Brian Freemantle - The Inscrutable Charlie Muffin

‘The liner was not set alight by agents of the People’s Republic of China,’ declared Charlie.

For the first time there was reaction from the man; no facial expression, but a hesitation before he spoke again.

‘If it is an assurance of that which you want, then of course you have it,’ said Kuo. ‘The accusation has been ridiculous from the start.’

For someone of Kuo’s control, it had been a clumsy response, thought Charlie.

‘I want more than assurance,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Proof.’

Kuo leaned forward over the desk, pouring more tea.

‘How long have you been in Hong Kong?’ he asked, settling back into his chair.

‘Little over a week,’ said Charlie.

‘Then you must have seen the police?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Mr Lu?’

‘Yes.’

‘So we must be almost at the bottom of the list,’ decided Kuo.

Charlie considered his reply. Was Kuo seeking an apology, imagining some insult in the order of priority? There seemed no point in evading the accusation.

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘At the bottom.’

Briefly, unexpectedly, Kuo smiled.

‘You’re very honest,’ he said.

‘If I thought I’d achieve more by lying, then I would,’ said Charlie.

Again the smile flickered into place.

‘Very honest indeed.’

Charlie sipped his tea. Again he’d made the proper response, he realised, relieved.

‘Even if you are prepared to help me,’ Charlie went on in explanation, ‘it might not be possible for you to do so.’

‘Why?’

‘I believe Lu destroyed his own ship,’ said Charlie. ‘I believe that he used gambling debts to force the shipyard workers into doing it and then had them murdered by someone else who had also got into debt…’

Charlie hesitated, Kuo remained impassive on the other side of the desk.

‘Believe,’ repeated Charlie. ‘But cannot prove to the satisfaction of the English court in which Lu is suing for payment. But there might be a way to obtain that proof…’

‘By seeing if a prison cook named Fan Yung-ching has returned to his family in Hunan?’

Charlie nodded, letting the curiosity reach his face.

‘We are not entirely ignorant of the affair,’ said Kuo.

‘Then help me prove the truth of it,’ Charlie urged him. ‘The real truth.’

‘You expect my country to help a capitalist institution save a fortune!’

‘I expect China to have a proper awareness of the harm that could be caused to its relations with Washington if this remains unchallenged,’ said Charlie.

‘An insurance official with a politician’s argument,’ mused Kuo.

‘A logical, sensible argument,’ Charlie corrected him. He sounded as pompous as Johnson, he thought.

‘Come now,’ said Kuo. ‘Lu has the irritation of a droning insect on a summer’s day. Are you seriously suggesting an impediment between my country and America from someone as insignificant?’

‘The Pride of America was built with an enormous grant from the American government. And then sustained by an equally enormous grant, until it became blatantly uneconomical. Millions of dollars of American taxpayers’ money supported that ship. And there was a pride in it. The destruction, within weeks of leaving America, is far from insignificant. And I’m sure there are people within your Foreign Ministry who feel the same way…’

Charlie paused, tellingly.

‘And if you didn’t think so, too,’ he said, ‘you wouldn’t be as familiar with the details as you obviously are.’

Again there was the brief, firefly smile.

‘Not only honest,’ said the Chinese, ‘but remarkably perceptive as well.’

‘Am I wrong?’

Kuo fingered his teacup, finally looking up.

‘No,’ he admitted, matching Charlie’s earlier honesty. ‘You’re not wrong.’

‘Then help me,’ said Charlie again.

‘How?’

‘If the cook has returned to Hunan…’ began Charlie.

‘He has,’ Kuo cut him off.

Charlie felt the sweep of familiar excitement at the awareness that he could win. Lu’s boastful words, he remembered. But that’s all it was, a boast. In himself, Charlie knew, the need was far deeper. Sir Archibald had recognised it; one of the few who had. And used it, quite calculatingly. But openly, of course. ‘Go out and win, Charlie.’ Always the same encouragement. And so he’d gone out and won. Because he’d had to. Just as he’d had to win, and win demonstrably, when he’d realised Sir Archibald’s successors were trying to beat him. And then again, when they’d begun the chase. ‘Go out and win, Charlie.’ No matter who gets hurt. Or dies. Poor Edith.

Charlie began concentrating, considering another thought: he’d expected the Chinese to be properly concerned, but to have established already the return to China of the Hunan cook showed a determined investigation.

‘Superintendent Johnson told me he had sought assistance from you,’ said Charlie.

‘He wants the man returned to the colony.’

‘And that’s not possible?’ probed Charlie gently.

‘It might not be thought wise.’

‘I wouldn’t need his return, to fight Lu in the English High Court,’ Charlie assured him.

‘How, then?’

‘Give me an entry visa to China,’ said Charlie. ‘Let me interview the man, in the presence of your officials and someone from the British embassy in Peking who can notarise the statement as being properly made and therefore legally admissible in an English court.’

He’d been involved in British espionage for two decades, reflected Charlie. And in that time used a dozen overseas embassies. There could easily be an earlier-encountered diplomat now assigned to Peking who might recognise him. He would, thought Charlie, spend the rest of his life fleeing through a hall of distorted mirrors and shying away from half-seen images of fear.

Kuo indicated the teapot, but Charlie shook his head. The man added to his own cup, apparently considering the request.

‘You must tell me one thing,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘If we make this facility available to you… if he makes a full confession about what happened, can you absolutely guarantee that Lu’s claim will be publicly discussed in an open court, so that the man will be exposed for the fraud he is?’

Now Charlie remained unspeaking, balancing the demand. It was impossible to anticipate what the cook would say. Or his statement’s admissibility in court, despite the attempted legality of having a British embassy official present. It would be sufficient to beat Lu. But more probably in private negotiations with lawyers, rather than in an open court challenge.

‘It would mean Lu’s claim against my company would fail,’ predicted Charlie.

‘But not that the man would be taken to court, for everyone to witness?’

‘I cannot guarantee that.’

‘I respect you again for your frankness,’ said the legation head.

‘You knew that, without my telling you,’ said Charlie.

‘Yes,’ said Kuo. ‘I knew it.’

Charlie controlled the almost imperceptible sigh: another test passed.

‘I would try to ensure that my company made a public announcement of any withdrawal by Lu,’ promised Charlie. ‘And that would by implication show the claim to be false.’

‘But isn’t it sometimes a condition of out-of-court settlements that there should be no publicity?’

‘There appears little you haven’t considered,’ said Charlie.

‘No,’ agreed Kuo. ‘Very little.’

‘Does that mean you can give me an immediate decision about a visa?’

Kuo shook his head at the eagerness.

‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘I have to refer to Peking.’

‘So there could be a delay.’