Chapter Eight
"Silver Lady – to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Former lover and concubine embraced in remarkably circumspect manner; if the placing of his lips in greeting was on the precise point at which her cheekbone was sharpest and most sensitive, only a churl would take exception; and Phryne was never churlish. Especially not when she had an unpleasant task to perform.
"Lin dear, I need your help, and you're not going to like it – I warn you now."
He tilted his head. "How could I not like anything which brings you to me?" he asked politely.
She grimaced. "I think you'll find a way, because I remember what happened last time I asked you about the opium trade."
He stiffened, and the shutters fell across his eyes.
"Even now, Miss Fisher, you assume that which you have always been told is not only false but insulting?"
She laid a supplicant hand on the table before his. "All I assume, Lin, is that there is little which goes on in our docks which escapes your notice – especially certain ships from certain ports." The shutters became slatted blinds, with a hint of light showing through. "Am I so wrong?"
He took a delicate sip of tea – a stalling tactic as they both knew, but she allowed him the courtesy as a gesture in making up for her vulgar assumption.
"Not wrong, no," he said at last, replacing the cup on its stand. "Your husband's colleagues have done a great deal to reduce the volume of trade, but opium is still coming in."
"At the docks?" Phryne leaned forward, alert.
"Not here, no. I think …" he met her eyes with a hooded gaze. Loyalties, however stretched by laws and human decency, were still loyalties.
"Please, Lin," she begged. "I haven't told you why, but you should know. This isn't about foolish adults being caught in a sinful web. It's innocent children, Lin. Babies." Rapidly, she outlined the suspicions they had amassed. She had barely finished her first sentence when he interrupted her with one word.
"Williamstown."
She caught her breath, and gazed at him for a moment; then leaped to her feet, and leaned in to cup his face in her hands, before snatching his hand in both of hers and kissing the fingers ardently. No more words were spoken; he stood politely as she hurried from the room and the Hispano might as well have had wings for the journey back to City South.
Jack was all set to release the combined might of the police force of the State of Victoria when he heard the suggestion; it was only Phryne's calm words of common sense which stayed the hand which was already reaching for the telephone.
"Jack, we don't know what their plan is for Hugh. If you go blazing in with all your forces, you might sign his death warrant before they scoot out of the back door," she argued. "I've got a better idea …."