The Far Side of the Sky (40 page)

Max shook his head. “Four hundred people live there. Imagine if the cholera spreads.”

Franz glanced at his watch. “Listen, Max, can we discuss this after surgery?”

“I will be here.” Max shrugged. “And with luck so too will poor Mrs. Schnepp.”

Sunny followed Franz outside. Franz stopped halfway down the pathway leading to the street. He glanced over either shoulder and then spoke in a hushed voice. “My friend, Ernst, the artist—”

“Yes, I met him once.”

“Has he come by the hospital today?”

“I haven’t seen him, no.”

Franz kicked at the ground and mumbled something unintelligible. “What is it, Franz?” she asked.

“My neighbour, Heng Zhou, was just dragged away by the Kempeitai. Just before they came, he actually admitted to me that he is a spy.” He exhaled. “His son, Shan, is a close friend of Ernst’s. I am worried the police might have already arrested them too.”

Sunny brought a hand to her cheek. “What makes you think so, Franz?”

“I went to Ernst’s flat. It had been ransacked. They even ripped the walls away in places.”

“Then surely the men were not home?”

“Perhaps, but I cannot find them anywhere. What if the Kempeitai already have them?”

“Or perhaps they are in hiding.” Sunny laid her hand on his wrist. “I am sorry about your friends, Franz.”

Franz pulled his arm free of her grip. “Our surgical patients are waiting.”

His cool tone stung Sunny more than his physical withdrawal. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Franz started for the entrance, but Sunny hesitated, wondering what had suddenly changed between them.

In the operating room, Franz allowed Sunny to perform the hernia surgery with complete independence. He barely uttered a word as he held back retractors and cut sutures for her. Afterward, Franz excused himself to step outside for fresh air.

Sunny followed him back out to the pathway. “Franz, have I done something to offend you?”

“How so?”

“You seem so … so distant.”

He eyed her stone-faced. “Were you planning to ever tell me about Wen-Cheng’s proposal?”

“Yes … yes, I was going to …” she bumbled, feeling her face heat.

“Wen-Cheng proposed two days before Pearl Harbor. Everything has been so chaotic since. I have had no time to discuss it with him, let alone you.”

“What is there to discuss?”

She squared her shoulders, feeling her own indignation rise. “When do you intend to marry Lotte?” He shook his head. “I do not.”

She gaped. “You … you are still engaged to her, surely?”

“I have made up my mind, Sunny. I intend to—” He stopped and his gaze darted over her shoulder.

Sunny looked behind her to see two men rapidly approaching. She recognized one of them as Ernst Muhler. She suspected the other man was Shan Zhou, but no one spoke a word as Franz shepherded them inside the hospital and into the staff room.

As soon as Franz closed the door, Shan stared at him with fear in his eyes. “What happened to my father, Dr. Adler?”

“They came for him. They found his radio.” Franz swallowed. “I am so sorry.”

Shan’s face fell but he said nothing. Ernst placed an arm around his shoulders, pulled him closer and ran a hand tenderly over his cheek, but the young man remained unresponsive.

“They have been to your apartment too,” Franz said.

Ernst nodded. “We escaped out the back just as they arrived.”

“They tore it apart,” Franz said. “Were they looking for another shortwave transmitter like Heng’s?”

“I suspect they were looking for the rest of my paintings,” Ernst sighed.

“Paintings?”
Franz jerked his head as though slapped. “Not the Nanking series?
Scheisse,
Ernst! You swore you were going to destroy those.”

Ernst held a hand out. “How could I burn my work? Only the Nazis treat art that way.”

“What Nanking paintings?” Sunny asked.

Franz turned to her, his face pale with worry. “Ernst painted a series he called
The Rape of Nanking.
You can imagine how the Japanese might view such artwork.”

“No, I can’t,” Sunny mumbled.

“Between Shan’s father and Ernst’s canvases …” Franz massaged his temples. “They’re going to search everywhere for you two.”

Ernst sighed heavily. “We have no right to endanger you or your hospital. We will go.”

“Go where precisely?” Franz asked.

“To the countryside,” Shan spoke up in a monotone. “Free China. The villages and mountains where the Communists and Nationalists are organized.”

“Is that not hundreds of miles west?” Franz asked. “How would you possibly get there?”

Shan and Ernst glanced at one another and shared a helpless shrug. “We will fumble our way somehow,” Ernst said. “We should go now, Shan.”

Franz stared hard at Ernst, then broke into a small smile. “You and I have a long history of endangering each other. Why stop now?”

Ernst grinned. “I’m nothing if not consistent in my recklessness.”

Franz frowned. “They’re bound to come here looking for you. We will need to hide you.”

Sunny motioned to the door. “Why not keep them on the ward, Franz?”

Franz’s brow furrowed. “You mean out in the open?”

“Yes.” She smiled faintly. “With the other cholera patients.”

Jia-Li stubbed out her cigarette and dabbed at her lower lip, removing a flake of blood-red lipstick with her little finger. “So you are the world-famous Dr. Franz Adler?” Her accent was similar to Sunny’s, but her tone was naturally flirtatious.

The three of them stood huddled in the hospital’s staff room beside the cot where the night staff stole the odd hour of sleep. Jia-Li was dressed like a cinematic femme fatale in a black cocktail dress, white gloves and hat with attached veil. She could have passed for one of the ubiquitous poster models in Shanghai—or “beautiful girls,” as they were commonly known—who advertised everything from cigarettes to motor oil.

Franz bowed his head. “Thank you for coming, Miss Ko.”

“It’s Jia-Li, please.” She turned to Sunny and laughingly added something in Chinese.

Sunny, who had been on edge ever since Jia-Li arrived, did not offer even a wisp of a smile. Franz did not understand her uncharacteristic irritability, especially considering that her friend had come to help them.

But Jia-Li appeared indifferent to Sunny’s coolness. “So you need to make two people disappear into thin air,” she said.

“Not thin air,” Sunny corrected. “The countryside.” Jia-Li angled her head and smiled. “Is there really a difference,
xiao hè?
” Sunny rolled her eyes. “Can you help us or not?”
“Pas de problème.”
Jia-Li snapped her fingers. She turned to Franz with another airy smile. “Do you speak French, Franz?” “Only German and English, I am afraid.” “Pity.”

“Jia-Li, please! This is serious,” Sunny snapped. “Can you really get two wanted men past the Japanese sentries and out to Free China?” Jia-Li nodded dreamily. “But how is this possible?” Franz asked.

Jia-Li floated her hand up in the air. “My boss’s boss is Du Yen Sheng. Are you familiar with the name?”

The gangster and his Green Gang were as legendary in Shanghai as the bronze lions guarding the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank. “He is the man they call ‘Big Ears’ Du?” Franz said.

Jia-Li exhaled as though blowing out smoke. “Only the suicidal call him that to his face,” she said. “But Mr. Du is exceptionally well connected in this city.”

“Even after the invasion?” Franz asked.

“War has had little effect on Du’s business.” Jia-Li waved away the question. “After all, no one loves clubs, gambling or women more than the Japanese. And not only the foot soldiers. It goes right to the top with them.”

Franz shook his head. “How can he possibly smuggle two people out from under their noses?”

Jia-Li laughed again. “Trust me, my dear Dr. Adler, the Green Gang could smuggle an entire circus out of Shanghai, elephants and all.”

“When can it be done?” Sunny asked.

“Tomorrow at 0300,” Jia-Li said. “The boys will pick up your friends and transport them to the city’s western outskirts. There they will rendezvous with members of the Chinese militia, who will guide them out to the countryside.”

“Is it dangerous?” Sunny’s words were clipped and quiet.

Jia-Li extracted a silver cigarette case from her handbag. She offered a smoke to the others, both of whom refused. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag before answering the question. “Nothing is without danger these days, Soon Yi. But the Japanese don’t have nearly enough men to patrol the whole countryside. At night, the militia moves freely in and out of Shanghai. How do you think they plant their little bombs all over the city?”

Despite the media blackout, Franz had heard of the wave of guerrilla attacks on Japanese military installations across Shanghai.

Sunny checked her watch with concern. “It’s not even six o’clock yet.”

“Don’t worry so much,
xiao hè.”
Jia-Li massaged Sunny’s shoulder. “By tomorrow, your problem will have disappeared like the morning mist lifting.”

Sunny shrunk from her friend’s touch and snapped at her in Chinese.

“Of course I am high!” Jia-Li replied in English. Taking another drag of her cigarette, she turned to Franz. “Doctor, my oldest and dearest friend can’t seem to comprehend that nothing aside from opium could possibly get me through another day.”

“We worked so hard to wean you off the pipe this time.” Sunny’s tone resonated with hurt. “You promised.”

“And Godfrey promised to take me away with him.” Jia-Li shrugged. “The world is built on broken promises.”

Sunny stared hard at her friend for a long moment. “Not ours, Jia-Li.”

Jia-Li looked away and nodded. “I need to go finalize the arrangements,” she said. “Remember, the truck will pull up at the front door at three o’clock. No lights. No horns. It will not wait, so the two men had better be outside and ready.”

Sunny leaned forward and hugged Jia-Li. “Thank you for this.”

“You never have to thank me,
xiao hè.”
Releasing Sunny, Jia-Li surprised Franz by folding her arms around him and kissing him lightly on either cheek. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Franz.”

“And you as well, Jia-Li.” He bowed his head. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“You are most welcome, dear doctor.” Jia-Li turned to Sunny and nodded in Franz’s direction. Giggling, she spoke in their dialect. Sunny’s face reddened, but she laughed too.

They saw Jia-Li to the front door. After she had gone, Franz turned to Sunny and asked, “What was so funny?”

Sunny blushed deeper. “Just silly girl talk. Jia-Li told me that you are not nearly as hard on the eyes as she had feared.”

“Oh.” But his smile faded quickly. “Sunny, can we trust the Green Gang with Shan’s and Ernst’s lives?”

“Jia-Li has always been true to her word.” She sighed. “Except, of course, when it comes to opium.”

They fell into silence for a few moments, then Sunny turned to him with a timid smile. “Earlier, Franz, on the pathway, you started to tell me about your engagement to Lotte …”

“I am not going to marry her, Sunny.”

“Have you told Lotte?”

“No,” Franz admitted.

“That is not really fair to her, is it? To keep her in limbo like that.” But she sounded relieved.

“I intend to tell her soon.” He bit his lip. “And you? Have you given Wen-Cheng an answer yet?”

“Not yet.” She looked away and added softly, “But I’m not going to marry him, either.”

Franz nodded, trying to conceal his relief and elation.

The sound of vehicles thundering down the road broke the moment. The floor shook slightly. Franz craned his neck to peer out the small window to the street. Raw fear gripped him as he glimpsed two military vehicles screech up to the curb. “I will meet them here,” he said as calmly as he could. “Go make sure everyone else is in position!”

Face pale but eyes calm, Sunny nodded once and hurried off down the hallway.

Franz watched Kempeitai officers pour out of the cars. His mouth went dry as he recognized Colonel Tanaka at the head of the group.

Tanaka stormed through the door, his face already contorted into a snarl.

Franz held out his hand. “Good evening, Colonel Tanaka.”

Ignoring Franz, Tanaka turned to the men behind him and barked out orders in Japanese. One of the soldiers knocked shoulders with Franz as he raced past him into the hospital.

“Colonel, may I ask why you and your men have come?”

Tanaka jabbed a finger at Franz, stopping just short of his chest. “Your neighbour, Heng Zhou, is Communist spy!” he spat as though Franz were somehow responsible. “His son is enemy spy too. He lives with the painter. Your good friend!”

Franz nodded. “Herr Muhler, yes.”

Tanaka squinted behind his glasses. “Where are they?”

Franz shook his head. “I have not seen them in days, Colonel. Perhaps they have already left the city?”

“No! They are in Shanghai!”

Franz took a step down the hallway. “Colonel, why don’t we go inside and—”

Tanaka’s hand shot out and clamped on to Franz’s elbow. He jerked Franz back. “We wait for my men!”

Helpless, Franz prayed Ernst had remembered to secure his face mask snugly. Sunny had altered the artist’s appearance with a near head shaving, but Franz doubted it would be disguise enough. They were gambling on the proximity of the two profoundly ill cholera victims, along with Ernst’s bogus coughing fits, to deter the Kempeitai from examining him too closely. Meanwhile, Shan was in the basement dressed as a repairman and pretending to fix the boiler. Franz reassured himself that even he would not recognize Shan in his coveralls, haphazard haircut and coke-bottle glasses borrowed from a patient.

“We owe you nothing!” Tanaka snapped.

“Excuse me, Colonel?” Franz’s voice cracked involuntarily.

“For fixing General Nogomi-san,” Tanaka grunted. “We owe you
nothing. Shanghai part of Imperial Empire of Japan. All Jews are war prisoners. We tell you to operate on general, you operate!” Franz lowered his head. “I understand.”

“You understand better at Bridge House. You be there now, if not for Taisa Kubota.” Tanaka eyed him menacingly. “If we find your friends here, Taisa Kubota is no more protection to you.”