by Daniel Kalla
“We were so worried, Wen-Cheng. Where have you been these past months?”
“Everywhere. Nowhere.”
“The old man from the Underground and the others—you heard that the Japanese caught them?”
He nodded, his eyes refused to meet hers.
“Did they come for you, too?”
“I am safe,” he said, but his jumpiness told her otherwise. “I have come to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“You must stay away from your friend,” he said.
“Which friend?”
“Jia-Li.”
“Jia-Li? No, never. She has nothing to do with this.” But even as she spoke, Sunny thought of the pram that her friend intended to take to the railway station—and what it would contain.
“They know, Soon Yi, ” Wen-Cheng said. “The Kempeitai know about Jia-Li and Charlie. They know he is living with her.”
Sunny’s hand flew to her mouth. “How could they possibly know?” she gasped.
Wen-Cheng continued to scan the lane as if he was anticipating an ambush. “Does it matter?”
Desperate with worry, Sunny could think of nothing else. “I must warn her.”
“No!” Wen-Cheng cried.
“I have to.”
“Can you not see, Sunny? It is too late.”
“Too late? How could it be too late?” She paused. “What is happening, Wen-Cheng? How could you possibly know what the Japanese are planning?”
“Stay away from Jia-Li. I beg you, Sunny.”
The truth struck her like flying shrapnel. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “You told them.”
Wen-Cheng’s face reddened and he dropped his head. “I did what I had to do.”
“To save your own skin!”
“My fate is sealed,” he said softly. “No. I did what I did to save you.”
“How dare you!” She slapped him across the cheek, so hard that her palm stung.
Wen-Cheng stared at her and then emitted a humourless laugh. “They were going to kill you, Sunny.”
Her head swam. “Who were? The Japanese?”
“No, the Underground. It was only a matter of time. They had labelled you as a collaborator. A traitor.”
“For not helping them murder Colonel Kubota?”
“That, and treating the Japanese officers at the hospital after the assassination attempt,” he said grimly. “They knew all of it.”
“So you . . .”
“Betrayed my own people. Yes. I became a collaborator. For the Rìběn guı˘zi, no less. I turned in my own cell. How do you think they knew where to find the old man and the others?”
“Oh God.” She suddenly thought of Max’s arrest. “And Dr. Feinstein?”
“The Japanese, they were so suspicious of my work at the hospital. They insisted there must be others.”
“Why Max?”
“He had helped treat one of the local Underground leaders when he had gout.”
Sunny’s legs felt unsteady. Her knees began to buckle. “So you told them Max was your contact at the hospital to draw suspicion away from me?”
Wen-Cheng held out his hands. “I had to give them a name or they would have gone after you and Franz.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “I vowed to protect you.”
“But at what cost?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “At any cost.”
“And Jia-Li? Why her?”
“They are such relentless masters, Sunny. Always demanding more. More names, more spies. I thought if I gave them someone as important as Charlie . . .”
Tears welled in her eyes again. “Oh, Wen-Cheng, what have you done?”
* * *
Sunny raced over to the Cathay Building in a haze of terror and confusion. Expecting the worst, she was surprised to find the street quiet and still covered in unblemished snow. The serenity of the scene did little to quell her mushrooming sense of foreboding, however. As Sunny entered the lobby, she wondered if the Kempeitai were already watching the building.
A middle-aged Chinese couple stood waiting for the elevator. Sunny didn’t know who she could trust anymore, so she opted for the stairs. She was breathless by the time she had climbed all nine floors, but she still sprinted down the hallway.
Sunny rapped the secret signal on Jia-Li’s door. When a few moments passed, Sunny feared that she might already be too late, but then the door flew open. Before Sunny could say a word, Jia-Li pulled her inside.
“I have news,” Sunny blurted.
“Oh, I do as well, xiăo hè!” Jia-Li practically sang. “Such wonderful news. The best news!”
“There is no time, ba˘o bèi. You must listen—”
But Jia-Li wouldn’t. Still gripping Sunny’s arm, she guided her into the living room. On the far side of the room, Charlie knelt in front of the pram, adjusting one of its legs with a screwdriver. Beside him stood a stack of green blocks: the explosives he had seized from the Germans.
“Listen to me, both of you,” Sunny pleaded.
Jia-Li held up her left hand in the air and waved it until Sunny noticed the narrow silver band encircling her ring finger.
“You and Charlie . . .”
“Are married!” Jia-Li cried joyfully. “Just this very morning.”
The news stunned Sunny. “Married? How could that be?”
“I went out for rice this morning. On the way home, I ran into a neighbour. He was escorting an old monk back to his flat. It turns out the monk was his great uncle.” She giggled gleefully. “A cleric in our very building! We couldn’t pass up the opportunity. We would have waited for you but . . . Oh, how I wish you could have been there.” Her voice cracked. “Married, xiăo hè. Me! To that beautiful man. Can you believe it?”
“I am so happy for you. I am.” Sunny’s heart cracked. “But there is no time for celebrating. They are coming for you.”
Jia-Li angled her head. “Why do you say this?”
“The Kempeitai. They know. Wen-Cheng is an informant. He told them that Charlie is here, ba˘o bèi.”
The screwdriver in Charlie’s hand dropped to the floor. Jia-Li’s face fell. “Why?” she asked. “Why would he do this?”
In a few rushed sentences, Sunny shared what Wen-Cheng had told her. Before she had even finished, Charlie leapt up, grabbed his crutches and darted to the window. As he peered out, he said, “You must leave now.”
Trembling, Jia-Li nodded. “Chun is right, xiăo hè. You had better go.”
“Both of you,” Charlie commanded.
“Leave you?” Jia-Li extended a hand to Charlie, but his back was still turned. “On the day we are married? I won’t. Never!”
“I will meet you in the Old City,” Charlie said without taking his eyes off the street. “We must make separate escapes. If they see us leaving together, we are doomed.”
“No, Chun,” Jia-Li pleaded. “If we leave right this moment, then surely—”
Charlie shot up a hand to cut her off. The room went silent. The faint sound in the quiet street carried all the way to the ninth floor.
Charlie released the curtain and let it fall into place. He wheeled back to them. “They are here!”
Jia-Li ran over to Charlie. He held her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “You are everything to me,” he murmured.
“I could not love anyone more,” Jia-Li whimpered.
He wriggled free of her and pushed her toward the door. “Our only hope is for you to leave. Now!”
Jia-Li hesitated. “Promise you will meet me, Chun.” Sunny could see the emotion in her misting eyes. “Promise me.”
Charlie closed his eyes and nodded.
“In the Old City?”
“The Old City,” Charlie said. “Now go. Take the stairs. Do not look back!
”
Jia-Li’s gaze lingered on him for one more moment and then she turned for the door.
Sunny followed, but Charlie’s voice stopped her. “Wait, Sunny. You need to leave separately. It’s the only way.”
Sunny’s mouth went dry as she stopped and watched Jia-Li dash out the door.
“Take the elevator down, Sunny,” Charlie instructed. “Leave the building as though you were heading out for a stroll. As though it were any other day.”
“You go first,” Sunny croaked. “They are not looking for me.”
“No. I will go soon. But first I need to create a diversion.” Charlie moved over to the stack of green bricks, lowered himself to the ground and reached for a narrow metal cylinder. “Sunny, if . . .”
“Yes?”
“Tell her, Sunny . . . tell Jia-Li how happy I am I found her. Tell her that I did not waste my life hunting the ghost of my father.”
She swallowed. “I will tell her, Charlie.” She then turned and rushed out the door to the elevator. As she waited for the car to arrive, she shrunk back against the corridor wall, afraid that Kempeitai men might burst out of the elevator at any moment. But the car was empty when the doors opened. Inside, she felt lightheaded and her hands trembled. Her nervousness grew as she watched the indicator light above the doors steadily shift from “9” down to “L.” She could hear shouts and stomping boots even before the car reached the lobby.
The doors opened and Sunny was greeted by the sight of a rifle barrel. She thrust her hands up and stumbled back against the elevator wall.
A Kempeitai man who stood beside the soldier holding the rifle pointed at her accusingly. “You come now!” he shouted in English.
Sunny took a few tentative steps into the lobby. Numerous soldiers filled the space, and more were piling in through the front door.
The Kempeitai man clamped a hand on her upper arm. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I . . . I am only a visitor. My friend, Ling Mei”—she said the first name that came to mind—“she lives on the seventh floor.”
The man stared at her, then snapped his fingers at the soldier beside him, barking out orders in Japanese. The soldier lowered his rifle, stepped forward and grabbed Sunny by the other arm. As the Kempeitai man released her arm, the other soldier jerked her toward the front door.
“I am only a visitor,” Sunny pleaded again.
The soldier took no notice of her words as he dragged her to the door. There were only a handful of soldiers left outside, but the street was lined with trucks and troop transports.
“Xiăo hè!” Jia-Li cried from somewhere.
Sunny craned her head to see her best friend struggling against two soldiers who were hauling her toward a military vehicle.
Before Sunny could say anything, flames lit up the sky above her and an ear-shattering boom rocked the ground beneath her feet. She felt something sharp hit her head as glass and debris rained down on them.
Finally free of the soldier’s grip, Sunny dropped to the snow and covered her head with her hands. The soldiers on the street, including her escort, scrambled back toward the building for cover.
Sunny swivelled her head and saw Jia-Li sitting in the snow, her guards gone. Sunny pushed herself up to her feet and raced over to her friend, scooping her up by the shoulder.
Jia-Li looked at her with a pitiful stare. “The explosion, xiăo hè. Charlie. My Charlie!”
Chapter 51
Sunny could not clear the smell of smoke and cordite from her nostrils, and she was still picking slivers of glass from her hair and clothes.
After the explosion, the Cathay Building’s panicked residents had poured out onto the street. Soldiers and Kempeitai men had raced around in confusion, detaining some civilians while ignoring others. Capitalizing on the mayhem, Sunny had just quietly guided her dazed friend away from the building, whispering repeatedly, “Keep walking ba˘o bèi. Just keep walking.”
No one stopped them as they hurried arm in arm toward the Old City. After entering through its north gate, they walked up and down every twisting street and lane within its walls. They passed certain shops and temples three or more times, but Jia-Li did not want to stop. Her eyes were clear and her expression rigid as she scanned the streets. She must have already realized that her husband of only one day would never appear to meet them, but Sunny did not have the heart to share his final words with Jia-Li yet. So instead, Sunny silently remained at her friend’s side while she searched in vain for Charlie.
When they reached the main square for a second time, Jia-Li veered off toward the Woo Sing Ding tea house and slumped down onto a bench. As Sunny joined her, she realized this was the place she had last met with Wen-Cheng and the old man. The uncomfortable memory of their terse exchange darkened her thoughts further.
It’s all my fault! Had Sunny found a way inside Colonel Kubota’s office, Wen-Cheng would never have felt the need to betray the old man, Max and, ultimately, Charlie. Her face flushed with guilt and she avoided eye contact with her friend. I am the link to all their deaths.
Jia-Li stared at the tea house for a few minutes. Finally, in a low, angry tone, she said, “He promised.”
“Oh, ba˘o bèi, Charlie would move heaven and earth to be here.” Sunny’s voice cracked. “Perhaps he is still trying.”
“He will never keep his promise.”
Sunny reached out and gripped Jia-Li’s limp hand. “He would have said anything, ba˘o bèi. Anything to make you leave. He loves you that much.”
“He is my husband,” she said, unmoved. “I should never have left. And he should never have sent me away.”
Sunny squeezed Jia-Li’s hand even tighter. “For love, ba˘o bèi. Charlie only did it out of love.”
Jia-Li slipped her hand free. Her eyes were red and her cheeks flushed now. “I would have wheeled that pram full of dynamite into the train station, xiăo hè. Even if it meant I would never come back out.”
“I have no doubt, ba˘o bèi.”
“Not for Free China. Or the Underground. Or the stupid Communists.” Jia-Li’s voice trembled. “Only for Chun. Always for him.”
“I know.”
Jia-Li buried her face in her hands. Soon her shoulders shook. “My home is gone,” she choked out between sobs. “So is my husband.”
Sunny struggled to find reassuring words but could think of none. She couldn’t look her friend in the eye. She felt responsible for incinerating Jia-Li’s happiness.
“Where do I go now, xiăo hè?” Jia-Li murmured.
Sunny’s eyes misted over. “Come home with me, ba˘o bèi.”
“And get you all killed?” Jia-Li scoffed. “Even the children?”
“You cannot go back to the Cathay Building.”
“What is there to return to?”
“The Japanese know who you are, ba˘o bèi,” Sunny said. “They will be looking.”
“Perhaps it’s best if they find me.”
“Stop it,” Sunny snapped. “You can’t think like that. Imagine what Charlie would say.”
Jia-Li only shrugged. “What else would you have me do?”
Sunny sat up straighter. “The Comfort Home.”
“Is the first place the Japanese will look.”
“They have searched there before—many times, right?—and never found the hideaway.”
“Why would Chih-Nii take me in as a fugitive? After how I walked out on her.”
“You are like family. She has always had a soft spot for you.”
Jia-Li gave a bitter laugh. “She had a soft spot for the money I brought in.”
Sunny rose from the bench and reached for Jia-Li’s arm again. “Come. We will go talk to her.”
Jia-Li remained seated. She looked up at Sunny with pained eyes. “Can we give him a few more minutes?”
The minutes
turned into more than an hour as they sat together and quietly reminisced about Charlie and his brief presence in their lives. At last, Jia-Li wiped her eyes and rose to her feet. “Let’s go,” she declared.
As they left the Old City, Jia-Li kept her head still and her eyes straight ahead, her search abandoned.
Arriving at the Comfort Home, they circled the block to ensure no Japanese vehicles were in the area before they approached the walkway that led to the elegant old villa. There was something tranquil yet surreal about the snow-covered trees that lined the path.
As they neared the mansion, an enormous man stepped out to greet them. “Ushi!” Sunny rushed up and hugged him, barely able to get her arms all the way around his waist. “It is good to see you.”
“Hello, Sunny.” He patted her on the back.
Ushi and Jia-Li just stared at one another. Eventually, his eyes fell to her left hand and he motioned to the ring. “Is it true? Are you . . . married now?”
Jia-Li nodded.
Ushi gave her an awkward smile. “I am happy for you.”
“Oh, Ushi.” Jia-Li hurled herself into his arms.
Ushi held her tightly. Somehow he seemed to understand everything. “I am so sorry, ba˘o bèi,” he whispered.
Jia-Li broke free of the hug. “I have nowhere left to go now, Ushi.”
Ushi turned for the door. “Come. We will speak to her.”
They found Chih-Nii in her small office, sitting behind her Qing dynasty desk. She was counting the previous night’s take, having neatly separated it into various currencies, from American greenbacks to Japanese yen. She looked up only after she had finished with a wad of bills.
Chih-Nii wore her usual glamorous cheongsam, but there was something drawn about her overly made-up face. She eyed Jia-Li blankly. “As a rule, I do not send presents to couples who exclude me from the wedding.”
“No one else—not even Sunny—was there,” Jia-Li said softly.
“And so where is the proud groom?”
“He . . . he could not make it.”
Chih-Nii’s eyelids creased and her tone turned sharp. “And you have come back here for what, precisely? To gloat?”
