White Shanghai

by Elvira Baryakina

  “Are you still afraid of me?” Daniel asked.

  She kept adjusting her skirt on her knees. “I’m not afraid,” Ada said, so quietly he hardly heard it.

  “Does anyone wait for you at home?”

  “No.”

  “Do you live by yourself?”

  “Is that your business?”

  “Just interested. Are you renting with a friend?”

  Ada didn’t answer.

  “Tell me about yourself,” asked Daniel and straight away added, “Or rather, don’t. All Russian women have the same life story: all of them were duchesses, but lost everything and now have to earn through hard labor being prostitutes, street sellers or, in lucky circumstances, governesses.”

  Ada blushed and dropped her head even lower. “Stop, please. I want to get out.”

  Daniel looked at her, surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just remembered—”

  “Stop! Or I’ll tell everything to Miss Edna!”

  He stopped at the curb. Ada jumped outside. “Remember, I’m not going to let you treat me like this. You can fire me, but you have no right to humiliate me. I never worked as a prostitute.”

  She slammed the car door. Sticking his head out the window, Daniel yelled, “Ada, wait!”

  But she didn’t turn.

  “I’ll tell Miss Edna,” Daniel laughed to himself. My God, the little girl thinks I’m in love with her.

  2.

  They say Hongkew Market is the biggest in the Far East, maybe even the whole of Asia. Over the Garden Bridge, on the other side of the Suzhou Creek, where the motley quarters are, live Portuguese, Japanese and half-bloods of all kinds. Where Boone and Woosung Roads meet, hundreds of barefoot fishermen, butchers in heavily stained aprons and Chinese girls with tightly plaited shiny braids walk the market isles.

  Policemen stride between cages with ducks, pyramids of vegetables and eggs. To the right—pheasants, bustards and snipes hanging by their feet; to the left—fish, lilac squids and whiskered shrimps spread on ice. Shiny fish scales and sparkling knives shimmer under the sun, making you dizzy.

  “Make way! Make way!” A big shot appears, wrapped up in silks. The governor Lu Yongxiang has arrived in Shanghai to fight with the Scholar Qi Xieyuan—this is his private cook, the most important visitor to the market.

  Butchers scurry about showing their best cuts. The cook doesn’t even look at them; quietly talking to his servant, he motions with his long nail to a future purchase. The piece is wrapped in paper, and coolies pick up the palanquin. A colorful umbrella and a black little hat of the cook now float over the crowd.

  “Make way! Way! Make way!” His servants drag baskets, parcels and cages with livestock.

  Wind ruffled flags and shop signs; people waded through the mud in between market isles. Ada bought so much that she could hardly carry her basket. Her little toe was aching: she’d struck it on the high doorstep of a confectionery store. The Chinese had high doorsteps everywhere.

  There were twice as many visitors in the market as usual. Refugees from the west of the province had flooded the city. The authorities organized road blocks around the foreign concessions, even erected razor-wire, but it was no help: the fugitives infested Shanghai. Newspapers wrote that every day five to seven thousand people arrived in the city.

  Shanghai was declared a neutral zone. Military activities were happening to the south and west of the city. The Great Powers announced to the Peking government that if war touched Shanghai, they would demand a full refund to cover any damages made to their nationals. One platoon of Indians, one regiment of Tonkineses and several squadrons of the American navy landed on the shore to protect the foreign concessions. An Italian armored cruiser, Libia, stood guard at the Huangpu River.

  Ada pushed through the crowds to leave the market. Shabby refugees with barely clothed children stood along the walls. All of them were emaciated and ill. No one would dare throw them out—it was sure death, but on the other hand, no one could bear to keep them in—who was going to feed this horde?

  Betty said that compassion here was inappropriate. She met Ada on the street and offered her hot chocolate at a café. Ada felt awkward: what if someone saw her in the wrong company? But she didn’t dare to say no.

  Betty was again working for Martha.

  “How much do you get as a governess?” she asked, lighting a cigarette. “Two dollars a day? Silly girl. While you’re young you should take from life whatever you can. If you’re lucky, you’ll be the one who’ll hire a governess.”

  Betty said the most lucrative profession was to be a high maintenance gold-digger. If you were smart, you would always be well-fed and deal with decent men who keep away from rough manners.

  “Don’t go for the most handsome dragons, but for those who know what’s going on. Especially be nice to officers—in these times we need to know what they’re up to. Or they’ll start firing their cannons and you won’t have enough time to flee the city.”

  Ada already lived on tenterhooks, scared of war rumors, and Betty made it worse. Ada only knew Daniel among the officers, though he served as a volunteer. Many white men had enlisted in a voluntary regiment, and after work they went to fire guns, to march and to patrol streets. Ada hardly saw Mr. Bernard and in any case she didn’t want to see him. Daniel was acting strange: almost on purpose he was exhausting Ada with his sudden talks and ghastly hints.

  Oh, I wish the war was over soon, Ada prayed. I wish the Wayers were back.

  It was heavy to carry her basket and Ada decided to go by tram. First-class seats were for passengers in clean clothes. Only the best comfy wicker chairs for them. In third class were the tramps with their carts and boxes; at times some dummy could even get a goat in.

  Ada only traveled in first class, for twelve cents. To hell with the economy! Getting rid of lice was much more expensive.

  “Good afternoon!” someone shouted in Russian across the whole car.

  Ada looked back and saw Mitya in his usual worn-out robe.

  The ticket man yelled at him, “Stop! Why are you heading to the first class?”

  “I’ll pay for the boy,” Ada reassured.

  How wonderful to meet at least one person who knows you!

  “Where are you going?” she asked Mitya.

  He looked at her, beaming with a wide smile. “Nowhere.”

  It turned out he’d been riding trams since the morning—just enjoying it.

  “You see, there’s a little bell, a special one. You need to press on it with your heel, and then the tram will stop.”

  Ada laughed. What a silly boy—amazed by the simplest things!

  “Come with me, you can help me carry my basket,” she said.

  Mitya nodded. “How are you? I hope your soul is sunny?”

  Ada laughed again. Here we go: the only person who is interested in the state of my soul is a crazy monk.

  When they arrived home, she asked Mitya to stay for the night so she wouldn’t be alone.

  “Don’t be afraid, nothing will happen to you,” he said seriously. “Every day, I pray for you.”

  3.

  For more than a month, Klim lived in exile with Don Fernando and his court. They fished, fed mosquitoes and played cards. Klim tried to leave several times, but the Don protested, “Don’t upset me!”

  Fernando suffered. His devoted spies reported great things happening in Shanghai each day, but he had to sit on the damn island, abandoned and forgotten.

  When visitors arrived, the Don ordered Klim to go out of the fishermen’s shed, but news excited him so much he couldn’t hold his tongue. From the snippets of his swearing, Klim understood the bandits had reached an agreement with the governor: Pockmarked was set free.

  “And what about us?” the Don exclaimed, angrily. “Sit here or go back to Shanghai? Well, well, well…now all the power in the Green Gang will go to Big-Eared Du, Pockmarked’s assistant. Pockmarked has lost face and the Green Gang isn’t an army—there you do
n’t need ranks, but authority. Big-Eared brought back his master and they will bow to him. Eventually he’ll get a grip on all the businesses. Who knows, maybe he’s the one who arranged for Pockmarked to be arrested.”

  One evening, Ruben, the shaven-headed Basque, unexpectedly ordered Klim to pack up. “We’re returning to Shanghai. Governor Lu has fled to Nagasaki and troops of the Scholar Qi Xieyuan have entered the Chinese City.”

  Fernando was sitting in the boat, swearing. A trusted person reported that at the last moment, the governor sold his stocks of opium at knockdown prices. All these weeks, Don Fernando had held back his own supply of drugs in storerooms at Nantao hoping to make a lot of money on wartime price rises, but the governor had spoilt everything.

  They docked at the Chinese City where a car waited for Don Fernando.

  “Now, let’s go to the Flying Dutchman,” he said to Klim. “It’s not too pleasant there, the soldiers—bastards!—destroyed everything, but it’s dangerous to walk alone in the dark. Stay overnight with me and in the morning go where you need to go.”

  4.

  Klim woke up with a numb back: he’d slept on a cello case in a restaurant hall. The sun was shining through the battered windows. Dust, broken furniture and shattered plates covered the floor. Ruben ran downstairs. “Come, the Don is calling for you.”

  The office with a silver star on the door was demolished. Don Fernando sat in an armchair with its back torn out; a Chinese military man stood facing him.

  “Translate, what he says?” ordered Don Fernando.

  Klim listened to the guest.

  “It’s Su, the former Governor’s colonel,” he explained. “He has a battalion of fully equipped and trained soldiers; they have weapons, but no rations. They’re sitting in the detached train-cars by the North Railway Station. No one has taken them prisoner, so Su wants to offer them to you. His soldiers are ready to serve for food.”

  Fernando scratched his stubble. Su watched him with an anxious look.

  “It’s a powerful stuff, you know,” the Don said pensively. “With such a power we could move mountains.”

  “Do you have money to provide for a battalion of soldiers?” asked Klim.

  “Hmm…one never knows. Big-Eared won’t stand competition for power in this city, meaning it’ll be a war for territory. We can win a battle or two, but never win the war. Okay, let’s go to Big-Eared and offer him a deal: he gives me a loan for a casino and I’ll arrange a security for his opium storage. After Pockmarked resigned, Big-Eared’s had problems, because not all his brothers are pleased with him becoming the head of the Green Gang. Wash your face and let’s go—you’ll translate.”

  “Don, I’m—”

  “Don’t upset me!”

  They all squeezed into one car. Ruben drove.

  “Forty, Route Vallon,” Don Fernando said the address.

  Klim made an indifferent face. Through the window, he watched schoolgirls, an ice-cream seller and a beggar-soldier in military uniform, with an outstretched hand. Life was going on and Klim hoped it wouldn’t be over by this evening.

  At a patrol post on the North Sichuan Road was a queue of cars. The street was blocked with sacks of sand; helmets of the American Marines were flashing behind it.

  A tall, hawk-nosed lieutenant was checking documents.

  “Sit here,” said Don Fernando, getting out of the car.

  It was hard to catch what they were talking about. The Don was smiling and showing something in his papers. The officer nodded. But the next minute several soldiers ran up to the car. “Get out! Hands above your heads!”

  Cursing everything in the world, Klim got out of the car. They pushed him, face to the wall, and searched his pockets.

  “Wow, what a bird we’ve caught!” someone said.

  Klim shuddered, but soon realized that they were talking not about him, but Colonel Su.

  “This Su is a persona non grata in the International Settlement,” a soldier reported. “He is a war criminal, sir. Genghis Khan would envy his track record.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  “A volunteer recognized him, sir.”

  Those arrested were put in a military truck, transported to the central police office and thrown in an overcrowded lock-up.

  “I’m a Mexican national,” shouted Don Fernando, feverously shaking the bars. “I have extraterritorial rights!”

  An investigator came up to the door—he was young, almost a teenager.

  “One more word out of you and I’ll put you in the dungeon,” he said with a thick Russian accent.

  5.

  An electric fan stood on the table, the air moving the window blinds. Felix rocked on a chair, smoking as he listened to the lawyer, Mr. Aulman.

  When the war started and a state of emergency was announced, he and some other political department workers were called on to interrogate the arrested. The police were so understaffed that they summoned everyone on leave.

  Aulman, clean and fresh, touched his mustache as he politely explained that as a Mexican national, Fernando Jose Burbano was not to be arrested.

  “Your buddy is on file for a lot of things,” Felix said gruffly.

  Aulman moved closer and pressed his fingers together in the shape of a house. “According to the laws of his country, Don Fernando hasn’t done anything wrong—casinos are legal in Mexico.”

  “He’s a bandit,” interrupted Felix.

  “Oh no. Don Fernando simply wants to do business. It’s not his fault that in Shanghai it’s impossible without protection from patrons. And if you’re worried about the stray soldiers, the problem is already solved. The Scholar Qi Xieyuan agreed to accept them into his army. Tomorrow the North Railway Station will be cleared and trains will resume their service.”

  Aulman stood up, signaling that the conversation had ended. “Have a good day. I hope my client will have dinner at his home.”

  “Bring Rogov here!” roared Felix, after Aulman left the office.

  There was no file on Rogov. They brought him in—short cut hair, fingers black from the fingerprint ink. Felix looked him straight in the eye. He remembered this fellow: in the refugee camp near Gensan, he would arrange a circus at the barracks. Little boy-cadets were dying from typhoid fever a mere couple of feet away and this guy couldn’t care less. Felix listened to the laughter near the camp fire and his hands clenched into fists from hatred.

  “Your choice is simple,” he said in Russian. “Deportation with the Colonel Su or collaboration with the police.”

  Rogov tried to wriggle out, “Do you have the right to deport Su out of his own county? He’s Chinese…”

  “Yes, we have,” Felix affirmed. “And we can send you, no-hoper with no passport, away at any moment. To Soviet Russia, for example. You’re a White Army officer, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Don’t lie. In any case, you either agree to work for us, or—”

  “I refuse.”

  “That’s fine. I’m putting you on a steamer to Vladivostok with a covering note that you’re a White bandit. And let the Russian State Political Directorate sort you out.”

  These were the moments, when Felix felt the police was a worthwhile place to work: when you could look into a scum’s ugly face, the one who was ready to serve Mexican bandits and Chinese military criminals... you could look into those eyes and see fear and confusion. How did this happen, dearest people? Me, such a smart ass, and completely cornered?

  CHAPTER 42

  BLACKMAILING

  1.

  Edna packed her suitcase. Mr. Green wanted an article covering the rebellious generals who had occupied Peking and forced the president to resign. Everyone she knew told her it was insane to travel across the war-stricken country, but she brushed it off, “News is my job.”

  If only Daniel would try to stop her! But he calmly helped her pack; he was not at all concerned she could be killed. Edna kept searching for reasons, Why had he ceased loving me? S
he went through their conversations in her head: yes, they sometimes had trifling arguments, but she never humiliated or insulted him; she never put on weight or became low; she had a lot to be respected for.

  Despite her misgivings, Edna wanted to leave. She’d started to crave attention from her husband and ask questions that didn’t have any answers except for a simple I love you. But even those questions Daniel evaded with his usual elegance. Edna felt sure he was bored with her.

  “I don’t know when I’m going to be back,” she said, getting into the car.

  Daniel kissed her hand. “Send me a telegram when you get to Peking.”

  He didn’t go to the train station; he said he had things to do.

  2.

  Who cares about the train station? Silently...step by step...sneak up to the children’s room and peep into the half-opened doors.

  Here she is. The sun cast bright yellow squares on the floor, and one of them fell directly on Ada. She sat in it like on a gold-plated serving dish. She had a hand-made foil crown on her head, her hair sticking out in all directions.

  “We need one, two, three…many little plaits,” Brittany counted. “But you have only one, two, three…not many.”

  A floorboard squeaked under Daniel’s shoe.

  “Who’s there?”

  With fake carelessness, he walked into the room.

  “We’re playing princesses again,” Brittany said, showing Daniel a heavy book with pictures. “These ones.”

  “Miss Ada is a princess?” he asked.

  Ada shook her head. “No, I’m an evil stepmother queen. Now, Snow White will dress me up for the ball and I’ll begin torturing her.”

  She grasped Brittany and started tickling her. The girl was squealing with laughter—her feet in white stockings thrashed the air.

  “A-a-ah! Let me go, evil stepmother!”

  Just before Ada left for home, Daniel caught her in the corridor. He pretended he was going up to his office as if they’d met totally by accident.

  “Have a good night,” Ada said as she skipped down the porch.

  Daniel watched her. “Ada!”