Shanghai Story: A WWII Drama Trilogy Book One

by Alexa Kang

  “You did?” Zelik rubbed his fingers over his mustache. Eden could almost see him chuckle.

  “I sure did. But I learned from that. I understand now that it takes a very different mindset to deal with the Chinese. I know I still have much more to learn, but I will try my best if you give me a chance.”

  Zelik glanced at her application. “I see you listed Rabbi Meir Ashkenazi as your reference.”

  “Yes. I met him doing volunteer work for the Jewish Defense League.”

  “Rabbi Ashkenazi and I are very good friends.”

  Eden loosened her fingers. That was good to know. One thing she’d learned well in China—it never hurt to have connections.

  “I’ll be frank, Miss Levine. I only invited you in for an interview because he asked me to give you a chance. But now, I have a new plan in mind.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How would you like to write a weekly column about your experience being a Jewish girl starting a new life in Shanghai after leaving Germany?”

  Her own weekly column? She couldn’t be more thrilled. “I would love it. Do you think people would want to read it?”

  Zelik furrowed his forehead and sighed. “I think we’ll be seeing many more Jewish refugees coming, and you know as well as I do why that will be.”

  Yes. Hitler. Every day, his sphere of menace grew thicker and wider.

  Zelik picked up a photo on his desk and showed it to Eden. “This was me in 1918. The young man next to me is my brother. This picture was taken outside our home in Kiev.”

  Eden studied the photo. She could definitely recognize Zelik, especially his wide cheeks. As for his brother, no one could’ve mistaken them for anything other than siblings. They had the same roundish frame, only his brother was taller. She smiled and gave the photo back to him.

  Zelik put the photo back in its place. “Do you know about the Russian pogrom?”

  “I’ve read about it in history books.”

  “The persecution of Jews in Russia had gone on for decades. The farther the country expanded, the more anti-Semitism spread. The Bolshevik Revolution made everything even worse. Things were calmer when the Reds occupied the country for a while, but when the Whites chased them out, the real massacre began.” He stared at the photo. “My brother was burned alive. My parents were killed too. I was the only one who made it out of there. I followed a group of refugees running away to Harbin and here I am, today.”

  Eden wanted to respond, but what use were words to someone who had suffered a horrific loss?

  “Anyway, I see a lot of the same attitudes coming out of Germany right now.” Zelik sat back and clasped his fingers over his stomach. “I remember the Jews being blamed for everything when I was growing up in Ukraine. Even the Bolshevik Revolution was our fault. I hope things won’t get worse for the Jews in Germany, but I’m not optimistic. If I guess correctly, we’ll see more and more Jewish refugees landing in Shanghai. A regular column where they can read about the experience of someone who had to learn to adjust to life in Shanghai could be very helpful to them. It can offer them something positive to look to as well.”

  “I understand,” Eden said. “I think I can do this.”

  Zelik looked satisfied. “Just so you know, my motives aren’t all altruistic. We’re not the North China Daily News, or even the Shanghai Evening Post & Mercury. I want to see our paper offer up something they haven’t.”

  Eden couldn’t hold back her joy any longer. In her mind, she was already thinking of things she could write about. What would be interesting topics for other Jews? The different activities at the Shanghai Jewish Club and synagogues? Chinese music and cinema? Or what about something more serious? Should she write about the racial segregation the Shanghailanders had imposed in certain places to exclude the Chinese? She’d like to write a column, maybe two, about the stateless status of German Jews too.

  Before she could think further, Zelik said, “I have to tell you, I have doubts about hiring a woman for a reporter. You will be asked to do regular news reports on top of your weekly column. I want people who can get tough and dirty. I expect my reporters to dig into every nook and cranny and get the story. I need to see proof that you can do that. I’ll give you a two-month trial period. If you can show me you can handle my assignments, the job is yours, and you can start your column.”

  What more could she ask? “Thank you, Mr. Zelik.”

  Zelik got up and opened the door. “Dottie.”

  Dottie hurried into his office. “Yes, Mr. Zelik.”

  “Miss Levine here will be joining our staff.” He turned to Eden. “Dottie will get you set up and get you on payroll. Can you start work next week?”

  Eden stood up. “Yes, sir.”

  “One more thing. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He called out to the floor again, “Charlie.”

  A man, in his late twenties or early thirties, entered.

  “Charlie, this is Miss Eden Levine, our new rookie reporter.” Zelik glanced at her.

  For a moment, Charlie looked surprised, but he quickly recovered. “Welcome on board.” He winked. His slicked-back hair looked a little too perfect.

  “This is Charlie Keaton, our senior editor,” Zelik said to Eden. “He’s been with us for six years. He can show you the ropes. Learn from him.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Keaton.” Eden put on her best smile.

  “Good,” Zelik said. “Just remember, this is a tough job. You’re not hired to write the society page, you understand?”

  “Yes,” Eden said. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

  She promised herself she would not do anything less.

  16

  Web of Corruption

  Early in the morning, Clark entered Tang Wei’s office and closed the door. Without saying a word, he tossed a document on top of Tang’s desk.

  Tang looked up from his newspaper. The ashes of the cigarette burning between his fingers dropped and landed on the half-eaten breakfast of sesame pancake next to the phone.

  “Don’t ask me how I got this,” Clark said. “It’s a report on the Green Fortune Enterprises’ transactions for the last six months. The Green Enterprises is a front. The Green Gang uses it to cover up their dirty tracks.”

  Nonchalantly, Tang laid down the paper and put his cigarette in the ashtray. He picked up the report and flipped through the pages, giving each page a mere glance.

  “You see the payments from the Green Enterprise to Sītu?”

  Tang motioned at the seat across from him. “Sit down.”

  Ignoring his invitation, Clark asked, “Did you know about this?”

  “Take a seat,” Tang said again. Reluctantly, Clark pulled out the chair.

  Tang spread his elbows on his desk. “I’m not even going to question why you’d concern yourself with the private dealings of a high government official. My advice to you now? Burn this.” He waved the report in the air.

  “What?”

  “Destroy this. Pretend you never saw this.” Tang put down the report.

  “This is clear bribery.” Clark pointed to a transaction listed on the first page. “Sītu’s accepting payment from the biggest criminal syndicate in Shanghai. Not only that, he used me. Do you know what this payment was for? He colluded with the Green Gang to stomp out a rival gang. I asked for his help to stop my servant’s husband from going to an opium den. He used it as an excuse to give the Green Gang more control.” The image of Ah-Jin’s dead body came to his mind. “People got killed. People who shouldn’t have died. This is blood debt.”

  Tang closed his hands. “Don’t mind me saying this, but that was your negligence. What were you thinking, going to Sītu asking for help with something like this? I was gone from the office for only a week and you got yourself into this mess.”

  “We work for Sītu. I thought he was a superior I could respect. I asked him for help with an inconsequential small favor. He was the one who talked to me about combating drug problems and tu
rned it into a big ordeal. He even said eliminating opium addiction should be our common goal.”

  “Our common goal is to solidify power,” Tang replied with a firm look in his eyes. “Until then, everything else is just empty talk.”

  Clark couldn’t understand. Why did Tang want to put the matter away? He came to Tang looking for an ally. All Tang was doing was infuriating him even more.

  Tang relaxed and rubbed his nose. “You’ve been in a foreign country too long. Otherwise, you would’ve seen this coming. If you’d worked here longer, you’d have known not to trust Sītu so easily, or anyone else for that matter.”

  “I expect corruption, but does Sītu have to take bribes from the Green Gang? There have to be other ways to benefit himself without resorting to colluding with felons.”

  “What would you do if you could have everything your way? How would you do better?”

  “I wouldn’t aid gangs and criminals.”

  “Oh, you think it’s that easy?” Tang snickered. “All right. Fine. Let me draw it all out for you. The KMT has nothing but needs everything. It needs money, weapons, real estate, people. The list goes on. We’re fighting the Communists. We’re fighting the Japanese. We asked all the so-called world powers for help. Britain, America, France, and what do they do? Pay lip service. Who’s left to help us? Who comes to our aid when there are riots and uprisings? Who steps in when the Japanese start another one of their ‘incidents’?”

  Clark looked out the window. He didn’t want to hear Tang’s answer.

  Tang pushed his newspaper across the desk to show him a photo of the National Revolutionary Army. “Look at our military. Even you can see our army isn’t anything like the British or the French armies, or the German army. We’re not even like the Russian army. You know what our NRA units are? Bandits. Thieves and vagabonds serving independent military commanders ruling different parts of the country. Warlords, isn’t that what the foreigners call them? The NRA slapped a uniform on these robbers to make them look like hot-blooded sons and daughters of the country. Warriors of the people. In fact, they’re nothing but thugs. If they weren’t soldiers, they’d be criminals. Even you know that. And criminals need to protect their turf.” He picked up his cigarette and took a drag. “The KMT made a pact with them. They throw their support behind the KMT, the KMT lets them keep the run of their territories any way they please. And do I need to remind you Chiang Kai-shek himself rose to power as a soldier? Now look at Shanghai. How do you think the KMT could keep hold of this place if they didn’t have the Green Gang behind them?”

  Clark looked away from the newspaper. Why couldn’t China have patriotic citizens who wanted to fight to defend their country like Britain, France, or America? When Britain and France changed from monarchies to republics, their new regimes had their citizens’ support. The American revolutionaries, too, didn’t have to depend on criminals to overthrow imperial control when they founded their country. Why did the KMT have to rely on robbers and thieves and self-serving warlords to fight? No wonder it was said that the Chinese people were like a washbasin of loose sand. Utterly lacking in unity.

  Tang wasn’t done. “Think about it. How do the army commanders, these ‘warlords,’ pay their men? Do they farm? Do they open battery factories like your father?”

  If only the answer wasn’t so obvious. “Opium.”

  Tang pointed his finger across the table.

  Clark lifted his head, returning Tang’s gaze. However much he didn’t want to, he had to face the truth.

  “Half the KMT’s operations is funded by opium,” Tang said. “Here you are, getting all upset over a measly payout to Sītu. Even if the Green Gang sends opium funds to the KMT, it shouldn’t be a surprise. Sītu was doing the KMT’s dirty work. If he skims a little off, you think it matters?”

  No. Not when Tang explained everything this way.

  Tang stubbed out his cigarette. “Perhaps I bear some blame for this. I recruited you to work here. I should’ve told you privately the ins and outs of how the party runs. Honestly, I wanted to shield you from things that are too complicated. I thought as long as your involvement is limited to dealing with the Americans, and if you’ll be returning to work for your family business anyway after a few years, you’re better off if you remain oblivious. That was my mistake. I misjudged. If it’s not too late, let me make up for it. I’ll tell you what I know. This mess was tied up with illicit drugs, so let me begin with that. Do you know who Du Yu-Sheng is?”

  “The president of the National Board of Opium Suppression Bureau.”

  “Yes.” Tang said. “You know who else he is?” A wry smile appeared on his face. “Big Ear Du. The Green Gang’s grandmaster.”

  “Grandmaster? Green Gang?” Clark tightened his lips. “You speaking the truth?”

  “Why would I lie to you? That’s not all. He runs the biggest heroin manufacturing factory in Shanghai. Right out of that temple he built for his ancestors.”

  “Does the KMT know this?”

  “Know it? Chiang Kai-shek himself went to the celebratory banquet when the temple opened.”

  Clark dropped his shoulders. How could this be? Everything was a facade. Nothing was what it appeared to be.

  He threw Tang a suspicious glance. “How’d you know this? Do you have dealings with the Green Gang too?”

  “No.” Tang held up his hands. “Absolutely not. How old were you when you went abroad? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “You were still young then. And being away for so many years, you aren’t aware of everything in this city. Rumor as to his role in the Green Gang has circulated for years, even though no one has ever confirmed it. After I joined the KMT, I did some investigations on my own. No ulterior motive. I only wanted to keep my eyes open. Like they say, know yourself, know the others, and a hundred battles will yield a hundred victories,” Tang concluded with a smile. His smile reminded Clark of the time when Tang gave his valedictorian speech in front of the whole student body back in secondary school. Like always, Tang was on top of everything.

  If only he’d been sharp like Tang. Why didn’t he think of looking deeper into what was happening around him beyond the surface? Had the years in America made him gullible and dull?

  Either way, the blame for what happened to Ah-Jin came right back to him.

  Feeling utterly defeated, Clark took back the bank report. “If everything is as you said, then what is the point of anything? Why even have a National Board of Opium Suppression Bureau?”

  “Don’t you see?” Tang sighed. “If opium use can’t be wiped out, what’s the next best thing? Control. Who better to keep the opium market under control than the one with the highest stake? With Big Ear Du at the helm, backed by the government, we avoid a lot of violent gang fights and unnecessary deaths. Nothing gets out of hand and the city stays safe. Common folks go on about their lives. Du keeps the run of the black society. The party gets the funds it needs. Everyone’s happy. Besides, people like the idea of the government taking actions to combat opium. All people really need is the idea that the government is taking things in the right direction. We can achieve that by staging a few highly publicized drug busts every now and then. The message is what they want. What actually happens, very few people care.”

  “That’s how you look at it? No wonder you’re a propaganda specialist.”

  With a smile, Tang opened his palms to admit the obvious.

  Clark rolled up the bank report in his hand. Victory. Stability. Peace. Could he reconcile this? Could he accept peace if the price of peace required collaboration with the worst elements of society?

  “I know how you feel,” Tang said with full sympathy. “I wish too things didn’t have to be this way. But we can’t give up. If we do, the country will collapse. Everything would fall into chaos. The wrong people could come into power. People who don’t share our vision for the future or dictators with no respect for the rights of the people. Is that what you want?”
r />   “No.”

  “Our only way is to take it step by step. At the moment, we have to make compromises. Sometimes even with criminals.”

  “This isn’t right,” Clark muttered, but he couldn’t even convince himself.

  Tang let that slide. “About that husband of your maidservant—”

  “Ah-Jin.”

  “—Ah-Jin. Don’t be so hard on yourself. He was unlucky. The Sons of Dragons were taking a bigger bite than they should. They thought they could get away with defying the Green Gang. My guess is both the Green Gang and the KMT wanted to put them down. Ah-Jin came as a convenient excuse. If it wasn’t him, they would have found something else. Besides, whatever you may think of the Green Gang, they keep this city in check. Right now, what we need most is stability. As long as the status quo is in place, the gangs can keep this city more stable than both the government and the police combined. Until the KMT secures its power, they’re a necessary evil.”

  Clark listened, feeling a sense of loss. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. Back when we were in school, you were always the role model of ethical conduct.”

  Tang waved away the thought. “One learns to adapt. You will too.”

  Would he? Could he? Clark wasn’t sure.

  “If you ask my opinion, the gangs and warlords aren’t our biggest problem. I’ve been saying all along, we need to pay more attention to the Japanese.” Tang tossed his newspaper across the desk to show him an article about a gunfight breaking out between the Japanese soldiers and the Chinese police. “Do you have a feeling there have been more and more skirmishes lately between their soldiers and our people? And why are there so many Japanese soldiers here? More and more are arriving. They aren’t like the American and European ones either. Those are just doing time here until they can take leave to go play. The Japanese ones guard their territories like a fortress. I think something’s not right. The problem is, no one higher up would pay closer attention.”

  Clark ran his eyes down the article. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t our intelligence pick up on it if the Japanese are making any changes or moves?”