Heart of Lies (17 page)

Leo debated making a quick departure. He was sure that he did not want to be a part of anything this man would have to offer, but he
sensed that he had been lured into a trap, and had to learn the nature of it before he could plan his escape.

Leo dropped into a chair and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee, wanting to give the impression that he was comfortable and not at all surprised. “Of course, Mr. Liu, I knew of your affiliation with this bank,” he lied smoothly, “But I didn’t think that my presence here would concern you.”

“Ah, but it concerns me exclusively, Mr. Hoffman. You see, it has come to my attention that you are seeking employment.”

“I thought it might be amusing to learn something about the banking business.”

Liu did not acknowledge his remark. “It has also come to my attention that you recently lost a great deal of money, that you have mortgaged your house, and that your lovely wife is expecting a child.”

Leo flushed with humiliation. He leapt up, determined to avoid any more embarrassment.

“Please,” Liu went on in a cordial tone, “these are simply facts that have come to my attention. I do not mean to insult you.”

Defensive anger tugged at the edge of Leo’s self-control. “Not much gets by you, I suppose. But why are you so interested in me?”

Liu considered this query, apparently unperturbed by Leo’s hostility. “If you will retake your seat, I can explain.” They stared at each other for a moment. Leo, torn between his pride and his need to know the answer to the question he’d just posed, deliberated silently. Liu waited, still as a spider in its web. Leo sat down. Liu spoke.

“You see, Mr. Hoffman, at the time of our first transaction, I surmised that you were a man of unique talents. I am engaged in a vari
ety of business enterprises, some of which, such as this bank, are quite straightforward. Others are more complicated.”

Like running revolutions and smuggling opium
, Leo thought to himself. He kept his face blank as Liu continued.

“For these, more complicated enterprises, a man with your particular talents could be very useful. However, when we first met, I suspected that, for you, mere financial reward would not produce the…flexibility…required to assist me in those enterprises. So I waited. And I collected information.

“It is true, I have made it my business to know yours. I know many, many things about many people. As I told you at our first meeting, nothing is as valuable as information. Information overlooked by others often proves helpful. When I learned that you were seeking employment, I thought that now would be an opportune moment to discuss your talents, and that we could once again prove useful to each other.”

Leo could sense the bait dangled before him. It had been so easy the first time; one compromise and he’d made a fortune. He was embarrassed and angry, but he was also curious.

“What did you have in mind?”

“You have an unusual ability to make a singular impression…while at the same time blending into your environment. An old Russian believes you are a Russian aristocrat. A concierge insists you are a British lord. An American tycoon thinks you are a self-made millionaire, months before you have succeeded in making a fortune. And while Shanghai is not a closed society, after a short period of time, you and your wife…what is the expression? You are ‘rubbing elbows’ with our town’s most elite citizenry, in a manner that is particularly impres
sive given that your fortune is…was…comfortable, but not grand enough to buy that much influence.

“All this goes beyond your skill with languages; men trust you, and women find you desirable. Your charm is a key to many doors. Doors I need to go through, and cannot, because I have a certain reputation, and because I am Chinese. Frankly, I need ears behind those doors. You can be those ears.”

Leo was flabbergasted. “Are you telling me that you want me to spy for you?”

“An indelicate description of your duties, but not entirely incorrect. Of course, you would be given a regular position, with the title of vice president, at this bank. You would assist in garnering new business; meet potential clients, explain our services. All quite legitimate. A business conducted over dinner and on the golf course, with the assistance of a generous expense account. In exchange for all this, I will occasionally ask that you execute a special errand. But, for the most part, you will just…keep your ears open.”

Leo could not believe what he was hearing. It was all so simple. So easy. And so vile. Any information he gave Liu would surely be used for nefarious purposes. He would never work for this man. He stood up again.

“Thank you for the compliment,” Leo said, his sarcasm contradicting the meaning of his words. “I am deeply honored that you think I’m worthy of your consideration. But I’m afraid that I cannot accept your offer.” With this, Leo stood up and took three steps toward the door.

He reached for the doorknob, but his hand never touched it. His fingers halted, inches away from the crystal orb, as he heard Liu serenely inquire:

“Are you aware, Mr. Hoffman, that under the Napoleonic code there exists no statute of limitations for the crime of murder?”

Leo dropped his arm and turned around. Liu was still looking directly at him. His impassive expression had not changed. Leo knew what he was about to hear.

“You may not know that I have a very good relationship with the French Prefect of Police here in Shanghai. Letters and warrants regarding crimes committed in every French-speaking corner of the world pile up on the poor man’s desk, just in case a perpetrator or two sneaks into the French Concession of Shanghai. My friend would drown under these papers, if I did not help him sort through them.

“After our original transaction, I became curious as to the origin of your diamonds. I wondered if perhaps any of my friend’s papers pertained to the theft of a quantity of perfect stones. I discovered this document. Of course, I have made photographic copies. Important documents have a way of disappearing. One must protect them.”

Leo took the proffered piece of paper. It was a warrant, issued in Paris, for the arrest of an unnamed Hungarian national, on charges of theft, counterfeiting, fraud, and murder. The document contained a precise physical description of Leo. It was dated December 23rd, 1925.

Liu kept talking, never taking his eyes off Leo’s face. “My friend has never seen this. He is a busy man. He does not have to see it. He will not. If you will agree to be…flexible.”

Leo’s brain was churning. He tried to think of a way out. He must take Martha and leave Shanghai.

And go where? Brazil? In her condition she would never survive an ocean crossing; the trip from Europe had nearly killed her. He wouldn’t
take any risks with Martha’s health. Back to Germany? There was no guarantee he could even get into the country. Hong Kong? Even if he could get in without proper documents, the gangster had connections there as well. He would not be beyond Liu’s grasp.

Within a few brief seconds he considered and rejected a dozen alternatives. There was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped. He knew it. And Liu knew it, as he waited for Leo’s response.

“My wife must never find out about this. I must have your word on that.”

Liu leaned forward and took the warrant from Leo’s hand. “A most excellent decision, Mr. Hoffman. Most men find me a very reasonable employer…as long as I receive their full cooperation.”

SHANGHAI, 1934

“Mr. Hoffman, your wife and daughter are here.”

“What a nice surprise. Please send them up.”

In a moment his four-year-old daughter stampeded into the room, followed closely by a breathless Martha. “Madeleine, no running inside,” she exclaimed as they burst in.

Maddy stopped short. Then, with a mischievous grin worthy of a leprechaun, she began to tip-toe with exaggerated stealth to where her father squatted, arms outstretched. She didn’t fly into his embrace as she usually did; instead, she paused a few feet in front of him, and pointed down at her feet.

“New shoes. New shoes. New shoes!” she cried with delight, picking up one foot and nearly planting it in Leo’s face.

“Oh, my. Those are beautiful, Maddy.”

Maddy put her foot back on the ground and beamed. Then she stamped her feet and spun in a circle, arms outstretched like a whirly-bird.

“She just had to have the red ones,” Martha explained.

Maddy stopped spinning. “My shoes have a name, papa. They are MARY JANES. And they’re made of PATTED leather. That’s why they’re so shiny.”

“Madeleine’s marvelous Mary Janes,” Leo said warmly, finally getting his hug, which his daughter returned with enthusiasm. He lifted her up and sat her down on his desk.

“Did I ever tell you the story about the princess with the magic shoes?”

Maddy’s little face glowed. “No, papa. You haven’t told me that story.”

“Well I’ll have to remedy that. Those shoes were red, too. Red and gold. They were given to the princess by a powerful wizard.”

Maddy clapped her hands with eager anticipation. “Can you tell me the story right now?”

Martha interrupted. “No, darling. Papa is working now.”

Maddy pouted. “Tonight?”

“I’m sorry, little love. I have a business dinner tonight.”

“You do?”

Leo turned to his wife. “Yes. I’m sorry. It came up very suddenly. A couple of prospective clients in from the States want to be shown around.”

“Then, tomorrow? Can I hear the story tomorrow?” Maddy asked sweetly, and Leo was once again struck by her resemblance to her mother. She had Martha’s green eyes, heart-shaped face, and enchanting smile. All he’d added to her beauty was a mane of curly black hair, just like his own.

“Yes,
ma princesse
, I promise, I’ll tell you the story tomorrow,” Leo replied as he helped her jump down off the desk.

Maddy dashed back to her mother. “Is it time for ice cream now? I ate all my lunch.”

Martha smiled and looked back to Leo. “Our visit has two purposes. One, to show you Maddy’s new shoes—”

“My Mary Janes,” Maddy added.

“—and to ask you if you could join us for an ice cream.”

“I’d love to.” He leaned over his desk and pushed the button on his intercom. “Miss Yu, I’ll be going out for an hour or so. I’ve been invited to accompany two beautiful ladies for ice cream.”

“Yes, sir.”

He glanced at the papers on his desk. Liu’s note still lay there, unopened. Well, it could wait.

He walked over to Martha and gently caressed her cheek. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

“You don’t have to tell me every day, darling,” she answered, looking both pleased and slightly embarrassed.

He picked Maddy up. “But I should. I love you both. And I want you to know that every minute of every day.”

“And we love you,” Maddy declared, depositing a kiss on her father’s face with a loud smack.

“Oh, I think this little girl might get two scoops of ice cream today,” he said, and his heart soared again at the sight of his daughter’s joyful smile.

One of Liu’s shadowy minions had left the note on Leo’s desk at the bank earlier that morning. He ignored it for hours, struggling with his conscience, trying to convince himself that there was still a way out. He could send Martha and his daughter somewhere safe, then wait for
Liu to summon him and refuse to submit to this request. He would go to jail; Liu would manufacture whatever evidence the French police needed to make sure of that. He might even hang. But at least he would be free.

And never see his wife and child again. Never feel Martha moving underneath him, never feel the warmth of her breath on his neck, never hear his precious daughter’s laughter, or watch her beautiful green eyes grow wide with excitement as he told her a thrilling story about princesses and dragons and knights who rode magical horses and came to the rescue.

No, he could lose his liberty and survive. But he could not lose them.

For the first four years it had been bearable. With a working knowledge of all the major languages spoken in the Concessions, Leo became a fly on the wall of the Tower of Babel that was Shanghai. In fact, his meetings with Liu were rare. At times he received a note containing a name, and he would undertake to find out all he could about that person. Or about a pending business transaction, or a government raid. It was not difficult work. Just distasteful.

And Liu kept his word. He paid Leo handsomely to lead his double life. Established at the bank, Leo continued to live the life of a well-to-do businessman during a time of worldwide economic depression. No one in Leo’s social circle knew that he was on Liu’s generous payroll. No one knew that a confidence whispered at the bar might make it to Liu’s ears. No one knew that a boast about a business coup might be used to help a competitor. No one knew that Leo Hoffman could not be trusted, because everyone did.

He tried not to connect the information he’d passed on to Liu with
the arrest of one man; he closed his eyes to the financial ruin of another. Those men were not innocent. They’d made their choices. Leo was paying the price for his own mistakes; and they paid for theirs.

But now Liu had raised the price. Leo had access to women who were unable to keep their desires, or their husbands’ secrets, to themselves, he’d explained. Another valuable source of information. Liu expected Leo to exploit it.

Amelia Simmons, he’d said. She was a former cabaret singer, now married to one Reginald Simmons, who worked for a tobacco export company but lived a lifestyle not in keeping with his salary. Liu then handed Leo a picture of the woman, one that had been cut out of a local newspaper. It was a photograph of a throng of people outside the Cathay Theater, waiting to attend the Shanghai premier of
It Happened One Night
, starring Clark Gable. Although Amelia was just one person in a very large group, her face, circled in the photograph, was clear enough for Leo to be able to recognize her later. “Become friendly with Amelia,” Liu instructed, “and find out how Simmons really makes his money.”

Leo told himself that he wasn’t really being unfaithful. He told himself he was just like an actor paid to play a love scene. He was no different than Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn, except he had no choice but to follow Liu’s direction. He was not allowed to walk off the set.

Just before the bank was about to close for the day, he picked up the note and tore open the envelope.

T
HE
B
LACK
C
AT
was all it said.

The Black Cat fell several levels below the fashionable clubs that he and Martha frequented. It was the type of establishment where a reasonably wealthy person would only go when seeking an opportunity for
extracurricular entertainment while minimizing the chances of running into one’s reasonably respectable spouse.

He’d been there about an hour before she came in. Amelia looked like many of the dance hall girls in Shanghai, or, as in her case, a dance hall girl who’d married into a better situation: blond hair cut in a fashionable bob, long legs well-displayed under an expensive dress that was cut just a little too low. She was with a man who looked to be several years younger than she was, probably still in his early twenties. He was already staggering when they sat down. Amelia looked around. It didn’t take long for Leo to catch her eye.

Leo smiled and gave a nod indicating the presence of Amelia’s inebriated escort. She rolled her eyes. He went over to their table.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not ’f you pick up the next round,” the young man slurred.

“My pleasure. What are you drinking?”

Amelia answered. “Champagne.”

“Done.” The waiter, smelling new blood, was already hovering behind Leo. “Champagne, please. House best.” Leo did not expect the Black Cat’s bar to carry any champagne that was remotely drinkable, but it would be overpriced nonetheless.

Amelia reached for her cigarette case. “Allow me,” said Leo, taking it from her. He removed a cigarette, placed it gently between her lips, and lit it for her, gazing into her eyes the whole time.

The unexpected intimacy of this maneuver seemed to please her. She blew out the first puff of smoke and smiled back at him.

“And you are?”

“Leo.”

“Amelia.”

Her escort put his head down on the table and began to snore. Leo gave him an amused look. “Wore him out pretty early, didn’t you?”

“Oh, not me. He’s just a baby. My cousin.”

“I take it your cousin is just visiting?”

“You could say that.”

“From where?”

“Wherever inconvenient cousins come from.”

Leo smiled. “And if you want to send him back to where he came from?”

“You have to come up with cab fare, I suppose.”

“Allow me.”

“That’s very gracious. But give the poor thing a minute to collect himself. I’d hate for him to be carried out horizontal.”

“Whatever you desire, Madame.”

This evening is definitely looking up
, Amelia thought. The kid had gotten drunk so quickly, she figured she wasn’t going to get what she wanted out of the evening, which was a disappointment. Amelia liked getting what she wanted.

In fact from birth Amelia had focused on just one goal: her own satisfaction. She ran away from home at the age of fifteen to escape the drudgery of her family’s working-class existence in a small town in Michigan, and going to San Francisco would have been a good start, except that the man with whom she left neglected to mention that he was already married. He handed her over to a friend in the entertainment business, who took one look at Amelia’s legs and decided that she ought to be a dancer.

Her troupe came through Shanghai in 1922. By then she’d learned that the quickest way to a man’s bank vault was through his bedroom
door. Tempted by the knowledge that many wealthy Shanghailanders desired female company and asked few questions, she located a nightclub owner who agreed that her long legs, firm white breasts, and throaty voice would fill up more than a few seats in his cabaret, and then rented a tiny apartment in the International Settlement.

Amelia soon enjoyed a steady stream of generous sponsors. Two years later she startled a middle-aged patron with an affirmative response to his spontaneous marriage proposal, and Amelia Grogan became Amelia Simmons.

In Shanghai a tarnished past was no more than an inconvenience; an impressive marriage could whitewash a background more sordid than Amelia’s. But to her disappointment, she soon realized that her husband’s position as a vice president of a tobacco export company did not produce what she considered sufficient income. After warming Reginald Simmons’s bed, Amelia proceeded to chisel away at his conscience. She eventually convinced him that honesty was an admirable trait only in children, priests, and idiots. He started to embezzle, and she began to live the life she felt she deserved. And she deserved more, she thought, than sex with Reggie.

She tried to be discreet, but there were only so many places a decent woman could go alone in Shanghai, and only so long Amelia could go without the attention she wanted from a more attractive man than her husband. And the man she sat across from now was very, very attractive.

He was wearing a wedding ring, but in Shanghai that didn’t mean much, and his willingness to come over to her table suggested that he was interested in an entertaining evening. But how entertaining? It was easy for a man to get a prostitute in Shanghai, if all
he wanted was a bit of what he wasn’t getting at home, or if he was looking for a more creative version of what he normally got from his wife. So what did this guy want, exactly? She’d have to feel him out a little.

“So, Leo, do you live in Shanghai?”

“For the time being.”

“Well that’s true of us all, isn’t it? Where are you from?”

“Germany,” he answered, as the waiter brought their champagne.

“Funny, you don’t speak with a German accent.”

“I do when I speak German.”

Amelia laughed. Her young companion muttered something unintelligible, and Leo glanced over at him. “Would you like to dance while he’s taking his nap? The orchestra’s not bad.”

“Are you a good dancer?”

“You’ll have to judge that for yourself.”

Amelia stubbed out her cigarette. “I guess I will.”

The orchestra, made up entirely of musicians from the Philippines, was playing “Somebody Loves You,” a popular hit that had jumped quickly across the Pacific from America. Leo wove them smoothly onto the crowded dance floor, holding Amelia a respectable distance away from his body.

“Okay, you’re definitely a good dancer,” she said after a moment. “Is that why you’re here tonight? Did you come here to dance?” She punctuated her question with an inviting smile.

“I’m not sure why I came here. I was restless, I suppose. I just wanted some time away from everything and everyone.”

Amelia moved a little closer to him. “Life gets that way sometimes, doesn’t it? One minute you feel like you have everything you’ve ever
wanted, and then you wonder why you ever wanted any of it.”

“And what do you want, Amelia?”

Right now I want you,
she thought, but came up with a different answer. “I just want to enjoy my life more.”

“And what is there about your life now that you don’t enjoy?”

“This is sort of a serious conversation to be having while doing a foxtrot, don’t you think?”

“Sorry. I just don’t usually find myself in this position.”

“Dancing?”

“Dancing with a beautiful woman who is so intriguing.”