White Ghosts

4. AMERICAN LAWER

As soon as the Shanghai authorities had allowed the refugees to go ashore, Nina started looking for Klim. But he had never registered himself in the Russian Consulate, and when she went to the Orthodox church, she met some ladies who knew her from the refugees’ ship.

“Look at that shameless woman all dressed in fur!” they spat at her. “How dare you step foot in this church, you hussy? Where’s your Czech lover boy?”

What should I do now? Nina thought, at a loss.

Her money and confidence were dissipating rapidly. Initially, Shanghai had almost seemed like a fairy tale to Nina, but she was soon hit with a sobering dose of reality. Time was passing, and she still hadn’t come up with a single good idea about how to make a living. For all her fine clothes, Nina found it difficult to slip into the glittering fast stream of connections, opportunities, and wealth that the city had to offer. Firstly, she was a woman, and a woman, according to the established order of things, shouldn’t be involved in business. Secondly, she was a stateless person with no start-up capital; and thirdly, she didn’t have much of a head for business.

Jiří was convinced that Nina would soon fritter away all her money and turn to petty crime, while he would end up drinking himself into an early grave. He was angry at his own impotence, and even more angry with Nina—for trying to do something about their situation, thus emphasizing his lack of courage and application.

“Let’s open a cinema?” she proposed. “We could rent a place and hire benches and a projector.”

“You’ll spend your whole time haggling with the censor committees,” Jiří said. “Each district of Shanghai has its own and each of them will insist on censoring your film themselves.”

But Nina was not about to give up.

“Why don’t we try to win a municipal order to repair their roads properly? You’ve seen how they fix the pavements here: if a cobblestone comes lose, they call in a gang of coolies who fill the hole with clay, and it only lasts until the next rain storm.”

Jiří looked at her pityingly.

“You’ll never get into a business like that; it’s much too lucrative. Clay is free, the coolies’ labor costs less than a dollar a day, and the local authorities pay a lot of money to have their roads repaired. The contractors bribe the city fathers with huge sums and deliberately do a poor job so they’ll be asked to fix it again at the earliest opportunity.”

Sometimes Jiří’s resignation and pessimism irritated Nina so much that she was on the verge of throwing him out altogether.

She went to the bank to ask about a loan, but being a Russian did nothing for her credit status. The bank teller refused to even speak to her. “We reserve the right to refuse service to stateless people,” he said curtly and closed his window.

Nina was becoming increasingly despondent. I just can’t cope with it by myself, she thought. Should I look for a new husband?

Hoping to put her plan in motion, she ventured out to join the elite throng at the Astor House tiffin room but it never worked out. Nina couldn’t understand what she was doing wrong. In her silk and pearls, she looked better than any other woman in the room; men were quick to invite her to dance, but none were keen to ask for a second.

She would storm back to her room, mad with rage. “They’re all crazy there,” she complained to Jiří. “At first, they listen to me in polite silence and then all they want to do is run away.”

He laughed. “I know exactly what they’re thinking. Men like their women to be funny and carefree, but you behave like an evil sucker… No, no… That’s not right. What’s the word for that creature that drinks other people’s blood in Russian?”

“A mosquito,” Nina replied crossly.

Nina didn’t dare to go back to the Orthodox church, and Jiří advised her to go to the Catholic one instead.

“You’ll be fine as long as you do the same as everybody else,” he reassured Nina, and so she agreed.

St Ignatius Cathedral was the tallest building in Shanghai, and every day tour guides would bring visitors there to admire its twin spires and stunning stained glass windows.

The sound of the organ and the smell of incense were welcoming, but when Nina entered the cathedral, she discovered that it wasn’t a mass that she had come to but a funeral.

Feeling deflated, Nina sank down on the nearest pew, her prayerful mood gone. The coffin, decorated with wreaths, seemed to be a bad omen to her.

Nina heard somebody puffing up the aisle, and a fat man in a leather coat came and sat next to her.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” whispered Don Fernando, kissing Nina on the cheek without even asking her permission. “Do you know the man in this coffin? He was my closest friend, Augusto.”

Without a shadow of sadness on his face, Don Fernando began to tell Nina how Augusto had failed to listen to his advice, involved himself in other people’s business, and ended up with a knife in his back. Nina had a sneaking suspicion that the Don had had a hand in this.

She listened to him in silence. The irony of it! The only person in the whole of Shanghai who was genuinely glad to see her was a local gangster kingpin.

A thin old man sitting on the bench in front of them turned round and put his finger to his lips to remind them of the coffin, but Fernando gave him such a withering look that the poor man quickly moved to another pew.

“How do you like Shanghai so far?” the Don asked Nina. “Are you prospering? Or still finding your feet?”

“You were right,” she said almost inaudibly. “I do need documents.”

“No problem. Do you want a Spanish passport? We’ll get it sorted right here, in Zhabei.”

“I’m not interested in fakes,” Nina interrupted. “I need a genuine proof of identity, that will persuade a bank to give me a loan.”

“Oh well, that’ll be at least three hundred dollars.”

“Why so much?”

“Because Shanghai is infested with refugees from all over the world. Without a passport you won’t even be able to get into a library. The consuls here don’t want the risk of issuing a passport to every adventuress that comes running to them.”

“So, legal papers are in great demand?”

Don Fernando grabbed Nina’s hand. “Let’s go outside. I don’t want to disturb the relatives of the deceased.”

They went outside and sat on a bench in the churchyard.

“Only the documents from decent European and American countries are valued,” Don Fernando explained to Nina. “For example, with a Belgian passport, you could get a visa to any country in the world. But it’s better to be a citizen of one of the Great Powers, with their extraterritorial rights.”

“What are they?” Nina asked.

“Extraterritorial rights are the rights that the white people of the imperial powers enjoy. Let’s say you’re a British citizen, then the Chinese authorities won’t be able to touch you, and you can only be tried by a British Consul. The same goes for the French, the Americans, and one or two other nations. The Russians also used to have these rights, but they frittered them away when they had their revolution.”

For a while, Nina was deep in thought. “Is there a Czechoslovak Consulate in Shanghai?” she finally asked.

“Cze… what?”

“I mean Czechoslovakia—it’s a new country. It used to be a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but after the Great War it declared independence.”

Don Fernando pushed his hat to the back of his head. “Never heard of it, and I’m pretty sure there isn’t a consulate. There’s a lot going on now in Europe at the moment, so I don’t imagine your Czechoslovaks are going to be arriving in China any time soon.”

“Then I’ll set up a Czechoslovak Consulate myself,” Nina declared. “And produce and sell passports. What will I need for people to take me seriously?”

For a moment, Don Fernando was at a loss for words. “You are joking, right?”

“No. If you can forge me a passport, then you can easily sort me out with consulate papers and stamps. It will all seem perfectly feasible and legitimate. After all, why shouldn’t a small new republic wish to protect its citizens in China? If no one here has ever heard of Czechoslovakia, then no one will question the validity of my enterprise. I can provide a genuine Czech Consul who can talk about whatever you desire: politics, culture, or history.”

“You’ll almost certainly be thrown into prison,” Don Fernando said with confidence. “But, you know what? I admire your guts. If you’re going to do this, you’ll need to talk to a proper lawyer, and I know just the right one. His name is Tony Aulman. He’s saved me from all sorts of trouble on many an occasion.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“Criminal, of course.”

“Is your Aulman an expert in international law?”

Don Fernando started counting on his fingers. “He knows International Law, Maritime Law, the Code Napoleon, every single one of the decisions handed down by U.S. Supreme Court, all the laws of the forty-eight American states, the Law of the District of Columbia, and even the Philippines. What’s more, he’s a great horse rider, which is essential if you want to be a Shanghai lawyer.”

“Why?” asked Nina.

“Because most of the local judges are crazy about polo, and if a lawyer can play well, he’ll have all the right connections.”

Don Fernando hired two rickshaws and ordered the rickshaw boys to take him and Nina to Peking Road.

“I always thought that men do big deeds out of courage, but women out of despair,” he roared over the racket of the street. “If you want to witness a truly heroic act, then scare the living daylights out of a lady.”

Nina didn’t answer. The Don had been right: if her scam was discovered, she would end up in a Chinese prison, which was tantamount to a certain death for the likes of her. But she was desperate and she had no “Plan B.”

The offices of Aulman, Bormann and Pevzner, Attorneys at Law were located in a stunning five-story building with an elevator. Without even knocking, Don Fernando barged straight through the reception and into one of the offices, beckoning Nina to follow him.

“Allow me to introduce the best lawyer in Shanghai!”

A short, neatly dressed gentleman with a curled mustache was standing on his desk, hanging a scroll on the wall. Two Chinese clerks in European suits were assisting him.

“Don Fernando, is that you?” he exclaimed, jumping off his desk.

Standing before them was Tony Aulman. In excellent French, he explained that his Chinese clients often brought him valuable presents for successfully resolving their difficulties: ancient calligraphy, poems, and artwork. Naturally, his clients wanted to see their gifts on display, but the office lacked the wall space to show them all. So, every day they had to re-hang these works of art depending on who was coming.

Aulman motioned his visitors towards two wide oxblood armchairs.

“What can I do for you?”

Nina felt like an unfaithful wife at a venereal clinic. She was trying hard to pretend that she was a respectable lady but still had to admit her sinful deeds.

Aulman listened to her, showing no surprise, as if confidence tricksters dreaming of making money out of fake passports were frequent visitors to his office.

“It shouldn’t be a problem to set up a consulate,” he said. “We’ll draw up a fake state decree of foundation for you, but the permission documentation will be genuine. We can get it done at the Chinese Foreign Affairs Office. How long do you think you’ll last?”

“As long as luck allows,” Nina replied, growing a little bolder.

Aulman twisted his mustache thoughtfully. “Your problem is that you’re claiming a piece of someone else’s pie. All the other consulates will immediately start digging around to find out who you really are and what you’re really up to. I’ll give you some advice: stay away from passports and deal in liquor instead.”

Don Fernando slapped his thighs. “You’re absolutely right!”

“What do you mean?” Nina frowned.

“The customs here take a duty of ninety-five dollars for a crate of champagne,” Aulman explained. “But consulates have the right to purchase alcohol duty-free—for social events, of course. If you were to order ten crates, you’d be able to make a considerable mark up.”

“Surely the customs people will get suspicious,” Nina said. “It’ll be hard for a small consulate to justify ten crates of champagne, even in a month.”

“If it was only you and your staff drinking it, no doubt. But if the Czechoslovak Consul was arranging small receptions for important personages, then no one would start counting exactly how many bottles his guests have got through.”

“I’ll sort out the champagne business,” Don Fernando said, “but the parties and receptions will be your domain, ma’am. Do we have a deal?”

Nina was completely taken aback; she never dreamed that events could take such a sudden and dramatic turn.

“How am I going to arrange the parties?” she asked. “I don’t know anyone. No one would come.”

Aulman showed her a framed photograph standing on his desk. It was an image of a pretty blond woman with dimples on her cheeks.

“I’ll introduce you to my wife, Tamara. She’ll figure everything out.”

They agreed they would all have shares in the business. Nina’s job would be to negotiate with Jiří and arrange the ceremonial side of things, the Don would establish relations with the local liquor dealers, and Aulman would provide the documents and connections with the Chinese civil service and bureaucracy.

Out on the street, Don Fernando blew a kiss to the sky. “I owe you one, Holy Virgin!” Then he turned to Nina. “You have no idea how lucky we are that Aulman decided to join us. With him and his connections, we risk nothing. What’s more, he has very deep pockets.”

“Then what does he need us for?” Nina asked. “If he’s so rich, a few hundred dollars more or less won’t make any difference to him.”

“It’s all because of his wife. She used to be the first grand lady of Shanghai, but a year ago she fell from her horse and broke her spine. She’s bored to death sitting at home, and it would appear Aulman has decided to keep her busy and entertained with your scam. His wife loves dressing-up and organizing social events. Besides Tamara is Russian, so you’ll have much in common.”

“Have you ever meet her?” Nina asked. “What’s she like?”

“Oh, she’s a great woman,” Don Fernando said reverently. “Can you imagine it, a woman paralyzed from the waist down, and yet her husband is so in love with her that he doesn’t even go to brothels.”

Nina reached the Aulmans’ house at seven in the evening. A quiet servant appeared at the gate and led her down the red sand-dusted pathway. The heat of the day wreathed the lawn in steam, and the birds squabbled in their roosts for the night.

Nina felt nervous. What if Tamara didn’t take a liking to her? Jiří had been right when he had said that Nina often put people off. Nobody wants to be around a woman who has obviously lost her moral bearing and has no concept of right and wrong.

If you want to make friends and charm people, Nina told herself, you have to be witty and carefree. Be amusing and try not to offend anyone.

Jiří had screamed his head off when she informed him about her plans to make him a fake consul.

“You’re going to rake off all the cash,” he cried, “but if anything happens, it’ll be me who goes to jail.”

Nina had told him that if he didn’t agree, he could start packing. It had been blackmail, pure and simple—where could he go? Who needed a musician with missing fingers?

“You give me no choice,” he had said, sullenly avoiding her eyes. “I’ll be your consul.”

But I have no choice either, she told herself for the hundredth time.

The wide windows of the Aulmans’ house were open, and behind the mosquito nets, Nina could see a brightly lit room with a grand piano, bookcases, and low oriental-style sofas.

Three boys in scout uniforms were building a fortress on the carpet.

“What are you doing?” yelled one in English. “Can’t you see that’s meant for the roof? It’ll all fall down now because of you.”

“It won’t! Mom, tell him!”

Under the grand piano a pair of elegant Russian borzoi wolfhounds were gnawing at either end of a huge bone.

The servant showed Nina into the house. “This way, please.” He bowed, letting her into the room.

Tamara was sitting in an armchair, propped up with embroidered pillows. Small, brightly colored parakeets were fluttering about in their cages on each side of her.

“Nina Vasilievna? Nice to meet you!” Tamara said, greeting her guest by her patronymic in the traditional, respectful way.

“And what’s your patronymic?” Nina asked, returning the courtesy.

“Please just call me by my first name,” Tamara replied. “I’m so used to it here—I've become completely shanghaied.”

Her hair was not blond but white, and her young face looked emaciated; the dimples on her cheeks were gone. Tamara’s blue silk dress emphasized her turquoise eyes, and her wrist was adorned with a string of pearls that looked very expensive.

“Go along and play outside,” Tamara told the boys. “Roger, would you mind taking the dogs out with you as well? They’ve already made a mess of the carpet. Would you like some coffee, Nina Vasilievna?”

Tamara asked lots of questions, and Nina told her all about herself in much the same way as Klim used to—making light of herself and her circumstances. One would have thought there had been no misfortune in her life, just a series of funny adventures. Had she fled the length of Russia from the Bolsheviks? Oh yes, it had been an unforgettable trip! All the way, Nina had been on a diet of bread and water—quite the rage among refugees at that time. And as for the dirt, well, they do say that taking a mud bath is very good for the complexion. She had shared her cattle truck with the cream of society: professors from Moscow University, officers from the General Staff, opera singers, and leading members of the nobility. Everyone had been very kind, crushing the lice from each other’s bodies and cursing the revolution in the politest and the most cultured way.

Tamara was thrilled with Nina’s story. She had arrived in China twenty years previously, with her father, who had a job with the Russian-Chinese Bank, and now she only had a very vague idea about what was going on in Russia.

“Do you speak English?” Tamara asked.

“A little,” Nina admitted. “But my Russian accent is a real handicap.”

“You must think of it as a cute little quirk that makes you stand out from the crowd. My friends are fine with my accent.”

Well, they would be, wouldn’t they? Nina thought. If you lived in a luxurious mansion and had a husband like Tony Aulman, you’d be accepted if you had three heads and spoke Martian with a forked tongue.

“Tony told me about your venture,” Tamara said. “We have a house near the race course, and we can rent it to you for a nominal fee. There’s plenty of room there for the balls.”

“What do you mean by ‘balls’?” Nina asked, surprised. “I was thinking that we’d mainly be organizing small receptions.”

“It’s much more interesting to play big,” Tamara replied with a smile. “While I was listening to you, I came up with a great idea. We can introduce you as a Russian countess, who has come from Europe to visit her cousin, the Czechoslovak Consul. To honor your arrival, you’ll arrange a fancy dress masquerade, and the theme shall be: High Society in One Hundred Years Time. I read in the newspaper that somebody has brought a new material to Shanghai, called ‘cellophane,’ all the way from Switzerland. We could use it for futuristic costumes. I’ll foot the expenses and you’ll make a start on your champagne sales. Now all we have to decide upon is the guest list.”

Tamara took a pencil and notebook from the table next to her armchair and began to write down some names.

“The Smiths are out of the question,” she stated matter-of-factly. “They’re good friends with the British Consul, and we should steer clear of officials for the time being. We’d be wiser to invite the McGraths. They’re not interested in politics at all.” She looked up at Nina and smiled playfully. “Lucille McGrath claims to be my best friend, but I haven’t seen her here for two months. I think she needs to be taught a lesson or two.”

Nina realized that Tamara was very angry with her friends. She was no longer on their guest lists, and they had started to visit her less and less. Apparently, Tamara had decided that she could be a social lioness again through Nina, and at the same time get back at her disloyal friends by fooling them into thinking that a couple of refugee con artists were European aristocrats.

Nina had secretly hoped that she and Tamara would become soul mates, but that was out of the question. Tony Aulman was hiring Nina in order to divert and cheer up his wife.

I have no other choice, Nina repeated to herself. My main goal now is to get my foot in the door, and then we'll see how things turn out.

As soon as Tony Aulman got back from work, dinner was served. It turned out to be a boisterous and fun affair. Tamara showed the boys how to catapult peas with their spoons and make ballet dancers’ legs out of their napkins. Tony had almost lost his voice after a three-hour deposition at the court, but he ate with a huge appetite and laughed more than anyone at the antics around him. He was in high spirits and recounted the day’s case with great humor.

The police had raided a warehouse packed with counterfeit records that had been worth over twenty thousand dollars. Tony explained that the Chinese would forge and illegally copy practically every product that had ever been advertised in the press, from cough medicine to sheets of music. He was representing the interests of the affected companies and had hired several sleuths to snoop around the Chinese warehouses. Then Aulman would either settle the case in his client’s favor, with a big payout, or demand the destruction of the fake goods.

“How can you tell a legal copy from an illegal one?” Nina asked.

“We look at the labels,” Tony explained. “The Chinese typesetters don’t speak any foreign languages and often they put the letters upside down or mix up the word order. Another giveaway is a lack of spaces between words or punctuation marks. When my sleuths find a forged item in a store, they will pose as a big wholesaler and discover who the manufacturer is via the entire chain of suppliers.”

“Why don’t the police carry out the investigation?”

Tony and Tamara exchanged knowing glances and laughed.

“Because the purpose of holding any official position in China,” said Tamara, “is to provide for yourself, not the public. If you don’t give the police a bribe, they won’t lift a finger for you.”

“What if the counterfeiters provide them with an even bigger bribe?”

“In that case, we ask Don Fernando to intervene,” said Tony. “He knows how to resolve that sort of issue.”

Nina recalled Fernando’s innuendoes at the funeral earlier that week. So that was why Aulman was friends with a murderer and a gangster.

Throughout the entire evening she observed Tony closely. It was clear that he really adored his wife and that his entertaining stories were largely meant for Tamara’s amusement. He didn’t wait for the servants to pour her orange juice, preferring to do it himself, and assiduously made sure that she wouldn’t get cold sitting in a draft. For the first time in her life, Nina was looking at a man who was successful, strong, and wealthy and utterly loved a woman regardless of her health and beauty. The impression was strange and delightful.

When the maid announced the arrival of the taxi, Tony accompanied Nina to the porch. It was dark outside, and the servants had lit a garland of Chinese lanterns along the driveway.

“Thank you,” Tony said quietly, shaking Nina’s hand. “I’m so glad Tamara has met you. I haven’t seen her so cheerful for a long time.”

Nina felt confused. “It’s my pleasure.”

Klim had once told her that the most important things in life were to be loved, to be healthy, and to be capable of doing good deeds. Tamara could only boast one of these three—the love of her husband and children, but this didn’t seem to be enough for her to be happy.

Nina had nothing but her health, and if tomorrow she were to break her spine, she would have no one willing to take care of her.