Deep Night

by Caroline Petit

  “Get out.”

  “Japan will need me,” he boasted. “We will rebuild.”

  There was fierce pounding on the door, followed by hard rattles of the doorknob. Spencer’s infuriated insistent voice filled the room. “Open up. I know you’re screwing the Jap. You traitor.” He began kicking the door.

  Tokai looked at Leah with malice. “I’m not going anywhere. Let him in. He’ll only get the police.”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” but she opened the door. A flash bulb popped and she staggered back, half blind.

  Triumphant, Spencer crowed, “Photographic evidence,” and pushed in. He took another picture of Tokai in his underpants, his eyes wide with surprise. “I knew it,” declared Spencer, taking in the disordered, pungent room, smelling sex and dissipation.

  Leah lunged at Spencer and his camera. Spencer fended her off as they danced around the room, overturning the table, breaking the rice bowl and trampling the kimono.

  “Enough,” said Tokai and stuck out his foot.

  Spencer fell to the floor, landing on his back, hunched over to protect his camera. He cried out in pain.

  “Tokai,” said Leah, “meet my colleague Spencer Talbot.

  Spencer this is Mr. Ito.”

  Spencer stared goggled-eyed as Tokai bent and wrestled the camera out of his hands.

  “Don’t hurt the bellows. It can tear,” said Spencer as he rose, sullen and bruised.

  Leah placed the camera on the righted table. “We won’t hurt it,” said Leah.

  “Tokyo Rose,” Spencer spat.

  Tokai shut the door firmly and stood guarding it.

  “I’ve got my evidence.You have to let me go,” said Spencer.

  “Had fun playing Sherlock Holmes?” Leah asked, amazed by his disguise. He wore a cheap blue suit, no tie and sandals. His toes were very long and pink. On the floor was a large squashed grey Homburg, its grosgrain ribbon half off. She picked up the wrecked hat and put it on Spencer’s bald head. It was too large and rested on the top of his ears.

  “Stop that,” said Spencer, glaring, and removed his hat, laying it beside his camera.

  “Have you noticed Spencer on your walks, Tokai?”

  Tokai shrugged and eyed the port bottle that had landed by his feet. He picked it up and fiddled with the cork.

  “Well, why not,” said Leah and fossicked around to find three glasses. The men watched, full of suspicion and breathing heavily. She handed them each a glass of port. “Do you want to propose a toast, Spence?”

  Spencer sniffed the port.

  “It’s not poison,” said Leah. She took a swig along with Tokai who said, “Cheers.”

  Spencer growled, but allowed himself a small taste. He took a larger swallow, relaxed slightly and pulled out a small black notebook from his breast coat pocket. He flicked through the pages and his neat blue ink handwriting fluttered past. “It’s all here. I even saw you with Harris once entering a bar in Rua da Felici-dade.” He turned to Tokai and explained, “Prostitutes live there.”

  A look of mock surprise passed between Tokai and Leah.

  Incensed, Spencer said, “I’ve seen you with all kinds of disreputable men. Chang’s been here.” He looked in his notebook for a date.

  “Don’t bother,” said Leah. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Spencer finished his port and delivered his judgment, relishing her comeuppance. “You are a double-dealing spy, obtaining information through sexual favours.” He grimaced, flushing red to the top of his bald head. “Further, you were involved in poor Moy’s murder and your wounding after the attack on the gunboat was a ploy to divert attention from . . .” He paused for dramatic effect, “this Jap. Lastly, you seduced the consul to put him off the scent. The police will be coming,” he concluded, rocking on his heels with righteousness.

  For the first time, Leah was alarmed. “You haven’t? It’s all nonsense. You’ve added two and two and gotten six.”

  Spencer remained silent. He’d expected Leah to try and wriggle out. He was determined to stay until he had her signed confession. He risked a glance at his camera. It sat waiting on the table like a contented cat. “You’ve consorted with the enemy.”

  “Miss Kolbe and I are just friends,” said Tokai ignoring the fact that he was naked except for his undershorts.

  “Ha!” said Spencer. “You’ll be charged too. There is going to be a trial.”

  “Mr. Ito is returning to Japan as soon as the war ends and transport can be arranged.”

  Tokai nodded.

  “Have you told the consul?” asked Leah.

  “He hasn’t seen this,” he said with disgust, indicating Tokai. “You seduced and duped the consul. But now I have proof. Good God man, put some clothes on.”

  “It’s hot,” replied Tokai, returning Spencer’s look, and crossed his arms defiantly.

  Alight with the fury of retribution, his pale eyes blinking, Spencer proclaimed, “I’m making a citizen’s arrest.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Spencer.You’re not a citizen of Macau. You don’t have the power,” said Leah, realising that he hadn’t spoken to De Rey for fear of being ridiculed. Instead, he wanted to round them up like bad guys in a film and present them to De Rey in a neat package. The man was mad.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. I had nothing to do with Moy’s death. I didn’t hire assassins to shoot myself. I nearly died.”

  “Slut,” raged Spencer.

  She dropped her glass. It broke, showering the floor. Ignoring the shards, she said in a tight low voice, “Who I spend time with is my own private business. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Macau is neutral. There is no crime.”

  “I know who you are,” said Spencer. “You’re a munitions dealer. And Leah, you’ve passed information to him.”

  “Make steel,” corrected Tokai.

  “What could I tell the Japs? I don’t know battle plans. No one in London cares what goes on here.We don’t count,” Leah said.

  “He’s a fantasist,” Tokai concurred. “He’s made the whole thing up.”

  Leah nodded. “You’ve had your fun, Spencer. Go home.”

  “It’s all here and as plain as the nose on your face. You’re the ones who should be afraid. They hang traitors.”

  “Gossip, innuendo, and your own crazy imaginings.”

  “Don’t you dare patronise me. I know what I know,” he retorted. He had spent months making his case, poring over his notes, skipping meals to trail her and watching from alleyways. Late at night, he had played out this scene many times. He had expected her to collapse into tears and the Jap to commit suicide later, after the trial when she was condemned to death. But there she stood, calm and collected. It was unnerving the way she looked at him. He was the one in the right. And now the damn Jap held a glass shard. He might stab him with it. Why hadn’t he brought Leah’s gun and informed De Rey?

  She asked, “Aren’t you tired of war?”

  “I’m not militarist,” Spencer declared with a scowl at Tokai.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not a criminal,” said Tokai.

  “Others will see things differently,” Spencer said with authority. This was better. He would get his picture in the paper. Everyone would know who he was in England. First, he’d be the Acting Consul of Macau and then he would move swiftly up the diplomatic ladder. Why he would have a whole group of undersecretaries bowing and scraping.

  “People are so tired of war. The consul says so.” She crunched over the glass and plucked a slim report off the kitchen counter. “Read it?” she asked, flapping the pages. “It’s intended for released prisoners in Hong Kong to explain the mood in Britain.

  “Usually guff,” he declared.

  “You don’t have someone in prison in Hong Kong. I’ve read it three times. It makes you weep.” Leah read, “The people of England are noticeably tired. The strain of the V-1 and V-2 bombs after a period of respite and the successes following D-Day were great on those living in Sout
heast England, who show their exhaustion the most.” She paused. “You’re from Kent, aren’t you?”

  “Lower Halston,” he blurted. It was like an admission of failure.

  Leah read on, “Politeness and consideration are appreciated.” She let the words sink in. “People want to lead normal lives, Spencer. They will want to forget the war.”

  He considered this. “So?”

  “The consul knows about me,” she said looking at Tokai.

  “Liar.”

  “Ask him.”

  “I don’t have to. It’s all here.”

  “Go away,” said Ito. “I don’t want you here.” He made a feint with the glass shard and Spencer went white.

  “Stop that,” admonished Leah.

  Barefoot,Toki walked back to the bed, careful to avoid the glass. The man Spencer was barbaric, from his long face, to his ugly freckled hands, to his white blond hairy toes. He was an ape, no, more like a baboon with the same shifty cunning: noisy, hideous and no doubt red-assed.Truly, he no longer cared about anything. He must have always known in some inner recess of his mind that Leah was a spy, but he hadn’t cared, mesmerised by her beauty and the world he had left behind. If he were more Japanese, he’s say she was a demon. Looking at her now confronting this bizarre Englishman it could be true. She was icy, reasonable, not upset. She had used him. She was a demon. She had cast a spell over him. He had never loved her. It was only her body he craved. He didn’t want it now. He shut himself off, no longer minding what the demon and the baboon were saying, dreaming about a rebuilt Tokyo and an adoring wife.

  Leah could see that Spencer was beginning to have doubts. His hands hung down uselessly at his side and his pale blue eyes were blinking fast.

  “Spying on a colleague is a strange way to get a promotion. Albemarle will be very unhappy when I tell him.”

  “Your fiancé should know the truth. Having a Jap lover is obscene. It’s my duty to tell him.”

  “You and I have swanned around Macau well-fed and free. Do you want my fiancé to suffer more?”

  Spencer shuffled his feet. “Heroes shouldn’t marry sluts.”

  Incensed, Leah unbuttoned her blouse. Spencer blanched and stared pop-eyed.

  “I’m stripping so you can photograph Tokai and me naked in bed.” She stopped. “Or are you more the anonymous letter type? Here’s a magazine and scissors. Start cutting.”

  Spencer rubbed at his face, mopped his brow. Somehow, he had lost his advantage. “I have to leave now,” he muttered and picked up the camera, collapsing the bellows and closing its red Bakelite cover.

  Leah blocked the door. “The film, please.”

  Spencer pursed his lips and let out a strangled “No.”

  “Why hurt an innocent person? You aren’t a monster.Don’t be that cruel.”

  Spencer stood poised to push past and leave, but Leah remained unmoving—really imploring. She seemed a lot smaller here and her face had a ravaged intensity. He wished she looked more like the enemy, yellow and ugly. A news photograph of British POWs released from a German camp flashed through his mind. In the photo, a few men grinned and mugged for the camera, but underneath their gaiety, he’d seen their worn uniforms hung off their gaunt frames and their eyes were tinged with sadness. It was the reverse image of a schoolboy class photograph. Not his, of course. He was the one shoved out of the frame or with fingers held up behind his head to make him look stupid.No doubt,Leah’s fiancé would have been the sort of boy who would have plagued him. But, he liked to think he wasn’t a petty man. He was a Christian, after all. He turned the camera over to press the release button. The bottom half of the camera came away, exposing the film to light. He took out the spool of film and dropped it onto the floor.

  Leah took Spencer’s hands in hers. “Thank you.”

  He pulled his hands away, amazed at his own actions. He handed her the black notebook.“You might as well have it. I might be—” He didn’t finish the sentence because he could envisage himself alone at night sulking over a slight, slipping the notebook into an envelope and posting it off to someone important. The notebook fell with a soft thump as he walked out the door. He didn’t look back.

  “Fool,” said Ito.

  “I want you to leave now.Take your money, everything, and go away.We are through. There is no going back.”

  “I will forget you,” promised Tokai, pulling on his pants.

  She turned her back and watched the women on the inlaid screen as they chatted amongst themselves.

  “I will have an ordinary life now,” he said as he left.

  She didn’t know if it were a threat or a curse.

  She spent the evening cutting the soiled kimono into small strips. It didn’t matter: all the beauty had gone out of it.

  20

  PEOPLE STOPPED IN the streets to stare at the morning sky’s eerie red glow. “Strange,” said an old Portuguese man staring up, shading his eyes. A nun in a heavy white habit crossed herself saying it was evidence of God’s power.

  When Leah entered the consulate, Albemarle rushed down the hall, caught her in his arms and swung her high with joy, exclaiming, “We’ve done it.The Americans have dropped some kind of new bomb on Hiroshima. The Japanese will surrender any day now. It’s over.” He crushed her to him and they did a little dance.

  In the doorway, Spencer stood agog, his stomach turning. The woman was at it again, working her powers. The last few weeks, Leah and he had maintained an icy formality that precluded all but the most mundane topics: the weather, the reporting of messages and briefest of interchanges regarding work.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Spencer,” teased Albemarle as he let go of Leah. “It’s wonderful news. Peace at last.”

  Spencer caught Leah’s eye as if questioning her response.

  And she laughed and popped a kiss onto his pale cheek. “Be happy for once, Spence. It’s glorious.”

  “That’s the way,” said Albemarle. “Celebrate with a kiss from a pretty girl.”

  Under Albemarle’s coaxing gaze, Spencer grudgingly, returned Leah’s kiss, his lips only grazing her skin. “There,” he said, looking for approval from Albemarle.

  “Bravo, Spencer,” said Albemarle. “And I’ve got other good news. I’m not going to Hong Kong.”

  Spencer’s face fell—only this morning he’d been practicing calling himself Consul as he shaved. It suited him. He masked his disappointment by asking, “Who is going to run it, sir?”

  “The interned members of the former colonial government.”

  Leah gasped. “What? But how can men held prisoner and starved for more than three years be well enough to assume control?”

  “Truly, I don’t know,” said Albemarle. “But the decision has been made. It’s a way to honour their suffering and demonstrate to the world we’re back in charge. It’s very symbolic. Japanese understand symbols. Personally, I think it’s asking too much.”

  “No,” said Spencer. “It’s a grand gesture. A few days of proper food, a good bed and sleep, they’ll be right as rain.They’re British after all.”

  “They’re also human,” cut in Leah savagely.

  “They’re up to the challenge,” declared Spencer stubbornly, his pale face aglow with British pride.

  “Let’s hope for the best,” soothed Albemarle. “It could still be weeks or months away.We don’t know what Hirohito might do. He might demand his people resist to the death and the Japs would follow like lemmings. How can a country wallow in death?”

  “War is a test of character,” said Spencer, his eyes trained on Leah.

  “Tell it to the dead,” replied Leah.

  “Please,” pleaded Albemarle, “on such a day, can’t you two get along?”

  “Sorry,” said Leah. “You’re right.” She held out her hand.

  Spencer shook it limply. “I hope they make Japan pay for through the nose for this war.”

  “Well,” said Albemarle, “let’s hope the negotiators can find lasting peace,�
�� and left them standing in the hallway. Spencer slunk back to his office; Leah returned to hers, wasting the rest of the morning daydreaming about Jonathan and pushing down her fear of sailing to Hong Kong with Vasiliev and Chang.

  Albemarle stared at the boarded-up window. He could take it down soon. Things were going to change. He should lead the way. He took a ruler out of his desk drawer and tried to pry out a nail. The ruler snapped. “Damn,” he said, his fingers stinging. He blew on them and it was like blowing his exuberance away. Just minutes ago the world seemed alive with possibilities and twirling Leah in arms had made it perfect. Anything was possible. But in the quiet of his office, he realised that for him, peace was not going to be a wonderful adventure. He would miss seeing Leah. He should never have allowed her to leave his house. Such a lost opportunity. They could have been lovers. From time to time he whiled away a slow afternoon with thoughts of her, and once or twice had wonderful sexy dreams about her, only to wake chagrined to find his bed empty. Then, when he saw her in the flesh he was overly formal and distant. Leah would be on the first ferry back to Hong Kong,might not even say goodbye. He sighed and wondered how Mildred had endured the war and what they would talk about when they were reunited. He hoped they would be kind to one another. Life in England was so very different to life in Macau.Was he up to the challenge? Today, he thought he might not be.Well, there was always divorce.No.He couldn’t do that to Anne and Conrad.His children had survived a war without him. He couldn’t inflict more suffering on them. Like poor daft Spencer, he knew he must do his duty. Leah would become an old man’s dream that he would indulge in on cold winter nights as he lay in bed with Mildred between chilly sheets and hot water bottles.

  SIX days later,Hirohito agreed to unconditional surrender.On the radio,Governor Teixeira proclaimed a three-day holiday culminating in a celebration in Senado Square and a dragon dance. People poured out of offices, shops, and houses to celebrate.On the street, firecrackers exploded in joyous abandon. Children ran around waving any flag they could get their hands on.Gongs were hit and stringy men banged drums. An old woman with two teeth in traditional black Chinese pyjamas came up to Leah and gravely shook her hand as if she alone were responsible for the Allied victory.