Brian Freemantle - The Inscrutable Charlie Muffin

‘Why was the ship fire your fault?’ demanded Charlie.

‘Robert didn’t get the major share of the insurance because he was better than anybody else,’ said Jenny. ‘He got it because Lu planned it that way… planned it so that the man who took his son’s woman and caused the family loss of face would be the greatest sufferer when the ship burned… that’s why the premium was higher.’

At last, thought Charlie. It was all so remarkably simple.

‘Lu did it himself?’

She shook her head at the naivety of the question.

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘if you knew more about the Asian mind you’d know that loss of face is the worst insult a Chinese can suffer. Something that’s got to be avenged…’

‘And having ensured that it wouldn’t cost him a penny, he even managed to stage it so that his famous anti-communist campaign would benefit?’ he said, in growing awareness.

‘Because he is such an avowed anti-communist, it made the story even more believable, didn’t it?’ she said.

‘What about the shipyard workers, and the prison cook?’

‘Chosen because they were mainland refugees,’ she said. ‘Frightened people who’d got deeply into debt at Lu’s gambling places and were given the way to settle…’

‘And as a safeguard against the shipyard men recanting on the rehearsed story, which they would almost certainly have done in court, he had them killed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell Robert all this?’ asked Charlie suddenly. ‘Why wait so long?’

‘And let him know that the Chinese as well as the European community in Hong Kong were laughing at him for falling in love with a whore? He’s suffering enough as it is.’

‘But it means we can contest the claim. Robert would have realised that.’

‘Oh, you poor man,’ she said. ‘This is street gossip, bar talk. The only proof is the cook, who’s probably in Hunan by now. Or dead, like the other two. This isn’t anything you can fight Lu with… he’s won. Like he always wins.’

She was right, realised Charlie. About the proof anyway. He still had nothing.

‘I’m buggered if he’ll win,’ said Charlie.

‘I told you to show how Robert had been tricked,’ said the girl. ‘To show why he shouldn’t be fired. Not to fight any court hearing.’

‘There’ll be a way,’ promised Charlie.

‘I’d like to believe that. God, how I’d like to believe that.’

Charlie heard the noise first. He spun off the bed, crouched towards the linking door and then remained there, staring up foolishly at the figure of Robert Nelson framed in the doorway.

‘Oh no,’ said the girl quietly. ‘Dear God, no.’

‘If you set out to do this sort of thing, you should ensure your corridor doors are secured,’ said Nelson.

He was striving for enormous dignity, realised Charlie. A nerve twitching high on his left cheek was the only hint of the difficulty he was having in controlling himself.

Charlie motioned towards the now cowering girl. At last she’d tried to protect herself with the bed cover. She was crying again, he saw, softly this time.

‘We didn’t… there was nothing…’ he started, but the broker talked over him.

‘That’s not really important, is it?’

‘Of course it’s important,’ shouted Charlie. ‘She came here because she loves you.’

‘It looks like it.’

‘Don’t be a bloody fool.’

‘Like the Chinese think I am, as well as everybody else?’

‘You heard…’ started Charlie but again Nelson refused him.

‘Enough. And I’m as determined as you are that Lu won’t succeed in his claim.’

He looked to the girl.

‘I don’t want you back at the apartment,’ he said evenly.

‘Please…’

‘Just pack your stuff and get out. Tonight.’

‘For Christ’s sake,’ protested Charlie. ‘This is ridiculous. What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing,’ said Nelson. ‘Not any more. And when I establish that Lu’s claim is false, there won’t be any more laughter either.’

So Nelson didn’t understand. Any more than he’d been able to, all those years ago.

The broker turned away from the bedroom, but Charlie called out, halting him.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To find one of the Chinese spreading the story she recounted and get him to swear an affidavit incriminating Lu,’ said Nelson, starting towards the outer door again.

‘Stop him!’ begged Jenny.

‘Robert,’ yelled Charlie, hurrying into the adjoining room. ‘That won’t work. Wait. We’ll go to the police first. They’re the people…’

Nelson slammed the door, without looking round, leaving Charlie standing near the tiny bar.

‘Assholes,’ he said.

She was at the bedroom door when he turned. Because she had only worn the cheongsam it had taken her seconds to dress. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still swollen.

‘Your handkerchief,’ she said, holding it out.

‘You can keep it if you want.’

She shook her head.

‘Whores don’t cry for long.’

She shrugged, a gesture of defeat.

‘He expected to catch us,’ she announced.

‘What?’

‘Robert. He expected to find us. He never really trusted me… He thought I couldn’t forget the old ways. That’s why he came in without knocking. Always unsure…’

Just as Edith had always been unsure, thought Charlie, never quite able to believe their marriage was for him anything different from everything else he did, another way of proving himself equal.

‘But why me?’

‘You’d have been the obvious choice.’

‘He’ll have recovered in the morning,’ said Charlie hopefully.

Jenny shook her head.

‘No.’

‘Where will you go?’

‘I’m known in all the bars,’ she said bitterly.

‘Wait. Until tomorrow at least.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I’ll contact you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘After I’ve seen the police.’

She gave him a pitying look.

‘You don’t stand a chance,’ she insisted.

‘People have been telling me that for as long as I can remember,’ he said. It was good to feel confident again. It had been a long time. More than two years, in fact. Not since he’d started to run.

Charlie’s second telephone call stopped Willoughby as he was leaving his Knightsbridge flat for the City. The underwriter listened without interruption as Charlie repeated what the girl had told him, without naming her as the immediate source.

‘Dear God,’ said Willoughby softly.

‘There’s still no proof,’ warned Charlie, immediately detecting the feeling in the other man’s voice.

‘It would mean we wouldn’t have to pay a penny…’

‘I said there’s no proof.’

‘But you can get it, surely?’

‘I can get the police to investigate. To be produced in court, it will have to be something official.’

‘Do that then. And, Charlie…’

‘What?’

‘Thank you.’

There was no way to prick the man’s optimism.

‘Something else,’ Charlie said.

‘What?’

‘I want you to write a letter to Nelson, assuring him that his job is safe.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s important.’

The inner council were impressed, realised Chiu Ching-mao, looking around the faces before him.

They had remained unspeaking during the playback of Charlie’s bedroom discussion with Jenny Lin Lee and for those who did not speak sufficient English, Chiu Ching-mao had provided Cantonese transcripts.

‘The encounter was excellently monitored,’ said the chairman, when the tape ended. ‘Congratulate your people upon installing the devices so well.’

‘Thank you,’ said Chiu. ‘I will.’

‘So now the Englishman knows the truth?’