about it. It would be a demonstration of who’s in charge of the city.”
“No.”
“Steady, polar bear.”
Field trailed the American, his mind whirring as he climbed the stairs.
Macleod was on the phone, standing by the window, but he put the receiver down as Field and Caprisi came in, and moved behind his desk so that he was no longer blocking the light. “Well done, Field . . . Take a seat.”
“We can do better from this girl.”
“I’m sure you can, but this is a decision—”
“Nobody informed me of any decision.”
Macleod frowned. Field saw that Caprisi was imploring him to moderate his tone. “No one has to inform you of anything, Field.” He sat down. “It’s excellent work, though, very quick thinking. The commissioner is pleased.”
“We can do better.”
“If you want to take it up with Granger,” Macleod said, his lips tight now, “then do so.”
Field breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. He sat down. “It’s not my position to say, I know,” he said, trying to buy himself time. “But this wouldn’t hurt Lu, really, would it?”
“Depends how he feels about the girl. Depends how good a fuck she is.”
Field breathed in heavily again to settle the pounding urgency of his blood. Macleod was fiddling with a stone paperweight on his desk. Field could see that his brusque and decisive manner hid a deep nervousness.
“Lu Huang remains our prime suspect.” Field looked at Caprisi, who was standing between them, his back to the wall. “Shouldn’t we still play for the main goal? This girl may be able to help us.”
Macleod’s face had softened a fraction.
“And if we cannot, in the end, prove that Lu murdered Lena Orlov, then perhaps we could find another way to bring him to court.”
Macleod looked doubtful.
Field sighed, glancing at Caprisi once more. “Lu Huang keeps a ledger,” he said in desperation, catapulting forward a plan that had barely started to form in the recesses of his mind.
Macleod looked at him as if he had gone mad.
“There’s a clue in Lena Orlov’s notes. She said the payments were in the second ledger. Lu is a businessman. Every single transaction must be recorded in a ledger.”
“I’m sure you will begin to make sense at some point,” Macleod said.
“Every single transaction,” Field went on. “Legitimate and otherwise. What are the shipments referred to in Lena Orlov’s notes? If they are not legitimate, as we strongly suspect, then who is being paid, how, and where? A Fraser’s company is doing the shipping.”
Macleod was alert now. “How do you know about this ledger? There’s a file upstairs?”
Field hesitated. “Yes,” he lied.
“Granger has opened a file? Have you got it?”
“No.”
“Can you get it?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“It seems to have vanished.”
“But you’ve seen it?”
“Yes.”
“It talks about criminal transactions being recorded?”
“All transactions.” Field considered the logic of what he was saying for a moment. “I’m sure they are not noted as criminal transactions, but we might be able to prove a link between a crime and the payoffs associated with it.”
Macleod walked back to the window. He leaned against the dark wooden frame, fingering his chain.
“It would provide concrete evidence of—”
“I’m not stupid, Field.” Macleod turned, staring out of the window at a thick cloud of black smoke that was drifting over the rooftops. “Would he really note down criminal transactions in black and white?”
“The majority of his transactions are criminal. Every business needs to keep a record of—”
“It’s a hostage to fortune.”
“He’s safe in the French Concession and the house is a fortress.”
“The woman should still go to jail.” Macleod turned back. “Medvedev, whatever her name is. That would be a signal, not just to Lu but to his associates, that when we catch people, they go to prison and he cannot protect them.”
