King Rat by James Clavell Page A

sprinkle a little white sugar over it and knead it in, and when it’s all absorbed, cook it gently in a frying pan over a low heat. Keep turning it over or it’ll spoil. You’ve got to get it just right. Not too dry and not too moist.”
    The King was surprised that Peter Marlowe had told him the process so easily without making a deal first. Of course, he thought, he’s just whetting my appetite. Can’t be that easy or everyone’d be doing it. And he probably knows I’m the only one who could handle the deal.
    “Just like that?” the King said smiling.
    “Yes. Nothing to it really.”
    The King could see a thriving business. Legitimate too. “I suppose everyone in your hut cures their tobacco the same way.”
    Peter Marlowe shook his head. “I just do it for my unit. I’ve been teasing them for months, telling them all sorts of stories, but they’ve never worked out the exact way.”
    The King’s smile was huge. “Then you’re the only one who knows how to do it!”
    “Oh no,” said Peter Marlowe and the King’s heart sank. “It’s a native custom. They do it all over Java.”
    The King brightened. “But no one here knows about it, do they?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve really never thought about it.”
    The King let the smoke dribble out of his nostrils and his mind worked rapidly. Oh yes, he told himself, this is my lucky day.
    “Tell you what, Peter. I got a business proposition for you. You show me exactly how to do it, and I’ll cut you in for —“ He hesitated. “Ten percent.”
    “What?”
    “All right. Twenty-five.”
    “Twenty-five?”
    “All right,” the King said, looking at Peter Marlowe with new respect. “You’re a hard trader and that’s great. I’ll organize the whole deal. We’ll buy in bulk. We’ll have to set up a factory. You can oversee production and I’ll look after sales.” He stuck out his hand. “We’ll be partners — split right down the middle, fifty-fifty. It’s a deal.”
    Peter Marlowe stared down at the King’s hand. Then he looked into his face. “Oh no it’s not!” he said decisively.
    “Goddammit,” the King exploded. “That’s the fairest offer you’ll ever get. What could be fairer? I’m putting up the dough. I’ll have to —“ A sudden thought stopped him. “Peter,” he said after a moment, hurt but not showing it, “no one has to know we’re partners. You just show me how to do it, and I’ll see you get your share. You can trust me.”
    “I know that,” Peter Marlowe said.
    “Then we’ll split fifty-fifty.” The King beamed.
    “No we won’t.”
    “Jesus Christ,” the King said as he felt the screws applied. But he held his temper and thought about the deal. And the more he thought — he looked around to make sure that no one was listening. Then he dropped his voice and said hoarsely, “Sixty-forty, and I’ve never offered that to anyone in my life. Sixty-forty it is.”
    “No it isn’t.”
    “Isn’t?” the King burst out, shocked. “I’ve got to get something out of the deal. What the hell do you want for the process? Cash on the line?”
    “I don’t want anything,” said Peter Marlowe.
    “Nothing?” The King sat down feebly, wrecked.
    Peter Marlowe was bewildered. “You know,” he said hesitantly, “I don’t understand why you get so excited about certain things. The process isn’t mine to sell. It’s a simple native custom. I couldn’t possibly take anything from you. That wouldn’t be right. Not at all. And anyway, I —“ Peter Marlowe stopped and said quickly, “Would you like me to show you now?”
    “Just a minute. You mean to tell me you want nothing for showing me the process? When I’ve offered to split sixty-forty with you? When I tell you I can make money out of the deal?” Peter Marlowe nodded. “That’s crazy,” the King said helplessly. “It’s wrong. I don’t understand.”
    “Nothing to understand,” Peter Marlowe said, smiling faintly. “Put it down to