White Ghosts

11. THE HOUSE ARREST

As her pregnancy progressed, Nina stopped giving her parties.

Jiří was furious. “How are we going to pay our bills now?” he yelled at her. “You’re no more a mother than I’m Napoleon. Have an abortion before it’s too late.”

Nina could have killed him on the spot.

“Don’t ever talk to me about my baby again!” she whispered in such a cold fury that Jiří quickly retreated to the next room.

Don Fernando was also disappointed that Nina was bowing out of the liquor business and kept badgering her with new ideas for making money out of the Czechoslovak Consulate.

“I’ve got a brilliant idea,” he said to Nina. “Why don’t we ship liquor as a diplomatic cargo? They have brought in Prohibition in America, and the prices have gone through the roof. We can brew our own ‘French wine’ right here, in China, and smuggle it into the United States through Canada.”

Nina soon fell out with the Don as well. She felt that something amazing was happening to her, as if some immense tectonic shift was going on inside her body, and the idea of spending her time and energy on liquor seemed sacrilegious to Nina.

Her perception of the world was changing fundamentally. Street smells, such as car fumes, tobacco, and fried food, were all sickening to her, and the sight of homeless mothers with children would make her shudder with horror. Nina was incapable of thinking about anything except her baby. Her greatest pleasure was to visit the toy store or a workshop where they made adorable playthings for infants. The thought that caused her the most turmoil was the question of her child’s citizenship. When the baby arrived, she would need to make sure that its documents were in order. But how was she going to do this? Would she really have to buy fakes? She was determined that there should be nothing false in her child’s life.

The past and future took on a new meaning. Until recently, her fight with Daniel had seemed a complete disaster, but now she was glad they had broken up. It would be quite something, she thought, if he were to divorce Edna and then find out about my pregnancy.

Nina tried to shut Klim out of her mind. If she were to find him and tell him about their child, he was bound to assume that she was just trying to land him with someone else’s baby. With all the scandal that had followed her friendship with Daniel, Klim was sure to assume they had actually had an affair.

Nina wanted her baby to be important not only for herself but for other people too, and she couldn’t resist the urge to talk about it, if only to the servants. But they gave her such outlandish advice that she was left at a complete loss. According to them, an expectant young mother should never leave the house, wash her hair, or sew, and as for standing in the wind, well, that was totally out of the question.

Nina at least found some consolation with Tamara, who—thank God—had lost her interest in the parties and was happy to spend hours discussing matters relating to motherhood.

“I’m sure,” Nina said, “everybody is critical of me for having a baby by an unknown father. There isn’t a decent woman who will let me into her house anymore. Except for you, of course.”

“You don’t need anyone but me,” Tamara said.

Nina thanked her for her kindness and at the same time thought that she was more reliant on Tamara than ever. There was no way Nina was ever going to find a husband now and she could forget about making money of her own with a baby to look after. The only role she could play from now on was to be Tamara’s dependent.

“I want to buy something for Nina’s child,” Tamara said to her husband. “She and I will go to Yates Road.”

Tony was horrified. “Is it safe for you to go that far? What if you slip a disk? You know how fragile your back is.”

But Tamara was determined to take the risk, so he had a special chair made for her that two men could carry. He put an egg on its seat, chased the porters around the house several times, and only when the egg still remained on the seat intact was he satisfied. No automobile could have provided Tamara with such a smooth way to get around, especially on the Chinese roads with their cracks and potholes.

It was snowing when the servants took Tamara out for the first time that whole year. She squinted, laughed, and inhaled the cold air deeply.

“I can’t believe how long I’ve allowed myself to be cooped up in my own house,” she said.

The English called Yates Road “Petticoat Lane;” you could find every imaginable type of undergarment there for all occasions and for all ages—from the cradle to the coffin.

The porters carried Tamara at a sprightly trot past the decorated shop windows. Behind her Nina rode in the Aulman’s car followed by a number of servants pushing wheelbarrows that were to be used to deliver Nina’s purchases to her house.

“Onwards to Mr. Bookers!” Tamara commanded imperiously from her chair. Nina’s chauffeur nodded and slowly followed behind, ignoring the blaring horns of the impatient cars that overtook them. Nina, who was sitting in the back seat, could barely suppress her mirth as their procession seemed so comical to her.

The porters brought Tamara’s chair into Bookers & Co., purveyors of the finest linen and maternity wear. While the servants and shop assistants made Mrs. Aulman comfortable, Nina wandered around the displays looking at satin blankets, canopies for cots, beautifully embroidered bedding sets, and silver rattles.

“I can’t choose anything,” she said, looking totally lost. “There are so many lovely things; it’s making my head dizzy.”

“You sit and have a rest,” Tamara replied. “I’ll sort everything out.”

Shop assistants piled towers of baby’s clothes in front of them to be inspected. Suddenly Nina gasped. The hem of her dress was wet, and an embarrassing puddle had formed on the floor under her seat.

“Your waters have broken!” Tamara exclaimed. “Quick! Get in the car!”

They didn’t make it home. Two trucks had collided on the corner of Weihaiwei Road, and the traffic had ground to a standstill. Nina’s little girl was born on the back seat of the car. The chauffeur delivered the baby under Tamara’s close directions from her chair, while the porters chased away curious onlookers.

The Three Pleasures pub was on a small street called Blood Alley. There wasn’t a day that went by there without a fight, but the imperturbable Vietnamese police would only intervene if knives or firearms were involved.

Every evening Felix would leave his motorbike at the hitching post, instruct a Chinese boy to guard it, and together with Klim, would enter the pub—to wait for the Czechoslovak Consul to appear.

People sat around battered tables—sailors of all ranks and nationalities, Chinese generals without armies, and the usual lowlifes that inhabit any port. Sweaty girls with messy hair would try to sit on their laps, and every now and then a Malayan midget would appear from a dark recess and offer a pipe of opium.

“If you don’t have enough money, I can sell you some opium water for five coppers,” he would say enticingly to the pub’s patrons.

Klim knew exactly how this opium water was produced. The Malayan would clean the unburned remnants from the opium pipes and boil them in water on the premises.

“This will give you a better high than the purest cocaine,” the midget promised, and he made a grotesque face to portray the ecstasy his customers derived from his product.

Felix drank his beer and told Klim about his friends from the cadets. Recently, a number of them had started talking about returning home. They felt they were just wasting their time in China, while in Russia they could get a free education and perhaps become an engineer or a dentist. At least, that’s what they had read in the leaflets that somebody had placed stealthily in the back porch of the Russian church.

“The police know who are printing these leaflets,” Felix grumbled. “The Bolsheviks send their agents to Shanghai to lure the youngsters back home. The white emigrants are a real thorn in their side, and the Kremlin fears that one day we might gather our forces together and win Russia back.”

“Are there many young people who believe the Bolsheviks?” Klim asked.

“Oh yeah, plenty. One of my friends returned to Vladivostok and promised to write to me regularly to let me know how things were going there. We agreed between the two of us that he would send me a photograph with his letter. If the picture showed him standing, that would mean that everything was fine, but if he was sitting down, then that would be a sign that all was not so well in the land of the Soviets. You know what kind of picture my friend sent me? He was lying prostrate on the floor.”

After a couple of weeks waiting, Jiří Labuda finally turned up at the Three Pleasures, dressed in a silk top hat and a dark green coat with a beaver fur collar.

Klim watched the little Czech’s reflection in the oblique mirror behind the bar. Jiří had a brief chat with a tall one-eyed Chinese man and asked the waiter for a beer. After nursing his drink for a few minutes, he quickly ducked into the corridor heading to the rooms at the back.

“Let’s see what he’s up to, shall we?” Felix whispered to Klim.

They swiftly passed a smoky kitchen and a number of closed doors. Female voices could be heard laughing behind them. There was a man lying on the floor next to the back door, either drunk or dead. Felix stepped over the man’s legs and looked out.

“Follow me,” he told Klim and ran back into the saloon. “Labuda has a car full of liquor.”

They rushed out onto the main street, which was filled with drunken sailors, and nearly fell under the wheels of a Ford leaving the back yard. Klim stared at it in shock. It was Nina’s car!

Felix untied his motorbike from the hitching post and jumped into the saddle. “Let’s go!”

They drove down the street, deftly dodging trucks and horses. Klim’s heart was sinking. Was Nina really involved in Labuda’s scam? But how could she, when she was about to bring a child into the world? What was she thinking of?

In a few minutes, the Ford crossed the International Settlement border.

“We’re going to catch that Labuda red-handed,” Felix shouted excitedly. “The Czechs have no special rights here, so he’s not going to get off that easily.”

When the Ford turned into one of the empty streets near the racecourse, Klim realized that Jiří was on his way to Nina’s.

The road was dark and deserted, and only the dimly lit windows of the richly appointed villas could be seen beyond the deep snow-covered gardens.

Klim leaned in towards Felix’s ear. “We need to arrest Labuda right now. Otherwise, he’ll take us to his buddies, and we might not be able to deal with all of them.”

Felix nodded. He speeded up, passing the Ford, and blocked its path. Brakes screeched, and the car nearly skidded off the curb.

“Are you blind or drunk?” shouted the driver, leaning out of the car window. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the police badge in Felix’s hand.

Klim jumped off the motorbike and threw open the rear door of the car.

“By what right?” Jiří shrieked in fear.

Felix shoved his revolver right into Jiří’s face. “What do you have here?” he asked, pointing at the cases piled on the seat.

“Nothing in particular—”

Klim took out a penknife, tore open the cover—and froze. The case was packed with rifle barrels.

“They’re not mine!” Jiří whimpered. “They made me do it! It’s all Nina’s fault—”

Klim hit him hard on the shoulder. “Shut up!”

Felix’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Do you have a license for these weapons? No? Then we’ll have to take you down to the police station to answer a few questions.”

He got into the back seat next to Jiří and put a gun to the terrified driver’s head.

“Go to Nanking Road. And don’t even try any dirty tricks, or I’ll blow your brains out. Klim, could you take my motorbike to the station?”

The door slammed, the car pulled away and disappeared into the cold mist.

Klim stood in the street, looking after them. He was sure that Labuda would pin all the blame on Nina and she would be under arrest in no time.

Klim wasn’t used to driving a motorbike, and it took him a while to get to the Nanking Road police station.

He saw Felix in the waiting room.

“You won’t believe what a catch we’ve made,” he said excitedly. “Johnny and I asked Labuda for his documents and the address of his superiors in Prague, and you know what? It turns out he’s an impostor. He appointed himself as consul and fooled the Chinese officials to avoid paying customs duties on liquor.”

“Where did he get the rifles?” asked Klim.

“He says the Germans gave them to him. But I’m sure he’s lying. We don’t have any German smugglers here.”

Klim was relieved a little. It seemed that Labuda had said nothing about Nina so far.

“Labuda got hysterical,” Felix continued, chuckling. “He was crying like a baby up there, hitting his head against the wall. We put him into the cell to cool down, and I reported everything to Captain Wyer.”

Johnny Collor came up to them and gave Felix a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You deserve a medal, mate.”

Klim was questioned as a witness, and when the papers were signed, Johnny sent him to the Commissioner’s office. “Wyer wants to have a word with you.”

The room was furnished with cheap furniture and portraits of kings and presidents of the Great Powers.

“Sit down,” Wyer told Klim, pointing at a worn chair. “Are you the one who covers the Criminal Chronicle in the Daily News?”

Klim nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Wyer had a cold and kept clearing his throat hoarsely.

“When you write an article about today’s arrest, make sure to insert the notion that the suspect cohabited with a woman named Nina Kupina and that he’s the father of her child. Am I clear?”

It was clear as day: Wyer wanted to save Edna’s honor and put all the blame for his son-in-law on Jiří.

“Nina Kupina has just given birth, and we have put her under house arrest,” said the captain. “During the interrogation, Labuda told us that she was the one who made him establish a false consulate. Don’t forget to mention that too.”

Klim’s heart skipped a beat. Obviously, the captain was going to send Nina to jail. And the heroes responsible for making it all happen would be none other than Klim Rogov and Felix Rodionov.

“I need more details for my article,” Klim said. “Can I have a look around the suspects’ house and speak to the guards?”

“Why?” Wyer frowned.

“My editor wouldn’t accept my material without a comment from them.”

“The man sounds like an imbecile,” Wyer muttered, but he nevertheless obliged Klim with a note for the chief of the guard.

At Nina’s house, Klim demanded to be allowed to speak to the prisoner, but the pot-bellied duty sergeant didn’t even want to listen to him.

“Come in the morning,” he said. “It’s too late today.”

Klim handed him his silver watch. “I need to talk to the prisoner now.”

The sergeant weighed the watch in his palm.

“Well, you can try if you want, but I’d say she probably isn’t in the mood for an interview at the moment.”

As they entered the ransacked living room, the lower-ranking officers who had been playing cards promptly stood to attention.

“The suspect is in her room and all is in order, sir,” one of them reported.

A baby’s cry could be heard from the second floor, and without waiting for permission, Klim ran upstairs. He couldn’t find Nina’s bedroom in the dark, and it seemed to him that the baby’s screams were coming from all directions.

Finally, Klim saw a door with a faint crack of light underneath it. He knocked and entered the room.

“What else do you want?” groaned Nina and fell silent, staring at him.

She was slumped on her bed—barely recognizable, disheveled and with dark circles under her eyes. A baby, its little face distorted from crying, was wriggling in her arms.

The room had been trashed by the police. The large rug lay in a heap on the floor; Nina’s lingerie, papers, and bits of broken chair were strewn all over the place.

“Nina…” Klim called quietly.

She pressed her hand to her mouth and started to cry, her whole body shaking.

Klim looked at her, not knowing what to do. He took off his coat and sat down next to her, averting his gaze from the baby.

“I can’t feed Katya,” Nina said between sobs.

So she’s called her Katya after all, Klim thought. As we had decided.

The girl butted her head against Nina’s distended breast but was incapable of taking the nipple.

“Put something under her neck,” Klim said. “It’s difficult for her when you’re holding her like that.”

For a while, they fussed over the baby, every now and then exchanging angry whispers.

“Don’t you see, you have to lift her.”

“No, she’s uncomfortable that way.”

Finally, Katya figured out what was required of her, and Nina leaned her head back on the pillow. She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open.

“If they send me to jail, will you take care of Katya?” she asked.

“I won’t abandon your daughter,” Klim said flatly.

“She is your daughter as well.”

That’s all I need, Klim thought. Now, she’s going press gang me into her crew of “gullible” fathers along with Bernard and Labuda.

“You don’t have to lie me to get what you want,” he said. “If I promise to do something I always keep my word.”

“Get the hell out of here,” Nina whisper, her jaw trembling. “If you don’t believe me, there’s just no point.”

With great difficulty, Klim succeeded in mastering his emotions.

“Do you have a lawyer?” he asked.

Nina nodded. “Yes. His name is Tony Aulman. He’s promised to help me and Jiří.”

“Is it true that you and Labuda pulled that scam with the Czechoslovak Consulate?”

“I had no choice. We didn’t have any money left, and I couldn’t think of anything better.”

“So you started selling guns?”

“What?”

Klim told her the story of Jiří’s arrest, and Nina was stunned.

“I had no idea this was going on,” she said. “We were only selling champagne and cognac, and I told Jiří to stop all operations until I had the baby.”

“Well, then, he obviously didn’t listen to you,” sighed Klim. “Now Wyer wants me to write that the father of your baby is Jiří, not Mr. Bernard.”

“Why didn’t you tell him about the night you and I spent together in Lincheng? It is almost exactly nine months since then.”

“Nina, stop it!”

“I know I’ve wronged you badly. But you surely aren’t planning to take revenge upon me like that. After all, you did play your part in getting me pregnant.”

“But did I?”

“You slipped out of the railroad car and never even left me a note. I was waiting so long for you!”

Klim had become so accustomed to being the injured party that Nina’s words baffled him.

“I was late,” he said with indignation. “You were the one who came to Lincheng for the fun of it; I went there because I had a job to do.”

“What’s taking you so long?” the sergeant shouted from the corridor. “My shift is almost over.”

Klim rose to his feet. “I have to go.” He picked up his coat and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Nina called him. “I… well… Thanks for coming over.”

Apart from the encounter in Lincheng, this was the first time in a year and a half Nina had made it clear that she appreciated her husband.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Klim said and left the room.

He walked quickly through the monotone city, trying to make sense of what had happened. His confusion gave way to hope. What if Katya really was his daughter? Klim was completely unprepared for this eventuality and had no idea what he should do about it.

He had always wanted children, but when he thought about them, he imagined that he would be well-established with a house of his own and a loving and unquestionably loyal wife. And now what? On the one hand, Klim could not remember with any certainty whether he and Nina had been careful that night, but on the other hand, only a very naïve person could take Nina completely at her word. She had proven many times that honesty wasn’t her strong suit.

Yet despite all this, Klim was overwhelmed by a totally inappropriate, inexplicable joy. Nina had come back into his life. And if she had given birth to Daniel Bernard’s baby, then so be it. Many people bring up children who aren’t theirs, and the world hadn’t stopped spinning on its axis as a result.

If only he could keep Nina out of jail! Klim lifted his eyes to the magnificent winter sky. Countless stars peeped over the roofs of the city like an audience at the Coliseum, waiting with bated breath for the outcome of the battle unfolding before their eyes.