Of course there was also Isabella. In cities awash with gorgeous, ego-flattering local girls, it is difficult to overstate the impact that a beautiful Caucasian woman can have on the hearts and souls of Western men in Asia. In her case, however, it was more than just rarity value; all of us, I think, were a little in love with Isabella Aubert. Miles concealed his obsession for a long time, in aggression towards her as well as wild promiscuity, but he was always, in one way or another, pursuing her. Joe’s possession of Isabella was the perpetual insult of Miles’s time in Hong Kong. That she was Joe’s girl, the lover of an Englishman whom he admired and despised in almost equal measure, only made the situation worse.
“When you say ‘Patten’s people,’ ” I asked, “who exactly do you mean?”
Miles rubbed his neck and ignored my question. He was usually wary of me. He knew that I was smart and independent-minded but he needed my connections as a journalist and therefore kept me at the sort of length which hacks find irresistible: expensive lunches, covered bar bills, tidbits of sensitive information exchanged in the usual quid pro quo. We were, at best, very good professional friends, but I suspected-wrongly, as it turned out-that the minute I left Hong Kong I would probably never hear another word from Miles Coolidge ever again.
“I mean, what exactly has that guy done in five years as governor?”
“You’re talking about Patten now?” Joe’s head was still in the menu, his voice uninflected to the point of seeming bored.
“Yeah, I’m talking about Patten. Here’s my theory. He comes here in ‘92, failed politician, can’t even hold down a job as a member of parliament; his ego must be going crazy. He thinks, ‘I have to do something, I have to make my mark. The mansion and the private yacht and the gubernatorial Rolls-Royce aren’t doing it for me. I have to be The Man.’ ”
Isabella was laughing.
“What’s funny?” Joe asked her, but he was smiling too.
“Guber what?” she said.
“ ‘Gubernatorial.’ It means ‘of the government.’ A gift of office. Jesus. I thought your parents gave you guys an expensive education?”
“Anyway…” Joe said, encouraging Miles to continue.
“Anyway, so Chris is sitting there in Government House watching TV, maybe he’s arguing with Lavender over the remote control, Whisky and Soda are licking their balls”-Lavender was Patten’s wife, Whisky and Soda their dogs. Miles got a good laugh for this-“and he says to himself, ‘How can I really mess this thing up? How can I make the British government’s handover of Hong Kong to the People’s Republic of China the biggest political and diplomatic shitstorm of modern times? I know. I’ll introduce democracy. After ninety years of colonial rule in which none of my predecessors have given a monkey’s ass about the six million people who live here, I’m gonna make sure China gives them a vote.’ ”
“Haven’t we heard this before?” I said.
“I’m not finished.” There was just enough time for us to order some food and wine before Miles started up again. “What’s always really riled me about that guy is the hypocrisy, you know? He’s presented himself as this Man of the People, a stand-up guy from the sole remaining civilized nation on the face of the earth, but you really think he wanted democracy for humanitarian reasons?”
“Yes I do.” The firmness of Joe’s interjection took us all by surprise. To be honest, I had assumed he wasn’t listening. “And not because he enjoyed making waves, not because he enjoyed thumbing his nose at Beijing, but because he was doing his job. Nobody is saying that Chris Patten is a saint, Miles. He has his vanities, he has his ego, we all do. But in this instance he was brave and true to his principles. In fact it amazes me that people still question what he tried to do. Making sure that the people of Hong Kong enjoy the same quality of life under the Chinese government that they’ve enjoyed under British rule for the past ninety-nine years wasn’t a particularly bold strategy. It was just common sense. It wasn’t just the right thing to do morally; it was the only thing to do, politically and economically. Imagine the alternative.”
Isabella did a comic beam of pride and grabbed Joe’s hand, muttering, “Join us after this break, when Joe Lennox tackles world poverty…”
“Oh come on.” Miles drained his vodka and tonic as if it were a glass of water. “I love you, man, but you’re so fucking naive. Chris Patten is a politician. No politician ever did anything except for his own personal gain.”
“Are all Americans this cynical?” Isabella asked. “This deranged?”
“Only the stupid ones,” I replied, and Miles threw a chewed olive stone at me. Then Joe came back at him.
“You know what, Miles?” He lit a cigarette and pointed it like a dart across the table. “Ever since I’ve known you you’ve been delivering this same old monologue about Patten and the Brits and how we’re all in it for the money or the personal gain or whatever argument you’ve concocted to make yourself feel better about the compromises you make every day down at the American embassy. Well call me naive, but I believe there is such a thing as a decent man and Patten is the closest thing you’re going to get to it in public life.” The arrival of our starters did nothing to deflect Joe from the task he had set himself. Miles pretended to be enthralled by his grilled prawns, but all of us knew he was about to get pummelled. “It’s time I put you out of your misery. I don’t want to come off sounding like a PR man for Chris Patten, but pretty much all of the commitments made to the people of Hong Kong five years ago have been fulfilled by his administration. There are more teachers in schools, more doctors and nurses in hospitals, thousands of new beds for the elderly. When Patten got here in ‘92 there were sixty-five thousand Cantonese living in slum housing. Now there are something like fifteen thousand. You should read the papers, Miles, it’s all in there. Crime is down, pollution is down, economic growth up. In fact the only thing that hasn’t changed is people like you bitching about Patten because he got in the way of you making a lot of money. I mean isn’t that the argument? Appeasement? Isn’t that the standard Sinologist line on China? Don’t upset the suits in Beijing. In the next twenty years they’ll be in charge of the second biggest economy in the world. We need them onside so we can build General Motors factories in Guangdong, investment banks in Shenzhen, sell Coca-Cola and cigarettes to the biggest market the world has ever known. What’s a few votes in Hong Kong or a guy getting his fingernails ripped out by the PLA if we can get rich in the process? Isn’t that the problem? Patten has given you a conscience.”
Joe gave this last word real spit and venom and all of us were a little taken aback. It wasn’t the first time that I had seen him really go at Miles for the lack of support towards Patten shown by Washington, but he had never done so in front of Isabella and it felt as though two or three tables were listening in. For a while we just picked at our food until the argument regained its momentum.
“Spoken like a true patriot,” Miles said. “Maybe you’re too good for freight forwarding, Joe. Ever thought about applying for a job with the Foreign Office?”