White Shanghai

by Elvira Baryakina

  Ada told Klim he had no right to interfere in her life. He never cared for her; he made her go to the Havana and lived on her money. Then he left altogether and only appeared when he had nowhere to spend the night—dozens of fair accusations.

  “And after all that you still want me to report to you?”

  Klim let go of Ada’s hand. His fingers left white marks on her wrist.

  “You’re stupid,” she sniffed. “If I was Mr. Bernard’s lover, I wouldn’t live in the House of Hope!”

  “But he gave you an airplane!”

  “So what?”

  “It cost many thousands. For that money Mr. Bernard could buy half the women of Shanghai.”

  “Maybe he is in love with me?”

  “Then why doesn’t he divorce Edna and marry you? This present is a pure trick; you don’t know how to fly an airplane; you have no idea who or how you would sell it, too. He might as well as given you the Moon. What did he want in return?”

  Ada glanced at him, frightened. “He wanted me to wait till he’s back.”

  “Ada, I’m sorry…” Klim hugged her and pressed her head to his shoulder. “Promise me that you’ll be very careful. And try to keep away from Mr. Bernard. The man is not who he seems.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  2.

  Once the telephone lines started working, Klim phoned Edna. “We need to talk.”

  She agreed and like in good old days they sat in her office.

  “So, we’re having a conference about spouses who’ve been deceived?” Edna said with scorn.

  She’d lost her looks and grown plain. The hair above her forehead was burned out to an unnatural orange shade, and her freckles blurred the features of her face.

  “Nina cheats on you with my husband?” Edna asked.

  Kim tried to avoid her stare. “I’m not sure. That’s why I came here; I want to understand what’s going on.”

  He couldn’t be completely honest with Edna. It was impossible to say to a woman exhausted by love that the object of her passion emanated danger like a train furnace radiates heat. Klim felt the danger, but couldn’t explain it in words.

  Edna said she also had no idea what connected Nina to Daniel. She didn’t know much about her husband.

  “What was he doing before he came to Shanghai?” Klim uttered.

  “I never asked him about that. He’s very secretive and I thought he wouldn’t like it if I was too nosey.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He went to Guangdong Province—to buy tea.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I went with him on the steamer that goes to Canton. They have some rare type of oolong there; Daniel said his clients in Europe are most intrigued by it.”

  Klim left feeling even more uneasy. It had been a meaningless conversation, like a witness hearing in court when everything is already on record. What was the use of this hunt? Nina wouldn’t change, even if he found out that her Daniel drank human blood.

  He could of course tell her that Mr. Bernard lied to everyone. Klim used to work for a tea company and knew for sure that all tea purchases were made during April or May, so Daniel’s trip to Canton in July must have had another purpose. But the secrecy only fueled his wife’s imagination.

  3.

  Nina switched off a lamp and snuggled up to Klim. He was lying, covered to his waist with a silk sheet, breathing evenly and calmly.

  She gently stroked his chest with her fingers.

  Not saying a word, Klim removed her hand. This was the first time he had ever rejected her.

  “Klim?”

  “What?”

  She wanted sympathy, a confirmation that she was loved. Nina hadn’t expected to feel so hurt when she learned Daniel preferred that governess to her. It wasn’t much about jealousy, but more bewilderment: how could he be tempted by a juvenile nobody?

  For several days, she tortured herself thinking, Why? What does this Ada have that I don’t? Youth? Skinny little cockroach thighs? Now, when Nina had Klim back, when everything was going so well, she thought of her passion for Daniel with a shameful embarrassment. It wasn’t even a real love that she had for him, but more an ecstatic, frantic hope to find happiness. He was a support leg, helping her to not fall when she felt alone.

  Nina remembered her fit of fury when Tamara had told her about the airplane. She shouldn’t have revealed her feelings to Klim. She’d vowed not to a million times: If in doubt whether to tell or not, keep quiet. But Klim once assured her she could be honest with him, no matter what. “I will understand,” he said.

  Did he?

  “Klim, hug me?”

  He got up. Frightened, Nina sat up in bed. “Where are you going?”

  “My throat is sore. I need to take something for it.”

  Nina could tell from his footsteps that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom, where the cabinet with medicines was, but to Kitty’s room. She waited for ten minutes, twenty…

  Nina couldn’t contain herself anymore. She went to the door and peered in. A nightlight was on in Kitty’s room; soft animal toys were scattered over the floor. Klim sat at the footboard of the bed—his back slumped, elbows pressed into his knees, fingers clasped together. The lampshade had stars cut out; one was shining on Klim’s shoulder.

  “Daddy, cover me,” Kitty said in her dream.

  Klim covered her brown little legs.

  “And give me the bunny.”

  He did.

  Nina opened the door wider, wanting to come in, but Klim waved with his hand. “Go, go—you’ll wake her up.”

  4.

  Klim met a very downtrodden looking Father Seraphim in the street, with a huge bruise under his eye and one swollen ear.

  “They fired me from the Columbia Club for always having a smashed face,” he sighed. “So, I only work at the Big World now. It’s painful there. I have no time to recover between fights before they call me back. The Chinese are overjoyed when their fighter decks a white man, especially a big one like me. One of our Cossacks is a boxer too and he recently had his broken rib go straight through his liver.”

  “Don’t go there anymore,” Klim said. “I’ll find you another job.”

  When Lazarev heard Seraphim was an unfrocked priest he winced, but promised to take him on for a trial. As Seraphim left, the Colonel beckoned Klim to the side.

  “Do you remember General Glebov?” he asked. “He wants to see you.”

  Klim frowned. “What for?”

  “To thank you for saving his life.”

  “It’s not that simple. I led him into the trap without knowing it.”

  Lazarev nodded in agreement. “We know. Come to my house—but only by yourself. Glebov and I are old friends, but people shouldn’t know he comes to my place.” “Okay, I will.”

  Klim glanced at the Colonel. Maybe it was stupid to agree? Maybe Glebov thought Klim was guilty for his poisoning? But lately, Klim had no desire to keep himself away from danger.

  5.

  Colonel Lazarev rented a small, clean house in the French Concession. His buxom wife with a blonde plait, Anna Mikhailovna, set a table in the backyard and brought over cracklings, a frying pan with potatoes and bowls filled with pickled cucumbers and sour cabbage. General Glebov was already seated.

  “We live Russian-style here,” Lazarev said, opening a bottle of vodka.

  Klim felt uncomfortable. He already didn’t like the conservative nature of this house. Here, every bug knew its place. A husband was the breadwinner, the highest power, a wife—the homemaker, a son—the future warrior. Stern and pale, the boy sat under a tree, carving a stick with his knife. He watched his father and the guests; it was obvious he wanted to come and listen to what they were talking about, but he didn’t dare.

  From time to time, Anna Mikhailovna checked if the men needed anything; it didn’t even occur to her to take a seat with them. Her lot was to serve the head of the family. And Lazarev would prob
ably kill her if he found out she even glanced at another man.

  The Colonel poured vodka into their glasses, “For the White Movement!”

  They emptied their shot-glasses.

  General Glebov put his glass on the tablecloth and extended a hand to Klim. “I want to thank you.”

  Klim shook his coarse palm. “Don’t mention it.”

  “My guys worked it out. Do you remember my adjutant? The young, frisky one in a black astrakhan hat? He was the one who recommended I take an interview in the Bactria restaurant. In the beginning, he denied it and said he found the place randomly, but after we found dollars on him he spilled the beans. He was hired by a stranger who promised to pay big money if he brought me to the right place.”

  “Who was it?” asked Klim.

  “His surname is Sokoloff. He was translating for that legless Canadian, Lemoine, the one who was buying weapons from us. They used to come to our ship almost every week.” Glebov looked intently into Klim’s eyes. “I need to know, how did you guess there was poison in my glass?”

  Klim lied that he’d once interviewed Sokoloff. “I had a vague idea what kind of bird he was. When I saw him in the kitchen, I immediately knew something malicious was going on. Did you catch him?”

  “No. The son of a bitch ran away.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find this feeble Bolshevik,” Lazarev reassured them. “If he’s in the city, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Glebov and the Colonel talked endlessly about the good old days, only stopping when Lazarev’s wife brought a gramophone and played Cossack choir records.

  Klim nodded where necessary, saying the appropriate words, but at the same time kept thinking: Daniel Bernard gave Hugh the idea to remove Glebov. Wayer organized the interview, but it was the Bolsheviks who dealt with the poisoning. Who was the missing link between the police and the communists?

  There also was another chain of strange coincidences. Nina had told Klim Bernard knew Lemoine. It was likely the Canadian introduced Daniel to Sokoloff and if that was the case, then everything fitted neatly into place: Mr. Bernard was behind the attempt on General Glebov.

  Did he really work for Moscow? Quite possibly. Maybe he was not going to Europe, but to the Soviet Union where his bosses were. And now Daniel was on his way to Canton, the capital of the Chinese revolution.

  If this is true, oh darling ladies, Edna, Nina and Ada, I can only feel sorry for you.

  6.

  Klim didn’t want Nina’s company anymore; he neither tried to make her laugh, nor asked how she was doing. He worked till late and went to bed only after she was asleep. Nina didn’t know what to think. Was he still jealous of Daniel? But that was silly! From the very beginning, she said it was only a wound to her vanity.

  But, her husband made it clear he didn’t want to discuss this topic.

  One day, when he was taking a shower, Nina found in the inner pocket of his jacket a wad of letters. They were written in Klim’s handwriting and addressed to his long-departed mother.

  Everyday Nina would wait for one moment when she could search for a new letter. If she found one, she didn’t dare unfold it right away. Her hands shaking, she plucked up all her courage before she could start reading.

  Nina is studying Splendeurs et misères des courtisanes by Balzac. She is tired as after a battle, exhausted. Like Jacob from the Bible, she is fighting something invisible. I watch how she squints her eyes, how the shadows of her eyelashes crawl up and down, how the skin of her hand shines with a beige pearl hue in the lamplight. I watch and I perish.

  Tomorrow Nina is back to war.

  I’m not her ally, not her general. I’m a stargazer, who foretold that my life would be tied to Her Majesty’

  How can I deny my own prophesy?

  If not for these confessions, written hastily on pages torn from a writing pad, Nina would have already thought her husband had grown cold towards her.

  She didn’t dare tell Klim about her secret readings. How could she confess to rummaging through his private belongings? But above all, she was scared Klim would deprive her of this last evidence of his love by hiding the letters, or worse, stop writing altogether.

  CHAPTER 56

  THE MOST DANGEROUS JOB IN SHANGHAI

  1.

  Martha peered at Robert over her glasses.

  “Why do you smoke opium?”

  Her room was exactly how he remembered, with its decorative plates hung on the walls and brocade armchairs arranged around a table. Only the clock was different—a cat with moving eyes and a tail for a pendulum.

  “Nina Kupina hasn’t forgiven me,” Robert uttered softly. “The day her baby died, I said she could take my life. And slowly she does.”

  On the table in front of him was a little pile of charred match remains. He lit a match and waited until it burned up to his fingers, then took another one.

  Martha frowned. “My dear, stop blaming it all on her. No one is forcing you to become a drug addict.”

  Without answering, Robert moved his gaze out the window to the factory chimneys looming behind a lace curtain—not one had smoke rising.

  Martha took his hand confidently. “This strike will soon end. Japanese factories have already started work and in a couple of weeks the English ones will do the same. As soon as the strikers spend all their money, they’ll start fighting with each other about working again. You’ll pull through.”

  Robert brushed her off, “Neither me, nor my father can be helped.”

  “Don’t exaggerate. Who cares about bankruptcy? My company gives you a profit: you won’t go begging.”

  Martha’s business was indeed booming. There were thousands of bored soldiers and seamen in the city, the Chinese entertainment places had all closed—where else could foreigners spend their cash?

  “Don’t pity me,” Robert said. “Money is nothing, it’s not the problem.”

  “What is then? Don’t worry, if profits from my enterprise aren’t enough, we’ll think something up. Even though the Chinese are angry at us, they’re crazy about all Western things. It’s a goldmine! Let’s sell electrical lights for rickshaws? I think it’ll go well.”

  “Listen to me,” Robert interrupted her. “What do you think a man should do, when he has sold his house and stables? His father is under investigation, his wife doesn’t love him, and he has a terrible sin in his heart, a murder. Do you think I should just go and shoot myself?”

  “You’re a fool, Robert Wayer!” Martha raised her voice. “Tell yourself, ‘My heart is full of peace and quiet—’”

  Robert scooped the remnants of the matches into his palm and squashed them in his fist. “No way. Father may have got me out of prison, but I killed two people and for that I’ll be doing time.”

  “Where?” Martha didn’t understand.

  Robert grasped his head in his hands. “Here.”

  Black coal traces smeared his temples and forehead.

  2.

  The Wayers sold their mansion and moved into a small house with gray walls and a black-tiled roof. Ada didn’t like it: the rooms were like shoeboxes and had no electric fans. Though worst of all was it took twice as long for her to get home.

  Klim scared her. If he’d caught wind of Daniel’s present, then others must also know of her airplane. Mr. Bernard was surely planning something. But what? And why had he embroiled Ada in his charade without asking her permission? He had told her his feelings, but would a loving person leave a lady alone for such a long time? Why did he go away without at least giving her some money? What if Edna found out about their little affair and asked Lissie to fire Ada?

  And what if Mr. Bernard was a criminal? What if he purposefully wanted to lure her into the trap? Ada’s imagination was in such turmoil that occasionally it climaxed in utter nonsense: Mr. Bernard is a crazy scientist and does experiments on young women or He wants to sell me into some Chinese mandarin’s harem.

  She complained to Mitya, “I’m scared. What if he’s Jack t
he Ripper!”

  Mitya, a fool, only smiled. “A ripper is a very good occupation. I know one guy, he can gut anyone: a bull or a dog. Earns a good living doing it in no time at all.”

  On her way home from the Wayers, Ada noticed some ruffian stalking her. She pulled out her pince-nez and peered carefully. God, he is following me! A gray coat, a cap and a map-case—a very suspicious look.

  She increased her pace, but he kept up. She jumped into a bakery and hid behind baskets with bread—the gray coat waited for her on the other side of the road.

  Ada’s heart trembled like a rabbit’s tail. What if Mr. Bernard really was a criminal? And this snooper was one of his henchmen? She peeped out of the bakery door and found her manicure scissors in her pocket. If someone is trying to rob you, Betty taught her, hit his arm, leg or butt. This way you won’t kill, but will have time to do a runner.

  The hooligan finally caught Ada almost at her house. She first saw his shadow on the wall, shrieked and turned around. It was the guy from the police, the one who had came to the Wayers about Hobu.

  “What do you want?” she babbled, moving backwards.

  The guy took off his cap. “Do you remember me? I’m Felix Rodionov. We met at Gensan.” He took out a wrinkly envelope, “Here, it’s for you.”

  On the envelope in golden letters was written, “Invitation to the Annual Ball of the Cadet Society in Shanghai.”

  The scissors hit the pavement with a loud clink. Felix picked them up. “You lost these.”

  He had bright pink cheeks, a slightly hooked nose and one front tooth a bit darker than the other. Confused, Ada looked at Felix, and didn’t know how to answer.

  He was playing with her scissors in his hands. “The former cadets chipped in together and hired a hall…we invited an orchestra.”

  This fellow had probably noticed her at the Wayers’ house.

  Ada thought it wasn’t such a bad idea to have a policeman-admirer, just in case she needed to scare away Daniel Bernard.

  She smiled. “Well, I’ll go with you then.”

  What elation she saw on his face!

  3.

  The next day, Felix waited for Ada at the gates of the Wayers’ house. “Do you want me to give you a ride home?” he asked.