“I’m going,” said Cecil. “Same boat as Will.”
“Fair enough then,” said Lin. “That leaves you, Mr. Greene.” He had not addressed Thomas that way since they left Seattle, but this was a formal roll call.
“Far and away the best place I’ve been,” said Thomas. “Staying.”
“All right. But you should understand that this nightlife, this whole world of Ye Shanghai, could vanish the minute they take over.” Up in Tianjin, where Japan had held a concession for many years prior to conquering the city as a whole the week before, they had run heroin dens in which customers, once injected with this powerful new version of opium, were stripped of their clothes and their cash and dumped, unconscious, into the sea. Recently a reverse tide had washed 107 naked male corpses back up the river, exposing the scheme to a horrified public. The “mystery of the 107 corpses” was sensational at first, and then sickening. “They could shut us down in the turn of a head. And if that happens, any of you who live in Tung Vong housing”-he sent a glance to Thomas, Charles, and Ernest-“will have to get out right away. So please think carefully.”
They assured him that they already had. And now, the next morning, here was Du telling him the city would not be giving up without a battle-a long, dangerous battle. “Perhaps if there was diplomatic intervention, we would not have to fight,” he said.
Du turned his stony gaze on him.
“If Chiang can get Hitler to stop discriminating against the Jews, it will gain us the sympathy of America and Britain,” Lin said. He was pushing it, but he could see the distant gleam of interest in Du’s eyes.
Please, Lin Ming begged silently. It would make his father a hero, for there were great musicians among the refugees in Shanghai, also writers and doctors and scientists. Yet every Jew he had spoken to said the same thing. We are only a few. There are so many more back in Germany. He watched hopefully.
But Du Yuesheng shook his head. “Chiang Kai-shek has no interest in this. He still hopes Hitler will be his ally, despite what Duke Kung was told in his audience. Chiang will not push him on the Jews.”
“And Hitler won’t help us.”
“No.” Du spat out the word.
Lin pressed on, hoping to use Du’s anger at least to gain protection for the Jews in their city. “Shanghai, then-that is yours. And you have many thousands of Hitler’s Jews here, under your protection, already. I’m sure you have heard the complaints from the Germans in the International Settlement-they are demanding that you restrict your Jews, put them in a ghetto as they would do back in Germany.”
“No!” Du thundered, his sphinx-like façade shattered in a second by cold fury. “This is our city, not theirs. Shanghai is a free port, no restrictions. So it will remain.”
“Teacher,” Lin said with a grateful nod of his head, acknowledging Du’s commitment. It was something, at least.
“In fact,” said Du, “you give me an idea. I have already moved the corporate seat of my shipping interests to Hong Kong, along with a few vessels.”
Lin blinked back astonishment. This was the first clear indication he had heard that Du was actually preparing to flee Shanghai. If he did that, all the cards would be in the air.. .
“Just a few vessels to Hong Kong,” Du was saying. “The bulk of Da Da’s fleet will remain here, and continue to serve the Subei ports. Perhaps we should have Jews on the board, and as proxy owners, to prevent the Japanese taking Da Da over.”
Lin made a note. In 1933 Du had engineered a takeover of the Da Da steamer line, whose merchant and passenger vessels dominated the “little Yangtze” routes between Shanghai and Haimen, Nantong, and Yangzhou, called the Subei ports. The Green Gang had already controlled the Stevedores’ Union and the China Seamen’s Union, holding sway over the docks and the sailors. Once they acquired Da Da, they were able to dominate the profitable regional shipping in and out of Shanghai. It was a business worth holding on to, even if one had to leave the country. His heart pounded at the thought; if Du left the country, he would be free. So would Song. “Are you planning to go?”
Du’s look hardened again. “Even though we remove Morioka at exactly the right moment, and our Fifth Army fights valiantly, we still may lose. Therefore contingencies are required. I need you to transfer significant amounts of bullion and cash to accounts in Hong Kong, to begin with. Much less than I have given to the war effort, of course”-he added nuance with a meaningful lift of one eyebrow toward his bald dome-“just what my wives and I would need.”
Lin readied his pen, seeing the brilliance of Du’s hedge. No one could say he had not done his part to bankroll China’s defense, even though what actually happened to that money after he gave it to Chiang Kai-shek was an unanswered question. That was not his problem. He had given, generously.
And he knew his empire, every corner of it. Lin needed his pen and notebook, but the older man could speak from memory not just on his shipping lines but on all the nested tangle of his directorships, corporations, properties, and bank accounts. He knew it all, to the last copper cash, just as he remembered every man he had ever ordered killed, and the terms of every deal he had concluded.
Lin looked at his notes. “So you moved several of Da Da’s vessels to Hong Kong?”
“Three to berths in Hong Kong, captains and crews for each steamer. Rent some godown space right away, so we are ready to ship. Even in war, goods must be moved. Especially in war.” There was some tea left in the pot, and he poured all the rest of it into their cups. “Hun shui mo yu,” he instructed his son. Fish in troubled waters, profit by disturbance.
6
SONG YUHUA SAT in front of her mirror Friday evening, August thirteenth, struggling to restore her inner calm as she applied rouge from a small pot. Two days before, Chinese troops had defied the ’thirty-two ban by marching into Shanghai, and were joyfully greeted by cheering crowds, including Song, who waved her handkerchief from the bridge above Suzhou Creek and shouted with the throng-Ten thousand years to China! Though she spilled tears of joy at the sight of troops, she also knew somehow that the brown dwarfs would not be stopped, not by these men, or any number of additional Chinese soldiers who might follow them. Demands and reprisals flew back and forth between the two governments as a result of the entering soldiers’ having broken the treaty, until the Chinese army promised not to fire first; thus was a fragile calm achieved.
In this pause, this bubble of safety, Du decided to go ahead with a large party he had planned for the evening. Scores of invitations had gone out, opera singers were engaged-Du adored opera, and despite his lack of education had earned the city’s respect as a connoisseur-and caterers worked furiously in the kitchens. By seven o’clock, black motorcars clogged the driveway and every room was full, even the foyer, with men and women in evening dress talking in fluid Mandarin and the lighter staccato tap of Shanghainese.
Song was about to rise when her door swung open suddenly, rudely, with no knock. She nearly let out some brusque words, but left them to dissolve in her throat when she saw it was Fiery Old Crow, who was always to be obeyed.
“Number fourteen,” he said curtly, and she followed him down the hall, knowing he meant one of the many small wood-paneled, curtained, and bulletproofed studies that lined the second floor. Du scattered his meetings among these rooms, always changing, so that no one outside the building ever knew his location.
Her mask almost cracked when she walked into the room and saw that the man waiting next to Teacher was Dai Li, the infamous head of the Nationalist Secret Police. He was known not only for killing Communists but for stretching their deaths out to be as long and entertaining as possible.