The Master Of Rain

“I have the proof that you have been running an opium smuggling ring generating unimaginable profits, some of which you use to bribe almost every public official of importance in this city.”

“Where do you have this proof?”

“Hidden.”

“You have stolen my property.”

“If anything befalls me, or the girl, or the boy, then you’ll have a front-page article in the New York Times all to yourself. And that will just be the beginning of your problems.”

Field watched the realization of the significance of what he was saying creeping across Lewis’s face.

“This is China,” Lu said.

“Washington and London would be forced to take some form of action, as Mr. Lewis will attest. Even if there were no prosecutions, the facts would be in the public domain, the ring would be broken, and untold damage would be done to your business interests. Even the everyday corruption in the Settlement police force could no longer be taken for granted.”

Lewis took out his cigarette case, lit one, and walked to the window. Lu’s eyes followed him, distractedly.

“You wish to have money?” Lu asked.

“No.”

Lu smiled. “An idealist.”

“The girl and the boy need a passport, papers. Mr. Lewis will arrange it. Once we have reached safety, I will tell you where to find the material that I have stolen. Your activities can continue uninterrupted.”

Lu raised his eyebrows. “I see.”

“I’ve told you what I want.”

“Such a low bargain.” Lu shook his head. “I am almost tempted.” He raised his chin and scratched it again with his long fingernails. “You see, Mr. Field, the difficulty is, this is Shanghai. Not a foreigner’s city. You steal my property and then you tell me what I must do. You . . . threaten me, yes? But how can this be? This is Shanghai. Who can say if you will leave this city? Who can say if the girl and boy are still alive?”

Field felt the blood draining from his face.

“You demand of me? No.” He shook his head again. “No, no. It cannot be. An article in the newspaper you speak of? So far away. This is China. China. We can change so much before news travels so far. We can find the pages from my ledger. We can do anything, of course.”

“My price is low, Mr. Lu.”

“Your price is low? By whose . . . Who can say such a thing?”

Field felt the blood pounding in his head. He asked himself how he could have made such a terrible miscalculation, but his mouth continued to speak, as if no longer connected to his brain. “You will control China one day, I don’t doubt it, but that day is not as close as you think. I offer you an arrangement that ought to disgust me; that nothing changes. All I ask is that two people who do not matter to you are released from your net. That is all. And one more thing: that Detective Chen is not harmed.”

“He is Chinese.”

“Yes.”

“Out of the question.”

“I insist.”

“He is Chinese. This is not possible.”

Field saw the fury in Lu’s face as he struggled to remain calm himself.

“Of course, we do not wish to see our business interests disturbed.” Lu looked down, taking a gold pocket watch from his silk gown. “You are correct to say that international attention would be inconvenient for all of us. I believe there is a sailing in three hours.”

Lewis stepped forward. They had obviously discussed the details beforehand. “The Martinez, bound initially for Lisbon,” Lewis said. “You will be on this ship. Provided that you are, and that there is no interference with the Saratoga, or sharing of the information you now possess, then Mr. Lu will dispatch the girl and the boy on another sailing two weeks from today. They will disembark at a port of your choosing.”

“Venice.”

“Very well. When they arrive in Venice, you will send Mr. Lu a telegram. It will contain the exact whereabouts of the stolen material and of any other documents that may be embarrassing to him. Providing that you do not mislead him, you and the girl may then live out your lives in peace. He has no interest in either of you, as long as you never return here. Is that clear?”

Field nodded. “Yes. But I must have a guarantee that Chen will not be harmed.”

Lewis shook his head. There was steel in his eyes. “You will get no such thing, Field,” he said, speaking as if Lu were not present. “Believe me.”

There was a long silence. Lu said, “Good-bye, Mr. Field.”

The Chinese turned and walked very slowly to the door.

Lewis turned his hat in his hand. He moved around the room, waving it at the grand ceilings and the portraits of administrators, admirals, and generals that adorned the walls. “This is China, Richard, though in here you