Nightfall Over Shanghai

by Daniel Kalla

  Wednesdays were among the busiest days at the Tong Shan market, with street dentists and barbers competing for space with noisy merchants and smelly outdoor kitchens. The screams from one Chinese man, whose dentist braced himself against the chair while struggling to extract a tooth, followed them all the way down the block. Hannah noticed that the Jewish businesses—the pharmacy, the kosher bakery, the two restaurants and three cafés—appeared busier than ever. Little Vienna had developed a reputation beyond the ghetto, and it wasn’t uncommon to see gentiles from the International Settlement among the locals, and to hear Russian, Finnish and French on the street.

  After they had crossed the road and stepped into a quieter block, Hannah finally asked the question that had been on her mind all day: “Is Papa going to force us to leave, Sunny?”

  Sunny cocked her head. “Force us to leave? Does that sound like your father?”

  “You know what I mean,” Hannah said, trying not to sound petulant. “Are we going to have to go to Palestine?”

  “Nothing has been decided.”

  “Do you agree with him? That Palestine will be best for us?”

  Sunny bit her lip, wavering. “Shanghai is the only home I’ve ever known.”

  “Then Papa shouldn’t make you go.”

  Sunny stopped. “I thought you were keen on Zionism, Hannah. Remember? You and Herschel were the ones who persuaded your father to go to the meetings in the first place.”

  Hannah couldn’t bring herself to tell Sunny the truth, so instead she said, “I was young and naive back then.”

  Sunny laughed. “And now you’re old and worldly, are you?”

  Hannah feigned insult. “Maybe it has only been a year, Sunny, but I’ve grown up a lot in that time.”

  “Yes, you have,” Sunny agreed. “So why has growing up changed your mind about Palestine?”

  Feeling her face flush, Hannah was desperate to sound convincing. “The rabbi and the others, they romanticize the whole idea. The garden of milk and honey, and all that. The truth is, Palestine is one big desert, full of hostile locals. Even the British don’t want any more Jews to go there.”

  “Ah, I see. So this has nothing to do with Freddy, then?”

  “Not at all,” Hannah said, realizing she sounded defensive. “Well, Freddy’s family has no plans to go. I would miss him, of course. But I don’t want to leave Shanghai either. It’s my home too.”

  An understanding smile crossed Sunny’s face. “Your father and I are still discussing it, Hannah. Nothing is decided. I do share your concerns. And we will, of course, include you in the decision. I promise.”

  Hannah slowed to a stop almost involuntarily. As her stepmother continued down the street, Hannah called to her, “Sunny.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Hannah couldn’t hold it inside any longer. “I can’t leave Freddy. I just can’t.”

  Sunny turned back to Hannah, slipping an arm over her shoulders. “I know that’s how it feels now—”

  “It’s not how it feels now,” Hannah muttered miserably. “It’s how it is. I love him. I would die without him.”

  “I know, darling.” Sunny smiled again. “You are barely fifteen. Feelings change with time.”

  “No,” Hannah cried. “These never will.”

  “If that is true, then it doesn’t matter where you end up,” Sunny said. “You will eventually find each other.”

  “Not if I am two continents away. On the far side of the world. How can we be together then?”

  Sunny squeezed her shoulders tighter. “It will all work out, Hannah. I am telling you.”

  “Please, Sunny,” Hannah implored. “Don’t let Papa take us away.”

  Sunny was contemplative. “All right,” she finally said. “I will talk to your father. That is all I can do.”

  Hannah realized it guaranteed nothing, but she felt somehow reassured. She was about to thank Sunny when she heard the shouting. As soon as they turned onto Tong Shan Road, they ran into the crowd gathering outside a grocery store. Chinese and Europeans formed a semicircle on the sidewalk. Hannah had to stand on tiptoe and peer between the shoulders and heads to spot the source of the din.

  A Chinese man was kneeling on the sidewalk, his hands tied behind his back. He was flanked by two Japanese soldiers while a third man, who wore an officer’s uniform with a sword clipped to his belt, stood directly in front of him. The officer was shouting at the man in Japanese. Hannah understood a smattering of Japanese, but the only word she picked up now was dorobō (thief) which the officer repeated three times.

  Sunny grabbed Hannah by the arm and began to pull her away. “Come, let’s get out of here, Hannah.”

  Hannah shared her stepmother’s unease. She sensed that the accused man would end up in front of one of the impromptu firing squads, which had become so common that pedestrians sidestepped the bodies as though circumnavigating lampposts. She was about to turn away when the officer unsheathed his sword.

  Before she could avert her eyes, the officer raised the sword and swung down viciously with both hands. She gasped as the blade sliced partway through the kneeling man’s neck just below his jaw. A fountain of blood sprayed up and the spectators nearest to him jumped back. The officer struggled to free the blade. As soon as he did, the accused man’s head flopped to the side and he toppled forward.

  ***

  School was closed for the week and Hannah wasn’t supposed to see Freddy until the next morning, but she needed to talk about what she had just seen. Only he would understand. So she ran the five blocks over to his family’s flat, but Freddy wasn’t there and his mother didn’t know where he had gone.

  Hannah headed toward the school, hoping to find Freddy somewhere along the way. She didn’t see him, but she ran into Avi a block from the school. “Hello, Hannah Banana,” he said in a mocking tone that made Freddy’s affectionate nickname sound somehow hurtful. Avi had always been jealous of the time and attention she had taken away from his friendship with Freddy. At first, she had tried to win Avi over, but the harder she tried, the more unfriendly he had become. Eventually, she had given up.

  “Where is Freddy?” Hannah asked in lieu of a greeting.

  “What’s the big emergency?” Avi sneered.

  “Just tell me where he is.”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.” His smile bore a hint of a challenge. “I just saw him behind the school.”

  Sunny’s stomach plummeted. “He’s not using the transmitter again, is he?”

  Avi’s unpleasant smile only widened. “Not sure. Why don’t you go ask him?”

  Without another word, Hannah raced off for the school. She rounded the corner with her heart in her throat, expecting to see the radio set up to transmit. But the clearing was deserted. She was about to turn around when she heard noises coming from somewhere in the bushes. Reluctantly, she moved toward the sound. As soon as she reached the edge of the clearing, she spotted two pairs of intertwined legs. A girl was lying on the same blanket that Freddy had used with the radio, but Hannah couldn’t see her clearly. But she could see all of Freddy. He was on top of the girl, his trousers down around his knees.

  Hannah didn’t even realize she had cried out until she heard her own voice in her ears. “Oh, Freddy!”

  Freddy’s head swivelled toward her, his face red from both exhaustion and embarrassment.

  All the old hurts and insecurities came flooding back to Hannah. She tucked her vulnerable left hand behind her back.

  “Hannah, wait,” Freddy called.

  The tears were flowing before she had even pivoted and dashed away.

  CHAPTER 43

  Franz sat in the backseat across from von Puttkamer and his impassive bodyguard. The silent driver was the only other occupant of the vehicle, which reeked of leather polish and cologne. Von Puttkamer leaned calmly back in his seat, resting his head against the window as though settling in for a long train ride.

  Having finally caught his breath
, Franz willed his voice to be strong. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Not to worry, Dr. Adler. We are only going for a scenic drive. To give us a chance to chat.” Von Puttkamer’s smile and amicable tone were even more unsettling than his words. “You will pardon me if I confess that this is not one of my favourite neighbourhoods.”

  “I’m not permitted to leave the ghetto without a pass,” Franz said.

  “No one will know you have gone.”

  The words turned Franz’s blood to ice. “Believe me, Baron, several people will notice.”

  Von Puttkamer shrugged. “It can’t be helped.”

  Franz glanced out the window and saw the Ward Road checkpoint fly past. He had not left the ghetto since returning from the field hospital eight months earlier. He stole a quick glance at the door handle. He couldn’t tell if it was locked, but it almost didn’t matter. To reach it, he would have to climb over the baron’s bodyguard.

  “Your Führer is dead,” Franz said.

  “Yes, I am still in shock over it,” von Puttkamer said in a casual tone that belied his words. “All men die. Even the great ones.”

  “They say it will only be a matter of days until Germany surrenders.”

  “I agree. The war is lost. There is no point in arguing that.”

  “Then what is this all about? Why have you kidnapped me?”

  “Kidnapped is such an ugly word.” Von Puttkamer tsked. “I prefer the term shanghaied. It’s both local and exotic. And so much more colourful, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Franz forced his breathing to slow. “What do you want with me?”

  Von Puttkamer sat up straighter and the smile slid from his lips. “The war may be over, but business goes on. Accounts must be settled.”

  Franz tensed. “What accounts do you have to settle? You were the one who tried to bomb us.”

  Von Puttkamer’s eyes darkened. “And you slit Hans’s throat. He was hardly more than a boy.”

  “I didn’t slit his throat. Besides, that ‘boy’ was trying to blow up the synagogue and everyone inside it.”

  Von Puttkamer stared long and hard at Franz. Time seemed to come to a stop. Finally, the baron relaxed back in his seat again. “Hans was only following orders,” he said evenly. “As was I.”

  “You had orders to blow up the ghetto?”

  “It certainly wasn’t my idea.”

  Franz knew the baron was lying, but his breathing calmed and his shoulders relaxed. It occurred to Franz that von Puttkamer might not have abducted him out of vengeance. Perhaps the baron was looking to protect himself after Germany’s collapse, even if it meant negotiating with a Jew. How rapidly the world was changing.

  “No, the orders came from Major Huber,” von Puttkamer continued. “Chief of Gestapo in Shanghai. I believe the major’s orders came directly from Berlin. From Himmler himself, apparently.” Von Puttkamer leaned closer to Franz, as though about to divulge a secret. “You know, in Berlin, they have never forgotten about those of you who escaped to Shanghai.”

  “Escaped?” Franz felt his anger building, like lava under pressure. “Is that what they call it? As if we were all hardened criminals?”

  “Emigrated, then? It’s merely semantics, Dr. Adler.” Von Puttkamer dismissed the idea with a small wave. “You’re missing my point. I was simply—”

  “Let me tell you about my ‘escape,’ Baron.”

  Von Puttkamer shook his head. “That is not necessary—”

  “The day after the storm troopers lynched my brother, Adolf Eichmann himself warned me that I had two weeks to get out of Austria or I would be sent to a concentration camp.” Franz glared into von Puttkamer’s evasive eyes. “You do know about the camps, Baron, don’t you?”

  Von Puttkamer brushed him away with another sweep of his hand. “I have heard a few unsubstantiated stories. After all, the victors get to rewrite history as they so choose. It’s one of the spoils of triumph.”

  “Unsubstantiated?” Franz echoed hoarsely.

  “I understand propaganda, Dr. Adler. At times, the publicity war is fiercer than the fighting on the front lines. One doesn’t know who or what to believe anymore.”

  “Are you suggesting that the Allies made up these camps, then?”

  “I’m not suggesting the Jews didn’t suffer in Europe. Everyone suffers in wartime. War makes civilized people do uncivilized things. But I happen to know the Allies’ accounts are grossly exaggerated.”

  “This is not your wireless propaganda.” Franz’s fury overpowered his fear about his safety. “This is the terrible truth. Death camps with millions of victims, including women and children. My daughter and I would have surely been among the dead had we not ‘escaped’ to Shanghai.”

  The Korean bodyguard leaned forward in his seat, but the baron restrained him with his arm. “It’s all right, Yung Min. The doctor feels the need to vent.”

  “And you, Baron,” Franz continued. “You would have undoubtedly pulled the trigger or released the gas or done whatever other monstrous thing you were ordered to do, had you been stationed in Poland instead of Shanghai.”

  “You are wrong, Dr. Adler,” von Puttkamer replied calmly. “I am a patriotic man, yes. And I believe the Führer was a great man who did great things for our nation. However, I’ve always considered his opinion to have been a little extreme regarding the Jews. The Bolsheviks, absolutely. They represent a great threat to the entire world and need to be eliminated. Not so with the Jews.”

  Franz couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Ach, I see. We Jews should consider you a friend, then?”

  Von Puttkamer snorted. “I won’t deny that I find your race to be self-centred and obsessed with wealth and status. But the Jews were not the only flawed creatures in the Reich. Besides, now is the time for reconciliation, not blame, among all Germans.”

  “I was never German,” Franz grumbled. “I am Austrian. Or I was, until you Nazis stripped me of my citizenship. You can keep it too.”

  Von Puttkamer folded his arms. “All right, Dr. Adler, you have spoken your piece. Enough self-righteous prattle. We need to discuss the practicalities of our future here in Shanghai.”

  “Our future?” Franz blurted. “Your future involves a prison cell or a firing squad.”

  Von Puttkamer turned to Yung Min. “You see? This is what happens when I try to reason with these people.”

  Franz peered out the window and recognized the bases of the art deco buildings that lined Bubbling Well Road. They would soon reach Germantown, and there might not be any turning back then. “Stop the car,” he demanded. “I am getting out.”

  “You will get out when I say so.”

  “I will get out now.”

  Von Puttkamer uncrossed his arms. “I came to speak with you in good faith. To put our differences aside.” He sighed heavily. “The way you talk, Adler, it makes me wonder what the point of it is. If I allow you to return to that miserable ghetto, you will only instigate and stir divisiveness and unrest among the rest of the rabble.” He glanced over to the bodyguard. “Perhaps it would be best for everyone if you were not to return.”

  Recognizing that his tirade was falling on deaf ears, and increasingly aware of the danger he was in, Franz changed his tack. “It would be a mistake not to release me, Baron.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Do you think I’m the only person in the ghetto who knows about the bombing plot? Or who has heard your radio program? Do you believe the others will feel any differently than I do?”

  “Only time will tell,” von Puttkamer said.

  “I am a well-known member of the refugee community.”

  “So what?”

  “I have told several people about how I’ve seen your car parked in front of my home and the hospital over the past weeks. If I were to go missing, the others would immediately assume you were responsible.”

  “And what proof would they have?”

  Franz scoured his brain for a convincing response. “Wh
at will the American soldiers think when they roll into Shanghai? Perhaps some of them will have seen the camps in Europe. Do you honestly think they will require much proof to believe that it was a Nazi who abducted the ghetto’s most prominent Jewish doctor?”

  Von Puttkamer glanced uncertainly to Yung Min before turning back to Franz. “Say I release you. What do you intend to do?”

  “Go home to my family.”

  Von Puttkamer’s eyes narrowed and he motioned to himself and Yung Min. “I meant about us.”

  Franz held the baron’s gaze. “I don’t care what becomes of you—I swear to God, I don’t—as long as I never have to lay eyes on you again.”

  Von Puttkamer slumped back in his seat. He suddenly looked older, smaller, than he had before. Finally, he swivelled his head toward the driver and shouted, “Pull over and let this worthless Jew out! I cannot tolerate another second in his presence.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Sunny stood next to Esther in the cramped little space that passed for their kitchen. The two boys sat on the floor, each playing with one of Joey’s toys. All the while, Hannah’s sniffles and sobs drifted down to them from the small loft above.

  “I will go talk to her again,” Esther said.

  Sunny squeezed Esther’s wrist once before letting go. “I think she needs to be alone right now, Essie.”

  Esther shook her head in disbelief. “So upset over possibly moving to Palestine? We don’t even know when or even if this will ever happen. There must be something more, surely?”

  “Hannah says not.”

  “Should we go find Freddy? He’s not my favourite by any means, but he always seems to know how to cheer her up.”

  “I think she needs to be alone,” Sunny repeated.