“One day, you’ll understand that this can all be easily exchanged for—” Daniel didn’t finish.
“Would you even exchange it for your airplane?” Ada teased.
“If you want, I can give it to you. I’ll teach you to fly.” Daniel took her hand. “Do you know what freedom is? It’s the ability to fly away to where nothing holds you.”
She frowned. “Stop it, please.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll order a gift deed for you.”
“And won’t ask anything in return?”
“Nothing, just wait till I come back. I’ll be away on business soon.”
“You’re either one heck of a liar or totally nuts.”
Daniel kissed her palm. “I’ve gone nuts and very happy about it.”
CHAPTER 52
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL
1.
Colonel Lazarev turned out to be a godsend for Nina. In dark alleyways and wild parts of the city, he sought out many former White Army officers—all hungry and desperate. He organized a boot camp at a derelict textile factory where they practiced close-quarter combat. Shots rang out from dawn till dusk in one of the workshops that he’d adapted into a shooting range.
“If the risk is high, the client must not leave the house without an escort of two armed cars with security,” Lazarev explained to the new recruits. “When a client arrives at his destination, security has to stand in rows to create a live corridor from the car to the porch. You need to especially watch for Green Gang members and other criminal groups. Bandits like secret rituals and this is their weakness. If someone always puts his hat to one side, it’s a bad sign. Another is if he rolls up the sleeves of his silk dressing gown, exposing his cuffs. An attentive bodyguard always notices a Chinese who fans himself or moves his cigarette in a strange way.”
Lazarev was an old-fashioned officer: he treated Nina gallantly with good manners. But matters of business could only be discussed one-onone: if other people were around, he would freeze, clam up and look pensively over Nina’s shoulder. Being under a woman’s command was unbearable for him.
He never spoke about his house, wife or son. All Nina’s invitations to come for dinner were politely, however firmly, refused.
She despised him for his old-fashioned morals and inability to adjust to the situation. After all, couldn’t he organize a security agency himself? It didn’t take a genius or a lot of money. But he preferred to scrape cow skins in a Chinese factory. In any case, he was exactly what she needed, a person who could keep her little security army in order and not meddle in the business side of things.
Lazarev was one of the most active and enthusiastic members of the Russian community in Shanghai. He always helped someone or organized something. Though this element of his life was hidden from Nina. She didn’t ask questions about it and Lazarev never involved her with his endless meetings, donations collecting and anniversary celebrations.
The strike had played directly into Nina’s hands. Chinese merchants were so scared of the wild plebs and foreign soldiers they eagerly hired her bodyguards. Unlike the Japanese or Anglo-Saxons, the Russians weren’t enemies to them. Besides, they couldn’t be members of the Green Gang who gave no peace to Shanghai.
The body-guarding business completely absorbed Nina. With no time to spare, she handed over the art studio to Binbin who suggested they buy out Guo and the other artists from the Jesuits. She spent half the day on her film set and then worked in the studio till midnight. As Nina predicted, other publishers stole her idea as soon as they saw that calendars with fashionably dressed Chinese beauties had successfully sold out last year. Binbin was certain that by November the distributors would be flooded with copycat posters. There was only one solution: draw popular actresses: sign a contract with them so they pose exclusively for Nina’s studio. But the beauties quickly realized they were in demand and raised their prices.
Binbin asked Nina for money, “If we don’t pay them, others will!”
Nina hesitated; her security agency was bringing a stable income, but profit from the studio was almost non-existent. What if the money spent paying actresses never bore rewards? The competitors could easily copy their calendars without permission and it would be pointless to try and sue them. In such matters, she would either have to ask bandits for help or send her own warriors out arm-twisting—Nina wasn’t prepared to do either.
At the same time, she didn’t want to abandon the studio—it would mean Hugh Wayer had won. She knew he had long ago forgotten about her, his plate was full with his own problems, but Nina still wanted to have the last word.
The Wayers were struggling: their major clients were English export-import companies who were all hurt by the strike and simultaneously lodged insurance claims. To make matters worse, the General Trade Union demanded Hugh be punished as the person in charge of killing the students. The Chinese covered the city with billboards “Death to the criminals: Police Commissioner K.J. McEuen, his Deputy Wayer and Inspector Everson who gave the order to shoot!”
Nina gleefully watched the events unfold. Of course, the Chinese wouldn’t be able to execute Wayer, not even jail him, but he wouldn’t get away with it. On the day of the tragedy, he was away from his office, hunting. But who in Shanghai cared about getting the real culprits? The mob needed blood.
For the first time in his life, Hugh was blamed for something he hadn’t even done.
2.
It had been so long for Nina to feel how delightful it is when a loving man hugs you, when in the morning she came across his arm under the blanket and started stroking it—for no particular reason. She would prop up on her elbow and look at Klim sleeping: his thick eyebrows, his pupil moving fast under a closed eyelid. Now it seemed to her that after all these years, the only thing she wanted was the warmth of his company. Everything else only offered false hope.
Several days ago, Nina was consumed in dreams about Daniel Bernard and now she was touching Klim’s coarse hair, very gently, just with the tips of her fingers, and every time a burning glow shot down her nerves.
There was something primeval and animalistic about it, but Nina had so exhausted herself with complex feelings that this was exactly what she needed: simplicity. Two people without a past and future met and started to live together, just because it felt good for them here and now. They existed in a little air bubble, where no events from the outer world could enter. For the first time in many years, Nina felt peaceful, maybe temporarily and maybe undeservedly.
She tried not to think about Daniel. It was too painful; he’d hurt her dignity and came close to almost having her caught red-handed with him.
The only thing she allowed herself was to find out about Ada. Even though Daniel talked of her scornfully, something bothered Nina, as if the girl was becoming a dangerous rival.
“Tell me who she is,” Nina asked Klim. “You slept in the same room for almost two and a half years. I can’t believe there wasn’t a spark.”
He laughed, “That’s nothing! Once I slept on artillery shells for two weeks and incredibly there were no sparks there either.”
When Ada visited her studio, Nina secretly watched her through an open door. Thin, almost unnaturally angular, with a tacky flower in her hair, the youngster reminded Nina of Picasso’s Girl on a Ball. She didn’t expect Daniel to be this tasteless.
But, on the other hand, her Klim wasn’t much better: a cubist creation with his wide shoulders and a triangular face.
Klim was contracted to write articles for the Reuters news agency. Newspapers all over the world were reporting about the strike, and the news was in great demand. He would return home in the evening, tired and full of emotions, throw Kitty to the ceiling and kiss her brown tummy. He pretended he was telling her, not Nina, how he went to the University to look at students who drew patriotic billboards and cooked special glue that makes papers stick to walls forever.
It was like eight years ago, when Klim had come to live with Nina in the house on Grebeshok Hill.
Russia was in a mess with totally insane Bolshevik decrees. Everything had gone to hell, but they just watched it all happen as if they were part of a theater audience, poking jokes and kissing each other.
That happiness returned to her suddenly, and now in the same way, she forgot about her plans and ideas and just asked Klim to stay.
“I told you everything would be great,” he laughed. “But you didn’t believe me.”
Instinctively scared to lose her sudden bliss, Nina tried to guess what could endanger her rekindled love and from which side the blow would fall. The young scoundrel from the police had threatened to deport Klim. General Glebov survived the poisoning attempt and would easily suspect Klim had connections to the Bolsheviks. After all, the Cossacks were quick-tempered people; who knew what they had on their minds?
“I’ll be able to stand up for myself,” Klim promised her when she confided her fears to him.
But she decided to do something about it anyway.
3.
With no electricity, Tamara’s house was dark and quiet. Giving a thousand apologies, her servants had left to join the strike.
“Master, Missy, everyone left, the whole street left. We have to…”
Tony invited a Korean nun to help his wife, but the nun couldn’t stay overnight, so when she left, Tamara and the children sat by candle light, waiting for Tony’s return. He served in the Volunteer Corps and patrolled the city in the evenings.
Nina Kupina arrived, serious and house-proud. She had brought Tamara a kerosene stove. “I thought you wouldn’t have anything to boil water with.”
The boys watched Nina’s every move as she deftly managed pots and spoons. They had never seen a white woman cook before.
“What’s that? Buckwheat?” Tamara was surprised. The smell was extraordinary, straight out of her childhood.
“Five minutes and everything will be ready,” Nina announced. “Thomas, bring the plates.”
They had a feast during the worst of the strike.
The boys giggled—to them it was all a great adventure. The electrical bell at school didn’t work and the pupils were sent home early. A special bus now took the children to school: taking each of them in separate cars now seemed an over-indulgence.
“After all, our life is quite ironical,” Tamara said. “White people announced themselves masters of China, but it’s hard to find a more piteous sight than masters left by their servants. The dockers in the port are probably still getting over the shock: for so long they have tried to rid the country of foreigners, but all they had to do was stop unloading the ships. The foreign devils will go home as soon as the goods start to rot in the holds.”
Nina was beaming, her thoughts far away.
“Something’s happened?” Tamara asked.
She nodded. “Klim and I are together again.”
This news was much more important than the strike. “What about Daniel Bernard?” Tamara asked.
Nina shrugged. “I understood that I didn’t want to repeat Edna’s mistakes. She chose the biggest diamond, put it on her neck happily, but then found that it was too heavy to carry around. Plus there is such a stress that someone else will steal it.”
Oh, really? How interesting, Tamara smiled to herself. Now Nina was repeating her own words in a different way.
Sometime ago, Tamara said that a smart woman falls in love with a man who is strong in spirit and talented, but not handsome. Firstly, no one else would be tempted to lay hands on him—this was essential when you’re not twenty years old anymore. Secondly, he’d never even think to rush after a looker as he was used to the fact that girls didn’t pay attention to him. Thirdly, if his wife was his best friend, then he’d never imagine life without her. He would achieve a lot and put all the trophies at her feet. Men mainly need one thing: to be respected and appreciated.
Tamara was very interested in Klim Rogov. Everything Nina told her about her husband made him sound like quite a remarkable man. But Nina always refused to bring him over.
“Why?” Tamara protested.
“I’m scared. Everything is so fragile. You understand, don’t you?”
Tamara did. A long time ago, she had experienced a similar feeling. After months of hysterics—Will I never walk again?—she became calm. As if someone had turned off a valve inside her and her heart had stopped bleeding. It was a very strange, unnatural feeling when she suddenly turned into someone else. For a long time Tamara was terrified that somebody’s word or look would push her back to those dark days of depression. It seemed now Nina was balancing on a needle point of her own.
“What did Mr. Bernard say when he found out you have a husband?” Tamara asked.
Nina wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Daniel is away again.”
4.
Tony Aulman swept into the house, bringing with him the smell of horses, fires and sweet stiff pomade for his mustache.
“Good evening, ladies. Here, cookies for you. Today the benefactors at the Anti-strike Committee brought us treats.”
He changed for dinner, returning all fresh and fragrant, spread a napkin on his knees and sampled some buckwheat.
“The Chinese are striking in all the major cities—from Hong Kong to Peking,” he said. “They tear into foreign companies and break equipment. Miss Nina, please prepare new divisions of your men: the volunteers and landing force won’t be enough to protect every factory. The strikers demand the police are punished, and with Hugh Wayer busy saving his own butt, this is probably the best time to ask for a license in the International Settlement.”
“I’d like to talk to you about that,” Nina replied. “Would you be able to introduce me to the Chairman of the Municipal Council?”
“To Sterling Fessenden? You don’t need to; we can sort it all out much quicker with the head of the department, Mr. Becker.”
“I want to offer Fessenden a deal. There are thousands of Russians in the city who don’t give a damn about the strike. They are refused work because it’s shameful for a white man to toil in factories. But with the strike on, Fessenden and his friends will have to give up their high and racist principles, so we can run the power plant and water supply again.”
Tony pushed away his napkin. “Can you gather your workers quickly?”
“I won’t, but Colonel Lazarev can: he knows many Russians.”
“In return, you want Fessenden to give you a license for your security business?”
“Not only that. I’d like my husband’s file to disappear from the police records, and I need American citizenship.”
Aulman leapt from the table, flew to Tamara and kissed her cheek. “My dear, we urgently need to talk to Sterling. Thomas, look after Mommy, we’ll be back soon.”
CHAPTER 53
THE COMMUNIST SPY
1.
The police of the International Settlement was totally mobilized. There were not enough hands after more than a hundred Chinese officers had been fired for going on strike. Those higher up began to reshuffle entire departments.
Johnny Collor appeared in Felix’s office and sat on the other side of his table.
“Well, buddy, we’ll be working together again, this time chasing Bolshevik instigators. How’s life?”
Felix never imagined he’d have another heart-to-heart conversation with Collor, but somehow it happened. He told Johnny the story of General Glebov’s poisoning.
“It’s revolting!” Felix exclaimed, heating up. “The Russian Consul General received a petition to accept the Mongugai under the Soviet flag. While Glebov was on his deathbed, the Anisimov’s people had a celebration and left to Russia. Hooraying all the way…”
Collor squinted his eyes. “And Glebov survived?”
Felix nodded. “I wanted to send him tobacco, not sure what else to do. … He didn’t accept: now he sees traps everywhere. He and his Cossacks are lying low and only trusted people can go near him.”
“Who do they blame for the poisoning?” Collor asked. “Your agent?”<
br />
Felix shrugged, “I have no idea.”
“And where is this agent now?”
“Nowhere. Wayer called yesterday and ordered Rogov’s police record be destroyed—there is no Rogov and never was.”
Johnny was silent. Felix didn’t know what he wanted from Collor. Advice? Compassion? He’d exhausted himself thinking of how he could have guessed Wayer’s plans and prevented the Mongugai escape. “Johnny,” Felix said quietly, “how can I work for the police if my boss is on the Red’s side and kills my companions in arms? It seems like I’ve sold myself for a crappy salary.”
“You’re a good fella, Felix,” Collor sighed. “Don’t blame yourself. But be more careful and clever next time. Let’s get to work. We need to keep an eye on these Chinese. We’re in a besieged fortress: if we don’t watch out, any tiny crack could cause the whole wall to collapse.”
Good fella… thought Felix. Collor was fighting opium, and he, Collar’s supposed friend, was trading it, plus helping Lemoine to smuggle arms. Who knows where Lemoine sent his rifles? Maybe to the striking Chinese or even Theodor Sokoloff?
Felix failed with Lemoine’s assignment regarding Nina Kupina, and now the damned Canadian looked at him with barely concealed contempt.
“Why did you hand my lady to your big boss? I asked you to fix it up quietly so Wayer wouldn’t get nosey about the fascists attack. Now I have to blush in shame because of you.”
Lemoine had Felix on the hook—one word and he’d be imprisoned, if not executed. Felix made excuses, apologized and tried to blame someone else. He just couldn’t tell Lemoine he’d lost courage in Wayer’s office. Old Hugh drilled him with his snake eyes, yelling so loud it was heard on the street. He had Felix shaking in his boots. If he fires me, where to then? To work for the bandits or thieves?
Felix knew he owed Lemoine a great deal when the Canadian said, “This time I forgive you. You’re young and silly. But if anything like this happens again, I’ll punish you and, believe me, I’m an expert in this.” Felix felt as if he had been spat on.
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