Noma’s English was actually pretty good, but he didn’t like to let on because he thought these blasted colonials should speak Japanese. He didn’t really need Tanaka’s services, but the other Japanese officers and interrogators did. Of course, there were lots of other interpreters in the Supreme Court during the day, and some of them came to the cricket club at night to drink. But still, it was good to have Tanaka on hand. While Cheung polished glasses, Tanaka sat at the end of the bar sipping beer. Beside him, Morgan Horace, sole proprietor of Screech Owl Fine Liquors and ambivalent pan-Africanist, sipped a rum and Coke.

It wasn’t as hot at the end of August as it had been at the end of July, but it was still hot. Though he had every fan in the bar going, Cheung sweated profusely. This bar, with its dark wood tables and its red velvet chairs would have been cozy and pleasant in old England. In humid Hong Kong, it was a strange hothouse where no one who used it could feel quite at home, not even Cheung, who had worked here for most of his adult life. Wiser colonials would have decorated with white paint and rattan. Whoever had built this place must have been terribly homesick. Cheung was a stout, strong man, but he couldn’t take the heat. Tanaka sweated too. Volunteered in English, “Christ, it’s hot.” And swore in Cantonese. “Diu!”

When Cheung saw Noma enter the room, he mopped his brow discreetly one last time with a yellowed handkerchief.

The colonel plunked his skinny ass down at the bar. In spite of the heat, he looked cool. “Syllabub,” he said.

Cheung moved to the bar and measured out a half a shot of rum. The portrait of Emperor Hirohito gazed sternly down at him, looking regal and Asian in King George’s former place. If either the colonel or Horace ordered another rum-based drink, the last of the rum would be gone. Cheung glanced involuntarily in the direction of the Supreme Court, then pushed from his mind the thought of death by beheading. He poured the rum into a metal bowl and measured half a shot of Madeira. Added sugar, lemon juice, and an ounce and a half of heavy cream. He took out a whisk and began to beat the drink into a froth. Noma talked to his back.

“All over the city many families are expecting first-born sons next month! What a lucky occasion! But my good servant Cheung, of all these children of a new and prosperous Asia, your grandson is the one I want to honour! What say we have a cricket match and a garden party a month today? All this war is getting to me. Let’s have a real celebration!”