White Ghosts

26. THE SECOND FLOOR

After Felix’s departure for the war, Ada counted down each interminable day. These slowly turned into months and eventually half a year.

At night she would imagine what their reunion would be like. She would return from the Bernards’, and he would be waiting for her at the gates of the House of Hope. These thoughts would rob her of her sleep, initially until midnight, then for an hour, and eventually just for a few minutes.

She had only received one letter from Felix; he had safely reached his detachment and joined his Russian comrades on the Great Wall armored train. She had no idea whether he was alive or dead by now.

To Ada, the very words “Battle for Shanghai” sounded like a doomsday knell. She timidly asked Edna if she was going to evacuate to the north, but her mistress didn’t even want to think about it.

At Christmas, Edna decided that the orphans should be given fifty sets of underwear and set her servants the task of sewing them.

Ada had been sent to the department store to buy some thread, but she wasn’t keen to return immediately and decided to take a look at the movie posters on the third floor.

Suddenly she noticed Mr. Bernard entering the cinema, and almost jumped out of her skin. Not so long ago, she had been visited by Felix’s friend, Johnny Collor, who had told her that the new Police Commissioner had ordered an investigation against Daniel.

“We’ve found out that this man is behind weapon shipments to the south,” Johnny told Ada. “If your master comes back, let me know immediately.”

That day Ada had assured Johnny that Mr. Bernard would never return home, and now here she was staring at the revolving doors as they continued to spin after he had entered the cinema.

If I don’t report him to the police, they might think I’m his accomplice, she thought and rushed straight to the police station.

“My master is back,” she told Johnny after the guard on duty had called him down to the waiting room. “I saw Mr. Bernard entering the cinema in the Sincere Department Store.”

Johnny grabbed the telephone. “I need a dozen armed men,” he yelled into the receiver. “Stay here,” he told Ada and he ran outside.

Soon Daniel was brought in, in handcuffs. They interrogated him for a long time and then asked Ada to identify him in a lineup. Then Mrs. Bernard arrived, almost dead with the worry and the shame of it all. She was also interrogated.

“Can I go now?” Ada asked Johnny when he walked hurriedly by.

He told her to stay in the waiting room.

Ada went back to her bench. She watched people rushing by and listened to the typewriters rattling away on the other side of the wall. A Chinese woman was sobbing quietly at the window, her baby tied to her back. It looked curiously at Ada and chewed on the hem of its swaddling clothes.

Ada heard Johnny shouting to someone, “Under martial law, we’d be within our rights to take him out and shoot him.”

What if they do execute Daniel? Ada thought in horror. She felt so bad that it made her heart hurt.

Mad with anger, Edna slammed the door as she entered the waiting room.

“I trusted you!” she shouted at Ada. “I fed you, and now you have betrayed my husband.”

“He’s been—” Ada tried to defend herself but Edna wouldn’t let her finish.

“Don’t ever set foot in my house again!” she yelled. “You’re fired!”

Dusk fell. Ada was sitting in her room, crying. She had no work, no money, and no family.

Maybe Klim might have been able to help her or at least give some advice, but it had been impossible to get into the radio station see him.

“Do you have an official invite?” the security guard had asked Ada.

“No.”

“Then go away.”

“But I’m his friend.”

“That’s what all his fans say. No one is allowed in, and that is that.”

Ada didn’t dare go to his house, afraid that she might meet up with his wife. Nina would definitely have worked out who had brought Klim those incriminating photographs.

Ada knew what she would have to do: she would have to sell all her possessions for food until she was left with nothing but the shirt on her back, and then the landlord would throw her out onto the street.

Behind the wall, she heard laughter and the strum of a guitar. Despite the war, everybody in the foreign concession was carousing and celebrating Christmas.

I need to go to the Havana, Ada decided.

Betty was most likely working tonight. A lot of the men had sent their wives to safety in the north, and she would have a lot of clients on her hands.

Anything was better for Ada than sitting on her own in the dark. She grabbed a coat and went out into the street. Huge snowflakes fluttered through the sky, melting the moment they touched the ground. Three frozen rickshaw boys shared a solitary cigarette. The gleam of the streetlights poured onto the road, diffusing with the shadows of the trees.

Two Japanese girls came around the corner, their wooden sandals clacking as they hit the road.

“Hey, ladies! Fancy a good time?” some sailors shouted.

The girls giggled, covering their mouths with their hands, and scuttled off in the opposite direction.

The closer Ada went to the Northern Sichuan Road, the thicker the crowds became.
Drunken couples were dancing in the street. Boxers Café-Buffet, Crystal Garden, El Dorado—music and the crashing of dishes could be heard from every door.

I hate you all, thought Ada. I hope General Chiang Kai-shek comes and slaughters the lot of you.

The Havana was packed. There was a real Christmas tree in the corner and the air was heavy with the smell of fir needles and tobacco. A monkey wearing a red wig was chasing a clown on the stage. The audience roared with laughter.

Ada made her way to the bar.

“Where’s Betty?” she asked the bartender.

“She’s no longer working here,” he said. “Some Italian businessman fell in love with her and took her away to Naples.”

Ada didn’t know why she headed upstairs to Martha’s. To cry on her shoulder? On Christmas Eve?

She froze at the open door of the Madam’s office. Martha was sitting behind her desk, looking through her bills. “Come and sit down,” she said, nodding to Ada.

Without getting up from her chair, Martha reached for a cabinet, took out a small glass, and opened a bottle of cognac.

“Here,” she said. “Drown your sorrows.”

Ada downed the cognac, and the Madam brought her a dress, shoes, and a black velvet mask.

“Go change and get downstairs,” she said. “Get drunk. Tomorrow you will have a cracking hangover and you’ll have forgotten all your troubles.”

“Why the mask?” Ada asked.

Martha laughed. “Look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is as blotched and red as a tomato.”

Ada undressed and put on the gaudy, bright crimson dress with a bow at the hip.

Martha helped tie the mask and applied some lipstick to Ada’s pale lips.

“There, that’s much better,” she said.

“Can I have another cognac, please?” Ada asked.

She drank the second glass in a single gulp and staggered downstairs.

“Don’t forget to smile!” Martha screamed after her.

“What?”

“Smile! Men are not just after the wine and the women here. The Havana is a place where they can forget about their problems, and they’re certainly not interested in yours.”

Ada pinned a smile to her face and put her best foot forward.

Daniel had asked Fernando to bring his airplane from Suzhou, and the Don had spent the whole day out of Shanghai. The Avro was dismantled, packed into crates, and sent to the port. When Fernando returned to the city, he was greeted by surprising news: Daniel had been arrested.

The Don felt sorry for his friend but immediately realized that Destiny had given him a chance to play for high stakes. He paid a visit to Tony Aulman and told him that he urgently needed to see the chairman of the Municipal Council.

Within minutes, Tony had passed on the Don’s message that Chiang Kai-shek was keen to avoid bloodshed and ready to negotiate.

Two hours later, an inconspicuous car arrived at Big-Eared Du’s house. Out came Don Fernando, Tony Aulman, and Mr. Sterling.

The servant showed them past two armed men keeping guard and into the living room. The room was furnished in the European style—with a radio set, electric lights, and a telephone. But Big-Eared Du himself was a creature from another world, or rather another era—a tall, skinny man with a two-inch nail on his little finger. His shaved head was covered with a black satin cap, and a gray silk robe hung loosely from his bony round shoulders. The only element of his garb that matched the Western interior of his house were his leather shoes.

The guests sat in opulent chairs while the servants brought tea, and Aulman began to translate for Sterling.

“The main danger for us,” Big-Eared Du said in a soft voice, “is not Chiang Kai-shek but the communists who are preparing an uprising in Shanghai. There are about four thousand armed workers, called the ‘Red Guards,’ in the northern outskirts, but the communist need three times as many fighters in order to capture the whole city. They do have reserves, but not enough arms.”

“The commies are waiting for a steamer from Vladivostok, which will bring them all the smuggled weapons they need,” said Don Fernando. “We have to strike the Red Guards first, or they’ll destroy us. They have the numerical advantage, which is what matters.”

Sterling turned visibly pale. “But we have an agreement with the Governor. He won’t allow any rebellion here.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t count on him,” said Big-Eared Du. “The Governor wants to withdraw himself and his troops from Shanghai in order to fight another day. The Great Powers’ warships are still a long way off, so we have no choice but to outbid the commies and persuade Chiang Kai-shek to become our ally. If he promises to purge the communists from his army and guarantee Shanghai’s safety, the Green Gang will take care of the Red Guards. But my boys need five thousand rifles with ammunition and passes to cross the territory of the International Settlement. The Red Guards aren’t expecting an attack from that side.”

“I’ll need to speak to my colleagues,” said Sterling in a weak voice.

After bidding farewell to Tony and Sterling, Don Fernando went to the church to pray for the success of his venture. He felt he had played a masterly diplomatic hand. If he were to succeed in reconciling Chiang Kai-shek, Big-Eared Du, and the “white ghosts,” Shanghai would be saved, and the Don would have connections at the very highest level in the city. No one would dare call him a bandit ever again. He would become a respectable gentleman, and the cream of Shanghai society would be happy to receive him.

I should marry a banker’s daughter, at the very least, thought Don Fernando. The kind that can play the piano, ride sidesaddle, and legitimize my earnings.

Remembering Daniel, Fernando looked up at the statue of the Virgin Mary.

“I would ask you to have mercy on him,” he whispered, “but if that were to happen he would replace me at the negotiating table, and that is not in my interests. You know me, I’m a good person and wish ill to no man. So please, just keep him in jail for a while and then grant that he be released.”

Anyway, Daniel had no one to blame but himself. He should have gone to the Municipal Council immediately. Then he wouldn’t be spending Christmas eve in a prison cell but in a good brothel surrounded by beautiful girls.

As for the Avro, Don Fernando decided that it would fetch a handsome price from the new government in Wuhan. The communists had an acute shortage of planes and would be willing to pay a lot of money for one.

Every room on the top floor of the Havana had been furnished in its own special style: a French boudoir, a ship’s cabin, a stable with horse-collars on the walls and a heap of hay on the floor, and more.

In Don Fernando’s room, all the available wall space had been covered with theater posters. Big chests sat on the floor filled with costumes, wigs, and hats, and the bed resembled a small stage with a velvet curtain. The young prostitute Don Fernando had picked at the restaurant, was a superlative actress. She was playing the role of the naïve innocent so realistically that the Don almost felt pity for her.

As though afraid of being recognized, she was wearing a mask. A clump of her hair was tangled in a knot from the ties on her mask and was sticking out awkwardly above the back of her head.

She wants to be a big girl, the Don thought in his drunken delight, doing what the big girls are meant to do.

The prostitute was to his taste with a tight, sleek tummy and prominent cheek bones. No waist, and breasts just beginning to take shape, as if she was just a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl.

Don Fernando made love to her tenderly. He looked into the dilated pupils of her eyes through the slits in her mask, kissing the dark lock of hair plastered to her forehead.

“Do you think I could be a high-class prostitute?” the girl asked when they had finished.

“You’ll be the greatest whore in the world,” said the Don pressing his hand to his chest.

Then he watched her get dressed. The dress she wore was beautiful, festive, but her underwear was worn out from endless washing. It was as though the girl wasn’t even working here and had just come to Martha’s to have some fun.

Oh, how wise and inventive these women are, Fernando thought. No one could beat them at the art of creating beautiful illusions.

Before leaving, he left a hundred dollars on the bed. The innocent little thing deserved something nice for Christmas.