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sixty million pounds.’
    Slowly Corsa began to laugh, genuinely and almost with affection. He’d lost every single round of this contest with his elegant new opponent, and somehow he didn’t seem to mind. Something was stirring inside, the germ of an idea which unwittingly she had planted and which, although as yet dimly seen, might yet reshape his world. Or at least rebuild his cliff.
    ‘Ms Burston, you leave me breathless. And defenceless. I surrender! But before you put both me and the advertising budget to the sword, do you think we might discuss this further? Over dinner?’
    ‘Are you after my body or my business?’
    ‘Both if I can. Business, if I have to choose.’
    ‘I didn’t think newspapers encouraged adultery amongst public figures.’
    ‘One of the few advantages of my lonely job is that, in this dog-eat-dog world, there is a degree ofsolidarity enjoyed between newspaper proprietors which ensures that our private lives remain, by and large, just that. Private. A sort of mutual nonaggression pact.’
    The diamond bits in her eyes had begun to sparkle. ‘I think we had better stick to business.’
    ‘That, too, would be my pleasure.’
    ‘At least for the moment …’
    They had left the police station by the back entrance. Fewer staring eyes that way. And it brought them out by the ornate cast iron lamp-post, complete with Royal insignia and griffins, to which Goodfellowe had manacled his bike. The lamp-post was still there, directly beneath the busy windows of the police station, but the wheels of the bike were not and neither was the bell nor saddle. The basket had a hole in it the size of a boot. Goodfellowe picked up the remains, cursed, and morosely let them fall once more to the pavement.
    Yet again Jya-Yu burst into tears. ‘I’m so sorry. My fault.’
    ‘If what you tell me is true, then it patently wasn’t your fault. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way.’ He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Anyway, where’s your uncle? Shouldn’t he have come?’
    ‘No, no,’ she protested. ‘Uncle be busy in shop, on his own now.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I do not want to cause trouble for Uncle Zhu.’
    ‘What sort of trouble?’
    She would only give a shake of her head.
    ‘Tell me, Jya-Yu, what was in those packets? Whatwas the powder? The police will know soon enough. Was it cocaine?’
    ‘Never. Not cocaine!’
    ‘Then what?’
    ‘Uncle say it was tiger bone.’
    ‘You mean, an aphrodisiac?’
    ‘A gentleman’s pick-me-up.’
    ‘That’s a controlled substance, isn’t it? Was it tiger bone?’
    She looked tormented. ‘I’m not sure.’
    ‘If it wasn’t, you have no problem.’
    She shook her head. ‘If it is not, and it is known that Uncle is selling tiger bone which is false, it will be even worse. Great loss of face, great loss of business.’
    ‘You’re not serious. Tell me it’s not true.’
    ‘But of course,’ she protested. ‘You see, tiger bone is ancient Chinese cure, helps open up gate of life in man. If it makes man feel he is better lover, then he is better lover. Like alcohol, but without the, you know, falling-down problem. You would like to try it sometime?’
    Goodfellowe managed no more than what he hoped would sound a dignified and noncommittal grunt.
    ‘Simple, Minister Goodfellowe. With such problems, if tiger bone works in man’s mind, then it will work for body too.’ Her eyes turned to water once more. ‘Which is why I cannot allow it to be thought that Uncle Zhu does not sell good powder.’
    ‘You’re trying to tell me that the powder may or may not be tiger bone. But even if it isn’t, you can’t admit it? Because of your uncle’s image?’ He ran hishand through his hair, ransacking it in frustration.
    ‘You are kind to help, Minister Goodfellowe. I am so sorry to bother you. Now I make sure you get only best tea. Fresh spring tip. From top of bush. No more mix. No more old dust.’ Her emotions were unravelling, she was