White Shanghai

by Elvira Baryakina

  When Ada went dancing in the evenings, Father Seraphim would lie on a blanket with his hands behind his head. “Klim, what are you going to do on your return to Russia?”

  Klim would say what was required about autumn mushroom markets, sacred processions, wooden bathhouses and holyday chimes.

  As he listened, Father Seraphim would murmur, “Ahh…how good to hear. Please continue!”

  2.

  Klim and Father Seraphim arrived at the editor’s office before dawn. Klim headed straight to the typing machine—not wasting any time while it was free. Father Seraphim started dealing with a broken power socket; he preferred doing his chores before those heathens were in the office. He was uncomfortable with his size, his lack of English and the fact that he was not serving in a church like he was supposed to.

  “They’ve done such a lousy job here!” he grumbled. “Everything is held by a thread. No surprise, their wires blow— Hey, Klim? What’s your article about?”

  Klim had no time to answer as Mr. Green appeared, looking wild. He rushed into his office and shouted loudly on the phone, then came back. “Where’s Mrs. Bernard? Still in Canton?”

  Klim nodded. Edna left a week ago for the South. She’d decided to reach the unreachable and take an interview with Dr. Sun Yat-sen, the father of the Chinese Revolution. This energetic doctor organized his own government in Canton and announced his intent to unite the whole of China and throw the foreigners out of the country.

  Mr. Green blessed Edna for this undertaking on condition that all the expenses would be out of her own pocket. She didn’t mind.

  “Rogov, did you hear the news?” he said. “The Blue Express was captured by a gang of bandits. Three hundred passengers have been taken into the mountains. A lot of wealthy and reputable foreigners are among them.”

  Klim whistled, surprised.

  “Daniel Bernard, Edna’s husband, was on the train returning from Peking to Shanghai,” added Mr. Green. “The bandits told the authorities that if they don’t pay a ransom, all the captives will be shot.”

  He ran around the office, nervously stroking his thin hair.

  “I want to send a reporter. Michael Vesborough is in Suzhou, Edna is in Canton. Though, she won’t be much of a help: she’ll probably be sick from worry for her husband. The rest—” he didn’t finish his sentence and disappeared into his office again.

  “Has something happened?” whispered Father Seraphim.

  Klim explained.

  How terrible it would be for Edna if her husband were killed, he thought.

  Klim never met Daniel Bernard, but for some reason, he didn’t like him from the start. Maybe it was because Mr. Bernard was a Czech like Jiří Labuda, or maybe because of Edna’s endless stories about him. Klim was mildly irritated that a woman could love someone with such an intensity and devotion.

  Absent-mindedly, Edna would forget she’d already told Klim many times the story of the group of English tourists being chased up the tree by a Chinese boy on a huge buffalo.

  “Give me a dollar, and I’ll take him away,” demanded the little racketeer.

  But the English tourists didn’t have money on them: who would take cash on a picnic? Then Daniel Bernard appeared from the shrubs, carrying a sports gun; he came close to the buffalo and hit him hard on the nose. When the grumpy fellow galloped away roaring, the English tourists climbed down. “Thank you, sir. Why didn’t you use the gun? This beast could easily gore you with its horns!”

  “I could not kill the buffalo because it would ruin the owner’s farm,” Daniel said. “It’s the only draft animal the Chinese family have. I just needed to show it who’s the boss here.”

  Edna emphasized this phrase show it who was the boss—she liked it very much.

  “Daniel speaks five languages, including Russian,” she boasted. “He’s a person who doesn’t waste his life. You must understand, Klim, he laughs at people who say, I can’t.”

  Klim pretended he understood.

  He could hear Mr. Green shouting in his office: “What do you mean not going? All the papers will have hot headlines, and what are we going to put out? A story on the gardening society? Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a coward! There’s no danger: the bandits have already taken all the people they wanted. You’re not such a valuable person to stop trains for!”

  Father Seraphim cast an apprehensive look at the editor’s glass door. “Our boss is so tough!”

  Klim walked over to the Green’s office. Maybe this was his chance, an opportunity to show his true colors.

  3.

  The express train headed north. Klim watched passing fields as he contently stroked the fabric of his new suit. He’d spent part of the money Mr. Green gave him on this fancy set of new clothes. His shiny briefcase lay under the seat, and his neat hat hung on the wall hook.

  Klim had hard time convincing Mr. Green that he was able to handle this dangerous task. “I speak Shanghainese better than anyone in the office, except the couriers and janitors. More importantly, I don’t have a wife who’ll be screaming, ‘No way!’”

  Finally, Mr. Green agreed. He didn’t have much time: the train was leaving at one in the afternoon, and there were no other volunteers.

  Klim had already drafted a plan for his article. He had planned who he would talk to and what questions he was going to ask. It would be good if Daniel Bernard was still alive. Firstly, Edna would be relieved, and secondly, Daniel’s account would be a great bonus for the report. In a few days, Klim was going to publish the first article he’d written completely on his own.

  CHAPTER 13

  THE BLUE EXPRESS CASE

  1.

  The Blue Express was attacked near the fortress town of Lincheng. Klim stepped from his train into swarming crowds of journalists, soldiers and civil officers. The turrets of the town walls were manned with machine guns and searchlights. No one seemed to have a place to stay overnight. Rumors, all competing in shocking details, spread like a plague: the captives had been taken to the mountains and all shot; the ransom was two million dollars; the bandits were in fact Sun Yat-sen’s people in disguise.

  Klim found that the American embassy had sent an official, Roy Andersen, to negotiate with the kidnappers. He would be an ideal person to interview. As there were no decent hotels in town, Mr. Andersen stayed overnight on the train. Unfortunately, it was already dark and too late for the interview by the time Klim returned to the station.

  He needed to find shelter for the night, but the railway cars and platforms were stuffed with people. It had recently rained, and there were puddles everywhere. Klim pulled a flash light from his suitcase and went to look for a dry place. Fires blazed, voices boomed, local villagers wandered around with their bamboo shoulder yokes, selling hard-boiled eggs and buns. Even under the railway cars was busy. Klim flashed his light beneath: a whole crowd of kids snuggled close to one another, their black eyes glistening. His light slid over a footboard where he caught a glimpse of a lady’s shoes and silk skirt with poppies.

  My God, it’s Nina!

  She covered her face with her hand. “Take the light away,” she said in English.

  “Hello, my dear.”

  Nina shuddered. “You?”

  They both were silent for several seconds.

  “There’s no electricity in the sleeping car,” she said, “and the attendant has run off somewhere.”

  Her dressing gown was tied with a wide belt; her hair—arranged nicely with a Spanish fretted comb. Her eyes were tired.

  Klim offered his hand, “Let’s go find your car attendant.”

  She didn’t push him away and took his arm. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  Klim told her about his assignment with the North China Daily News.

  “Not bad. You’ve settled well,” Nina said.

  “And you?”

  “And me.”

  There was no need to ask: sweet perfume, long earrings and elegant watch on her wrist said it all. People on the platfor
m turned their heads as she walked past.

  Nina told Klim that she was renting a manor house in the International Settlement of Shanghai.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Arranging society balls.”

  Nina boasted about her recent Masquerade of Lookalikes, where every guest had to dress up as a celebrity. “We had two black Florence Mills cabaret singers, three mustached conductor Thomas Beechams and four lovely Jersey Lillies actresses and courtesans. The Eastern Bazaar masquerade was a great fun too. Everyone dressed up as street sellers and sold each other whatever they brought: fish, nuts and fire wood. One lady arrived riding a real camel. When the music band began to play jazz, the poor animal started bellowing in a terrifying voice.”

  Tell me, my dearest, Klim thought, smiling. Talk to me. I’ll understand everything.

  He wished he could walk forever with her along this train, along the shining rail tracks. He counted the wooden railroad sleepers by six as they looked like a hexagram in the I-Ching, meaning Sky.

  2.

  Nina happened to be in this place because one of her acquaintances was among the hostages.

  “Did you find out anything about him?” Klim asked.

  Nina shook her head. “ The captives were taken up to the mountains. The army is following them, but they can’t get close enough. The gang leader said he’ll shoot everyone if they try.”

  Klim couldn’t resist himself, “Is this acquaintance Jiří Labuda?”

  Nina laughed. “Jiří is sleeping in his compartment. I took him with me, but he’s not much use.”

  A huge load fell from Klim’s chest: she’s not in love with Jiří. But, then, why is she here? Why is she dragging Labuda along?

  I’m not allowed to ask, I’m not allowed to be jealous. I can only look at her and not believe my own eyes: after all, fate has brought us together.

  Nina glanced at her watch. “Let’s forget the attendant. I just wanted to read before I sleep, but it’s too late now anyway. Where are you staying?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “If you want, we can go to my compartment. The upper bunk is free.”

  3.

  Three Gods of Luck: Fu, Lu and Shou, take away your golden coins, your scrolls of wisdom and peaches of longevity. Let me to my woman, lock all the doors and drop the curtains.

  Calm my heart, and let me breathe again. In fact, you know what? Send me your beautiful Guan Yin, the goddess of mercy. They say she is the one to call in moments of danger. And now is precisely this moment:

  A woman. My woman

  Is down there,

  Not asleep.

  Klim listened intently to Nina’s breathing. Even though he hadn’t seen her for months, every sound she made was painfully familiar to him.

  Moon shone through the curtain—a smeared circle. The annoying buzz of a mosquito rang in his ear.

  My dearest, my precious… What are you thinking about now? Even not seeing you, I know you’re lying there with your hand tucked under your pillow.

  Slowly, inch by inch, taking an eternity, Klim moved himself to the edge of the bunk, just to catch a glimpse of her silhouette. The red poppies on her gown look almost black now.

  Suddenly, Nina sat up. “Damn, these mosquitoes are eating me alive!” she exclaimed.

  “Why don’t we chase them out?” Klim jumped off his bunk and pulled a flash light out of his suitcase. Dim light illuminated the compartment, and the curtain became opaque, hiding the moon.

  “I heard them—shine the light over there,” said Nina, examining the wall bу the headrest. “Here! Got it!”

  Only a wet spot was left of the mosquito.

  “Two more over here! Give me a newspaper!”

  Klim watched her, smiling. Nina was fighting the enemies. “Let’s have some light here! And here! And here! I’m sure they’re hiding up in the ceiling! Help me up!”

  Afraid to breathe, Klim took her by the waist and held her up so that she could reach the upper shelves. The beam of the flashlight shone through the wide sleeves of her gown. Suddenly, she lost balance and threw her arms around Klim’s neck. The flashlight flew under the table.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  Klim carefully put her on the floor; her chest was rising and falling quickly. He hugged her and kissed her lips. Think whatever you want…but it’s impossible to find you here, in the middle of nowhere, and not to—

  Nina slumped and sat on her bed. “What are you doing?”

  Klim didn’t answer. He knelt in front of her and drew apart the flaps of her gown. Her breasts with dark nipples, her birthmark, like a chocolate drop. He buried his face in the softness of her stomach. “Do what you want, but I love you.”

  “Klim…don’t—”

  He gently pushed her arms away. The smuggler, the trespasser.

  …One of the most absurd pleasures is to untangle our entwined pendant-crosses in the night.

  CHAPTER 14

  LONELINESS

  1.

  Even in his sleep, Klim didn’t let Nina out of his embrace.

  Physical passion could be of two kinds. When you are admired, when your head is spinning from an unexpected happiness: My God, do I deserve all this bliss? Or when you are used like a handkerchief: great help to relieve a natural urge. That is the simple difference between love and being an animal.

  Nina stroked Klim’s wrist. He was the only one who loved her unconditionally; he remained the same, her wonderful darling. But what about her? She offered him to stay in her compartment for her own reasons: she felt so lonely and lost that she needed to have someone near. Someone who really cared.

  She looked at her husband. Her heart pounded anxiously in her chest. Was she using Klim to scratch an itch? Will he wake up tomorrow with the same feeling of emptiness and denial as she used to have when dating the head of the Ration Committee a lifetime ago?

  Klim surprised her: he was now well-dressed, well-perfumed and, despite her predictions, quite successful. The North China Daily News was a reputable edition.

  She was annoyed that he had done so well without her. When Nina brought him to her train compartment and pretended to sleep, she felt an acute urge to claim him. She listened intently to the noises up the top. Will he not even try?

  Nina arranged it all herself and then was overcome by wild joy and happiness that no words could describe.

  She gently kissed Klim’s shoulder. He smiled in his dream.

  You know nothing about me, and probably you don’t need to, she thought.

  Nina lifted up a little bit: it wasn’t comfortable together on the narrow bunk bed. Without waking, Klim drew her back to him. She listened to his heartbeat—so loud and even—and felt lost even more than before.

  My God, what have I done?

  2.

  Aulman was right. It wasn’t difficult to arrange the documents for the Czechoslovakian Consulate. All it took was a bribe and a well-written document sent to the Foreign Affairs Office. In two weeks time, Nina was dancing in her first ball at a new house she’d rented from Tamara for a tiny fee. The Chinese treasury was now short of customs tax on ten boxes of champagne.

  “Easy money comes only to natural sellers,” said Tamara. “Our Lemoine, for example, has a nose for money. And you, Nina, are a ruler: wherever you go, people do what you tell them to, and that’s how it should be.”

  Nina laughed. “If only it were true. Who would obey me?”

  “Listen to me, my dear. I’m the wise one, and I know what I’m talking about. A wise one, a seller and a ruler are the best combination for a successful enterprise. That’s why our project is going so smoothly.”

  And indeed, everything was going better than Nina could have ever imagined. Yet she was haunted by fear, by the feeling that she was totally dependent on the Aulmans and Lemoine. All of them could ruin her in an instant. To hear that she was a ruler from Tamara was akin to a bad joke. Nina and Jiří were criminals and spent most of their time sweeping away traces of
their scam or fretting about the inevitable punishment.

  But Nina played Tamara’s game, knowing that she was just a toy, a leading actress for a film director. Tamara would write the script, pick the actors, and then wait with great anticipation for the feedback and reviews from the public. After every ball, she would ask Nina, with a satisfied know-it-all smile, whom she had talked to and what replies had been given. Tamara took great pleasure in gathering details on her acquaintances and would make predictions of who would be courting or fighting in the future. And most of the time she was right.

  From time to time, Tamara asked Nina to work the situation: to introduce people or say a particular phrase in a conversation, which would change the flow of events. Nina was certain Tamara had people influence her life without her even knowing. It was impossible to guess Mrs. Aulman’s plans. Money was definitely not her goal, she was more after a riveting plot. If she thought the arrest of a fake consul would make a curious turn of events, she would play that card without hesitation.

  Nina was sure she was the main character in The Emperor’s New Clothes, strolling the street naked with her head held high, and every second expecting someone to shout out, “Hey! Her Majesty is bare-bottomed!” She needed protection, someone strong and really fearless.

  So far, Nina only had Jiří. She trusted him; they were in the same boat, two convicts tightly chained to each other. Nina rented an apartment for him in the Chinese City. They put a plaque there with the words Czechoslovakian Consulate and a coat of arms with the ambiguous motto of Veritas Vincit—The Truth Wins. To strangers, Nina would introduce herself as the Czechoslovakian Consul’s cousin who he’d asked to arrange the entertainment.

  Tamara suggested to Nina the ideal guest list. Aristocracy didn’t visit her parties; rather, there were gatherings of middle-class merchants, businessmen, young women in search of husbands, and bohemian creatures with long hair who endlessly moaned about the death of culture. Quite often, strangers were brought along by their friends. These kinds of guests didn’t need sophisticated cuisine, and to save money, Nina offered cocktails and snacks only. The fact that the hostess kept them feeling they were part of high society was all they wished for.