The Far Side of the Sky (51 page)

I wish you and your people only the best of fortune in overcoming this latest crisis and all the other abuses and atrocities that have been foisted upon you.

My life has been enriched for knowing you,

Your committed friend,

Hermann

Sunny raced to the door more excited than ever to return home. She still had trouble believing the news that Yang had delivered to her at Fai’s home, but as she fumbled with the lock, she sensed Franz’s presence. Bounding inside, she cried out, “Franz!
Franz!
”

Her heart almost stopped as he rounded the corner. “Oh, Sunny!”

Franz limped toward her, his right arm hanging in a makeshift sling. Sunny launched herself into his open arm, almost toppling him. She clung to him until she felt him reposition his arm. She pulled back to assess him.

Pale and gaunt, he had a puffy black eye and swollen, scabbed lips. One cheek bore a long red mark that extended to his chin. Bruises circled his neck, evidence of the fingers that had choked him.

Eyes glistening, Sunny ran her fingers lightly over the stubble on his swollen cheek. “What have they done to you, my darling?” she gasped.

“None of it matters.” He skittered kisses over her lips, cheek and chin. “I thought I would never see you again. That was by far the worst of it.”

“For me too.” She pressed her lips to his.

After another long kiss, Franz loosened his grip on Sunny. “Where is Hannah?” he asked.

“With Yang at her sister’s place in the north end of Hongkew. They are taking good care of her. We … Franz, we cut her hair, and it’s black and straighter now. And you should hear her speak Shanghainese. She is so fluent!”

Franz swallowed. “I miss her terribly.”

Sunny grabbed him by his uninjured hand. “I can take you there now.”

His hand went limp in hers. “No. It is too dangerous for Hannah to be anywhere near me.”

Sunny beamed at him. “Did you not hear, Franz?” She couldn’t resist pecking him again on the lips. “We turned the tables on Meisinger! He and his henchmen are gone.”

“Jia-Li told me.” He mustered a tired smile. “Sunny, I am so proud of you.”

She squeezed his unresponsive hand tighter. “So what is troubling you?”

“The Nazis have found Schwartzmann out.” Franz went on to explain about the diplomat’s recall to Berlin and his suicidal intent. “After I read his letter, I tried to telephone. To offer Hermann a hiding place. But there is no answer. I think he might already have … left.”

Sunny touched his lip. “Oh, poor dear Hermann.”

Franz sighed. “Hermann told me that more SS have come to Shanghai.”

A chill ran up Sunny’s spine. “Why?”

He opened his mouth to speak but a rapping at the door stopped him. “That must be Esther and Simon.” “Simon is also free?” she asked.

“Esther telephoned me only an hour ago,” Franz said as he turned for the door.

Simon and Esther rushed inside. Everyone exchanged relieved hugs before settling in the sitting room.

Black and blue welts covered Simon’s forehead and chin. His already prominent nose was swollen and it deviated slightly to the left. But his
smile had lost none of its usual sheen. “Franz, I heard you calling back to me in the cages,” Simon said as he touched the bridge of his broken nose. “But the guard had already got to me with his baton. Boy, did he beat a lesson into me. You never met anyone from the Bronx so quiet as me after that!”

Their legs touching, Esther held tightly to Simon’s hand. She looked from her husband to Franz. “Do you have any idea why they chose to release you now?” she asked.

Simon shrugged. “The Japs aren’t much for long goodbyes. They basically dumped me on the curb without a word of explanation.”

“I was treated the same,” Franz said.

“I wonder if it had anything to do with Meisinger’s departure?” Sunny suggested.

Esther sat up straight. “Meisinger is leaving Shanghai?” “He has already gone.” Franz nodded in Sunny’s direction. “Thanks to my brilliant wife.”

“And Jia-Li,” Sunny pointed out.

The worry drained from Esther’s face.
“Mazel tov!”
she cried. “Where would we be without you, Sunny?”

Simon patted Sunny’s hand. “Our very own Judith.” “Judith?” Sunny frowned.

“The biblical heroine,” Esther explained. “She saved the Israelites by assassinating the Assyrian leader, Holofernes.”

Simon chuckled. “I bet you old Holofernes was a swell salt-of-the-earth kind of guy compared with Meisinger.”

Franz stared at Simon stone-faced. “Meisinger may be gone. However, another group of SS men have come to Shanghai.”

Esther stiffened. “For us?” she asked in a hush.

Simon gently pulled Esther’s head onto his shoulder. “This might be related to Max’s telephone call,” he said.

“What did Feinstein have to say?” Franz asked.

“A rumour is running wild among the refugees. Some crazy story that the Nazis are planning to send Jews still trapped in Germany over here.”

Franz grimaced. “Here? To Shanghai?”

“To China, anyway,” Simon said. “Max is over the moon at the prospect of being reunited with his daughter’s family.” Sunny squinted at Simon. “Could it be true?”

Simon shrugged. “Max swears that the Germans are meeting individually with local Jewish leaders to explain their plan.”

Franz rose from the couch. “Nazis meeting with Jews in order to help reunite them with lost loved ones? It’s simply not possible.”

Simon rolled his shoulders again. “You should have heard Max go on.”

The telephone rang, and Sunny hurried over to answer it. “Adler residence.”

“Mrs. Adler, this is Colonel Kubota,” said the sombre voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello, Colonel,” she said fondly, remembering the kindness he had shown her a few days before. “Have you heard that Franz has been released?”

“I am most pleased,” he said with little enthusiasm. “By chance, does Dr. Adler happen to be home?”

She turned to fetch Franz, but he was already on his way to the telephone. She passed him the receiver and leaned her head close to his, trying in vain to hear both sides of the conversation.

“Thank you. I am well.” Franz repositioned his sling. “Colonel, might I ask if there have been any developments in regard to the refugees?”

Franz listened a moment. Then his face suddenly blanched and his pupils dilated.
“Me?”
he murmured. “They want to meet me?”

J
ULY
31, 1942, S
HANGHAI

Clouds darkened the skies, but they only served to trap the heat and humidity at street level. Oblivious to the temperature, Franz stood behind Sunny at the curbside with his free arm wrapped around her waist. He said little, trying not to show how much the thought of leaving her again was tearing him apart.

Sunny looked over her shoulder at him. “What if this is some kind of trap, Franz?”

“They don’t need to trap me, darling. They had me in Bridge House for a week.”

“The Kempeitai had you.”

“The Nazis cannot touch us without Japanese consent.” His voice cracked. “I have to do everything I can to influence their decision. Including this, Sunny.”

“You’ve only just come home.” She turned and held him tightly, clinging to his bruised rib cage. Barely aware of the pain, he inhaled the fresh scent of her hair, wishing again that Hannah, Sunny and he were almost anywhere else on earth.

Franz heard the rumbling of a car’s engine. He stepped back and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, Sunny, if I am not back by nightfall you must leave the house. You cannot stay here any longer.”

“I remember, Franz.”

“And you will check on Hannah at Yang’s sister’s? If you have even the slightest of doubts—”

“I will find her a more secure place.” Franz forced a smile and said, “Thank you.”

As Kubota’s car pulled up beside them, Sunny touched his face once. “Come home to me soon, Dr. Adler.”

Franz swallowed away the lump in his throat. “Always … Mrs. Adler.”

The driver opened the door for Kubota, who climbed out slowly. He wore the same green uniform as before, but he looked completely changed. His once rigid back stooped and his shoulders sagged. Defeat clouded his face.

Registering Franz’s injuries, Kubota looked away in embarrassment and spoke to the ground. “Mrs. Adler, I am sorry, but I cannot permit you to accompany us.”

Sunny smiled tightly. “It never seems to be an option, Colonel.”

Franz folded his arms around Sunny again. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he gently rocked her on the spot. He could hear her soft muffled sobs. At a loss for reassuring words, he kissed the top of her head before releasing her.

As the car drove off, Franz stared back over his shoulder at Sunny, who stood as still as the trees lining the street. As soon as she was out of sight, he turned to Kubota. “If Meisinger has already left Shanghai, who represents the Germans now, Colonel?”

Kubota hung his head. “After the … incident with General Nogomi, I no longer attend to the general, nor am I privy to the details of further negotiations with the Germans.”

Franz nodded. “You have done all you can to try to protect us, Colonel. Thank you.”

“I fear that your gratitude is most premature, Dr. Adler.”

A familiar chill crept under Franz’s skin. As he thought of the meeting with General Nogomi, Samuel Reuben came to his mind again. His outrage with the surgeon had subsided, especially after hearing how poorly Reuben had fared in Bridge House. “Colonel, was Dr. Reuben released?”

Kubota nodded sombrely. “Dr. Reuben was rushed to the refugee hospital. It was the nearest one with space available for him.”

“What happened, Colonel?”

“Pneumonia.” Kubota didn’t look up to meet Franz’s eyes. “I understand there were also spinal fractures and other injuries. Clara tells me that he is not doing well at all.”

The car rolled to a stop on the Bund in front of the Cathay Hotel. Franz’s stomach knotted as he stepped through the revolving door into the sumptuous, sprawling lobby. He followed Kubota to the bank of elevators. As they rode up to the fifteenth floor, Kubota said, “Dr. Adler, I will not be present for this meeting.”

Franz swivelled his head in alarm. “Why not, Colonel?”

“They have requested to speak to you alone.”

“Alone?” Franz gulped.

“I am afraid so.”

“Fifteenth floor,” the withered elevator operator announced and the doors opened.

Their feet sank silently into the plush carpet as Kubota led Franz down the hallway to the corner suite.
Is this how a condemned man feels approaching the gallows?
The memory of his brother hit him like a club.
Oh, Karl!

At the door, Kubota glanced over to Franz with a supportive nod and then rapped three times. The door opened and a man in a dove-grey uniform bearing the unmistakable lightning-bolt insignia of the SS on his collar stepped out. Apprehension washed over Franz as he recognized the acne-scarred face of Horst Schmidt.

Ignoring Franz altogether, Schmidt saluted Kubota crisply. “Hauptscharführer Schmidt, sir.”

“Colonel Kubota.” He returned the salute but spoke in English. “I am escorting my friend, Dr. Adler.”

Schmidt did not acknowledge Franz. “The Obersturmbannführer is expecting him.”

Kubota took a last look at Franz before turning and trudging away down the corridor.

Schmidt snapped his fingers in Franz’s face. “Adler! Come.”

The white-carpeted, spacious suite was airy and bright, its gilded windows offering an expansive view of the Bund and the Whangpoo. Despite the room’s grandeur, Franz felt as claustrophobic as he had in Bridge House.

Schmidt marched over to the set of closed doors on the far side of the room and knocked. “Adler is here, sir!” he announced. “Send him in, please,” replied a soft voice.

Schmidt pushed open the doors and jerked his head in their direction. Franz took a long breath and then stepped into the sitting room. The door closed behind him with a whoosh.

With the exception of his uniform, now grey instead of black, the man behind the desk looked exactly the same as he had in Vienna, four years earlier.
Eichmann!
The air left Franz’s lungs.

Adolf Eichmann studied Franz with cool eyes before he rose unhurriedly to his feet. “Ah, Herr Doktor Adler, so good of you to come.” He extended his arm, not to shake hands but to indicate the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Please, won’t you sit?”

Mouth sour with acid, Franz lowered himself into the seat. Eichmann motioned to the small bar set up in the room’s corner. “Would you care for a refreshment, Dr. Adler?”

“No thank you, Lieutenant Eichmann.”

“Ah, I am actually an Obersturmbannführer now.” He sat back down across from Franz. “A lieutenant colonel. I can hardly believe it myself.”

Franz, flooded with a mixture of disbelief, anger and dread, simply stared at the man.

Eichmann nodded to Franz’s sling. “Did you have an accident, Dr. Adler?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

Eichmann shrugged. “This truly is a gem of a hotel, is it not?” he went
on conversationally. “I understand it was built by Sir Victor Sassoon. Do you happen to know the man?” “Not personally, no.”

“I heard that he scurried out of Shanghai before the Japanese took over. Too bad. I would have liked to meet Sir Victor. I understand he used to be
the
most influential and successful businessman in the entire city.” He tapped his temple conspiratorially. “Apparently, Sir Victor was quite the lady’s man and a close friend to royalty and movie stars alike. My sources also tell me that he provided generous financial assistance to the Jewish refugees.”

“I have heard the same,” Franz said, wondering why Eichmann was gushing over a Jewish entrepreneur.

Eichmann leaned back in his chair. “Recent … ah … injuries aside, Dr. Adler, I understand that you have landed on your feet here in Shanghai.”

Uncertain how to reply, Franz said nothing.

“Your family is well?”

Franz tensed. “Thank you, yes,” he muttered.