Though the bankers and medical people in positions of authority were British, not all those who did the work of banking and medicine were. In their midst, Chinese, Eurasians, Portuguese, Irish, and White Russians worked in these same two fields. The Chinese and so-called “third nationals” on the team were all of Cheung’s choosing at Noma’s command. Cheung had selected them by profession, in hopes that their profession would stand as cover for them. He hoped he had not given anyone away and doomed them to the basement of the Supreme Court in so doing.

The Japanese interrogators and interpreters, eyes blazing with war fury, stood in orderly rows, awaiting instruction. To Cheung, whose mother had taught him about traditional Chinese medicine, including how the organs influenced temperaments, they had a heart illness—not an innate one, but one that came from too much military training. In this, they were unlike Tanaka and Horace. Though those two were not without troubles, their hearts were better balanced. Tanaka and Horace stood with them, but off to one side and at a slight distance from the rest. For their sake, Cheung hoped that Noma didn’t notice. Cheung had also included on this team Chinese policemen already under Noma’s command, including Chan, a Chinese interrogator whose eyes had the orange fire of bloodlust in them. Chan had a reputation of doing terrible things to his own countrymen, mutilating people from his own neighbourhood the worst. There was a rumour that he’d blinded his own brother with a machete before beheading him. Though it had happened right next door, Cheung didn’t want to think about it.

Noma approached now. “There he is, my little namesake! How are you, little Raymond Kennosuke? An exemplary citizen of the New Asia. We will get there very soon, Mrs Cheung,” he said, addressing Emily to show he knew who she was. “Very soon. Just you watch.”

Emily looked up into the eyes of her tormenter from the Christmas Day massacre. Sitting beside her, Tak-Wing saw her blanch and raised an eyebrow. What did Noma mean by “Raymond Kennosuke”? He scowled, darkly.

Raymond, who until that point had been asleep in Second Mother Polly’s arms, gurgled, then hissed at Noma and began to cry. From down on the pitch, where he was inspecting the placement of the wickets one last time, Cheung looked up, saw what was unfolding and prayed silently that nobody would die today.

The British were up to bat in the first innings.

Cheung wanted Tak-Wing to be first up to bat, so that the young man could show off, as he was wont to do, while the Japanese were at their most hopeful.

Tak-Wing refused. “You should save me for the middle of the lineup, when I can do the most good.”

“Absolutely not,” Cheung said. “That’s the most dangerous spot. Don’t you know this game is not about winning?”