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aware they were watching his reaction. If it was true and Gerry was that far AWOL, Ginger was right, he probably could kiss his money goodbye. Finally he shook his head and replied, "Sorry, I don't buy that. Gerry doesn’t get involved at that level. Like I say, he’s a trial lawyer, not a street lawyer.”
     
         The moustache shook his head, too. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But Gerry’s not like an English Q.C.”
     
         Jack laughed. “No, I can credit that. There’s nothing remotely English about Gerry.”
     
         “Which makes you two an odd couple,” Ginger scowled.
     
         “Opposites attract,” the moustache said.
     
         “Okay, but he wasn’t that different. Assuming he was even aware of it, he’d leave any dirty dealing to the solicitors.”
     
         “Like you, eh?” Ginger scowled.
     
         “Sorry but I was Crown Counsel out there.”
     
         “Crown Counsel have been known to throw trials,” the moustache said in his measured tones. “There’s more than one locked up in Stanley.” The fingers formed the same pyramid in front of his lips.
     
         That was true. Crown Counsel had come eventually on to the list of people bribed by Hong Kong criminal gangs; there had been almost a gentleman‘s agreement for a time that they wouldn‘t be targeted but that had changed with some of the high profile trials in the latter years. Government lawyers couldn’t earn anything like their private practice counterparts so they were as vulnerable as anyone else. The ICAC had targeted its corruption drive originally at the police and civil servants in the public works department but they had later started to look closely at the legal system. Anyone doing a risk assessment would see the danger immediately. A lawyer can lose a trial because he doesn’t have the right information, or because something unexpected comes out at trial; or he can lose one by a simple human error falling far short of negligence. It’s almost impossible to detect. That’s why the ICAC has access to all Government servants’ bank accounts.  Follow the money.
     
         “I’ve read about some of them over the years.”
     
         “When you worked for the Government,” the moustache said, “you refused to prosecute any cases for the ICAC?” He waited for an answer but none came so he continued: “I was wondering why that was?”
     
         “What were you afraid of?” the blunter Ginger asked, which made Jack laugh.
     
         Why not? he thought. Just tell them like it is, or was. “I just didn’t like the way you guys worked, and I can see that not much has changed.”
     
         If he meant to phase them he didn’t succeed. “Gerry didn’t share your…er… principles,” the moustache said, “he did a lot of cases for us. Maybe that’s the point? Maybe those who have nothing to hide can afford to tell us to piss off but those who are covering things up stay friendly?”
     
         Jack smiled again. The Godfather mentality: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. There had been whispers in the past about Gerry Montrose, long before he packed his bags at Central Government Office and took off to be a Q.C in private practice, earning (and spending) a fortune in the process, but nothing had ever been proved. It was all speculation. Jack shrugged. "If you don't know the answers with the network of informers you've got, how do you expect me to, particularly as I don't believe it? Tell me this? Who is this drug dealer character anyway?"
     
         "K.K. Chow.”
     
         Jack raised an eyebrow. That was the second time he'd heard that name tonight. Some people at the function had discussed the latest revelations from back home about the infamous K.K. Chow.  "Oh come on," he said, "you guys know Gerry's success rate goes way back, you can't seriously ask me to accept you don't know the number of enemies he's made,