The Far Side of the Sky (46 page)

Franz raced off without another word. He ran across the Garden Bridge and did not slow until he reached Japanese Military Headquarters at Astor House. Panting from his exertion and the heat, he called out anxiously to the group of sentries at the entrance, “I must speak to Colonel Kubota!”

A guard barked in Japanese and raised his rifle. Franz lifted his hands over his head. “Colonel Kubota or Captain Yamamoto,
please!
It is most urgent.”

The soldier jabbed the bayonet at him as though trying to scare away a yapping dog.

“Colonel Kubota! I must see him!” Franz cried.

The soldier raised the rifle butt to his shoulder and sighted Franz down its barrel. The guard beside him lifted his weapon too. Franz’s heart fluttered wildly, but he stood his ground.

The lobby door opened and Captain Yamamoto stepped out between the sentries. Bone straight, Yamamoto kept his arms rigidly at his side. His face was stone. “What is it, Dr. Adler?”

“I need to speak to Colonel Kubota.”

“The colonel is engaged.”

“Please, Captain Yamamoto, it’s a matter of life and death!”

Yamamoto stared back impassively. “Return here tomorrow at 0800. I will inform you if the colonel has time to see you.”

Franz’s mind raced, desperate to find a way into Kubota’s office. “Captain, lives are at stake. Just as they were the day I was brought to see General Nogomi in the hospital.”

Yamamoto stared hard at Franz for a long moment before he spun and marched off. “You stay here!” he called over his shoulder.

Franz waited at least ten minutes under the glare of the late afternoon sun and the withering stares of the guards. Finally, Yamamoto emerged from the building and motioned for Franz to follow him inside.

After dismissing Yamamoto, Colonel Kubota sat down across from Franz. The lines on his usually placid face were deeper than before, and he appeared almost embarrassed to see Franz. “You wanted to speak to me, Dr. Adler?”

“I am sorry to disturb you, Colonel,” Franz said. “I have just received information regarding a German delegation in Shanghai.”

Kubota stared at the inkwell on his desktop but did not comment.

“Apparently this delegation is headed by a Colonel Meisinger of the SS.”

“We met with them this morning,” Kubota said without elaborating on who else had been present.

Franz swallowed. “I realize that you must be far too busy to involve yourself in German politics, but I am concerned that these men intend the Jewish refugees harm.” Kubota’s pained expression confirmed Franz’s worst fear. “So it’s true?”

Kubota nodded. “Colonel Meisinger argues that as long as the German Jews are free to live in Shanghai, they will always present a security risk to our forces here.”

“Security risk?”
Franz sputtered.

“‘Twenty thousand potential spies and saboteurs’ was how the colonel phrased it,” Kubota said.

Franz struggled to control his tone. “None of us Jews are so foolish as to think that we have any power to influence the outcome of the war.” He held his hands open in front of him. “We are only trying to survive. Nothing more.”

Kubota stared dead ahead. “The Germans realize that we do not share their policy of anti-Semitism.”

“So, instead, they are portraying us German Jews as security threats.” Kubota nodded.

Franz gripped his damp palms together. “And did they convince you?” “Not me, no,” Kubota said. “However, the security of Shanghai is not my responsibility.”

“Whose responsibility is it, Colonel?”

“Civilian order and counter-espionage falls under the authority of our military police, the Kempeitai.”

Franz’s stomach plummeted. “Colonel Tanaka?” “I am afraid so, yes.”

“And Colonel Tanaka could take actions against twenty thousand civilians on the recommendation of a few SS officers? What about his superiors in Tokyo?”

Kubota sighed. “In our system, the field command has almost complete autonomy when making decisions regarding issues of local security and order.”

“What about General Nogomi?”

“The general has the ultimate authority but …”

Franz rose partially out of his seat. “But what, Colonel Kubota?”

“The general tends not to interfere with security matters.”

Franz imagined hands on his back and felt as though his feet were sliding off the edge of a cliff. “I have heard rumours that the SS have specific plans to exterminate German Jews, Colonel. With rickety barges or poisonous gas.”

“I am not at liberty to discuss such matters, Dr. Adler.”

Franz dropped back into his seat. “Please, Colonel, I beg you.”

For a long silent moment, Kubota stared over Franz’s head. Finally, he said, “I found their proposal most dishonourable.”

“Did Colonel Tanaka approve their plan?” Franz croaked.

Kubota shrugged. “We did not give them an answer this morning.”

“There must be some way to stop this,” Franz said. “Colonel, please.”

Kubota looked down at his desk. “General Nogomi,” he muttered.

“Yes, of course, the general!” Franz nodded vehemently. “I saved his life.”

Kubota looked up and studied Franz for a moment. “I’m afraid, Dr. Adler, that alone will not be enough.”

Tension permeated the sitting room. In the background, a BBC announcer sombrely described the Germans’ rapid advance toward the Volga River and the strategic city of Stalingrad. Normally, the Adlers, like other refugees, would have dissected every scrap of information, hoping for a hint that the Soviets were repelling the Nazis and turning the tide of the war. But after Franz’s update about the SS intentions for local Jews, the Russian Front seemed desperately remote and irrelevant.

The colour drained from Esther’s face. Simon’s jaw hung open. Sunny felt dazed, almost incapable of accepting her husband’s words as fact.

Franz glanced around the room, holding Sunny’s gaze the longest. He looked grey, lined and hopeless.

“Cyanide gas, Franz?” Simon muttered.

“Gott in Himmel,”
Esther breathed. “Did Colonel Kubota tell you when the Japanese plan to give these creatures an answer?”

Franz shook his head. “It’s not his decision to make.”

“But surely the colonel will arrange for you to meet General Nogomi?” Esther said.

“He said he would try.”

“Try?” Simon jumped to his feet and began to pace the room. “Meantime, we can’t just sit around and wait for the Japanese to decide whether or not to hand us over to the Nazis.”

“Not you, Simon.” Franz shook his head. “Only German Jews like Essie, Hannah and me.”

“Not true!”
Simon cradled his arm around Esther’s shoulder. “It’s all of us.”

“Simon is right,” Sunny said quietly. “We are in this together.”

Franz glanced apologetically from Simon to Sunny. “Of course we are. I am sorry.”

Simon shrugged his acceptance, while Sunny showed her husband a small smile.

“What else can we do?” Esther said hopelessly.

“I know Shanghai inside and out,” Sunny said. “I could find us somewhere to hide.”

“But for how long, Sunny?” Esther held up her palms. “This war could last years. We can’t hide forever.”

Simon turned to Franz. “What about Ernst? He managed to escape to the countryside.”

“We don’t even know that he made it alive,” Franz said. “Besides, I have Hannah to consider. Travel like that would be almost impossible for her.”

Sunny’s heart ached at the idea of Hannah being forced to flee into the wild countryside. Sunny had never expected to fall so quickly and completely into her role as the girl’s stepmother, but she already loved Hannah as though they were blood relatives. “I agree,” she said. “The countryside is no place for a twelve-year-old, especially Hannah.”

“Besides, I can’t just run away.” Simon ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Those refugees are like family. I can’t abandon them now of all times.”

“Surely there are alternatives,” Esther said to no one in particular. “What else, Essie?” Franz asked.

“Why must we always be on the defensive?” Esther’s soft voice resonated with indignation.

“What are you suggesting, Esther?” Sunny asked.

“The Nazis hold no more authority in Shanghai than we do,” Esther said. “They have to rely on the Japanese to approve their monstrous plans.”

“Right.” Simon turned to Franz. “So we’d better damn well persuade the Japanese—and that General Nogomi guy you patched up—to hand the Nazis their walking papers!”

“Of course, that would be ideal, darling.” Esther stroked the back of her husband’s hand. “But in case we cannot persuade them, perhaps we can exert our own influence.”

Simon straightened. “You’re right! Why should those bastards—with their poison gas and leaky barges—feel any safer here in Shanghai than we do?”

Sunny glanced over to Simon with concern. His face had darkened and his eyes burned recklessly. Esther noticed it too. She brought a hand to her lips. “Simon, I am not suggesting violence.”

“Why not?” he grumbled. “How many guards could these Nazis possibly have?”

“Simon …” Esther whispered.

“Some of our young refugees are real fighters.” Simon motioned wildly in the air. “Several even had military experience with the old Shanghai Volunteer Corps. They’re chomping at the bit for a chance to get into the action. Maybe this is it.”

“You believe we could get rid of these Nazis ourselves?” Franz asked.

Simon folded his arms across his chest. “Sounds to me like it might just come down to us or them.”

Sunny remembered her own ambivalence as she held a lethal dose of morphine over her father’s murderer. “Violence is not the answer, Simon.”

Esther nodded. “Darling, if something happens to Meisinger and his men, the Nazis will only send more men, who will be even more determined.”

“The women are correct, Simon,” Franz said. “And no doubt it would only strengthen the Nazis’ argument with the Japanese as to the subversive risk we Jews pose.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Simon said. “Either way, it might buy us more time.”

Esther grabbed her husband’s arm again. “Simon, it’s not what I had in mind.”

Her touch had a soothing effect on Simon. “What did you have in mind, sweetheart?”

Esther cleared her throat. “Perhaps Meisinger and the other brutes like to bet on horse or dog races?” she suggested. “Maybe they carouse in the nightclubs? Or better still, for our purposes, perhaps they frequent the opium dens or brothels here in Shanghai?”

Simon nodded enthusiastically. “Maybe we could catch the rats in the act.”

They brainstormed for the next hour, agreeing only to reconvene in the morning after the Saturday Sabbath service to discuss further.

After Simon and Esther left, Sunny and Franz sat together on the sofa. Sunny nestled her head into Franz’s shoulder, inhaling his scent.

“Sunny, I need you to do something for me,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Anything.”

“I need you to take Hannah away from here.” His jaw tightened. “Away from me too.”

“No, Franz. Anything but that. I will never leave you.”

“Listen to me, Sunny,” he said. “Ever since the
Anschluss,
Hannah’s life has been in near-constant jeopardy. And all because of me.”

She stiffened in his arms. “Franz, you can’t blame yourself!”

“I can and I do. If her mother were still alive, life would be so different for Hannah …”

“Not only for her,” Sunny said, shrugging off the slight. “You are the only parent Hannah has ever known. You have protected her from terrible circumstances, all of which have been beyond your control.”

Franz would not be swayed. “In Vienna, right after Kristallnacht, I had the opportunity to send Hannah off to safety in London. But I selfishly chose to keep her with me. To drag her to Shanghai with all its dangers. I came so close to losing her to cholera. Now the Nazis want to finish the job that the bacterium could not.” He shook his head. “I will never allow that to happen. Never.”

She caressed his cheek. “Of course not.”

“That means I have to let her go.” His voice faltered. “And, aside from Essie, there is no one else in the world I would trust to take her.”

Even as her eyes clouded with tears, Sunny held his stare. “I won’t leave you, Franz.”

“You have to.” He held the back of her hand against his face. “Take her. Protect her. I am begging you, Sunny. For me. Please.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Jia-Li can help. I would trust her with my life. She has more connections than anyone. Yes, Jia-Li can get Hannah to safety.”

“I trust Jia-Li too,” Franz said. “But think of the life she leads. With gangsters and other … elements. I do not want Hannah immersed in that world.”

“Jia-Li’s mother lives a simple life in Hongkew,” Sunny pointed out. “And if not Jia-Li’s family, then maybe my friends Stacy and Meredith, from the Country Hospital. Or even Yang. We will find someone, I promise. Just don’t make me leave you, Franz.” She paused to get her voice to co-operate. “I would rather die.”

“Oh, Sunny.” He ran his lips along her cheek, kissing away her tears. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

The phone rang and they both froze.

“Shall I answer it?” Sunny asked.

“I will.” Franz broke free of her and rushed down the corridor to grab the receiver.

Sunny heard him say, “The sooner the better, Colonel Kubota. One hour would be fine.”

Even under the long shadows of early evening, the streets of Shanghai still baked. Franz sweated profusely under his best wool suit, but the humidity and temperature were only partly to blame. Outside Astor House, Captain Yamamoto stood waiting between two sentries. He escorted Franz and Simon directly to Kubota’s office. The colonel rose from his seat to greet them, but Samuel Reuben remained seated in his chair.

Franz glared at the other surgeon. “What are you doing here?”

Reuben adjusted his bow tie. “Helping to find a solution to a difficult situation.”

“This situation does not concern you,” Franz said.

“I beg to differ, Adler,” Reuben said. “If the Nazis are allowed to treat the German Jews in such a barbaric manner, it only stands to reason that they will turn on the British Jews next.”