Field didn’t answer, but watched his uncle shuffle to the walnut sideboard and take out two glasses.
“The group of officers in the force who work for Lu is called the cabal, and Macleod is its head,” Field said.
“Macleod?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible. He’s as straight as a die.”
“He’s told me I have until noon tomorrow to leave Shanghai.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Macleod is in Lu’s pocket. Caprisi and I were coming close to unraveling the connection between the Orlov murder and the drug shipments—shipments that go through Fraser’s factories.”
“Fraser’s?”
“We think Charles Lewis has been operating a massive opium smuggling operation. Lu provides the opium, Lewis the transport. The opium is hidden in sewing machines or other mechanical products and shipped into Europe. Lewis was being given some of the girls Lu keeps as a favor, and Lu’s men would clean up after Lewis had . . . finished with them.”
Geoffrey’s face had gone white. “Charles Lewis?”
“Yes.”
“You have evidence of this?”
“We are very close.”
“That’s what tonight was about?”
“Yes.”
“What about Granger?”
“Eliminating a rival.”
Geoffrey drew on his cigarette, then looked out toward the veranda, deep in thought. “It’s preposterous. Do you have any idea how rich Charlie Lewis is?”
Field nodded.
“His grandfather founded Fraser’s, and he is certainly the richest man in Shanghai. He presides over a huge empire. The idea is absurd. He has less need of any illegal scheme than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“We know he likes to abuse girls. He likes to be violent to the women he sleeps with.”
“What evidence do you have?”
“We are very close to finding a relative of one of the dead girls whom we believe will be able to positively identify Lewis as her killer.”
“Who is this?”
Field didn’t answer.
“Is there any direct evidence of Macleod’s corruption or of the activities of what you call the cabal?”
Field sighed.
“Then you must go.”
“I’m not going to run away.”
“This is not London, Richard, or New York or Paris. We cannot always win the battle, but we must win the war. I cannot go to the council about Lewis or even Macleod without cast-iron evidence, and you have none. Macleod will certainly be the new commissioner now, whatever I say, unless we have something concrete to block his promotion.” Geoffrey sighed. “Your investigation has rattled cages clearly, but if Granger and your colleague have been killed, then I’m afraid there can be no further discussion. Go to Hong Kong. Get on a ship. We can arrange for you to join the police there for a time.” Geoffrey shook his head slowly and sat down wearily on the sofa opposite. Field noticed, as he bent down, that his uncle had a small bald patch on the dome of his sandy head.
“Can’t Macleod be arrested?”
“On what evidence?” Geoffrey arched his hands, then raised them to his chin. “You’re the policeman, Richard. You tell me what evidence you have.”
Field looked at his reflection in the polished top of the coffee table. “I have responsibilities.”
“Nonsense.”
“A girl.”
“A Russian?”
“Yes.”
“Natasha Medvedev.”
Field felt his heart thumping again. “How did you know?”
“Penelope said you’d formed an attachment. I’ve seen her sing at the Majestic.” Geoffrey’s face was hard. “You have no responsibilities to her or anyone else, Richard. Don’t be a fool. You must go. If you involve yourself with this woman any further, then none of us will be able to help you.”
