The master of rain Tom Bradby Bantam Press, 479pp, £9.99 ISBN 0593048164
Tom Bradby walked into my office, the smell of success as thick as the smoke in the room. He had good reason to be pleased with himself - newly appointed as the royal correspondent for ITN, and now this, his third novel, a thriller set in 1920s Shanghai. The premise was nothing new. Field, an English cop out of water in a mysterious and foreign land; Caprisi, his cynical American partner; Natasha, the beautiful Russian dame who holds the key to the mystery surrounding the murder of her neighbour; and Lu, the Master of Rain himself, ruler of the underworld and nemesis of authority.
Bradby's world of corruption, prostitution and smoking too much looked promising. The setting was noirish and sinister, the characters suitably cliched (with dialogue to match) and enough twists to make it feel filmic. This was Hollywood literature, where if you knew what you were about to get, you could just sit back and enjoy the ride. As I finished the final page, I looked up at Bradby and saw the smile on his face. This novel was a winner, but neither of us was sure why.
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