He nodded to the nearest diner with a smile, and continued down to the dance floor. The day was barely begun, so only a few patrons mostly from the American Concession, which was the nearest were at the bar. He pa.s.sed them with a smile and a wave, and circled round to the oak-panelled door set into the rear of the fountain's marble base.

It opened with the key attached to his watch chain and he slipped through into a wood-panelled corridor. A quite modern office was at the end where Woo conducted most of his business. It was a dogleg-shaped room with fans hanging from the ceiling. The gleaming chromed shelves and racks blended well with the inlaid ivor and wood furnishings and delicate statuary. The only decoration on the walls was a framed death certificate which never failed to send Woo into a contemplative mood.

Woo poured himself a cup of strong coffee from a small crockery set on one of the chromed racks and relaxed into the plush leather armchair behind the desk. One panel on the desk slid aside at a touch, revealing a row of numbered lights with a socket below each. Woo noticed that only a couple of the lights were glowing, and the numbers identifying them were those of tables occupied by the few westerners who were in this early.

None of them seemed very interesting, so he closed the panel and turned to the booking folder. The club would be quite full as usual tonight, he noted, though he didn't see any very noteworthy names among them. There was a German coming in, he noticed, which was reasonably unusual. He had booked a table for an early evening dinner, and expected a guest named Kwok, according to the booking slip.

Woo lifted the telephone. 'Rondo? A German called Vogler is due in this evening. Give him table number seven, and let me know when he arrives.'

The Doctor and Romana sat in a small coffee shop, with K9 out of the way under the table. Romana eyed the selection of steamed rice, vegetable and bean curd suspiciously, though K9's sensors had reported that they were non-toxic. 'Are you sure this is safe?'

'Of course. It doesn't really matter; we only need it to blend in.'

'For a moment there, I thought you were going to order the snake and duck's feet.'

The Doctor made a face. 'I had enough of that sort of thing with Nero.'

'I didn't realize that humans ate those sorts of things.'

The Doctor looked around. 'Beggars can't be choosers; you have a quarter of the planet's population living on a tenth of the world's arable land here. The result is musical chairs along the food chain. Did you try the tracer again?'

She shrugged, and pulled the tracer from her sleeve. It still only ticked softly.

The Doctor c.o.c.ked his head. 'It doesn't sound much like the fourth segment to me.'

'No. But what else could it be? Perhaps someone else has found a way of exploiting the powers of that segment, and the tracer's reacting to its use. I don't suppose it could be shielded when not in use, to hide it from the tracer?'

'That's what I've been wondering, and it's not a pleasant thought.'

'Because it would imply knowledge of how both the key and the tracer operate?'

'Exactly. And who would know the limitations of Guardian technology better than a Guardian?'

Romana nodded, letting out a long breath. 'You're right, that isn't a pleasant thought.'

The Doctor started to pace, then realized that it was attracting people's attention, and sat down with a self-conscious cough. 'There was no one in that car, but the engine was still warm...I don't know about you, but I would say that suggests that someone got out and went somewhere without our seeing them.'

'Vivien Fay used the third segment for interst.i.tial transference into hypers.p.a.ce perhaps someone else has found a way of doing the same thing.'

'Or it could all be one big coincidence...Let's test a theory.'

He got up, and stepped out onto the grey street that was festooned with colourful banners.

Romana and K9 followed, other diners drawing back nervously from the latter. 'Where are we going?'

'Back to the TARDIS. I want to try something.'

The Settlement Police headquarters was a suitably imposing building that wouldn't have looked out of place in the City of London. The interior was just as impressive, Li thought, with the commissioner's office looking like a government minister's. It had a solid wooden desk as ma.s.sive as any neolithic altar, and delicate watercolours on the panelled walls.

Commissioner Gibson himself was bald, with a drooping moustache, and looked fitter than his fifty-odd years would have led Li to expect. A serving boy had laid out some tea and biscuits on a low table to one side of the office, and Li and Gibson sat on either side of it rather than at the main desk.

This was, after all, an informal meeting.

'So,' Gibson said pleasantly, 'you think this is a new group running opium through Shanghai?'

'Not new, just returning after a long time, I think. It won't last long.' Li took a sip of tea. 'The Tongs are like clouds they join, break up, mix together, swirl around...This one's temporary, I can feel it.'

'Feelings and hunches might be good enough for Dashiell Hammett's characters, but in the real world...'

'Call it a judgement based on past experience, then.'

a.n.a.lysis of past trends was an excellent tool for the police, Li had found; efficient and recordable for future reference.

'Then what do you think their future plans will encompa.s.s?'

Li had been waiting for this. 'I found a worker's dock pa.s.s among the rubbish lying around, so it looks like they're running some sort of operation out of Gongpinglu Wharf. I have men watching the area to make sure. When they go to make their deals, we will have them.'

The commissioner nodded. 'Good. I'd hate to think the crime rate in my jurisdiction was going up.' He looked up with a quirked eyebrow and half smile. 'Unfortunately, there is another...oddity.'

Li was not entirely surprised, though he was disappointed.

For 'oddity' he knew, read 'loose end'. 'Sir?'

'The body you found has been identified. We contacted both the address from his wallet, and London's Metropolitan Police. This man was the caretaker of a private museum in London, who was reported missing last night by the owner.'

'Last night?' Li looked puzzled. 'There must be some mistake they've miscounted the International Date Line or '

'He was last seen alive,' the commissioner interrupted firmly, 'at six in the evening, local time. That's about two in the morning here.'

Li was lost for words. 'But our raid was at three! Are you telling me that this man was alive in London an hour before we found him dead here?'

'The first thing that one learns in criminology, Inspector, is that nothing is impossible to the determined criminal mind.'

'Maybe so, but if I had found a way to travel six thousand eight hundred miles in under an hour, I could probably think of more profitable uses for it than hiding dead caretakers.'

Pulling himself together, Li realized there was an obvious explanation for the discrepancy. 'Are they sure it was the same man?'

Gibson shrugged. 'It seems unlikely. There must have been some sort of switch for some reason. The man in London may have been an impostor, perhaps blackmailing his employer in order to gain access to his business importing exhibits via here could cover opium smuggling. With the original hostage dead, the impostor has probably just gone to ground. The Metropolitan police are searching for him.'

Li considered this; it was very kind of the commissioner to be so honest. 'Hopefully we'll get some answers at Gongpinglu Wharf.'

'Yes...' Li could sense the condition coming; not even honesty came free in this world. 'I'll have a detachment of Sikhs join your men. With the victim being a British subject, we do have a duty to observe.'

'Of course, sir.' Li didn't much care; catching the culprits and prosecuting them was all that bothered him. That was what the police were for.

The Doctor closed the TARDIS doors once Romana and K9 were inside. He held out his hand like a surgeon waiting for a scalpel. 'Give me the tracer.'

Raising an eyebrow curiously, Romana handed it over. The Doctor slotted it into its socket on the console, and held up his hand in a 'just wait' gesture. 'Right. Just to double-check...'

He threw the dematerialization switch.

Woo had emerged from his office to join Rondo in drawing up duty rosters for the staff. It was a boring job, but these things had to be done. When they had finished, they went on their daily tour of the club, checking that everything was clean and up to standard.

Although the club was ostensibly a nightclub, it was open during the day, albeit without entertainments. Woo had a regular cadre of customers who came in for lunch, and some people would drink at any time of the day.

There was an indignant cry from a distant corner of the ground floor; Woo looked over to see what the trouble was. A group of men in Victorian-looking suits with wing-collared shirts were arguing furiously with one of their number. A scattering of ivory mah-jong pieces made a stark contrast to the mahogany table at which they were seated. Rondo flicked his eyes from Woo to the door. Woo considered letting Rondo throw the men out, but he had a certain responsibility here.

Besides, only the j.a.panese wore such archaically formal suits these days.

He walked over to the table and sat down. The j.a.panese glared. 'We did not give you permission to sit here,' one of them grumbled.

'I own the club; did I give you permission to sit here?'

There was no answer. 'Perhaps mah-jong is a little confusing for you.' Woo produced a deck of cards from an inside pocket.

'I suspect you might prefer poker.'

'Really?'

'Everyone likes to gamble, but the j.a.panese...Bluffing comes naturally, does it not?' Woo shuffled the cards, then started dealing them one-handed, a flick of the thumb sending each card to its allotted player. The j.a.panese looked at each other uncertainly.

'We do not bluff.'

'No? I a.s.sume you've paid a visit to Manchukuo on your journeys.' It would be odd if they had not. Their uniform haircuts gave them away as young officers. 'You've owned it since the last war.'

'What if we have?' The man who had done all the speaking scooped up his cards, glaring at them as if to transfer his irritation onto them.

'It was threatened by trade strangulation once the Russians built a railway from Europe to the Pacific port of Vladivostok.

Seeking an excuse to expand further into China to seek the natural resources it needed, you engineered a fight between j.a.panese and Chinese troops.'

'We were attacked first!' The young officer tossed a handful of banknotes into the centre of the table. His companions did likewise. Woo kept a straight face, though he was glad to see that he had picked an argument with the right man. This one was clearly the leader.

'I wouldn't have called that a good reason to invade northeast China.'

'That was six years ago. It ended when Pu Yi was enthroned as ruler of the new state of Manchukuo.'

'Ended? Then why did I see j.a.panese troops on the streets here in 1932? If the western powers hadn't threatened to intervene to protect their trading centre, we might not be talking.'

'That would be worth it,' one of the others muttered, tossing his cards away.

The leader grunted. 'Such courage, though, to attack such a larger foe.'

Woo hadn't had the chance to bait a j.a.panese officer for a long time, and was enjoying it thoroughly. 'Such foolishness, to fail. Larger, but weaker.' He drew another card, recalling the reports of what had happened. In j.a.pan itself, the army had split into two factions, the Kodo Ha and the Tosei Ha. The Sakura Kai, or Cherry Society, controlled the Kodo Ha, and was in favour of further expansion out of Manchukuo and into China. The Tosei Ha preferred to obey strict guidelines and seek more formal rules of engagement. The Sakura Kai and Kodo Ha controlled the local commanders in Manchukuo and engineered the a.s.sa.s.sinations of various ministers, including prime ministers from 1933 to 1935 in an attempt to get their way in j.a.pan. In February 1936 the Kodo Ha's supporters revolted openly in Tokyo. The revolt was put down. The Kodo Ha still controlled the local commanders in Manchukuo. 'You used a provoked fight with a handful of Chinese troops at Marco Polo Bridge as an excuse to invade again last month.

Have you no imagination?'

'We were '

'Attacked first, so you said. Strange that you still come here to socialize. With the army already in action, the government had no choice but to move to a war footing a bluff, as I said.'

The j.a.panese officer laid his cards face up. He had a full house. 'We do not bluff.'

'So you said.' Woo spread his cards. A straight flush, Queen high. The j.a.panese officer reddened, leaping to his feet.

His hand reached inside his jacket as he cursed, but a blow from Rondo's tree-like arm sent him sprawling to the floor. A Nambu skidded across the dance floor. Woo had also stood, a Browning automatic pistol appearing in his hand as if by magic. 'Go back to the Tokyo Army Club and tell your friends from the Staff College that they just don't make officers like they used to.'

He nodded to Rondo. 'Now you can throw them out.'

The time rotor at the heart of the TARDIS console had risen encouragingly, then sank back and remained still. Romana looked at the navigational displays. 'I don't think we've moved at all.'

The Doctor opened the scanner's shutters. The view outside was still that of Waibaidu bridge, though the sun was now setting. 'We've skipped forward to dusk, but that's about it. Is the tracer showing anything?'

'Faint activity from due east of here, along the river.'

The Doctor remained silent, as if he hadn't heard, then threw the door lever. 'Right! We can cut through the British Public Gardens. K9: guard duty stay.'

'Shouldn't we take him along for protection?'

'He's far too conspicuous; you saw how everybody looked at him earlier.' The Doctor pulled the tracer from its socket and handed it back to Romana. 'Besides, dogs aren't allowed in the park.' He frowned. 'Neither are the Chinese...'

Kwok could feel the eyes of the Club Do-San's maitre d' on him from the moment he stepped into the lobby. The maitre d'

was a good seven feet tall, with a bony chin that was almost as expansive as his bulging forehead. He looked as though he were wearing armour under his dinner jacket, though Kwok knew that this was not the case.

Kwok moved lightly up the wide staircase to the dining area, and pa.s.sed through it to the tables overlooking the dance floor. A girl with elaborately coiffured hair was singing 'Begin the Beguine' in lilting tones to the accompaniment of a band who were arrayed round the sculpted fountain. Although most of the song was in Mandarin, the actual words 'begin the beguine' were in English, since there was naturally no Chinese word for beguine. Kwok ignored her, dutifully reminding himself that he was a happily engaged man.

One European in a grey suit was sitting alone at a table by the balcony, half watching the other patrons while trying not to miss any of the girl's slinky movements. Amateur, Kwok decided. It didn't matter to him, though; HsienKo had made her views on this deal clear, and he wasn't going to disappoint her.

He sat beside the European. 'Herr Vogler?'

The European looked around suspiciously, his blubbery face flushed. 'You are...?'

'I am Kwok. You have a business deal with HsienKo.'

'Yes, Herr Kwok. You are her negotiator?'

'For tonight.' Kwok snapped his fingers at a waiter.

'Tsingtao beer.' The waiter nodded and hurried off 'Very well, Herr Vogler. Have you brought the materials which HsienKo has offered to buy?'