‘I would like a word. In private, please.’

His head drew back and he stared down his straight nose at her, half a smile curving his mouth. She did not care for the way he narrowed his eyes, his dark eyelashes used as a barrier between them. Another man with something to hide.

‘Certainly, Miss Ivanova.’

He placed a firm hand under her elbow and steered her effortlessly through the dancers to what looked like a mirror with carved gilded vine leaves around it but which turned out to be a door. More sleight of hand. They entered a small windowless room that contained nothing but a pale green chaise longue and a forest of stuffed animal heads on the walls. A wild boar with twelve-inch tusks glared at Lydia. She looked away and shook her elbow free of the grip on it.

‘Alexei Serov, you are a lying bastard.’

His composure was rattled, but he hid it well. His hand slowly stroked his jaw, revealing cuff links of gold scarab beetles. ‘You insult me, Miss Ivanova.’

‘No, it is you who insult me if you think I won’t realise who it was who sent Kuomintang troops to my house.’

‘Troops?’

‘Yes. And we both know why.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you…’

‘Don’t. Don’t waste your breath denying it. Your poisonous lies crawl out of the gutter and only insult me further. Because of you I could be in prison now. Do you realise that? And my… my friend… could be dead. So I have come here tonight to tell you…’ She could hear her voice sliding out of control, losing the iciness she’d planned. ‘… to tell you that your plot failed and that I think you are the lowest of the low. A filthy whore-boy to Chiang Kai-shek and his grey devils. Pretending to be a friend to me, yet…’

‘Stop, Lydia.’

‘No, I will not stop, you bastard. You betrayed me.’

He seized hold of her arms and shook her. ‘Stop this.’

His face came close to hers. They glared at each other. She could hear the click of air at the back of his throat as he swallowed his anger.

‘Release me,’ she snapped.

He removed his hands.

‘Good-bye,’ she said, putting all the ice she could summon into the single word. She walked stiffly to the door.

‘Lydia Ivanova, in heaven’s name, what demon is inside you now? How dare you march in here with accusations and then refuse to hear my response? Who do you think you are?’

Lydia stopped, one hand on the heavy brass doorknob, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t bear even to look at the deceitful bastard. There was a moment’s silence while the dead creatures in the room watched through glass eyes. She could hear her own heart thumping.

‘Now listen to what I have to say.’ His voice was astonishingly calm. ‘I know nothing about troops at your house.’

‘To hell with your lies.’

‘I did not betray you. Or your wounded Chinese Communist. I told no one what I saw at your house, you have my word on that.’

‘The word of a liar is not worth spit.’

His angry intake of breath satisfied her.

‘I am speaking the truth,’ he said sharply, and she knew that if she’d been a man he’d have struck her.

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Why shouldn’t you?’

She swung around. ‘Because there was nobody but you to send the troops for Chang An Lo. You. Only you knew.’

‘That’s plainly absurd. What about your cook?’

‘Wai?’

‘You think he didn’t know? Miss Ivanova, you have a lot to learn about servants if you think they don’t know everything that goes on in a house.’

Lydia swallowed. ‘Wai?’

Alexei Serov was back in control. The stiffness seeped out of his body and his gesture was languorous as he waved a hand in the direction of wherever his own household servants camped. ‘They have eyes that see behind closed doors and ears that hear the thoughts in your head.’

‘But why would Wai…?’

‘For Chinese dollars, of course. He would be well paid for the information.’

‘Oh hell.’

She felt her shoulders droop and her spine cave in. She sought refuge in staring at the feathery ears of a lynx’s head. They were pricked, alert, ready to listen to her excuses.

‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered.

‘I swear I didn’t betray him. Or you,’ Alexei Serov said quietly.

She made herself look him in the eye. This was hard. Angry came easy. Apologetic was much tougher.

‘I’m sorry.’

She wanted to get out the door. Out into the cold air before she melted into an ugly pool of shame on the smart marble flooring. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. The words could barely squeeze past it.

‘I apologise, Alexei Serov.’

He didn’t smile. Through his half-closed eyes she could not make out what he was thinking and anyway she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

‘I accept your apology, Miss Ivanova.’ He gave a small formal bow. The little click of his heels scared her. It was the sort of noise you might expect from an executioner before he slices your head off. He held out an arm to her. ‘May I accompany you back to the party? This conversation is over.’

She hesitated.

‘And as a gesture of our renewed friendship, I hope you will do me the honour of the next dance.’ He smiled then, slow and teasing, as if he knew what it would cost her.

‘Last time you said I was too young to dance with,’ she objected. There was only one person now in whose arms she wanted to float.

‘That was six months ago. Then you were still a child. Now you look every inch a beautiful young woman.’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Even if you don’t exactly act like one.’

She laughed, she couldn’t help it.

‘Oh God, Alexei, I’m sorry my mouth ran away with me. I can be quite respectable when I try, but somehow you always catch me at my worst.’

‘“Filthy whore-boy to Chiang Kai-shek.” That was impressive. ’

She took his arm. ‘Let’s dance.’ The quicker she got it over and done with, the better.

49

Theo sat with the cat heavy on his feet. It was cold. Three o’clock in the morning. He could hear the wind shaking the windows and howling to come in, and it reminded him of the wind on the river at night and how it drove the scows as they nipped from junk to junk with their haul. He was reading in his study, trying to glean strength of purpose from the words of Buddha.

If you want to know your future,

then look at yourself in the present,

for that is the cause of the future.

He absorbed that one.

His future would be decided on Wednesday.

Because on that day Christopher Mason had an appointment to tittle-tattle to Sir Edward with the story of Theo’s involvement in opium trafficking. So he had twenty-four hours to decide.

Empty your boat, seeker,

and you will travel more swiftly.

Lighten the load of craving and opinions

and you will reach nirvana sooner.

Theo thought that was what he longed for, to travel light, but he was coming to the conclusion that he didn’t know himself very well. The young Chinese man in the bed upstairs knew him. Knew his weakness. He could see it in his eyes. Chang An Lo was ready for what might come. Had already lightened his load. Prison was one path that might lie ahead for both of them, but could Theo really face the hell of a stinking cell, cooped up like a bird in a bamboo cage?

If you want to get rid of your enemy, the true way is to realise that your enemy is delusion.

But neither Feng Tu Hong nor Christopher Mason felt much like delusion to Theo. The truth was that Feng could stop Mason. But Feng would want the young man in exchange, despite his disputes with Po Chu. Or maybe because of them.

And then? If Theo made the deal? What would Li Mei think of him?

What would he think of himself?