The Secret

by Harold Robbins

“No, you can’t. No. It’s not so simple. Charlie supported her. He left her some money. But she needs a new connection. I am hoping we can provide something.”

  “What do you do, Li?” I asked her.

  “I am whore,” the little girl said with calming simplicity, obviously not in the slightest embarrassed.

  I glanced at Len. “I am not sure we can hire any girls for that,” I said.

  “She wants to work for Yasheng Lin,” my son said to me. “I doubt we have enough clout with him to arrange that. I am wondering if Lily could use her as a model.”

  “With no hair?” I asked.

  “It grow out!” the little girl protested.

  “It might make her the most famous model in Hong Kong,” said Len. “She could travel for us. We could show her in China and even in the States.”

  I was emphatic. “And you keep hands off. She’s not to be your plaything, my son.”

  “I’ll keep hands off. You have my word.”

  “Li,” I said to her, “how would you like to be a model and not a whore?”

  “No whore?” she whispered.

  Len answered her. “You do whore, we won’t want you anymore. You wear the clothes we make, show them to people. And you will have to keep your head shaved.”

  She put her fingers to her head. “Embarrass this,” she said quietly. “Many embarrass…”

  “But it may make you famous and rich,” I said.

  Well … getting ahead of things, it did.

  * * *

  I’d had a lot of experience in my life. Experience taught me that the best way to confront a problem was to confront it. So I called Sir Arthur Xu and asked him if the best way to deal with Yasheng Lin was not to meet with Yasheng Lin and openly negotiate.

  “Yasheng Lin,” he answered, “likes straightforward dealing. Yes. Straightforward dealing.”

  So we went a second time to the imposing compound of the Hong Kong billionaire: Len, Vicky, Liz, and I, with Sir Arthur Xu and Lily Xiang.

  We gathered on a stone terrace outside the mansion where we had a view of Hong Kong, the harbor, and Kowloon. We sat on white-painted cast-iron furniture. Torches provided the light. A fountain splashed. Girls in chenogsams served hors d’oeuvres and drinks.

  Vicky wore the cheongsam given her by Bai Fuyuan. It was, I thought, a gesture of defiance. Lily’s dark blue brocaded cheongsam was not a gesture, and she was not uncomfortable about the slit in her skirt that sometimes exposed her leg all the way to her hip. She was a Chinese woman, comfortable in Chinese wear. Liz wore a white lace minidress that did not flatter her.

  Yasheng Lin greeted us as a gracious host. He was dressed as before in a double-breasted suit, this one black, a white silk shirt, and a regimental necktie.

  I meant to avoid the topic of the death of Charlie Han, but he raised it immediately.

  “I hear that your Hong Kong agent has been killed,” he said. “Unfortunate.”

  He said it as if it were a matter of no consequence that he had heard about as a piece of business news, as if he had read a brief account of it in a newspaper.

  “We have been very fortunate,” I said, “in that we have been able to employ Miss Lily Xiang as our new agent.”

  “Yes. I know Xiang Yi by reputation. She is an excellent choice.” He nodded at Lily. “My congratulations. I am confident that you will serve the Coopers well.”

  “I mean to,” she said evenly.

  We talked about the typhoon, then, and the recovery of the Asian economies.

  After a while I turned to business. “You know, Mr. Yasheng, our company has committed itself pretty fully to doing business in China and Asia. Companies in this area have become the major suppliers for important elements of our businesses. I am not ready to say we are dependent on Southeast Asia, but we are deeply involved in it. Which I like, frankly. Also, I like the way you do business in this part of the world.”

  “Except the fact that Han Wong was stealing from you,” said Yasheng with a faint smile.

  “And from you, too, sir, if you don’t mind my mentioning it,” said Len.

  Yasheng nodded. His smile widened. “I wonder if Charlie didn’t learn that way of doing business in the States.”

  I don’t know what Len meant to say, but I spoke before he could. “I suppose that’s possible,” I said. “Charlie Han lived in the States for many years.”

  “Bai Fuyuan was stealing, too,” said Yasheng.

  “Our other chief associate in this area is Zhang Feng, of Guangzhou. What can you tell us about him, if anything? Would you suspect he is stealing?”

  “Zhang Feng is one of a new breed of billionaires made possible by the policies of the late Deng Xiaoping. If he is delivering goods to specification at acceptable prices, what do you care if he has small deals going on the side? Han Wong was crudely stealing from your shipments. That is another matter entirely.”

  “And in so doing was also stealing from you,” I said.

  Yasheng closed his eyes and nodded again.

  Sir Arthur Xu’s face was rigid. He was not accustomed to doing business this way. Straightforward, he had said. This was more than straightforward. I had in effect suggested that Yasheng Lin bore some responsibility for the death of Charlie Han.

  But it didn’t appear to bother Yasheng.

  I went on. “Mr. Yasheng, you are one of the wealthiest men in Hong Kong, perhaps one of the wealthiest men in the world.”

  Yasheng shook his head, simulating modesty.

  “I has occurred to me,” I said, “that you might want to acquire my businesses. You seem to acquire most of the businesses you—”

  This was too much for Sir Arthur. “Oh, no,” he interjected. “Mr. Yasheng is involved in real estate, chiefly, and—”

  “And shipping,” Yasheng interrupted. “Involving my group of companies in merchandising, as Bai Fuyuan recommended, was something of a departure for us. It did seem like a good investment. And I think it will be.”

  “Let us work together to see that it will be,” I suggested.

  “Nothing would please me more.”

  “I have no doubt, Mr. Yasheng, that you are a shrewd and careful investor. I’d like to offer some ideas as to why it would not be a good idea for you to acquire my company.”

  Yasheng raised a peremptory finger and ordered my drink refreshed. A girl rushed to my side with a new Scotch and soda. Others of the little girls hurried to the rest of the guests.

  “In the first place,” I said, “our stock is closely held, and we have no great outstanding debt. We are not interested in selling.”

  Yasheng nodded.

  “Even so, a man with your resources could probably find a way to drive us out of business.”

  “If I wanted to. But why would I want to do that?”

  “Which is my point entirely,” I said. “I am sure you have much valuable knowledge and expertise in many subjects, but I also doubt you have much in the fields of ladies’ intimate wear or the technology of computer chips.”

  Again, Yasheng nodded and did not speak.

  I went on. “You just said that you thought selling Cheeks goods in China would be a good investment for you. You had a knowledgeable man working for you: Bai Fuyuan. Unfortunately, Charlie Han was stealing from us, and Bai knew it and was helping him. What is more, their defalcations were increasing and would have increased still more.”

  “That is true,” said Yasheng Lin.

  “I have a suggestion. I suggest we work in partnership, directly, and not through a man like Bai. We need to be represented by an honest manager. I suggest Lily Xiang. The work she will be doing for Gazelle in Hong Kong will not require her services full-time, any more than they required Charlie’s. I suggest we make her our joint representative, with power to hire the help she will need.”

  “That is an interesting proposition, which I will take into consideration,” said Yasheng.

  I sipped my Scotch and waited to see if Yasheng wanted to say anything mor
e. Then I went on: “Also, in our subsidiary Sphere Corporation we have acquired expertise in advanced technology. I acknowledge that I know next to nothing about it. In the beginning I knew nothing about the manufacture and sale of intimate underwear. In almost forty years I have learned a great deal about it. Learning a new line of business takes time, Mr. Yasheng. If you are interested in advanced technology, I’d like to suggest we consider a relationship between your companies and mine in that field also.”

  “That, too, we can discuss,” he said.

  61

  LEN

  We returned to the apartments on Arbuthnot Road and shortly went to bed. Around two in the morning we were awakened by Liz’s hysterical shrieks. An emergency squad hurried my father to Matilda Hospital, a private hospital on the Peak, and perhaps the finest in Hong Kong. The doctors there decided he had suffered a stroke.

  Therèse arrived in two days. She moved into his room in the apartments. Liz had moved to the Kimberley Hotel in Kowloon, from where she departed in a few days for New York.

  Five weeks later a chartered jet carried my father to Miami International Airport. He was able to travel by limousine to Fort Lauderdale.

  That was the end of my father so far as the business is concerned. I call him every few days to report to him the developments in our businesses, but he is less and less interested. He is partially paralyzed and does not travel. He will never return to Hong Kong. He spends his time fishing, studying the alligators in the canal, and watching the birds come to eat Therèse’s chicken necks. He spotted a manatee in the canal, which was for him a big enough event to require a call to Hong Kong.

  And he writes. He spends hours every day writing his chapters of these memoirs. His memory is perfect.

  * * *

  We did enter into a form of partnership with Yasheng Lin. It is a complex deal, put together by Sir Arthur Xu, Hugh Scheck, and a firm of San Francisco lawyers specializing in business arrangements in Southeast Asian countries.

  It is working smoothly. Our businesses are expanding. The name Yasheng gives us entry into places where we would not otherwise find a ready welcome.

  Tom Malloy was right about the Sphere IV. It is steadily growing in market share. It goes against the conventional wisdom in the computer world, which is obsessed with miniaturization. Millions of people still want to work at what some computer gurus scornfully call desktops.

  My personal attention is focused chiefly on the expansion of Cheeks into Asia. Bai Fuyuan was right when he said the Chinese would buy many millions of our items. We had expanded about as far as we could in the States. The Europeans have not been terribly receptive to what we sell. But we have a burgeoning market in China and Japan, plus a prosperous market in Malaysia, Thailand, Burma, and Singapore.

  Lily Xiang has proved a fortunate choice for us. She supervises our Hong Kong manufacturing operations and manages our expansion into China. We have a different manager for Japan, and others, locals, in the other countries.

  Vicky and I, with our children, spend eight or nine months of the year in Hong Kong. The kids are being educated there, and we can’t run them back and forth between Hong Kong schools and Connecticut schools, so we make Arbuthnot Road our home most of the time. Of course, I have to make frequent trips to New York.

  Sir Arthur arranged for us to have permanent-resident status in Hong Kong, a necessity. We carry United States passports but can live full-time in Hong Kong.

  Poor Liz saw my father for the last time when she visited him at Matilda Hospital. She lives in Houston now. My father can’t go there, and she can’t go to Fort Lauderdale. She has thrown herself into her work, but I also understand she has taken to drinking a bit more and has developed something of a reputation for being indiscriminate about men. I see her whenever I go to Houston, which is not often. She offered herself to me. I turned her down as gently as I could.

  Little Chang Lin has, of course, become an internationally famous model. She worked for us for a while, and then was picked up by a New York modeling agency. She models for us occasionally but much more often for designers. She has kept her head shaved, and sometimes she sticks flower decals on her head to give the appearance that she has had her scalp tattooed.

  She is very grateful to me. And she is a problem. I can’t resist her, and Vicky has found out about her. I have been with her only three times since the night we went to Macau—once in Hong Kong, twice in New York. Vicky is resentful, but she has not made a horrible fuss about it. She would if she thought Li threatened our marriage, I am sure. But Li absolutely does not. She is an appealing novelty, and Vicky thinks of her that way.

  Finally, what goes around comes around. One October morning shortly after Vicky left to deliver the kids to school, an outing that always took an hour and a half, the telephone rang, and I had a call from the reception office on the ground floor.

  “A Mrs. Sue Ellen Cooper is here to see you, Sir.”

  I told him to send her up, and shortly there arrived at my door my ex-wife, whom I had not seen in ten years.

  “You haven’t changed, Len,” she said as she stepped into my office, took my hand, and offered her cheek for a kiss.

  “You haven’t either,” I said.

  She hadn’t, either. She was still defined by her oversized boobs; almost forty years old, she was still taut of figure and was still the somewhat vacuous blond I had married.

  She was direct. “I’ve come to ask you a favor,” she said immediately.

  I pointed to the couch and asked, “Which is?”

  “I came out here looking for a job. My father sent me. The only really unusual qualification I have is that I am still fluent in Chinese. My father has given me references to two American companies with offices in Beijing, but I decided to come here first. I spent some time in Beijing, you know, and found it a pretty depressing place.”

  “You speak Mandarin,” I said.

  “So I’ve been forcefully reminded since I arrived in Hong Kong. Coming here, I tried to tell the cab driver where I wanted to go, in Chinese. I wound up having to tell him in English.”

  “You can learn Cantonese,” I said.

  She sighed loudly. “Could you give me a drink, Len? I’m in deep shit. I’m living at home with my parents, who despise me. I can’t do anything right. I can’t get or keep a job. I’m too good for the jobs and I can get and not good enough for the ones I want.”

  I stepped into the kitchen and poured her a Scotch. “What’s with Mollie?” I asked.

  “I haven’t seen her in five years.”

  “I don’t know what you’d do in Hong Kong,” I told her. “It’s not an easy place to get a job. Besides, you’d have to get a work permit, and they restrict those to people who have skills not readily available here.”

  She swallowed her Scotch and used the back of her left hand to wipe tears from her eyes. “I was hoping you could help me,” she whispered. “I understand you’re running an expanding business from Hong Kong.”

  The last thing I wanted was to have Sue Ellen in Hong Kong. I shook my head. “You see all the office I have here. We have another one downtown, but there are only three people working there. We have branch offices and stores on the Mainland—”

  “Lenny…” she wept. To my amazement she dropped on her knees in front of me and yanked up her polo shirt, exposing her breasts. “Isn’t this how a woman is supposed to beg?” she whispered hoarsely. “On her knees, with bared breasts?” I stared at her. She wasn’t wearing rings in her nipples. In fact, I couldn’t see the holes. Apparently she had stopped wearing rings, and the holes had closed. “Help me, Lenny! I’m begging you.”

  “Mollie taught you to give a first-class blow job,” I said coldly. I am an evil man. I confess.

  Sue Ellen’s eyes widened. “Sure. Sure, Lenny. Why not?”

  She did it, just as Mollie had taught her, just as she had done for me a hundred times. And when she was finished, she wiped her mouth and said, “Anytime you want it. And I�
��ll be invisible. Your wife won’t know I’m in Hong Kong.”

  “No, because you won’t be. I’m going to send you to a woman called Lily Xiang. She does our hiring for the Mainland. If we have a job for you, that’s where it will be.”

  When Sue Ellen had left, I called Lily and explained who was coming to see her. I told her she didn’t have to hire Sue Ellen, that it was up to her. Of course I knew she would. I didn’t have to tell her that I wanted my ex-wife out of Hong Kong and as far away as possible.

  Tianjin, once called Tientsin, is a river port not far from Beijing. It is a city of more than six million people, the third-largest city in China, and we had two Cheeks stores there. It is the site of a university, has museums and art galleries, and Lily thought Sue Ellen would be happy there. She appointed her her own deputy, so to speak, and assigned her the duty of making frequent trips to Beijing to look in on our three stores there. Also, she was to visit container ships as they arrived from Hong Kong carrying our goods. It was a responsible job, and Lily proposed we pay well.

  So … I am an evil man, but I did something good for Sue Ellen, too.

  I am not ashamed of myself.

  The world’s best-selling novelist returns with a high stakes game of moral ambiguity, love, betrayal, and dangerous consequences in

  NEVER ENOUGH

  1

  SATURDAY EVENING, APRIL 20, 1974

  Four of them were together that Saturday evening: Dave Shea, Cole Jennings, Bill Morris, and Tony DeFelice. It was a warm spring evening, and teenagers from Wyckoff, New Jersey were doing what teenagers everywhere in America were doing: hanging out.

  They and their peers groused constantly about what teenagers always grouse about: that there is “nothing to do.” They had hung out on the streets of Wyckoff and Ridgefield, sometimes sitting on the fenders of other people’s cars. They were conscious—sometimes resentfully conscious, usually just amused—that they were not welcome on the streets of the several small towns they frequented. Teenagers generally were not. They were not thought of as menacing, only annoying and nuisances.