Charlie, instinctively. And this time, he knew, there was nothing wrong with his instinct.
‘It was never part of the original proposal,’ protested Lu. As always, he spoke quietly, despite his anger.
‘It was an over-reaction,’ admitted his son. His habitual nervousness was even more pronounced.
‘Which you could have prevented.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re stupid,’ said Lu. ‘Is there a risk of the police treating it as murder?’
‘There’s been no announcement. It was done carefully.’
‘The absence of an announcement doesn’t mean anything.’
‘I know.’
‘So you’ve permitted an uncertainty.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what would have happened to anyone who wasn’t my son?’
‘Yes.’
‘And even that wouldn’t be an obstacle if it became a choice between us.’
‘I know.’
‘There mustn’t be any more mistakes.’
‘There won’t be.’
‘I’m determined there won’t be,’ said Lu. ‘Quite determined.’
12
Charlie was forcing the calmness, sitting deep into the chair with his hands outstretched along the armrests, watching Harvey Jones pace the room.
Trapped, Charlie decided. Not quite as positively as he had been beside Sir Archibald’s grave. Or during the chase that had followed. But it was close. Too close. And all his own fault. He hadn’t considered it properly, realising the obvious American reaction to the possibility of communist China deliberately destroying something so recently U.S. property.
He’d managed to conceal the nervousness churning through him, Charlie knew. But only just. The American was already worryingly curious. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stage-managed the lobby meeting. So it would only take one mistake. And Jones would isolate it. Charlie was sure of that, because he recognised the American was good. Bloody good. Which meant he had to be better. A damned sight better.
So far, he had been. With the caution of a poacher tickling a trout into the net, Charlie had put out the lures. And Jones had taken them. But even then it had needed all Charlie’s experience to spot the tradecraft in the other man. For him Charlie felt the respect of one professional for another. He hesitated at the thought: a professional wouldn’t have allowed the miscalculation which had brought about this meeting.
‘I’d have expected someone with Johnson’s experience to see the bit that doesn’t fit,’ suggested Jones.
‘What was that?’ asked Charlie. He would have to be cautious of apparently innocent questions. Cautious of everything.
‘That Peking would hardly have used ignorant hop-heads for a job like this.’
‘Johnson told you?’
Jones completed a half-circuit of the room. The movement was as much of a test as the questions, Charlie recognised; an attempt to irritate him by its very theatricality.
‘Made a joke of it,’ said the American, inviting some annoyed response.
‘Johnson seems to think almost everything I say is amusing,’ said Charlie.
‘Oh?’
Shit, thought Charlie. He had to continue.
‘I asked him today to investigate what I really think happened to the Pride of America ,’ he said, covering the awkwardness. Perhaps volunteering Jenny’s story wouldn’t be so much of a mistake. Jones would become suspicious of obvious evasion.
‘And what do you think really happened?’
‘That Lu planned the fire. And the destruction of the ship.’
‘What!’
Jones eased into a facing chair, halted by the announcement.
Again leaving out the girl’s attempted seduction, Charlie recounted the story. He was getting very adept at it, he thought. To tell Jones could be another lure, rather than a mistake. The man’s reaction would be a further confirmation. Not that he really needed it.
‘Jesus!’ said Jones.
‘Clever, isn’t it?’ said Charlie.
‘But how the hell can you prove it?’
The man had failed, thought Charlie. If Jones really had represented the U.S. Maritime Authority, he’d have been as
‘It was never part of the original proposal,’ protested Lu. As always, he spoke quietly, despite his anger.
‘It was an over-reaction,’ admitted his son. His habitual nervousness was even more pronounced.
‘Which you could have prevented.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re stupid,’ said Lu. ‘Is there a risk of the police treating it as murder?’
‘There’s been no announcement. It was done carefully.’
‘The absence of an announcement doesn’t mean anything.’
‘I know.’
‘So you’ve permitted an uncertainty.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what would have happened to anyone who wasn’t my son?’
‘Yes.’
‘And even that wouldn’t be an obstacle if it became a choice between us.’
‘I know.’
‘There mustn’t be any more mistakes.’
‘There won’t be.’
‘I’m determined there won’t be,’ said Lu. ‘Quite determined.’
12
Charlie was forcing the calmness, sitting deep into the chair with his hands outstretched along the armrests, watching Harvey Jones pace the room.
Trapped, Charlie decided. Not quite as positively as he had been beside Sir Archibald’s grave. Or during the chase that had followed. But it was close. Too close. And all his own fault. He hadn’t considered it properly, realising the obvious American reaction to the possibility of communist China deliberately destroying something so recently U.S. property.
He’d managed to conceal the nervousness churning through him, Charlie knew. But only just. The American was already worryingly curious. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stage-managed the lobby meeting. So it would only take one mistake. And Jones would isolate it. Charlie was sure of that, because he recognised the American was good. Bloody good. Which meant he had to be better. A damned sight better.
So far, he had been. With the caution of a poacher tickling a trout into the net, Charlie had put out the lures. And Jones had taken them. But even then it had needed all Charlie’s experience to spot the tradecraft in the other man. For him Charlie felt the respect of one professional for another. He hesitated at the thought: a professional wouldn’t have allowed the miscalculation which had brought about this meeting.
‘I’d have expected someone with Johnson’s experience to see the bit that doesn’t fit,’ suggested Jones.
‘What was that?’ asked Charlie. He would have to be cautious of apparently innocent questions. Cautious of everything.
‘That Peking would hardly have used ignorant hop-heads for a job like this.’
‘Johnson told you?’
Jones completed a half-circuit of the room. The movement was as much of a test as the questions, Charlie recognised; an attempt to irritate him by its very theatricality.
‘Made a joke of it,’ said the American, inviting some annoyed response.
‘Johnson seems to think almost everything I say is amusing,’ said Charlie.
‘Oh?’
Shit, thought Charlie. He had to continue.
‘I asked him today to investigate what I really think happened to the Pride of America ,’ he said, covering the awkwardness. Perhaps volunteering Jenny’s story wouldn’t be so much of a mistake. Jones would become suspicious of obvious evasion.
‘And what do you think really happened?’
‘That Lu planned the fire. And the destruction of the ship.’
‘What!’
Jones eased into a facing chair, halted by the announcement.
Again leaving out the girl’s attempted seduction, Charlie recounted the story. He was getting very adept at it, he thought. To tell Jones could be another lure, rather than a mistake. The man’s reaction would be a further confirmation. Not that he really needed it.
‘Jesus!’ said Jones.
‘Clever, isn’t it?’ said Charlie.
‘But how the hell can you prove it?’
The man had failed, thought Charlie. If Jones really had represented the U.S. Maritime Authority, he’d have been as
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