White Shanghai

by Elvira Baryakina

  It had taken Daniel such a long time to prepare everything for his departure. He had only returned for Ada, to take her away in his airplane—she loved flying so much!

  Grief was slowly turning to rage, suffocating him like mustard-gas. How dare she? Felix Rodionov is a briber, venal scum, pure trash. Hundreds of times, Lemoine had used this little thug for his police scams. He’d hooked him onto the opium trade: he was in so deep that Lemoine could clamp down on him anytime he wanted. The boy, possessing no brains, instantly swallowed the bait.

  Ada, my God...are you really just a stupid, greedy tart? A goose?

  2.

  Daniel Bernard was German by birth. He grew up in Prague, then studied at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology before working in one of Krupp’s armament factories.

  On February 2, 1917, he boarded the steamer Sophie in the port of Trieste, heading to Shanghai. An import-export company with a boiling teapot as its emblem awaited him at the destination city. But the transport of tea, bone china and other exotic goods was just a front for the activities of Herr Schwab, a bald-headed man who looked like a dwarf. In boxes, labeled handle with care, bulk stock, traveled all kinds of ingredients necessary to produce artillery ammunition for Germany.

  Daniel’s trip had taken longer than planned: near the Suez Canal the Sophie was arrested by the British on suspicion of cooperation with the enemy. For several months, the captain tried to prove to officials his innocence while the passengers killed time under the guns of a British patrol boat. In the meantime, China declared war on Germany and Austria-Hungary hopeful it could retake the territories occupied by their concessioners. Peking politicians were particularly interested in the prosperous enterprises owned by the nationals of the Central Powers. The Chinese knew perfectly well that surrounded by war fronts, neither Germans, nor their allies could send troops to protect their fellow countrymen.

  The Sophie was finally released and resumed its route. But suffering from acute appendicitis and a high fever, Daniel urgently went ashore in Singapore. Fortunately, he had befriended the captain who introduced him as a Czech to a British doctor—patriotic Englishmen refused to treat enemy patients.

  On February 1, 1918, Daniel arrived in Shanghai, a year since the beginning of his trip and a day after the Chinese government issued a resolution outlining the compulsory deportation for all Germans, Austrians and Hungarians. The Australian deserts awaited them in exile.

  The Vatican and the king of Spain pleaded to abolish the deportation for the sake of old people, women and children who would not survive the long journey. But France and Britain insisted on it, threatening Peking that if the Chinese didn’t stick with the plan they would not get a piece of the pie when the Great War ended.

  To stop the confiscation of his assets, Herr Schwab hurriedly signed papers putting the entire company into Bernard’s name. A note from the kindly captain confirmed that a subject of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Daniel Bernard, was of Czech origin. Thus, a small piece of paper saved him from exile.

  The deportation was continually postponed—all spare vessels were being used to transport American soldiers to Europe. In December 1918, Peking received a dispatch from the British Foreign Office that it was of the utmost importance to deport the Germans, Austrians and Hungarians before a peace treaty could be signed. The fact that the war in Europe had ended a month ago didn’t change a thing. The Central Powers’ citizens living in China were enticingly rich and their new, beautifully assembled steamers, factory equipment and cars undermined the economic influence of the British bigwigs and their allies.

  Buildings, companies, ships—everything was divided between the winners. Even the famous German pharmacy on Nanking Road became American.

  After the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, China didn’t get a single thing promised. Daniel roared with bitter laughter about the Chinese bureaucrats who had bent over backwards to please Europe, torturing innocent people for future gain, and all for nothing.

  He always tried to help his bankrupted countrymen, arranging fake documents for some Austrians and Germans, giving money to buy tickets to Europe for others. To be able to do it, he put on a mask and became a buddy to all those murderers and robbers.

  There were no true nobility in the foreign concessions of Shanghai: all its swaggering gentlefolk were just nouveaux riches pretending to be elite. The vainglorious bourgeois went crazy over anything aristocratic, and Daniel ended up a high-society favorite. The crème de la crème adored him and copied his manners—he was the benchmark for their loafer-sons to aspire to. Role models were in demand, especially those who elegantly combined horse-riding skills with sharp business acumen and the eccentricity of a high-flyer.

  Daniel was a clever person and knew that hatred towards people was a sure path to self-destruction. Unfortunately, his memory was excellent, so he hated them anyway. During big events and balls commemorating the birth of George V or the storming of the Bastille, he would look at his colleagues and friends dressed like dog’s dinners, thinking, This one voted for the expulsion of my countrymen at the Municipal Council meeting; this one pilfered half the money given to feed the deported; this one laid hands on the Deutsch-Asiatische Bank…

  Sometimes he was asked about his early days, how the Czechs suffered under the Austrian yoke. Daniel would talk reluctantly, scantily, and people decided he had endured enough from the oppressors of his youth and stopped asking him to retell his past.

  If you wear a mask for years, it grows into your skin. Daniel began to speak the opposite of what he thought and did the opposite of what he said.

  His first attempt to break the vicious cycle was marrying Edna; the second, his meeting of kindred spirits with Nina Kupina; and the third, his love for Ada Marshall.

  Daniel’s business interests expanded out of Germany’s need for allies after her devastation from war and repatriations. In Berlin, they quickly found that in times of trouble two former enemies can easily be friends, and climbed into bed with Soviet Russia.

  After the Great War, the Russians had nothing better than two or three hundred old airplanes, close to sixty dilapidated tanks and a hundred armored vehicles. This armory wouldn’t make the imperialists quake in their boots. But the Germans had patents, advanced technologies and engineers in desperate need of work.

  One after another, secret war plants sprang to life on Soviet territory with German specialists leading the departments. Weapons were sold all over the world with Daniel setting up the supply chain to China.

  His partner and dear friend was Lemoine, a man of rare talents who understood the inner workings of mechanical devices and people’s psyches. Paul Marie and Daniel were as different as two men could possibly be, but they had one common trait: both of them were outcasts without a past. The Canadian also possessed an amazing bravery and ability to survive, qualities Daniel appreciated above all.

  When the Kuomintang Party started building the Revolutionary Army in Canton, Daniel and Paul Marie knew a big war was imminent. The Russian communists and Chinese nationalists came to an agreement to exterminate the warlords, get rid of foreign concessions and unite China by a combined effort. The Russians hoped this war would start the world revolution and eventually bring China under socialism.

  Moscow was happy to finance huge purchases of German weapons for the Revolutionary Army, and the heads of Krupp company told Daniel to help the Bolsheviks as much as he could—not because they shared communist ideology, but because they had one common enemy: the English, French, Americans and all other winners.

  With Lemoine’s help, Daniel bought old weapons on the black market and sold them to the Bolsheviks. Ironically, most of the arms came from the White Army ships. The Soviet Consul General asked Daniel to solve the problem of the Mongugai. Organized White Army regiments were a thorn in the Bolshevik’s side and they had to be destroyed by any means. The Bolsheviks wanted the conditions to be made unbearable for General Glebov’s people, or a constant conflict to be crea
ted with the foreign officials, but best of all was sending the Cossacks back to Russia.

  Daniel did all he could, involving the menacing old man, Hugh Wayer, who was in debt to him for sorting out his financial matters in Europe. Even though Wayer could wither his stupid policemen with a look, he had no idea about taxes and calculating his profit in banking interest. In return for Daniel’s favors, Wayer would tell the police to look the other way with Lemoine and Sokoloff or any other useful people working under Daniel’s wing. If it was necessary, Wayer would send zealous detectives on vacation or permanently remove them from their positions.

  Captain Wayer would leave Daniel perplexed: so much ardor, so much fervor this man exuded at political meetings! We’ll throw the commies out of Shanghai! We’ll smash the heads of the red hydra! But when it came to his private interests, Hugh suddenly had an affliction of amnesia. He presumed the outcome of historical events didn’t really depend on him and that there would be no repercussions if he helped revolutionaries, smugglers or drug-dealers here and there. Hugh considered he was not responsible for anything.

  Daniel grew tired of people who only deserved his contempt. Everything surrounding him was saturated with hypocrisy: fake friends, fake beliefs and fake love. One day, he realized it was he who had a fake life.

  Sometimes he thought that the only sincere and selfless creature around was his melancholic basset hound, Mucha.

  “Dr. Sun Yat-sen kicked the bucket and General Chiang Kai-shek has taken control over his Kuomintang Party,” Lemoine told Daniel one afternoon. “Let’s leave everything and join his Revolutionary Army. He’ll welcome us with open arms.”

  Daniel was in two minds. It wasn’t the possibility of death in a foreign war that stopped him, but his dandy habits and fear of losing financial freedom.

  “Let’s go,” Lemoine insisted. “There’s nothing holding us in Shanghai, but there we’ll at least have some fun as a farewell. We’ll be doing great deeds, isn’t that what you dreamed of all your life?”

  Paul Marie didn’t care about ideology or justice. He loved heat and danger, a primeval game which granted a man the opportunity to be a man.

  His recklessness was contagious.

  The Revolutionary Army was drilled by Russian and German instructors. Daniel himself watched its maneuvers and exercises—the level of skill they achieved was incredible. Chiang Kai-shek managed to create the most capable army in China and Daniel believed the General would win if his military machine had enough money and ammunition. But both had to be brought in from abroad.

  Chiang Kai-shek knew his political future depended entirely on his allies. His army needed people who knew about modern military equipment, especially airplanes. He didn’t trust the Soviet instructors. These people were not fighting for China’s freedom, but for their world revolution or rather for world supremacy led by Moscow.

  At this moment, their goals were aligned, though Chiang Kai­ shek was sure that when they didn’t need him anymore he would be replaced by a more suitable candidate. That was why he chose advisors unsympathetic to the Bolsheviks and personally offered Daniel the chance to work with him.

  “I need a man who will be in charge of our aviation technical maintenance. Let me know if you have any clever foreign mechanics.”

  “Let’s go,” begged Lemoine again after Daniel explained the offer.

  It was a difficult decision to make. During his last meeting with Nina, Daniel tenderly thought, This is it; this will be the end of this wonderful, enthralling trance. But he knew this way it was better for both of them. His little fox kitsune would never go to war with him: she loved her warm burrow and took good care of her furry tail. She would never understand what made him rush off and join an army to fight for ideals he didn’t care about.

  However, Ada would understand. Daniel knew he could explain everything to her. A lovely girl, a fresh, supple sapling—they needed each other. On the journey back to Shanghai, he savored every thought, imagining how he would take her out of her miserable room and show her the world—the whole of it—in all its beautiful madness.

  But she hadn’t waited for him.

  Maybe Nina had cooked something up or lied to him on purpose?

  With a pounding heart, Daniel leapt behind his steering wheel and tore down the streets. Terrified pigeons scattered from his spinning wheels. At the House of Hope, without turning off the engine, he flew from the car running to the doorway and stumbled straight into Ada carrying a tub of wet washing.

  She jumped backwards. In two predatory jumps Daniel caught her hand. “Is it true? Is it really true? He’s doing it…right here in this shed… his paws around you?”

  A wet rag slapped his face. Ada, surprisingly strong, pushed him away. “Don’t you dare come after me! I didn’t give you any promises. Come once more and I’ll call the police.”

  She’ll call her lover to come sort me out.

  3.

  To sit in front of a blazing fireplace watching the flames with a frozen stare; to keep adding more and more wood—a sacrifice.

  Mucha was humbly knocking on the carpet with his tail.

  Silly dog, it’s not your fault, you can’t help here. Ada chose a young, rangy policeman with a criminal past and a criminal future. A married tea seller just didn’t inspire her.

  His wife walked in. “It’s as hot as hell in here.”

  Oh Edna, Edna, the redheaded woman, darn you to hell. … But, anyway, what would that change? You’ve been sent to this world to mark Daniel Bernard’s mistakes with your teacher’s pencil.

  Edna stood there and crossed her hands over her chest. “Daniel, what’s going on with you?”

  He laughed. Mucha jumped up, lowered his head and started to bark apprehensively.

  “Edna, I’m sorry…” Daniel mumbled. “I’m a fool, I don’t understand anything myself…and you won’t understand anything either.”

  He stood up and picked up his hat. “One day, I’ll tell you everything. But I need to go now. Mucha, come!”

  An hour later, he was in the house of the new Police Commissioner. The officer listened to the story of a Russian detective who traded opium, using accomplices in customs.

  “It will take me more than three years to sort out those bastards in the Municipal Police,” the Commissioner grumbled through his mustache. “But, it’s good that I know.”

  After the Commissioner, Daniel visited Lemoine.

  Paul Marie was wolfing down orange jam in his pompous dining- room. What a picture he made reclining in his wheelchair, part throne and part tank—with a heavy sterling-silver spoon in his hand and a half-emptied glass jar on his lap!

  “I’m leaving for Canton,” Daniel said. “Are you coming?”

  Lemoine licked his spoon. “Well, let it be Canton then. No one will grieve over us here.”

  4.

  On the other side of the Huangpu River, policemen set up a special area for the burning of confiscated drugs. The whole morning they moved boxes of opium there.

  A crowd of coolies gathered on the bank, and the policemen hardly managed to keep them away, shouting, “Move back! Back!”

  Felix was sitting on the stern of a motorboat, watching the porters running with heavy loads on their backs. Instead of burning the last twelve boxes of opium, the officer in charge would burn mastic putty. The dope was supposed to go to Felix Rodionov as payment for his blindness and dumbness.

  Felix had an unusual foreboding. The last time they’d shoved him two boxes of putty instead of opium. They had apologized heartily, saying that it was some kind of mistake: maybe a docker pinched a box. From now on, Felix decided to check everything himself.

  The crowd was unnerving him. What if they went wild and took his opium away a second time? As soon as the motorboat left, the coolies jumped into sampans, twenty people to each, the top planks just above the water.

  A young officer from the Drug Enforcement Division turned to Felix, looking confused. “What do they want? To get high off the
smoke?”

  Felix didn’t answer. The motorboat captain, a Malay with a walrus-like mustache, told him things were off to a good start: the officer in charge would sign off the boxes on the ledger, then the right person from the customs would accept putty instead of opium, and the rest of the hold would all be for Felix.

  The motorboat moored. A loading ramp was set up and the bare heels of the porters started to knock up and down it.

  Felix glanced at the arriving coolies. They moored far away, then went ashore and stood there in little bunches, keeping a respectful distance, waiting.

  In half an hour all the boxes, except Felix’s dozen, were loaded onto a nearby truck. It wasn’t far to drive, just behind the storehouses. Armed policemen climbed in the cab and the cargo area of the truck; boards banged and latches clanged shut.

  Felix glanced at his watch—the customs guy still hadn’t shown up. The Malay captain was nervous, too. “I don’t like it, sir.”

  A car stopped at the quay—finally!—and three young men in civvies jumped out of it, walking towards the motorboat.

  Felix came to meet them, saying, “Good morning!”

  The next moment, he was doubled over from a heavy blow. His wrists handcuffed behind his back.

  “Felix Rodionov, by the order of the Mixed Court you are arrested.”

  The Malay captain, his muzzle smashed and bloody, sobbed next to him, “Damn opium, damn opium...”

  CHAPTER 61

  THE CRIME SUSPECT

  1.

  Every day Lissie would pester Ada with questions, “Tell me about Russia.”

  Where had this sudden interest in Ada’s Motherland come from? Once again something strange was going on with Lissie, like in her magazine phase when she’d suddenly become enthusiastic and chirpy.

  Ada didn’t know what to talk about: tobogganing in the snow? having a sauna in special log huts, with bunches of steamed green birch twigs to stroke one’s back? Great massage technique, by the way. But now it all seemed so far away, as if she’d read about it in someone else’s memoirs. I truly don’t remember anything, but war, Ada thought, saddened. Lissie’s interrogations annoyed her.