously.” But he thought with a kindly smile, When will you Americans ever learn? “So I have taken the liberty of contacting not only the officers and directors of the three principal entities involved, but most of their major shareholders as well.” To some we offer the carrot named profits, others the stick named threatened delay. A limited arsenal at best.
“We’ll hold our first meeting with the targets early in the morning. So let’s spend some time this afternoon having a drink and discussing objectives. Unless, of course, the flight from San Francisco has exhausted you.” Fat chance. He gestured to the other five people who sat around the massive table. “Would you have more champagne?”
Noah Jancy dismissed the suggestion and moved his bifocals into place, the indication that he was ready to get down to work. He raised one bushy eyebrow and aimed his sight at Leedok. Then he said, “I meant, have we learned anything else about the negotiating teams from Ming Video and Chang Circuitry?” He didn’t mention Fu Lok, the third target in the acquisition equation
Leedok must have strained to keep his slanted eyes from rolling in exasperation over Noah’s deliberate single mindedness. It didn't work. It never did and they rolled in spite of himself. Early on Noah had realized that was why his friend was a promoter instead of a poker player. His irrepressible expressions had forced that decision on him as a way of saving him from himself. The mouth, however, was another matter and equally irrepressible.
“It's too bad, you know. You and I have put together seven or eight deals during the last four years. It would seem that you might have learned something about patience during those profitable encounters. After all, you were under the tutelage of a master.” Leedok brushed lint from his lapel and smiled to let it soak in that he was referring to himself. “I could have taught you so much. But some systemic failure has prevented your personality from adapting. You never learned to stop and smell the jasmine. You know, you look sort of American. And you certainly act the part with a dedicated totality.”
Jancy shifted his two hundred pounds and rubbed his gnarled fingertips into the sockets of deep brown eyes, noting silently that it was Leedok who forced time to collapse on itself. Patience was not evident in them. Thick gray sideburns and a hardened chin suggested strength of concentration. And he wasn't to be humored by his friend. “If I had allowed our previous transactions to drag on at your Oriental gastropodic pace, we would still be negotiating over our first deal. Now let's get on with it.”
“At least try not to be so intense,” Leedok chided. “Take a little time to smell the lotus and learn patience,” said the man who had rushed Noah away from the airport.
Noah Jancy, tall and bent at the waist from ten years of stubborn negotiating, complained in a jesting tone, “Your tactics have nothing to do with patience. You’re like an oyster shucker, methodically chipping away at the shell until you can find the seam. Then you prize it open and snatch the pearl.”
“Will you two please give it a rest and stop jousting with each other. You’re both driven and you know it. Listening to you gets to be so dreary,” Kim laughed and scolded Noah and her boss. She had heard it all before because she had been Leedok's assistant for six years. She, like Don Quang, had worked for him ever since he graduated from U.C.L.A. But the other three men at the table were new and appeared to be rather uncomfortable with the banter. They were specialists in such esoteric fields as automated assembly and integrated circuits. Banter was not within their ken.
Looking thoughtfully at Kim, Noah differentiated her from most other beautiful women. Their mien was to be reticent, knowing that the world would ultimately come to them. But Kim was vivacious and full of alacrity. She induced people to her level of enthusiasm. Magnetically. He guessed that her survival in the fast pace, high stress environment of the Taiwanese merger and acquisition business depended on her ability to be direct and to project herself with a waggish self confidence.
Noah liked her as well. And he liked the way she always said that Leedok was only a titular head of the office while she actually kept things on track. He was sure that her efficient organization and deft touch kept an even keel beneath his friend’s wild and windy ways. That's how it was with all successful men like Leedok who stormed from the crest of one crisis to the chasm of the next in search of lucrative harbors. They needed a Kim.
Noah raised the banter to another level. “Look. My client isn’t paying me to critique Leedok’s old vaudeville act. Let's get down to business.”
Leedok, the smaller of the two men, turned toward the wall clock and said, “Okay. You win. I scheduled Ming for your first meeting. Then comes Chang Circuitry, and finally, at three o'clock, Fu Lok MicroElectronics. Okay?”
Leedok glanced at Noah’s affirmative nod and then concluded with a glance over his half lens glasses, “You know, people are starting to ask questions. Who is your client, for example? And why the hell include Fu Lok with the acquisition of two giants. What can Fu Lok bring to the table?”
Noah answered by simply looking away.
That led Don Quang to update Noah about the target companies. Don sat at the conference table behind a stack of reports and statistics. His alligator briefcase was open on the credenza behind him. Unlike the other three specialists, he was neither an accountant nor an engineer. Neither was he of their small stature. His hands were large and well manicured. Every hair was trimmed and combed into perfect position whereas the others suffered various flyaway cowlicks to identify them as lower echelon minions whose expertise was limited to narrow esoteric fields. Whereas Don's dark, canted eyes were full of knowing, perhaps cupidity, theirs were guileless, open panes into their uncomplicated worlds.
Don began, “Speculation has caused the market price of the first two targets to appreciate during the last couple of weeks. The insiders have started buying Ming common stock rather heavily. That caused the stock to take off. The deal is going to cost your client a lot more than he expected to pay.
“According to the rumors at the Exchange,” he continued, “Ming's majority shareholders intend to bail out with all they can get in order to form a new venture. They want to design the electronics that will control mass transit systems, particularly for short distance, intra city applications.
“Incidentally,” he queried, “is there some special reason your client chose these three particular targets?”
“No,” Noah lied, knowing that Don did not believe him. “They just seem to fit into already existing technological formats.” But Noah wondered, "What else can I say? It makes no sense to me either. I’m completely in the dark. I have never been asked to put together such a strange mixture of technologies. What do we want? And why? How can I be expected to negotiate from such blindness?"
Don nodded as if that were a satisfactory answer.
Noah asked questions about esoteric matters and listed the precise issues they were to raise and resolve during the meetings with the targets.
All of that was beyond the ken of Leedok who sat at the far end of the table, studying his Month-at-a-Glance calendar to insure against conflicts in scheduled parties, golf tournaments, cultural functions, and the other devices he used to meet people, gather information, and ply his trade. Then he shifted his gaze to a folded paper airplane whose aileron needed adjusting. He smiled broadly each time Kim demanded his attention.
Noah instructed Don to start a rumor that an offer would be made only for certain of Ming's assets rather than for its stock. That, he thought, would tend to drive the price down and put a damper on market speculation. Of course, he had no authorization to start the rumor. In fact, he had been given no guidelines at all except to immediately report everything he learned about Fu Lok. Terribly unusual, he thought. What the hell was the point? Why be so concerned about the least important of the target companies? His Washington client was so unusual – and always secretive. That led to loose ends. He hated loose ends. Still, he intended to exercise his best judgment, as always.
After the meeting Noah, Leedok, and Kim rode the elevator down to the parking garage where Leedok's limo and driver waited. Kim studied Noah Jancy's pensiveness and speculated on his characteristic stoicism. A laconic man who spoke only to address specific points, he almost never engaged in small talk. It was as if he detested personal conversations at any level. Damn him, Kim thought. It’s unfair to waste such masculine good looks on one who was so perfectly comfortable within his own self centered countenance. Look at him. Salt and pepper hair, indifferent to the brush; arched eyebrows that move so expressively when he speaks; suntanned; long, narrow eyes that gaze at far horizons from an almost Oriental puffiness; all this serves to invite people to like him, to want to get to know him. Strange how his appearance is so magnetic while his heart is so unfathomable, or perhaps sad. It's just damned unfair.
Resigned to be in the company of two such unreachable men as these, she started a conversation to compete with the silence of the elevator. She gave it up when neither of them responded to her statement that someone had invented a way to make sake out of seawater. They weren't listening. Damn both of them. It was like that while they drove to the restaurant where they ate so frequently.
The maitre'd, a young Japanese who looked very well suited to his tuxedo, led her to their table, the two men tagging along as if they had just eaten a twelve course meal. As usual, he held the chair for her and admired her long, black hair and the deep cleavage over which it fell. Obviously, spirited women enticed him, especially when they had intelligent eyes and a sparkling smile. What she heard him whisper beneath his breath when he pushed the chair against the back of her knees was something akin to a gasp.
“Down, Yako,” Leedok said as he adjusted his own chair. “Your wife may be watching.”
“Ah so! Have I been obvious again? It's just that Kim is so pretty and man is so vulnerable.” Then to her, “It is always a pleasure to welcome such a sparkling smile as yours.” But he was not looking at her smile.
And she was not listening to him. Vulnerable, she thought. Bullshit. Look at the two of them. They're about as vulnerable as the Rock of Gibraltar.
During a light dinner she engaged in friendly small talk with Leedok. She described her new furniture and he complained about his tennis elbow, again. She noticed that Noah became even more brooding and introverted. This was not his kind of conversation. Too personal. Finally he pushed his chair back as if to remove himself from something distasteful.
“Hey, Noah,” She chided. “Forget how to communicate with mere humanoids?”
“Sorry.”
But Noah’s forty mile stare compromised the apology. She probably knew he would never discuss his feelings. He seemed to harbor a deep sadness. She guessed about the historical props that supported it. She would have to speculate because he wouldn’t even think about it, much less discuss it with her. Damn him. He just shrugged and assumed one of the many theatrical faces that could say so much without putting anything into words. The deep lines around his mouth and eyes contorted in various directions to indicate that he didn’t consider anything to be amiss. She seemed to know otherwise.
“Anyway,” he said summarily, “it's time to call it a night. Let's go if you're ready.”
“Okay. But you’re worried, aren’t you? From what you’ve said, your client seems to be more interested in Fu Lok than in the two major companies. My guess is that you don’t know your own client’s objective. Leedok and I can’t figure it out. That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it? You’re in the dark just like us.”
“Yeah, maybe. Let's go.”
Noah's angst didn't abate. But his frown did. They strolled a zigzag path between the tables toward the front door where the limo appeared as if ordered by magic rather than by the observant, maitre 'd who knew his regular customers and catered to them, assuring each that he was indispensable to the restaurant's success.
They inhaled deeply of the heavy, moist air that promised more rain before morning. Noah wanted to walk back to his hotel. Not a brisk walk. Just a few minutes to be alone with himself.
“Nonsense. The Hilton is right on the way to Leedok’s hotel. We'll drop you off.”
Noah’s head jerked around when Kim mentioned of Leedok's hotel rather than his home. He grimaced and said, “Man, I'm sorry. I got your note about your separation from Ann. I just forgot all about it. I must be in some kind of narcissistic fugue. Please forgive me. Damn it!”
“Forget it, Noah,” Leedok said. “You know the thing has been building up for a long time. A divorce was inevitable.”
“I know. But it was thoughtless of me not to have mentioned the breakup. Completely thoughtless.”
“Forget, it. We'll talk about it in the morning. Let's have breakfast together before your meetings.”
“You got it. See both you later,” Noah said, kissing Kim on the cheek and getting a big, breasty hug in return.
Noah was going to walk back to the hotel alone and there was no way to change his mind. Noah was like that. Damn him.
* * * * *
Early the next morning Noah sauntered in the direction of the front desk in the Hilton's magnificent lobby where Leedok was waiting. His gait was brisk. He was freshly shaved and he wore a light gray suit with a black and gold striped tie. His cufflinks matched the signet on his ring and his leather heels tapped out a cadence that projected a well known image. Noah Jancy was on his way to do what he was so effective and highly paid to do. He had shifted gears. The full amain of his personality jutted across the lobby like the prow of an attacking vessel.
“Good morning, Leedok. Come along and let me treat you to oolong tea and dim sum. You look as if you could use something solid for breakfast.”
“That's right. That's why I'm going to have sausage and eggs.” He slapped Noah across the back with the morning edition and followed him past gurgling fountains and smartly uniformed hostesses toward the Hilton's Jade Room.
But a courteous, professional voice followed a mellow chime to call Noah's name.
“Mr. Jancy. Please pick up a white house phone for an international call.”
“Must be well wishers from the office. Get a table and order lots of orange juice. I'll be right back.”
Leedok ordered coffee and a newspaper. When Noah returned, Leedok continued to read the international section. Without looking up he said, “Look at this, Noah. Four Chinese guys were found floating in White Rock Lake. All dead. One garroted. Isn't White Rock in Dallas just east of where you live?”
Then he looked up. What he saw caused him to leap to his feet and grab Noah by the arm to keep him from falling.
“Noah! What the hell’s wrong? Your face is as gray as your suit. Sit down, man. Waitress!”
“Just give me a minute, Leedok. Something too terrible to imagine . . .” It happened again. It happens every time I depend on yesterday's props to support today's reality. We all suffer at the hand of Fate. She’s a miserable mistress who cares not about man's need for stability! It’s her métier to build and destroy wantonly, irrespective of the needs of those who depend upon her previous largess. Unpredictable and desultory, she renders man moronic in his effort to adapt to her fucking whim. She’s unfair. His stomach convulsed.
Leedok waved at a waitress. A doctor was what he really wanted.
“My God, Noah. Your face! What's going on?” He held his friend's shoulder and reached for a chair. Sudden illness? An accident? What?
“May I help you, sir?”
“Get a doctor! Fast.”
“No, no. Just give me a minute. I’ll . . . I'll be all right.”
Others in the room had stopped eating. Their attention had been attracted not to Noah, but to Leedok, who had leapt to his feet and sent the waitress away for cognac, the panacea of choice for general application.
“Leedok,” Noah rasped in a voice that trembled with emotion, “our office was bombed! Both of my partners were killed along with most of our associates. All of our files were destroyed. Everything. They’re still searching for the bodies of secretaries and clients. No one knows how many were killed.” His eyes were unfocused. Nothing could keep his hand from shaking or his lips from quivering. The back of his tongue was acrid and his stomach convulsed in a shudder that he could not control. One feckless arm fell into his lap. “All gone. Oh, God, not again.”
There had been no preparation. He had no warning. Bewildered, his psyche clamored for a grip on something that was solid, real. Real!
But that was the problem. Noah knew it. Nothing like that had ever existed for him. His world had exploded again. Just like before. So suddenly had his world exploded that the fragments hurtled away from him, light years beyond his grasp. Dreadful, cosmic reality had blasted his foundation into a fine powder, pulverized his visions, and deranged the order of his universe. The muscles in his hands flexed into powerful fists. But they held nothing.
A snifter of Courvoisier V.S.O.P. disappeared in a gulp that should have staggered him and taken his breathe away. Either cognac or sadness opened glands and blurred his vision.
“Come on, Noah. Let's get out of here.”
Leedok led him to the lobby where they virtually collapsed into overstuffed chairs in a sunken seating area near the bell captain's desk.
“Noah, my God. I am so sorry. Count on me to do anything you need. I'll cancel this morning's meetings and have Kim make some flight reservations.”
Noah couldn’t reply. Tears welled in deep sunken pits.
“I'll fly back with you. This is no time for you to be alone. How about it?”
“It was murder, you know.”
“Murder? What are you talking about?”
“Someone intended to kill Solomon or Cole or maybe both of them.”
Leedok gave little credibility to the thesis. “Why murder? Why Sy and Brian?”
A spume formed on the corner of Noah’s mouth. It ran down his chin. He couldn’t control it. Tears brimmed and then poured down his cheeks. “Because an explosion powerful enough to destroy an entire floor of a downtown office building can’t be an accident. It was planned. And it must have been Sy or Brian they were after because everyone knew I was going to be out of town.”
“Noah, stop thinking about it. I'm going to call a doctor. He'll give you something.”
Noah shuddered. “All of our legal files were destroyed. Everything. With no files and no attorneys, the law firm is out of business.” He held on to Leedok's sleeve and pulled involuntarily. “No doctor. I just want to sit here alone for a while. I think I need to be alone.”
“I’ll cancel your meetings.”
“No. I'll take care of everything myself. Including the flight home if I decide to go.”
Leedok objected. “It isn’t right to leave you along. Not now.”
But Noah was stubbornly adamant. He wanted to be alone. Needed to be. Had to be. And he wanted to take care of his own problems. No helping hands. He acknowledged that if anything had ever delimited the possible extent of friendship between him and other men, it was that particular characteristic. That absurd measure of stoicism defined the depth of his every relationship, limiting it in absolute terms. That flaw of character, once prized and glorified among proud, long suffering frontiersmen, now separated those whom it burdened into a lonely category of virtual misfits.
Misfitted, alone, lost. Once would have been enough. Twice within one lifetime was too much.
* * * * *
Hours later, near collapse, his three meetings completed, Noah placed a series of calls to Dallas. The first were to his clients, the others to the wives who survived his deceased partners and associates. But he couldn’t put his heart in it. The meetings had been numb. Ming offered to tender its stock at market value plus a premium for major shareholders. Chang Circuitry did the same.
But Fu Lok had presented a unique and unexpected problem. A man named Jo Tu appeared at the meeting and represented himself to be the president of the corporation and, of more importance, the proxy for the company's major shareholder. Sweat had broken out on Jo Tu’s upper lip during the meeting. Something had made him very uncomfortable. He said that his principal was adamantly opposed to selling any of his stock at any price. Then he left abruptly.
After the Fu Lok meeting, it was clear to everyone that Noah Jancy would fail and there would be no AsiaTech. Why? Why such a sudden change of heart. Don Quang said he had never heard of the shareholder about whom Jo Tu spoke, but did not identify. Looking confused, he promised additional research. He would get to the bottom of it. Noah Jancy seemed not to be listening. His eyes were wide and red. He left Don without a word and walked down the hall toward the elevators.
Later that afternoon Noah paid his bill and left the Hilton by himself. He spoke to no one. Wearing black pants, tennis shoes, and a black nylon jacket, he staggered away from the Hotel. Now he was alone. Really alone.
CHAPTER 3
An hour later Leedok saw Kim at the other end of the lobby. Every Anglo businessman in the Hilton was admiring her. Especially appreciative were those who seemed to travel without their wives. On the other hand, Oriental men, fully accustomed to such beauty, concentrated on the few Occidental women who strolled through the lobby. However, women of all cultures who saw Kim appeared to make mental excuses for themselves. After all, she was only twenty-six years old. No doubt a good cosmetologist could have done the same thing with their eyes, given enough time and artistic ability. And Kim’s minx figure could be duplicated if they chose to invest in enough silicone. Her air of fun loving sophistication would be somewhat more difficult to duplicate and they dismissed her before admitting the utter impossibility of replicating her cheerful, welcoming smile. Lips like hers were the bane of all who reduced themselves to envy. Her figure was not voluptuous by California travel poster standards. However, as a Chinese, her bosom was a challenge to the silk blouse that separated imagination from reality.
At a distance Leedok saw her wave with an outstretched arm, her breasts bouncing in erogenous unison with the movement. Other men’s admiration suddenly escalated to prurient gasps.
“Hi, Kim,” Leedok said, hardly acknowledging her. “Would you go up to the desk and have them page Noah again?”
“What's up?” Kim asked, a little miffed that Leedok seemed so disinterested.
“I can’t find Noah. He checked out of the hotel at four o'clock this afternoon. All of his suitcases were packed and stored. The clerk said he left without a word except to charge the bill to his AmEx card. I was just trying to figure out where he went.”
He realized that had devolved upon him to tell her about the explosion. Saddened, solemn, out of place in the bustle of returning businessmen and nattering shoppers, he had to share the story of the bombing. Leedok was not one to dwell on the moribund and he tended to become petulant when he was forced out of his characteristic good humor. No one had yet accused him of being glib. But he tended to founder in the presence of despair. It was in the natural energy of light and laughter that he found himself most comfortable and effective. Perfectly willing to ignore disaster and deny the existence of hardship, he wanted to canter through life. Occasionally, however, there was no pretense behind which to hide. He had to swallow his sadness along with his predispositions and tell her the whole story about the explosion.
“My God! Who would do such a thing? Poor, dear Noah. He worked so hard to build his law practice. Why do things like this have to happen to guys like him? Where is he?”
“Can't say.”
“I’m worried about him. Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“Do? What do you think, we have supernatural powers or something?”
“Oh, stop it Leedok. You know damned well what I mean.”