“Is a piece of cloth worth a display of temper?”
“It’s worth the rest of your furniture, dad.” People are pathetic. The framed fragment was a piece of silk damask, the sort Western collectors call turfans, got from the Sinkiang graves. You get up to eight colors. This one had five. “Fourteen centuries ago some unknown genius worked those trees in that design,” I grumbled. “That nerk should look after it, not shake it to pieces.”
The old man was gazing at me. “So,” he murmured. “It is true.”
“Here.” I gave him the bent eye. “Was that deliberate? Did you bring in that goon just to see if—?”
“Yes. Leung was ordered.” He spoke quietly but in a way that shut me up. “Lovejoy.
You will now return to Kowloon and tonight fulfill your, ah, assignments with Steerforth.”
“I’ll what?”
“Tomorrow you will present yourself at the entrance of the Flower Drummer Emporium at ten precisely. Later you will provide a complete authentification of all the antiques at the viewing. That list you will then give to Mrs. Gelman during your, ah, encounter with her.”
My think took about an hour. I’m not sure. “What if I don’t like being a hired, er… ?”
This time he managed not to smile, to him easy. “Then your friend Algernon’s racing team in Macao will suffer tragic accidents in practice laps on the Avenida da Amizade.
You will simultaneously be implicated in a scandalous drugs theft. The police in East Anglia will receive you back in chains. They are most irritated at your absence—”
“Only wondered,” I said, narked. “No need to keep on.”
“Leung and Ong are your, ah, protectors until further notice.”
On the way back across the ferry in the limo, I began to feel even more uneasy. Was I the most naive person alive? Hong Kong seemed to think so. Innocence is like purity, an absolute human condition. It’s experience that has grades of difference. Like sin, crime, sex, and other essentials of life.
Later on, in a fairly average hell of a mess and at death’s door, I was to remember that tranquil little thought and wished it had warned me enough. Had I been astute it might have saved lives, antiques, and a fortune. But I’m thick, so I ignored the fact that innocence is okay in its way, but it’s dispensable. Experience is something life cannot do without, even if it takes the form of brutality and utter greed.
Ten minutes to eight I entered the Digga Dig and strolled over to Steerforth sitting at a table. He gaped.
“Guten Abend, Jim lad.” I sat. “Ladies not here yet?”
“Lovejoy.” He poured me a glass of wine. “Thank Christ you’ve come. I’ve been trying to hire a substitute but there’s not a spare prick around tonight—”
“No details, Steerforth.” I sipped the wine, watching the entrance. “Laurel and Hardy, the blokes who nabbed me, knew exactly where you’d be.”
“No details, Lovejoy.”
“That’s just what I said.”
“You’re learning,” he said sardonically.
“Hang on a sec.” I’d caught that hopeful brightening of countenance and the sudden lift of a head. Phyllis, gray lady, fellow failure. I collected a lighter from a waiter and stopped beside her, the ultimate smoothie. “Wotcher, missus. Light?”
“What?” She stared up, panic flitting across her features.
“Can I offer you a light?” I tried clicking the lighter, only there didn’t seem to be any proper switch. It was a super-modern slim-line job, slippy as hell. I’m pathetic. Clumsily I dropped the bloody thing and had to rummage for it on my hands and knees. I rose, red-faced. Teach me to be pleased with myself.
Phyllis gazed frantically up at me. “No, no. I don’t smoke. No, no.” She was so flustered, shaking her gray hair. Even her dress was grayish. Her drink was grapefruit color, well-nigh gray too.
“Oh. Sorry, love.” As I turned away she seemed to find resolve and made a desperate bleat. I paused. Aghast, she shook her head. I took a tentative step. She uttered a fraction of sound. I said, “Yes?” She said, “No, no,” buried her head over her drink. I tottered off, gave the waiter his crappy lighter back. I was worn out.
Steerforth was amused by my smoothie escapade. “Two things, Lovejoy. One: you squeeze that new emerald lighter; it does everything itself. Two: Phyllis Surton is famous in the Digga Dig for being always here, daring herself to taste forbidden fruits.
She never will, of course. She’s dyed-in-the-wool propriety, a true-blue expat. Her husband’s big in Chinese manuscripts at the university. Dressing gray’s her disguise. As camouflaged as a candle in a mine.”
“They lead to explosions.” I felt for her. She was hastily gathering her things. So much for my advances.
Steerforth suddenly rose in effulgent greeting. Two women were approaching.
“Darlings-darlings-dar-lings! What paradise—you’rehereandsogorgeous-too… !”
I screwed a grin of delight on my face. Duty called.
13
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IT’S always seemed to me that God is odd. I mean, take your average bluetit building its nest, or bloke planting a daisy. We’re all hard at it trying to do our best, right? The car mechanic might hate his job but he gives it a go. The waitress’s feet are killing her, she still strives to look bright as a button.
