China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

like a millstone, perhaps until your death.” Lin paused. “Instead, you saved my life.”

Was Lin offering him the opportunity to confess? Shi-Rong wanted to. He wanted so much to clear his conscience, to beg forgiveness from this man whom he had come to love and admire.

But what if this was a trap? He could not take the chance.

“I understand, Excellency,” he said, bowing his head.

“Quite so. Assuming you were not the source, as I have already said, the conduct of an interrogation was an unpleasant but valuable experience for you to undergo. But if by chance you were the source, then what better way of letting you understand the gravity of what you had done? And a punishment for your carelessness would have been appropriate. The horror of the interrogation in which you have just participated would have been a just punishment, and a good way of reminding you to be more responsible in future. Do you agree?”

Lin had guessed. No question. The great man had seen straight through him.

“Yes, Excellency,” Shi-Rong murmured, and hung his head.

“Sleep well, Mr. Jiang. Tomorrow you will be going on a journey.” The commissioner looked down at the papers on his desk, as a signal that the interview was over.

“A journey, Excellency?” Shi-Rong couldn’t help himself. “Where to?”

Lin looked up again, as if surprised his secretary was still there. “Macao.”

◦

The rumor began at the start of August. John Trader heard it from Tully Odstock. Not that he worried.

The last couple of weeks had been rather pleasant. For a start, Cecil Whiteparish had not appeared again since their awkward encounter. Thank God for that at least. The fellow was still on Macao, of course, but he was keeping his distance. Nor had anyone come up to him and said, “I hear you have a missionary in the family.” So presumably Whiteparish had lost his desire to have him as a cousin.

He’d enjoyed the usual social round. Marissa was contented. And although there were some war junks anchored off the island, the Celestial Kingdom didn’t seem to be taking much interest in the occupants of Macao.

Until the rumors began.

“Lin’s got some damned fellow running spies on the island,” Tully told him. “So be careful what you say.” He nodded. “Mum’s the word, Trader. Watch and ward.”

“Where is he? Do we know who it is?”

“Don’t know who. He’s operating out of one of the war junks down at the end of the island.”

“Well, I can’t think he’s going to learn anything of interest. Nothing’s happening.”

Tully Odstock gave him a strange look. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, if I were you,” he said quietly.

“Really? I haven’t heard anything.”

“Too busy with that young woman of yours.” Tully’s sniff didn’t sound too disapproving. “Fact is, between you and me, the opium trade’s started again.”

“Already? We aren’t selling any. Who’s selling?”

“Matheson.” Tully shook his head. “The damn fella’s so rich he can do things we can’t. And behind his gentlemanlike appearance, he’s cunning as a barrel-load of monkeys.”

“How’s he doing it?”

“He’s operating ships out of Manila, other side of the China Sea. They’re carrying cargoes of cotton. Piled high with the stuff. Perfectly legal. But he’s got chests of opium hidden in the holds. And the clever thing is, there’s nothing in writing. Even if spies intercept the letters to his captains, they’ll only find instructions about cottons—that’s his code, you see. Each kind of opium is called a different sort of cotton. Cotton Chintz means Malwa opium, Whites are Patna opium, and so on. And with opium being scarce after Lin’s confiscation, he’s getting high prices for every chest.” He sighed in admiration. “Of course, if Lin ever does get wind of it, there’ll be hell to pay.”

All that day and the next, Trader found himself looking at people in the street with new eyes. Was this spymaster, whoever he might be, using the Chinese to do his bidding? Was he bribing local people? Might he even seek out someone like Mrs. Willems, who might get to hear such information? Or Marissa? Could Marissa ever do such a thing? He put the thought from him. All the same, he wouldn’t be telling her what he now knew, nor anyone else.

Two days later, coming back to his lodgings at midday, he encountered Tully. His partner was standing by the corner of the seafront, together with Elliot. They were gazing at a large proclamation that had been pasted on a wall. Tully beckoned him over and indicated he should read the poster.

It was from Commissioner Lin. It was in English, quite intelligible. And alarming.

“Remember those sailors who killed a native near Hong Kong last month?” Tully said.

“Yes. But I thought the man’s family were paid off. You said the whole thing would blow over.”

“Well, Lin’s found out about it. And judging by this poster, he ain’t going to let it go. He wants the culprit handed over.”

“Nobody’s been found guilty yet,” Elliot said sharply.

“I notice one thing,” Trader remarked. “Lin says that according to our own laws, a man who commits a crime in another country is tried by the laws of the sovereign state where the crime took place. Is that correct, legally?”

“Do you want our sailors to be tortured and executed?” Tully exploded.

“No.”

“Well then. What I say is, damn the law, if it’s not our law. Right, Elliot?”

“We have no treaty with China about such matters,” said Elliot firmly.

“Judging by the tone,” Trader offered, “I think Lin truly believes we’re behaving badly.”

“We have identified six men who took part in the incident,” said Elliot. “I shall hold a properly constituted trial in ten days. And I have already invited Commissioner Lin to attend or send a representative.”

“Do you think that’ll satisfy him?” Tully asked.

But Elliot, with a polite bow, was moving on.

—

The trial took place ten days later. Elliot conducted it on board ship. It lasted two days. Commissioner Lin did not attend, nor did he send any representative. Trader heard the news from Tully at