‘But the point is loss of face.’
‘That’s Chinese business.’ Johnson was unimpressed. ‘You’ll get nowhere in this colony trying to prove a crime by invoking folklore and tradition.’
‘How the hell do you prove a crime in this colony?’ demanded Charlie.
Johnson stiffened at the intended rudeness.
‘When I took over the running of the police force,’ he said, speaking slowly, ‘it was riven by corruption and scandal. I cleaned it up into one of the most honest in the world… by strict observance of Home Office regulations. And common sense.’
‘And common sense dictates that you don’t probe too deeply into the affairs of one of the richest and most influential men in Asia?’
‘Not when there isn’t a good enough reason for so doing,’ said Johnson. ‘To operate here, there has to be a balance. Knowing when to act and when to hold back. Since I became chief of police, the crime rate has never been so low. I respect the Chinese. And they respect me. It’s a working relationship.’
‘And you’ll not instruct your vice squad to probe Lu?’
Johnson shook his head.
‘I had a crime of arson,’ he said. ‘I arrested the culprits, who admitted it in legally recorded statements. The escape of their murderer is an embarrassment, but understandable in the circumstances of Hong Kong. I see no need to launch a meaningless, wasteful investigation.’
‘What about Robert Nelson’s death?’
‘There has already been a post-mortem examination,’ said Johnson. ‘There was nothing besides the water in his lungs that could have caused his death.’
‘He was murdered,’ insisted Charlie.
‘Your company’s representative in this colony was a dissolute…’ said Johnson.
He hesitated, uncertain whether to continue. Then he said, ‘There are certain rules by which colonials are expected to live. Unfortunately Mr Nelson chose to ignore those rules. By openly cohabiting with a Chinese girl – and not just an ordinary Chinese girl at that – he cut himself off from both societies.’
‘I’ve already had the rules explained to me,’ broke in Charlie. ‘You can screw them as long as no one knows and you keep your eyes closed.’
‘Don’t mock or misquote a system about which you know nothing,’ said the policeman. ‘It maintains the status quo of this colony.’
‘So Nelson was an embarrassment whom no one will really miss?’
‘It’s no secret that he drank heavily. The medical examination showed an appreciable level of alcohol in his body.’
‘Oh come on!’ jeered Charlie. ‘Blind drunk, he stumbled into the harbour.’
Johnson was making a visible effort to control his annoyance.
‘I’ve no doubt whatsoever that the inquest verdict will be accidental death.’
‘I’ll prove you wrong,’ Charlie promised.
‘By Chinese folklore and the comic-book ramblings of a Chinese prostitute?’ said Johnson. ‘Isn’t it time you simply accepted your liability, settled whatever claim is being made for the loss of the ship and stopped running around making a fool of yourself?’
Johnson’s refusal meant there was no chance of obtaining any official rebuttal of Lu’s claim, realised Charlie. And seven thousand miles away a poor bastard was having the first easy day since the fire and imagining he was safe.
‘Please,’ he tried again, accepting the error of antagonising the other man. ‘Surely there’s sufficient doubt for some sort of investigation?’
‘Not in my opinion.’ Johnson was adamant.
‘Let’s not risk the status quo,’ challenged Charlie, facing the hopelessness of persuading the man.
‘No,’ agreed Johnson, still holding his temper. ‘Let’s not.’
‘Aren’t you frightened of pressure from London?’ demanded Charlie.
Johnson’s face tightened at the threat.
‘This colony is self-governing.’
‘It’s a Crown colony, still answerable to Whitehall,’ said Charlie.
It was a stupid attempt, he recognised. How could he risk going to the London authorities? Even if Willoughby tried, there would be a demand for the underwriter’s source. He might be safe in Hong Kong, but he could never sustain a London enquiry.
‘If there is any interest from London, I’m sure I can satisfy it,’ said Johnson.
He’d destroyed any hope of getting assistance from the policeman, Charlie knew. And he could think of no one else.
‘Is there anything you want officially done about Nelson?’ he asked, anxious now to end the meeting.
‘Formal identification.’
Unspeaking, Charlie followed the police chief through the cathedral-quiet corridors and into the basement. He’d been too often in mortuaries but was never able to inure himself to the surroundings. The habitual casualness of the attendants offended him, as did the identification tags, always tied like price tickets to the toes.
The drawer was withdrawn and the sheet pulled aside. At last Robert Nelson had lost the expression of permanent anxiety, thought Charlie.
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
‘What about his clothes?’ asked an attendant, as Charlie turned to leave.
Charlie looked back. The man was indicating a jumble of sodden clothing visible inside a transparent plastic bag.
‘I’ll send for it,’ said Charlie. The bundle had been tied together with the Eton tie.
Jenny opened the door of Nelson’s apartment hurriedly, the hope discernible in her face.
‘Oh,’ she said. There was disappointment in her voice, too.
‘I’m glad you stayed,’ said Charlie.
‘I promised,’ she said. ‘But he isn’t here.’
‘I knew he wouldn’t be.’
She stood aside, for him to enter.
‘What’s happened?’ she anticipated him, remaining by the door.
‘He’s dead, Jenny.’
She nodded.
‘Of course,’ she said.
She shrugged. ‘I tried so hard to protect him. That’s all I wanted to do, to stop him getting hurt.’
‘In the harbour,’ said Charlie inadequately. ‘Drowned.’
She was standing very still, refusing any emotion.
‘It’ll be thought an accident,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s how they’re treating it.’
‘But he was murdered, of course.’
‘I know.’
‘I wonder which of them did it?’ she said. She spoke quietly, to herself.
‘Which of them?’ demanded Charlie.
She looked directly at him, as if considering her words.
‘Nothing,’ she said finally,
‘What is it, Jenny?’
‘Nothing,’ she said again.
‘Help me,’ pleaded Charlie.
‘I tried,’ she said sadly. ‘For nothing. So no more mistakes.’
She paused.
‘Poor Robert,’ she said. ‘Poor darling.’
‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ said Charlie.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry, Jenny. Really sorry.’
She made a listless movement. The resignation was almost visible.
‘Did you tell the police about the fire?’ she asked.
‘They didn’t believe me,’ said Charlie.
‘So nothing is going to be done about that, either.’
‘Not by the police, no.’
‘I told you,’ she reminded him. ‘I told you Lu would win. He always does.’
‘I’ll upset it,’ said Charlie. ‘Some way I’ll upset it.’
‘No you won’t,’ she said. ‘You’ll just get hurt. Like Robert. And like me.’
‘Do you want me to stay?’
She looked at him curiously.
‘Stay?’
‘Here, for a while.’
She shook her head.
‘I told you before,’ she said. ‘Whores don’t cry for long.’
‘Why keep calling yourself that?’ said Charlie angrily.
‘Because that’s how I’ve always been treated,’ she said. ‘And how I always will.’
When Charlie got back to the hotel, he found there had been three attempts to contact him from London by telephone.