The Shadow of Great Britain

"Oh? Then I’m even more curious." Yang slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, squinting as he looked at Ledley: "If not here to cause trouble, what is it that you’re, the busy man from Scotland Yard, after here on Strand?"

"Just here to clear things up." Ledley smiled, borrowing a light from Yang: "I’m certainly not here to disrupt your mood. But recently, civil servants from the Treasury, the Home Office, and the Foreign Office have been circulating this piece, ’Government Office’. Despite my personal view that this might be an overreaction, unfortunately, they don’t think so, hence they assigned the task to me. If you could submit a report proving that The Sun’s move isn’t politically motivated, I won’t just shake off my troubles, I can also close this case."

Yang sneered contemptuously upon hearing this, being an old editor who had been on Fleet Street for over ten years, he’s not that easy to fool: "Sounds more like you’re doing me a favor, doesn’t it?"

"I wouldn’t dare say I’m doing you a favor, but I do implore you to do me one." Ledley drew out paper and pen from his pocket and responded along: "We’re all out here earning a living, why make things difficult for each other? I just need a small thing, like your paper’s editorial records. I’m not asking to see the articles, just want to know who reviewed and set the layout of recent issues. It’s purely procedural, no need to worry."

Upon hearing this, the smile at Yang’s mouth gradually faded: "Officer Jin, if I’m not mistaken, you’re implying the government can freely interfere with news freedom?"

Ledley paused his movement with the pen, and, smiling, looked at Yang, asking: "Must you insist on such a businesslike attitude?"

"What else?" Yang looked at this young officer, not yet thirty, with a proud smile.

He knew that as long as he brought up this concept of news freedom, Scotland Yard could do little against him. Even those bureaucrats in their forties and fifties, ever since the parliamentary reforms, dare not pose as the government did during the Regency period.

As for this wet behind the ears kid?

He’s already cornered.

Ledley, hearing this, closed his eyes, put down the paper and pen, took a deep breath, and shook his head slightly.

This old man, won’t take a drink but wants penalty wine!

Ledley opened his eyes, with no smile on his face: "Since you prefer to do things by the book, let’s follow protocol then. Mr. Yang, may I ask another question?"

"Go ahead." Yang picked up the coat draped over the chair back: "Your time is valuable, and so is mine, so this will be the last question."

"Many people are concerned that The Sun’s longstanding adversarial stance toward the government has gone beyond mere public oversight, crossing into inciting public sentiment." Ledley flipped through the papers he pulled from his briefcase, his pace steady and with a hint of the Police Intelligence Department’s pressure: "Especially these last few issues, those reports really do give headaches."

He looked up at Yang, seeing his indifference, and continued reading: "Let me see... ’Golden Road’, ’The Road to Wealth: The Rebuilding of Westminster’, and this piece on ’How the Royal Navy was forged’, all from your editorial column."

Yang’s hand lightly trembled, cigar ash falling on the sleeve of his coat.

Ledley didn’t look at him, simply introducing as he went: "’Golden Road’ accuses the Treasury of taking bribes in the railway bill, the piece also suggests that a Lower House Railroad Committee member suddenly purchased a country villa after Birmingham Railway Company won the contract."

Ledley’s tone when saying this was flat, like reciting a list, yet every word pierced into Yang’s ears like nails.

"And there’s this one, ’The Road to Wealth: The Rebuilding of Westminster’." Ledley flipped through the pile of documents: "Written after the Westminster fire rebuilding plan was announced, nearly the entire article mocks the political connections behind project chief designer Sir Charles Barry and disparages the government for nepotism in architectural reviews."

Yang’s forehead twitched slightly, the curve of his lips almost frozen.

He didn’t interrupt Ledley, just extinguished the cigar in the ashtray.

Ledley’s eyes casually glanced over: "As for ’How the Royal Navy was forged’, it’s causing quite an uproar at the Navy Department. You anonymously cited a supposed Royal Navy sailor’s revelation, stating the oak purchased by the Royal Navy was actually seawater-soaked old driftwood, yet officials still settled at new wood prices. Moreover, you hint that a Navy Commission member received two hundred pounds in ’inspection fees’ at the shipyard. Mr. Yang, are you aware of the warship cost at Woolwich Shipyard? Two hundred pounds aren’t enough to bribe me, yet you fancy it could bribe a Navy Commission member?"

Yang’s fingertips finally halted on the table, he paused for a moment, set down the coat, and sat back at the negotiation table: "Officer Jin, I fear there’s a misunderstanding, these aren’t our editorial pieces but rather content from the reader contributions column. What readers write in letters, and what they write about, is out of our control. Moreover, the reader contributions segment wasn’t invented by The Sun, but initiated by The Times."

Ledley watched Yang return to his chair, the smile at his lips gradually returning.

"Very well." He set down those papers, speaking candidly: "I believe the misunderstanding indeed exists. However, Mr. Yang, you’re right in saying the reader contributions section is truly a great innovation in the history of journalism."