‘It would seem I owe you an apology,’ conceded Johnson unexpectedly. ‘You were right.’
‘It would have been difficult to prove,’ he admitted, indicating the statement. ‘Even with that.’
‘But not now,’ said the police chief.
‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘Not now. What about John Lu?’
‘The widest open door of them all.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was among those detained at the house last night. So he couldn’t run. And so he panicked. Started making admissions before we even asked the questions.’
‘You were lucky.’
‘Luckier than we thought. His lawyers are trying to do a deal now, to salvage something from the mess into which he talked himself.’
‘What sort of deal?’
‘His evidence against his father, together with all the details of the crime empire, in exchange for a guarantee against prosecution.’
‘Not very Chinese, son turning against father, is it?’
Johnson laughed. The policeman was very happy with himself, thought Charlie.
‘I told you not to take any notice of that folklore rubbish,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘You told me. Will you accept his offer?’
‘Make an unbreakable case.’
The policeman sat forward as the thought came to him:
‘And it would be the end of any claim against you, if he’d agree to be a witness.’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘It would.’
‘He hated his father apparently,’ said Johnson.
‘Hated him?’
‘Always. Have you told your people in London?’
Charlie nodded.
‘I telephoned before coming here,’ he said. Willoughby had almost sobbed with relief.
‘It’ll be a hell of a case when it finally comes to court.’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. Johnson saw a lot of personal credit coming from it.
‘And not just because of Lu and who he is,’ continued Johnson. ‘You didn’t have any idea that Jones was an American Intelligence agent, did you?’
‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘No idea at all.’
‘He was,’ confided Johnson. ‘There’s an enormous diplomatic flap.’
‘I suppose there would be,’ said Charlie. He looked at his watch.
‘Coming to the remand hearing?’ Johnson invited him.
‘Yes,’ said Charlie, rising.
It was difficult to keep in step with the large man and Charlie’s head began to hurt again.
‘I wondered if you would do me a favour,’ he said.
Johnson slowed, looking sideways. ‘Of course.’
Now the man was almost over-compensating in his friendliness, thought Charlie.
‘I want to find the woman,’ said Charlie.
‘Woman?’
‘Jenny Lin Lee, the woman who was with Nelson.’
Johnson stopped completely, turning across the corridor towards Charlie.
‘She’s not at Nelson’s flat any longer,’ explained Charlie.
‘You think she’s gone back whoring?’
Charlie knew he would never be able to think of that word as anything but offensive and ugly.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Shouldn’t be too difficult,’ promised Johnson, setting off towards the court again. ‘Call me tomorrow.’
‘I will,’ said Charlie. ‘Early.’
He’d already booked his return flight to London. He was taking a risk even now. But there were other things to do.
It was the same court as that in which the two Chinese shipyard workers had appeared and again there was a crush for admission. Because he was with Johnson, Charlie entered ahead of everyone else, with a choice of seats.
‘I gather Lu is flying lawyers in from London when the case opens,’ said Johnson.
‘When will that be?’
‘I shall apply for remands until we reach a decision with the son. But it shouldn’t take too long. I’ve got an unarguable case.’
Just as he’d had with the fire and the poor sods who’d got killed, thought Charlie. How was it that people like Johnson got into positions of power? There was a great similarity between the police chief and the people who’d taken over the department after Sir Archibald’s death.
‘Unarguable,’ agreed Charlie.
Johnson identified the sarcasm.
‘Surely you don’t think this is wrong?’ he demanded.
Charlie hesitated, avoiding an immediate reply.
‘You’ve got a good case,’ he said finally.
The ushers began to admit the public and Charlie moved away, towards the seat he had occupied when he and Nelson had been in court.
He turned as Lu was brought in. The millionaire’s head was turbaned with bandages and a medical attendant was in the back of the dock, as well as the warders. Lu stared defiantly towards the magistrates’ bench, hands gripping the top of the dock.
The court rose for the magistrates’ entry and immediately the clerk read out the charge of murder against Lu.
Johnson rose as the man finished.
‘I would make a formal application for a week’s remand,’ he said officiously. ‘At which time I anticipate the police being in a position to indicate when they could proceed.’
The local solicitor representing Lu until the arrival of the London counsel hurried to his feet. He was wearing an Eton tie, Charlie saw.
‘I would like it entered into the court records at this first hearing that my client utterly denies the preposterous charge against him,’ said the man. ‘Were it based on fact, there would be a producible defence against it. But it is not. I would therefore make application for bail, asking the court to consider my client’s position in this community. He would, of course, be prepared to surrender his passport.’
‘Having regard to the seriousness of the charge, together with other matters still under investigation, the police oppose bail most strongly,’ objected Johnson instantly.
‘Bail refused,’ declared the magistrate chairman. As the solicitor moved to speak, the man went on, ‘You have the right, of course, to apply to a judge in chambers.’
‘An application will be made,’ said the solicitor.
‘He won’t get it,’ Johnson said to Charlie, as the court cleared.
‘No,’ said Charlie, uninterested. It was almost time for his appointment.
‘Know what the defence is going to be?’
Charlie paused at the court exit, turning back to the police chief.
‘What?’
‘That he knows nothing whatever about what happened to Harvey Jones…’
Johnson laughed, inviting Charlie’s reaction.
When Charlie said nothing, Johnson added, ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie. ‘Ridiculous.’
‘No risk at all?’
Willoughby nodded at his wife’s question.
‘No risk at all. Not any longer.’
She came towards him, arms outstretched.
‘Why, darling, that’s wonderful.’
He refused to bend towards her and because of his height, she wasn’t able to pull herself up to kiss him.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Punishment?’
‘What did you expect?’
‘There’s no need to be… to be…’ she stumbled.
‘Uncivilised?’ he offered.
‘Or sarcastic.’
He closed his eyes, helplessly. Why couldn’t he just tell her to get out? She’d been going, after all.
‘Do you still want me to leave?’
‘You know the answer to that.’
‘Do you still want me to leave?’ she persisted.
‘No,’ he conceded, his voice a whisper.
‘Then you mustn’t be cruel to me.’
‘You’re a cow,’ he said.
‘Which is a very rude and offensive word. But I’ve never pretended to be otherwise.’
The usual defence, he thought.
‘What about this man who’s done it all…?’
‘Charlie?’
‘Charlie! What a delightfully coarse name! Is he coarse, darling?’
‘Strange, in many ways,’ allowed Willoughby.
‘I simply must meet him.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the underwriter. ‘You must.’
‘Very soon.’
‘All right. Very soon.’
‘Rupert.’
‘What?’
‘Say you love me.’
‘I love you.’