White Ghosts

34. BACK TO THE USSR

Klim was sitting in his studio in front of the microphone, reading the world news.

“In response to increasing tensions with Great Britain and the other Great Powers, the Soviet Union has organized a National Defense Week teaching the population how to shoot and use gas masks. There are continuing clashes between the police and socialists in Vienna.”

After Klim had bid his audience goodnight, Don Fernando stuck his head around the studio door.

“Hey, Klim, have you heard the latest about your crazy friend Martha? Some respected figure in the local church community ran up a huge tab at her brothel and refused to pay it. So last Sunday, Martha went to his church, and when they handed the baskets out for the offertory, she put every one of his signed chits into the basket. ‘The bearer of this note promises to pay for debts accrued in the Havana brothel.’ What a mad scandal that was!”

Klim chuckled. “That’s funny.”

It was only then that he noticed a technician waving frantically behind the glass screen.

“Oh no, we forgot to switch the mike off!”

Don Fernando roared with laughter and then let loose a long list of profanities, before declaring that the whole mishap must have been decreed by Virgin herself: now people would be talking about his honest mistake in every tram, providing free advertising for his radio station and Martha’s brothel.

Klim’s secretary, Olga, knocked and entered the studio, a Russian newspaper in her hands.

“Klim, look! I thought there was something here that you might find interesting.”

Klim took the paper. The front page headline read, “Escape from Chinese satraps: an interview with Fanya Borodin.”

Fanya had reported that she, Nina Kupina, and the diplomatic messengers had been forced to hide for a whole month at a Russian orientalist’s house in Peking. It had been too dangerous to leave the capital immediately: all the roads and train stations were being watched. Gradually, the dust had settled, and the fugitives managed to escape to the Soviet Union, along with diplomats, military advisers, and prominent members of the Chinese Communist Party.

Klim took a deep breath. So Nina was in Russia now.

He stood up decisively. “I have to go.”

Don Fernando grasped his sleeve. “Where?”

“To Russia.”

“Right now?”

“Yep. No time like the present.”

Klim was only able to get a Russian visa in October, and he immediately bought tickets on the first Soviet ship sailing to Vladivostok. From there he hoped to get a train to Moscow. His plan was to find Fanya Borodin and ask her Nina’s whereabouts.

He couldn’t leave Kitty for an indefinite period and decided to take her with him. All of his friends told him that he was crazy to return back to a country ruled by the Bolsheviks. The rumors coming from the USSR were frightening; in addition to military hysteria, the Russian economy had collapsed, stores were empty, and there were queues everywhere.

“If you want to commit suicide, why don’t you ask One-Eye?” Don Fernando told Klim. “He’ll give you some excellent advice on how to do the job properly.”

Klim shook his head. “There are plenty of American tourists visiting the USSR every year. Kitty and I will easily mingle in with the crowd. I’ve already got her name on my American passport. Of course, it’s illegal, but I don’t think anyone in Russia will be any the wiser about that.”

Klim prepared for his trip to his homeland as if he was organizing an expedition to the North Pole. The servants loaded twelve suitcases with canned food, soap, bedding, and other supplies for all events.

People who had previously visited the Soviet Union advised Klim to wear his best suit. Fine clothes provided travelers with good protection against the caprices of the local authorities, who were slightly in awe of “important foreign visitors.”

Klim made sure that he and Kitty were fitted out with the most magnificent outfits for their trip. Tony Aulman, who saw them off at the dock, could barely suppress his laughter when he saw Klim in an elegant dark gray coat, a Homburg hat, and a crimson silk scarf.

“Did you see that Russian reporter taking a photograph of you just then?” Tony whispered, pointing at a young man with a portable camera in his hands. “Now your portrait will be plastered all over the Soviet papers with the caption, ‘A typical capitalist running dog, looking to cash in on the honest labor of our brother workers.’”

“How do you know he’s Russian?” Klim asked.

“He came to meet some of my clients, the sailors from the Pamyat Lenina,” Tony replied, pointing to a group of men dressed in tattered clothes, who were also waiting to board. “Like a fool, I took up their case, and for half a year visited them in their prison. In the Shanghai Club, people have almost stopped talking to me. They’re convinced I’ve sold out to the Bolsheviks. But there was no way I was going to let those people rot in a Chinese dungeon for the rest of their lives without a trial. No evidence of any crime was found, and I finally managed to talk the Chinese into deporting them back to the USSR.”

“Say hello to Tamara for me,” Klim said, shaking Tony’s hand.

“I will,” Tony replied, smiling.

The customs officer called Tony over, and he ran off to arrange his clients’ boarding passes.

“So Mr. Rogov, you’re leaving as well?” said a vaguely familiar woman’s voice.

Klim turned round and was greeted by Ada, dressed in a traveling suit and a felt hat. Next to her stood a young Chinese man holding a suitcase in each hand.

“Sam and I are going to America,” Ada announced. “Mrs. Bernard managed to get visas for us through her Moral Welfare League.”

“So, your dream is coming true?” Klim asked in surprise.

Ada gave him a proud look. “All my dreams are coming true.”

A steam whistle sounded on the little launch transporting the passengers to the big ocean liners.

Ada crossed herself. “That’s us, we’re off. God willing, we’ll meet again.”

Sam tightened his grip on the suitcases. “Where to?”

“Follow me,” said Ada.

Sam followed her with adoring eyes, and Klim could tell that the young man was totally in love with Ada.